Page 2

Chapter Two

Hummings

Hushings

I ran my hands over black lace. I had noticed the uptick in the regality of Valetise’s designs. The sleeves of this corseted dress hung to the floor, and she had strung black lace from the points of my copper crown to hang in a small curtain. My breasts were pushed in the direction of my conservatory, but the satin rustle of the full skirt was enjoyable, and would grow more so with the whoosh-click of my floating walk.

“Will that be all, my queen?” Valetise murmured.

The haberdashery monster was exquisitely crafted with measuring tapes and magical threads and all manner of physical attributes that aided her purpose to arm my queenly fashion, but if needles stuck into thickly calloused forearms could droop, then I fathomed they were tonight. “Does something plague you, dear Valetise?”

“Boils and pus, my queen?”

“Not so literally. I speak of plagues of the heart.” I was increasingly aware of my queendom and all in it. Many aspects confused me, like the bizarre behavior of my clueless humans, but of two monsters I saw clearly.

Valetise fiddled with the tape measures that pulled in and out of her body.

I said softly, “I do not have policies against fraternization between monsters in my queendom, dear Valetise.”

She lifted her head. “This gladdens me greatly, my queen. That was my concern, I admit, for I have fraternized in my thoughts and words and even more in my dreams. ’Tis Picket, your ropey gateman. His fibers fill my mind and shackle my wrists and ankles.”

I did not need to ask what he shackled her to. “I imagine you would prefer his fibers filled more than your mind.”

Valetise blushed somewhat. Such a steely monster as she, and still a blush. How endearing. I felt better about the inky midnight that liked to betray my cheeks at times.

“I would, my queen. But Picket is a new monster—the newest of monsters. He believes a wardrobe dalliance would distract him from gate duty. When the sixth of King Change scaled his brick wall two weeks ago, he allowed the failure to tie him in knots.”

I blinked. I had noticed the new lumps and bulges in his rope body.

My, but Picket had accomplished a great deal in a short time. He should not take the failure so personally. That was entirely my role as queen. “Thank you for bringing that to my attention. Duty need not get in the way of love.”

As I said it, my mind tagged on a qualifier— for monsters who do not rule.

Because for me, duty must get in the way. I had deciphered that much very early into queendom.

“I will inform him such, my queen. Thank you.”

“May his fibers fill you soon, Valetise.”

Her flashed grin warmed me as she swept back into my wardrobe, assumedly to her chambers beyond.

I was rather invested in their love story. I wanted them to win. If my fate did not involve love, then others must experience it for me, and not the tragic kind that the Raises shared.

I had some time before princesses arrived. “Mother, I shall travel through your hellebores presently.”

She rattled the artwork in response.

As I walked out of my sleeping chamber, I said, “I do hope that Picket and Valetise work things out.”

My feet slowed as I entered the smallest of my two lounges. My private lounge, I had come to think of it, because princesses never ventured past the largest lounge that sat closest to the doors.

A monster sat upon my couch.

His voice curled around me. “She speaks to her mother in death, and I will do the same, because such a mother must be thanked for providing the world with a daughter of darkness. Her daughter defines my immortality. She is perantiqua and always has been and must always be, for another possibility is not enough for her exquisiteness. Thank you to the mother of my ancient destiny.”

A humming murmur sounded from within the walls, and despite the fact that the uninhibited sight of King See had frozen my mind and soul, I did cast a look at my queendom. Mother?

Why was she humming so? Did she enjoy King See’s speech? I surely had, though I could not recall a single word, so robbed was I by the sight of him. I had only recently seen him in entirety—with no blur of face or body to speak of.

The candles flickered, and no more humming came.

I forced my gaze to King See and held it there with great difficulty. He was too much to absorb at once, and me a queen. There was the intense menace of him that unraveled my breath. Then there was the powerful focus of him that trembled my insides. Not to mention the intense heat of his all-seeing perusal of my thoughts and feelings and intentions and obsessions.

