Page 30 of Of Monsters Of Kings

I’d gathered his name, Kingsie, had much to do with the fake pretense of thrones and princes and mentions of “liege” and “sire.” Thinking harder into the matter, I could admit that I’d known the pretense wasn’t fake at all. I’d convinced myself of that to preserve my calm, but today I could admit otherwise. It was just that kings hadn’t existed in my world before, and I’d thought everyone lived in the same version of this world.

Things were greatly unraveled.

“A real king. An immortal one, mistress.”

I blinked. Shook my head a few times. Immortal. I’d not expected him to be so. Or a king. So he might as well be two impossible things at once. “Where is your kingdom, sir?”

“Here.”

“Where is here?”

“Let there soon be an end to your questions, mistress. Here is this pulse. My kingdom is one-fifth of this pulse to be exact.”

The pulse was the city. He was king to one-fifth of Vitale.

I took care not to ask another question. Perhaps he’d like an answer to some of his curiosity instead. A king of seeing might not know how to ask questions after all. “You are King See, and not Kingsie. I’m not really Patch either.” I didn’t know what other answers to offer immortal royalty. I’d never been in this situation before.

He didn’t answer. “What is your real name? Patch suits you well, and I do not like the abrupt change.”

“Perantiqua, sir. My name is Perantiqua.” My voice warbled at his reminder of how I looked. I couldn’t wait for daylight. I’d sleep every night, and I wouldn’t ever need to look at my monstrous body.

“Perantiqua,” he purred the first syllable and drew out the last as if relishing a cool drink on a scorching day. Purrantiquaaah. It was nothing at all like the Peer-an-tik-wa pronunciation my mother had used.

He repeated my name in the same fashion, then said, “The change was abrupt, but this name suits your improved beauty better than Patch. Very ancient. You must be so to be a monster, and yet I am saddened your slumber lasted a mere three weeks. Will I be sad tomorrow, I wonder. Blindness is a strange affair.”

The musings required a key to unlock the meaning, and I’d resolved to ask no more questions and agitate a man used to seeing all. “I hope you are not sad tomorrow, King See. Good night.”

He didn’t reply, and I descended the spiral staircase, focusing on each lower step until I exited the apartment building that was really a gothic palace for an immortal king.

So much change, and yet the street outside was filled with lupins, and that was a normal enough sight for a young woman in Vitale.

Life tonight was much as life had been yesterday, I supposed.

All that had changed was that I was now a monster.

Chapter Eight

At each hour,

We begin,

The clock resets,

We begin again.

The last three days had been the same. Each day I resolved to go to sleep shortly after dusk. Each night, I remained wide awake until the crack of dawn when I fell into deep slumber until just before dusk.

My attempts to avoid monsterdom weren’t off to a great start.

I wrote on my stock list. “Queen Sheets: Thirty-one sets. Single Sheets: Fifty-seven sets.” The queen sheets weren’t as valuable. Most people slept on single beds, and companions tended to push single mattresses together. Fifty-seven single sheet sets could get me through several years. My mind boggled in a relatively comfortable way—no shimmering or squeezing. I couldn’t believe the surrounding wealth. All mine? These riches didn’t feel real nor safe when I’d lived week to week and barely that for so long.

I replaced the last stack of counted sheets and ran my gaze over the stock list. I’d counted the food first. Enough, as expected, for several months. Some would serve for longer if I pawned a few bits and bobs to purchase preserving equipment for the perishables.

I’d need to pawn select items with care even if I expected that King See—an immortal king that ruled one-fifth of Vitale—was not someone others would cross. If he’d closed this hotel, the hotel would likely remain closed and untouched. The rest of me didn’t wish to test this theory by alerting others to the unguarded riches here.

I was one person who couldn’t hope to protect such a hoard without forethought and some luck. First, I should lock away the most valuable items and hide the key. Only then should I venture to pawn a variation of items. I wanted to sell all the mirrors in the complex, almost desperate to be rid of them, but if I tried to pawn multiples of the same item, then inevitably, a curious soul might connect the place of origin.

I’d just sell the two mirrors that I’d levered off the walls in my bedroom for fear the pillowcases would slip off and reveal the sight of me.

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