Page 35 of Of Sockets Of Stitches
Surely not kings. The key was already won, and so the key was mine. Whatever had happened must have had to do with my fate and reckoning.
My power. I could not properly think in this panting state.
I lifted my head and located another keyhole. I was meant to insert three more keys, but not four. I could not fathom the why, but the message was clear.
I overrode my instincts that cried out for me to leave, and I inserted a key of bone into the next hole, the key of King Take. This time, the stitch connecting my right leg to my torso tried to rip out of me.
I rolled on stone in agony, curling in with the attempt to keep my leg attached. Screams left me until only panting and sweat remained. I slumped on the ground for a long while, then weaved over to where another keyhole waited.
King Raise’s key. I slotted the stone key into place and dropped to my knees. The right shoulder.
The pain of something internal and intrinsic being ripped outward. The stitch was a physical part of me, yes, but also a source of my power. I had never experienced its like.
I groaned and shook on the ground, curled in a ball.
One more.
But why not two? Five kings existed, and five keys too. Unfortunately, as only one king’s heart thumped in tandem with mine, it was easy to connect that four kings might share a differing fate.
I crawled to the last keyhole, and with trembling fingers, I slotted the twisted wooden key of King Change into place.
I had mostly expected that my left leg would try to rip from my body. With the dregs of my strength and power, I did my best to keep my stitch within, screaming as something invisible plucked at the individual threads in a bid to pry them up.
Only when I returned from dark unconsciousness, did I discover my success in retaining the stitch. The toll of slotting four kingly keys into place had overwhelmed my senses, and that was shocking in itself.
I sat back on my heels and blinked away the blur in my gaze. During my unconsciousness, four stone cases had pushed upward out of stone, directly in front of where I had inserted the keys.
I hardly dared to, as wrung out as I was, but I opened the stone case of King Bring anyway. No invisible force tried to rip my body apart. The shape within the case made the next step clear.
I staggered back to the bridal gifts at the olden rock and selected the black-and-gray pearl necklace that shimmered and shone.
I placed this inside the case and closed the lid.
My body did not try to rip apart. I was glad for that.
Three more.It was quick work to put the garter, bouquet, and lace gloves where they belonged, and after, there was a louder rumble and a shaking.
I wiped sweat from my brow, blinking through immense fatigue. Through such bodily sensations, I could not properly consider what had happened and why. But I soon would because I must.
“Come, Daughter,” came my mother’s thin voice from far below. “You must sit in vigil with us.”
“Now that you are spent,”chimed the others in unison.
I could not contemplate the magnitude of walking down so many stairs, so I walked to the edge of the tower and threw myself off. I rolled at the bottom, but I need not have bothered, for my weariness was complete, and I could not feel much of anything.
A pawn might have bested me right then, for I was as defenseless as a child.
Ah,but that was the point.
Ancients had reduced me. This vigil was too much for a queen. I was needed in my simplest form. I was the fiftieth daughter, after all. Now I must be the fiftieth child in whatever came next.
Cassandra’s voice filled my impressionable head. “Our vigil begins.”
Chapter Thirteen
In monsterdom
Impossibilities were rarely that