Pitched against this was the whirlwind of my own thoughts as I considered each of these in regard to him. He was recently unpredictable in ambition and madness in obsession, but how did he think and feel? What were his plans and dreams and hopes? Each of these factors—menace, focus, perusal, and mystery—was too large to fathom in a heartbeat, let alone all of them combined. I could sooner stare at the moon from an arm’s length away and never be blinded. To be the object of King See’s claiming scrutiny was to walk down a stairway that constantly shifted and disappeared and tilted and crumbled.

I felt inwardly and outwardly seared in the same inhale. My exhale was suffocated by all we were and were not in the same.

I wished to tear off the very dress that had fit like a glove five steps ago.

When milky eyes fixed upon me so certain, so consuming, the awareness of me was shaken and rattled so that I could not feel centered, and all this was merely a reaction to the essence of him and our destiny. The addiction I felt for his appearance on top of this simply ensured that I would always be undone on the matter of King See.

He kept his black beard clipped short, though he did not treat his black hair the same, which curled atop his shoulders. A simple silver circlet nestled on his head to mark him king, and chalky white skin provided the perfect contrast to the inky midnight of his hair and dark, velvet coat.

There was such grateful joy to be felt at the unexpected and hard-won sight, and yet the sight picked apart my stitches to splay the patches of me under a magnifying glass too—for his lazy viewing pleasure. The brightness of him as he inspected every part of me through the glass would surely set my skins alight.

“Your breaths quicken,” he stated. “You are undone.”

I swallowed. “I feel grateful joy at the unexpected and hard-won-for sight of you. Yet the sight of you picks apart my stitches to splay my patches under a magnifying glass.”

King See’s thin lips curved. “I would do all that you say, and splay you for my lazy viewing pleasure. No part of you would be safe from the thoroughness of my cold inspection.”

Truth. “That is why my breath quickens, sir.”

“You are undone.”

My eyes narrowed. “As you must be.”

Though the king seemed far more collected than I.

He drawled a smile. “A glare from a queen. Will you stomp for me, maiden?” The couch creaked as he leaned forward. “Will you pout?”

I did not care to be labeled as a petulant queen. I had not anticipated its arrival, having never been petulant in humanity. King See was aware that I felt prickly on the subject of stomping and pouting.

I crossed my arms. “Did you receive my letter of demand, sir?”

He was grinning. “I did, and so I have come.”

And here was his mystery, for King See never visited me for a single reason, and never for the reason I expected, nor the reason he professed.

I sat on the far end of the same couch as King See. To sit in the armchair opposite seemed to convey a small fear of him and place us as adversaries. To sit on his lap was too much now that I could see all of him, and then there was the matter of heart breaking between us.

I steeled myself, then looked at him again. Milky eyes. Suffocating. “Sir, I am expecting princesses soon. We cannot deal in lessons of war today.”

Splayed. Seared. I fidgeted in my dress.

“Does your corset constrict your breathing, Perantiqua?”

I curled my hands to fists. “You know that the sight of you does this. Does my discomfort amuse you?”

“Amuse. Haunt. Madden. Inspire . You steal who I am, and so I am relieved to steal any part of you, including your breath.”

Yes, but why did he not fidget and freeze under my scrutiny?

The answer arrived. He had seen me always and had learned to hide the signs of all I inspired. Bother and drat, for I would have enjoyed seeing that cabaret.

My frustration drained away. I could hardly be annoyed at him for feeling the amusement that I would not hesitate to feel if our situations were reversed. “I understand you.”

“You do, and that makes you irresistible.” His power curled around my waist and lifted me.

King See floated me closer, and my heart erupted in a flurry.

We could physically touch now that my power had grown, but touching in the flesh had proven… important and meaningful. How ironic that we had not touched at all since becoming able to do so. I had rarely harbored reservations regarding the touch of his power. We had shared almost everything that way.

Therein resided the problem of our true touch—in the meaning. King See did not wish for meaning. Or he did, but not in a very large way, or just in fragments of meaning that did not add up. Or he did not want any meaning, unless… unless—well, I could not be certain what he wished for, other than that love was not wished for, but respect and trust and choice and acceptance were meaningful fragments.

