Page 91 of Of Monsters Of Kings

A great voice boomed from within the thatched house,

“Lovers, flowers, sunshine, balm,

This day, do I make a charm?

Shadows, vipers, chaos, thirst,

This day, do I make a curse?

By kingly fist, by ancients’ dose,

I bring the world what’s needed most.”

The high-pitched banging was a common sound in Vitale and that of mortar and pestle. I had my answer. The king had stated his name and purpose in his toiling chant. This thatched house belonged to King Bring.

I hadn’t intended to communicate with him today, yet his oasis in the sky had me distracted from things I ought better to do.

I opened the door and walked closer to the banging and singing.

“A curse it is you’ve earned most surely,

A lesson, a hardship, that hurts you sorely.

Don’t beg, don’t cry. ’Tis not a personal score,

To balance a scale, some must fall, some must soar.”

The king had a gift for rhyme.

I left the hallway that was not dank nor dim, but warm and welcoming, then paused in the doorway of a kitchen that must take up most of the house. Cauldrons, ladles, candles, and skulls; rolled parchment, some unfurled, sat on every surface and shelf. Stoppered vials filled with mysterious things lined the walls, and the ceiling too—though how they didn’t fall to the ground, I couldn’t tell.

Wooden boxes, vases, drying herbs, and barrels. My mind couldn’t take it all in.

This wonderful place could only make sense to its king.

I sifted through the wave of the first overwhelming impression and discovered that one object in the kitchen demanded focus. King Bring had sung of balancing a scale, and a scale sat on a bench next to the fire almost covered in rolls of parchment. Red stones filled each dish on the scale, and one dish held more of the stones, hanging slightly lower.

King Bring, his face blurred to me, scooped a spoonful of black liquid from a bubbling cauldron. He poured the liquid into a vial and stoppered it, then shoved the vial through a hole in the floor. I listened to the rattle and whoosh as it hurtled downward. After, the king flicked a red stone into the higher dish, and the scale balanced perfectly.

“Does that vial fall to the bottom of your pillar?” I asked from the kitchen doorway. The bubble of his power wouldn’t allow me closer.

King Bring stilled, then I was forced back a few steps into the hall as he faced me. I felt annoyed about that until my younger mind reminded me such things tended to happen when kings moved.

Bring wore a black leather long coat. His bare feet were crimson with teeth spiked all over them. Leather pants—black to match his coat—covered him from hip to ankle, and the king didn’t wear a tunic. I stared at the gaping hole in the middle of his crimson torso, a mouth lined with dagger-like teeth.

How unique.

I dipped my head. “King Bring, we meet. I am?—”

“Lady Patch.” Awe filled his voice. “You are magnificence. You are wonder in delightful, feminine form. I have met your stitches already, but allow me to say that your voice is as delightful and intriguing as described. Fair maiden, you honor me tonight, and here I had thought you worried of me.”

They were the words of a lover, and unexpected despite the concubine offer. Midnight stole across my cheeks, and I heard his gasp. The king dropped his spoon, and the black liquid clinging to the underside burned through his wooden floor.

Curses left a mark.

“Your blush lures and traps me,” the king said hoarsely “My body hardens at the sight.”

I tilted my head. “In arousal, sir?”

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