Page 70 of Crownless King

The wall with the door was lined with shelves floor to ceiling. It housed a collection of jars, glass boxes, and metal cages with odd things in them. There was a thick blue worm in one jar, with a gorgeous plumage on its flat head. A cage held a live snail with the high shell on its back shaped like an upturned bunch of grapes and long purple tentacles undulating from under it. In a jar filled with liquid, a fetus of a three-headed piglet floated.

I averted my eyes, afraid to study other contents too closely.

“What do you think Sova wanted with me? Why did she rescue me?”

Sauria shrugged a bony shoulder.

“I wouldn’t call it a rescue. She just took you, didn’t she?”

True. Sova had snatched me from the bridge railing, just before I was about to jump, possibly to my death. It felt like a rescue to me. But it could very well be a kidnapping, too.

“Do you think she wanted to sell me?”

“Well, she didn’t know you’re pregnant.”

Pregnant.

My hand splayed over my belly. I felt nothing different about my body. Could Sauria be wrong, after all? The news she had sprung on me felt so surreal.

Sauria examined the jars on the shelves, making sure each of them was attached with a cord to the wall, so it wouldn’t move or break while the wagon was moving.

“Your pregnancy would certainly make selling you more difficult,” she explained matter-of-factly. “There are laws against selling or buying fae in Sky Kingdom. And a child of a human and a fae is always a fae. What would the potential buyer do with the baby once it’s born? By law, the fae baby can’t be anyone’s property. Besides, everyone knows you came from Elaros. So, the father of your baby is likely a highborn. Probably a member of the royal court.” She paused, giving me an expectant look, but I kept quiet. Eventually, she continued, “What if the father decided to claim the child one day? No buyer would want to deal with that. It promises nothing but aggravation with a lot of potential problems. To tell you the truth, however, I don’t think Sova’s plan was to sell you. Money or riches mean little to us.”

“Why would she take me, then?”

She ran her gaze over the display wall.

“Sova liked collecting odd things. Maybe she just wanted to add you to her collection? It’s not every day that one meets a human in the Sky Kingdom, or anywhere else in Nerifir for that matter.”

I followed her gaze with mine, trying not to think about what all those things were inside the jars. Some of them looked really creepy, taking away from the charm of the wagon’s cheerful interior.

“I’m a bit too big to fit on a shelf,” I pointed out.

“Oh, there are ways to make things smaller if necessary.” She touched the jar with the blue worm. “This one, for example, is a giant serpent from the Wetlands of Lorsan. He used to be as long as the tallest tree in this forest. But she fit him in here, see?” She showed off the jar with pride.

I took another step away from the wall. My butt hit a round metal stove, blocking any further retreat.

“Do you have a collection like that, too, Sauria?” I asked carefully.

“Me? No.” She shook her head. “I have neither time nor patience to collect stuff. I still have a lot of spells to learn.”

She did another dash around the wagon, making sure everything was properly tacked, tied, and put away.

Once again, I noted the energy with which Sauria moved. She lacked that measured deliberate confidence that often came with an advanced age. Instead, she made plenty of unnecessary gestures and steps. She bent and crouched lower than was necessary. She climbed up on a chair to check on top of the cabinets, then hopped off it with the ease of a monkey.

“How old are you, Sauria?”

She stopped in her tracks, leveling me with a glare.

“That is a very inappropriate question for a hag.” She sulked. “We don’t reveal our age. We always are as old as we look.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you. I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m not that easy to offend, girl,” she scoffed, looking every bit offended. “Come. Time to get moving.”

Lifting the hem of her cloak, she climbed out of the wagon.

The wind had picked up. The treetops groaned and bent under its onslaught. Dark clouds rushed across the sky like shadows of doom.

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