Surely love was the glue of these fragments.

Goodness, the thinking of him hurt my mind fiercely. All I could say is that the idea of touching King See with my hands or lips felt painfully meaningful, so much so that we had not shared any touch since walking arm in arm to face four kings together.

Two weeks ago.

Two. Weeks.

I had not gone without pleasure from King See for more than a week at a time. I was a queen with needs—no wonder I shook and rattled so tonight. He was usually better about tending to them. Not for my sake entirely, but to help curb the madness of his obsession to break my heart. If he did not do so, then madness liked to whisper envious ideas of my daylight activities with other kings.

King See lowered me onto his lap. I could not speak. I could not breathe. We looked at each other, and I could feel the roundness of my eyes and the midnight flush of my skins.

Our hearts synced to thump in tandem, and there was a mystery in that phenomenon that transcended our ancient ability to connect the why and how of so many things.

I moistened my lips. “Tell me true, See. Does your obsession to break my heart remain the same?”

His milky gaze dropped to watch the small show of me wetting my lips. “My obsession remains the same, Perantiqua. I am but a claiming king still.”

Then I could consider his visit as an act to crack my heart a little more. Would I drink the poison? I could not always say from one night to the next.

King See lowered his sights, then lifted his enormous chalky hand. I was the puppet of ancients and nothing more, so I lifted my hand to set it against his as though a string connected my limbs to the sky.

Palm to palm.

His hand could engulf my own, but he did not curl his fingers about mine, and instead pushed our hands against the base of my throat. He could still have strangled me, though my hand rested between his hand and my neck. The message seemed clear. See lifted his hand only to flip mine so that my fingers curled around my own neck.

My heart quickened, and his did too. Milky eyes snapped to mine to ensure his second message was delivered—the one where I understood that he could steal my breath at any given time, and that I would steal my own breath for him if he wished it.

Only then, did he leave my hand where it was to slide his palm down my chest to the low neckline of my dress. One large and chalky finger traced along the neckline, dragging along the stitched skin of my breasts. Calloused fingertips. My chest rose and fell, a damsel under his immortal touch.

“And has your body missed me, Perantiqua?” he murmured as if hypnotized.

His attempts to lessen our connection were not always so obvious. “ I have missed you.”

His laugh was cold and humorless. “Must I always tend to your feelings before sampling the delights of your body? Do you tie one to the other still, the queen who knows that I would only tend those feelings for the purpose of exchanging bodily pleasure with her.”

I did still tie heart to body. But less so as dusks came and went. I did not relish in that sliding descent. “You spoke of respect and choice. Of trust and acceptance. Perhaps you should respect my feelings and my choice to tie together what I will. If not that, then why not trust that my feelings are meant to be tied to my body, or accept that this is so.”

“You seek to use my words against me, and yet you doing so only confirms how they haunt you.” He hissed while slipping his finger under the neckline of my corset. The bodice would not hold both his finger and my breasts. Something had to give.

One breast popped out of the corset, and his sudden tension reminded me of my power. This was not a one-sided affair. Ancients gave him more time to grow used to the sight of me because he had needed the advantage.

I slid my hand from where he had orchestrated my self-strangulation. I traced over the swell of my exposed breast, circling smaller until rolling my nipple gently.

A curse and a groan at once. Milky eyes did not blink. They saw no past, present, and future. Only me.

“They haunt me, sir. You haunt me,” I murmured.

“As you haunt me in sleep and in wake,” he said hoarsely. “Yes, I believe that we must share in all I say. In respect and choice and trust and acceptance.”

“Without love, how can such things be shared?” I spoke softly so as not to break my spell.

He did not answer. Could not?

I would not assume why no answer came. “There is great meaning in the touch of my flesh to yours. You know this. You withhold your touch to hurt me.”

“ Yes ,” said the king whom I would never escape.

I rose high on my knees to reach behind his neck. I dragged his head close to my bared breast, then I released my hold. His lips were a whisper from the hardened bud of my nipple. My next inhale nearly saw us make contact.

