Page 14 of A Bond of Fire and Roses

I need to get out of here as soon as I can.

A knock on the door jolts me from my thoughts. Thank the gods. I straighten on the bed and dust the pancake crumbs from my night dress, relieved to find the king’s face vanishing from my mind. At this rate any distraction is welcome.

“Come in.”

The door opens and two servants enter. I recognize them immediately as the king’s royal seamstresses, the same ones who forced me to wear dress after dress at the convent while Priestess Gabriella watched. Whatever they’re here for can’t be good. It’s not like I’m short of any garments now.

I search the area behind them, relieved to find only another servant following them. The guard places a highly decorated trunk in the centre of the room. The seamstresses pause at either side and bow.

“Your Grace,” they both say, then the shorter one gestures to the trunk. “King Erax has sent you generous gifts to be worn during the wedding ceremony.”

It’s the first time either of them have spoken to me and I’m surprised to find no… malice in their tone. More surprising is the fact they referred to me as their grace.

My stomach clenches and I dig my nails into the mattress. “Gifts?”

“Yes, Your Grace. It is customary for the king’s bride to wear a royal wedding jewel. Every new queen of The Hallowed Kingdom is made a new piece of jewellery to wear on her wedding and it will be added to the collection. There are currently many pieces for you to choose from. The king has requested that you personally be allowed to choose.”

Together they lift the trunk, revealing various pieces of breathtaking jewellery. The sunlight filtering through the room bounces off the rich necklaces and bracelets, causing them to glitter like stars. Velvet boxes line the far side of the trunk, and at first glance I assume them to be rings. It’s not until I walk over and cast my gaze over the strange objects do I realise they are earrings. Not the kind I’m familiar with, but the kind that follows the shape of your ear.

I reach out for one of the boxes, pausing to glance at the seamstresses, as though this is some kind of a trap. The smaller one nods, and they watch me tentatively pick up the earring. My heart hammers in my chest as I run my finger over diamonds so sharp they nearly cut me. There’s so many of them. This trunk alone could rebuild a city. My parents’ city.

My city.

I swallow down my spine, holding back the resentment, and focus on the task at hand. After perusing the objects, I settle on a delicate necklace with a short gold chain and a small dragon-shaped pendant that hangs from its centre. The jewel carved into its eye glimmers a pale silver-blue in the light, reminding me of the moon. The seamstress nods and reaches into the trunk, drawing out one of the many unopened boxes.

“Might I suggest the Dragonquartz bracelet and ear wrap to match, Your Grace?” She opens the box and holds it beside the corresponding bracelet, almost identical to the necklace, except the dragon pendant is wrapped around the jewel like it’s cuddling the moon. “Or perhaps her grace would prefer our newest arrival, the sunlight rose quarts, to compliment her beautiful hair?”

I shake my head, drawn to the dragonquartz. It reminds me of home, like the moon always does, but more than that it reminds me of strength.

And I really need as much strength as I can get right now.

The earring, or ear wrap as the seamstress called it, is just as beautiful as its counterparts. It’s shaped like a dragon, with moon quarts for the eye, but the wings are stretched out this time, and when the seamstress tests its fit on my ear, the gold tips poke out between strands of my hair. It’s beautiful, all three of the items are, but I don’t say it. I will accept nothing willingly from their king. How I’ll manage to successfully keep that up, and for how long, I don’t know, but I’ve got to at least try. He is my enemy after all. The fact he is to be my husband will never change that.

The seamstresses close the trunk, and with a click of the smaller one’s fingers, the guard returns to carry the trunk outside. The women follow him, and I frown at their backs. Surely that isn’t all? The ceremony is coming far too quickly.

“Is that all?” They turn to look at me, their expressions as confused as I feel on the inside. “What I mean is, the dress… Will I have said in that?”

They do not answer, and my gut twists uncomfortably. Silence never means anything good. At least not in my experience. Silence has often resulted in something worse than a response. Something that could never mentally or physically prepare me for.

I need to get out of here.

This room, this palace, this kingdom — it’s suffocating.

And it’s not like the king forbade me from wandering his palace. He did say I could take “strolls” so long as I don’t get myself blown up. The king doesn’t need to know that I’m using those strolls to take in every inch of my prison so I can fetch a way out of it.

I yank the door open, searching for the guards I sometimes find lingering in the hallway. None stand guard tonight. There’s something immediately suspicious about that, but my anxiety is too high to let me ponder it.

Wrapping my nightgown tighter around me, I head in the opposite direction to where I went last night. The air is distinctly different the moment I step foot into the empty hallway. It’s colder here and the smell of burning ash does not fill my senses. The walls are also lit with more sconces that allow me to see the intricate patterns carved into the stone beneath my pink slippers.

I pause at the end of the corridor, my gaze falling upon a strange glowing insect perched on the edge of a flowering locus plant. It’s small enough to be missed if its wings didn’t glow a bioluminescent blow. Its light alone is strong enough to beam against the stone wall, highlighting more of its kind gathered within the crooks. There’s an almost tangible pattern about the way they’ve positioned themselves. I follow the pattern, curious to where its spirals might lead, and extra mindful of my steps this time. The last thing I want to do is accidentally trigger another trap again.

I follow the trail cautiously. I’ve never seen insects like this before. They remind me of dragonflies, almost exactly like them, except their eyes and wings glow like sapphire stars. So strong is their light that they eventually replace the scones to guide my way, leading me down a long spiral staircase to an old wooden door covered in vines with the same bioluminescent glow. Thick layers of dust cover the wood and the handle has all but crumbled on the floor, leaving only a gaping hole behind. The door doesn’t look like it’s been touched in years.

I peer through the hole, seeing only more of the glowing bugs on the other side. Surely something so beautiful couldn’t be a trap. That is probably what the trap maker would want their victim to think. Yet I’m inexplicably drawn to this door. I hesitate. I can’t risk getting myself blown up again, and I really don’t want to wander too far and end up crossing paths with a guard.

Or worse, the king himself.

I turn around and make for the stairs again. As curious as I am to find out what’s on the other side, I’m not brave enough to take the risk.

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