Page 58 of Of Monsters Of Kings

I took a breath, part of me wishing I’d donned the teensy outfit in the suitcase and gone to See’s palace instead. “Veil on, Patch.”

I tied the thick, wavy length of burgundy velvet over my eyes, tying the ribbon tight across the back of my thick, blonde braid. I could see my feet and a couple of paces ahead.

Leaving the street, I then crossed over a rotting bridge stained with blood and patches of hair. When stone clicked underfoot again, the shadow of the entranceway fell over me, and an extra layer of chill set into my stitches.

“Who goes there?” a voice slithered from the shadows.

I paused, not turning my head. He must be a monster to be here. “I am Lady Patch, come to attend King Take’s ball.”

“Where is your invitation?”

Drat. “Sir, my apologies. I didn’t think to bring it. Is that the only way to get inside then? I’d hate to be late as I dashed home to retrieve it.”

“It is the only way in, lady, unless you wish to make it worth my while.” The man didn’t leave his shadows, though his slithering voice had gained a curious edge.

I considered that. “How would I make it worth your while?”

“All I’d need was a little taste.”

My eyes widened. “Of what, sir?”

“Are you daft as well as forgetful? Of your life.”

My life? I had a very strong notion that my life was something not to give out tastes of. “I would rather return to get my invitation. Kindly inform King Take that I’m very sorry for the delay, especially as the ball is in my honor, but I?—”

“You are the lady for which the ball is thrown?” The slithering was gone as was the curiosity. In their places was a subservience and a slight begging tone.

I pursed my lips. “Does that change things?”

“But of course. My sire is delirious to meet you, and I must bend the rules so that he is not deprived a second more.”

Their relationship sounded one-sided. “Thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate you amending your rules for my sake.”

“Hurry on, lady. Talk no more. Speak not of the length of our conversation here, if you will. Go, go.”

Goodness me.

Jogging forward to placate the fretful gateman, my ears soon picked up the ringing chords of a piano played with pounding gusto. I jogged in that direction, and my clicking footsteps echoed through the expansive hallway, adding to the dramatic music ahead.

I slowed to a walk and continued until a thick red curtain blocked my way.

“Ma’am,” wheezed someone out of sight.

I pressed a hand to my chest. “My, I didn’t sense you there with this veil over my eyes. And the music is so loud.”

“My master enjoys music with flair and body.”

I hadn’t considered the pounding, dramatic ring of the piano that way, but I could see the servant’s point. “Might I enter the room too?”

“Yes, Ma’am, but please, your name, so that I might announce your arrival.”

“Lady…” I nearly said Perantiqua, but no, that didn’t feel right in this cold, dank place. “Lady Patch.”

I listened as the servant shuffled from his shadows toward the red curtain. Near the curtain, the tasseled end of a golden rope dangled below my veiled vision. I caught a quick glimpse of the servant’s shrunken feet before he leaped high with an agility that defied his wheeziness. The golden rope pooled on the ground as he slid to the group, and the red curtain breezed open.

A dripping was audible under the music, and as I neared where the curtain had been, I sucked in a breath at the drip-drops of blood falling from above—as though the curtain were soaked in the stuff.

Escaping the blood was impossible, and perhaps that was the purpose of the statement. I passed through the drips as fast as I could and felt the slide of them down one side of my neck.

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