Nearly.

His breath was ragged.

“Withhold your touch, See,” I ordered, heady with his torment.

The towering king held still. He was frozen now.

I had decided to sip his poison, then offer my own poison in return. His indecision stroked my ego greatly.

Without any of the growling and blurred mindlessness I had imagined, King See hooked a finger in the front of my corset to drag me closer.

His thin, cruel lips closed over my nipple, and a low cry tumbled from my lips. He did not suck hard nor bite. The king rolled his soft tongue over my offering as though it were the most delicious treat. As though he did not care to eat up the treat too soon.

His lips curved against my breast as I gripped my hair out of utter confusion of how else to move without disturbing his rolling tongue.

A deep drag into his mouth, and a desperate scream left me. Two weeks too long! I used my pointer finger to raise his chin, then held his milky gaze as I freed my other breast.

“Withholding anything from you takes all the strength I have, and strength I cannot seem to ever find,” he told me raggedly. “My weakness shall be our undoing.”

“Your weakness is imagined.”

His milky eyes bore into mine, and in my lust, I was powerful enough to withstand his focus.

“But it is not, Perantiqua. It is not.”

There would be no intellectual agreement with us tonight. I guided him with my fingers under his chin to the other breast and ignored his cold chuckle.

As he drew my nipple into his mouth, I felt reverence take hold of him. He sat straighter on the couch and splayed his hands over my upper back to press me closer. King See was gripped by the wonder of all I was. He who was lucky enough to touch me, and who would touch me always and fight for the right to do so.

King See rumbled and circled and rolled and kneaded.

Such urgency in me. Such reverence in him.

My breast bounced when he released it.

Midnight must flush me thoroughly. There was no speaking through the want of him.

See gripped my jaw and forced my hazy sights to his face. “What next, young queen?”

My mind swam in our romantic fantasy. He would lift my dress and fill me suddenly and all the way. I would ride him as though he were my final breath. His hands would rock my hips faster than my mind could fathom.

The king who had withheld his touch to hurt me.

The king with whom I shared a destiny.

And what then?

What happened after he filled me, and I let him?

Something would. Something unpredictable.

The possibilities were a cold slap because King See had asked me to direct our pleasure. And if I said yes? Then that would be my admission that heart and body did not need to coexist.

The responsibility of that admission never existed when our powers acted as the middleman. But in the flesh…

Such admission existed in the flesh.

And two could play at that game. For as See wished to drive me to loveless touch, so too could I do the opposite to him.

I rose higher still to brush my lips against his ear and my breasts against his throat. “If only you knew of my wicked fantasies. Such fidgeting just for thinking them. I do not know that I will ever speak them aloud.”

His hands found my hips. “Speak them, maiden. You need not feel shame.”

Never so easily, my king .

I leaned back to trace my finger over his thin lips. I had kissed them once. I wanted to again, more than I wanted most things. Our first kiss had felt preordained as I lay shimmering on the edge of insanity and he paced the edge of madness.

This moment was not preordained or life-affirming or soul-centering, and a kiss was more meaningful than his mouth on my breasts.

I slipped my breasts back inside my corset. “I think not. I could not speak such things to a king who does not care for all parts of me.”

His lips curved. “I see your game.”

I was sure that he did. “Good evening, sir. What a shame there will be no lesson today.”

“I am disappointed indeed.”

His reply gave me pause, so purring and inauthentic as it was. Only the pause was needed to connect that King See would have been blinded to princesses at dusk when I had sent the letters out.

He would have known princesses would be here at this time.

So See had never intended to give me a lesson in war, just to appear to be making good on his obligations. Which meant he did not wish to make good on his lessons at all.

He did not wish me to know his rhyme and reason.

All of that blinked through my mind in aggressive ancient fashion, and with my fists clenched in the wake of the onslaught, I decided to whirl back and demand the lesson anyway. Princesses could wait a time.

Except a king had not waited to watch me connect his real reason for coming.

See was gone.