Page 28 of Of Monsters Of Kings

“Since the dawn of the new age—or since The End—as your kind likes to call it, each mother in your bloodline chose to wither before their time in order to gift you a part of their body. Your mother was without a pelvis, I recall. I’d gather her gifted pelvis was the final piece of you. You are made up of their gifts, their various body pieces. Patched indeed, and stitches between. This transformation explains the three-week slumber. Such transformations can take far longer. Why do you have this appearance now and not this morning? Like all monsters, you burst forth at dusk into toothed beast’s yawn.”

The last part sounded recited. Was it a missing piece of the poem he’d started earlier?

My mind pulsed in heavy tempo. “Yes, yes. I see how you’ve made those connections. That all makes sense. Thank you.” Nodding, I pushed off the wall. “I’ll go now.”

I pivoted on the spot like a puppet and took one step down the stairs. My shaking legs collapsed, and so numb was my mind that I didn’t react as I thumped and bumped to the landing below.

I lay on the stone there, staring down an arched hallway that led to a gigantic chamber of stained glass.

Fifty mothers. Fifty gifts.

I didn’t want to think on it—could barely manage to. My thoughts shimmered at the edges, warning of the threat to my sanity if I pushed harder. I couldn’t manage more, and so I very tentatively considered what the skull had told me.

Fifty pieces made me up. After dusk, I was this.

A monster.

There was no other word for a person made of so many different skins threaded together in a bumpy mess with every kind of stitch. I was a monster.

Monsters didn’t exist, however, so how was I one? The shimmering started to encroach past the edges. I shook my head and blinked a few times, then crawled up the stairs, my tulle skirt tangling and catching in my legs.

I sat on the top step. “Kingsie?”

“You’re back.”

“I fell down the stairs.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I can’t say. Overwhelmed, maybe.”

“Your kind are easily overwhelmed. Fragile creatures not made for ancient matters.”

I nibbled on my bottom lip, then stopped when I felt a stitch there. My face. I couldn’t bear to think of how it must look. “Sir, how do you know why I’m like this?”

A dark laugh, low like a rolling mist that could swallow a girl whole, clawed across the space between us. “Is this your way of asking if monsters exist, mistress?”

I licked my lips and whispered, “It is.”

“Monsters exist now. Maybe they always did. Certainly since the dawn of the new age monsters have lived.”

Since The End. “Are you a monster, sir?”

“I am what ancients made me.”

I grimaced. “I apologize if I offended you. Does your form change at the onset of dusk?”

“It does. This is why you do not venture closer than the stairway. Why you cannot.”

“I admit, you’re all blurred, and I’m not sure I could come closer if I tried.”

He dipped his head. “Your mind will break if it sees me even though you are somewhat of a monster now. Your slight monsterdom explains why you could look into my princes’ eyes during daylight. I warn you that even my princes cannot look into mine.”

He offered wisdom.

“I will heed your advice.”

“Time will tell, as it always does. You are already here at night when you should not be.”

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