Page 17 of Of Sockets Of Stitches (Unworldly City #4)

Chapter Fourteen

Of fraying unions,

And the like.

A s I tuned back into my bodily senses, their whispers were very audible, and I wondered how many whispers I had missed in my deep musings.

“ Should we ask her if she is well?” Toil.

“ She has done nothing but sit there from dusk to dawn.” Princess Take.

“ That grave is no good for her. Less and less good, if you ask me. ” Is.

Kings would no doubt overhear their hushed comments, even if they were not eavesdropping. Kings had very good hearing, and one in particular—King Take—liked to know everything about everyone, especially matters of delicacy.

How differently I saw the monsters around me. None of them, even simple monsters and pawns, could have guessed their importance in the saving of the world .

Even King Change, who wished the exact opposite.

In my deep musings, I had confirmed that simple monsters and pawns were represented in the most important veins of the world’s lifeforce. There was an imprint of the circulatory system in my mind’s eye—I would never forget the snaking, broken, and frayed lines of lightning in the haze.

The saving of the world had warranted reflection, and so I had sat in the small lounge that used to be a laundry and stared without seeing at the empty fireplace.

To consider frayed unions that must be healed.

To consider an obliterated heart that must keep pumping—and pump better than ever before.

“Somewhat is clearer,” I said softly.

“ She spoke!” Gangrel.

“ Did you hear that?” Princess Raise.

“ What did she say? ” Unguis.

“ Shh!” Huckery.

My lips curved, though I felt no humor, for the reckoning of the world had more form this night, and I trembled at everything I might not be strong enough to do.

But for monsters, the impossible may always be possible.

I inhaled and held the breath, then let it out in a rush— oof .

“ She always does that. What does it mean?” Deliver.

“Dear monsters,” I said to them. “I am well. I have been occupied in queenly musings, that is all. Thank you for your concern, and please return to your tasks.”

Hex squelched. “You have been so still and unresponsive, my queen.”

“I am well,” I repeated. “Princesses, please convene in my chambers. There is much to discuss.”

Princess Change sniffed the air, and Princess Raise hummed.

The princess of Take snorted. “You can say that again.”

Reckoning was thick in the air.

I stood, and this somehow convinced everyone, all at once, that I was well. They scrambled away in a scratch and slime and scurry to their tasks.

My body objected the movement after so long in one place. I blinked weary eyes up at the moon as I left the small lounge. Everything was the same, but I was not. My knowledge was not.

So everything must be different.

“I will go on each night as unafraid as the moon,” I said.

Princesses were in their usual positions when I floated into the larger of my private lounges. Princess Take sat on one of the armchairs, and Princesses Change and Raise occupied either end of the couch with a space between them that Princess Bring would one day fill again.

“Good evening,” I murmured, taking the other armchair. “You have sensed the reckoning in the air.”

Three princesses nodded.

Princess Raise said, “It cloys.”

Much of my time in deep musing was spent deciding how much to tell monsters.

Candor was not present in my meetings with pawns and princesses or with kings.

I could lie if I wished, or withhold. Kings could not hear anything from this chamber either.

But they would no doubt hear of it from their princesses, or glean the truth in time.

Here was the conundrum—here was my regret: Knowing that I must heal my romance for the sake of the world rather robbed away any authenticity of doing so.

To only speak with King See because I had to, could surely not have a healing effect on what we represented to the world.

So I did not wish to rob that authenticity from princesses, though what they shared with their kings was only frayed and not broken.

On the other hand, princesses could sense my reckoning. They understood when I said something that was crucial. So perhaps that was enough.

“You must each consider your unions,” I told them. “I am here to help you heal them. ”

Each of them sniffed the air. I could not tell much of Princess Raise, but the eyes of Princess Change filled with terror, and Princess Take’s pouty mouth turned down in defeat.

I could not say what Princess Bring might be doing.

I hope she was rustling in sand and blissfully unaware of fear in her toddler form.

“Kings have carried much burden for this world,” I continued. “They have held together what they could for as long as they could, and the limitations of their powers have shown most in what they share with a princess. Speak the hardship of your unions.”

Princess Take said drily and without hesitation, “My king and I share a union of the flesh. He will not grant himself more.”

“Is that still true now he is no longer taking of his own accord? He has not taken since being shackled.”

Princess Take lifted a shoulder. “But he must take again eventually. I do believe that our queen shouldering the burden of who is taken will alleviate his moral turmoil.”

“Remove your flesh,” Princess Change said quietly.

Princess Take arched a brow. “No, thank you.”

I smiled. “A wise notion indeed. Yes, that is what you must do.”

The taking princess cast a wide-eyed look at me, and I added, “You must remove the sight of your flesh. You must cover your flesh. Where, I wonder, is one of the thick robes that Princess Bring used to wear?”

Princess Raise grunted. “Perfect.”

Indeed. A perfect starting point.

“My king will go mad without release. I have attempted to withhold my flesh before.” The taking princess worried at her pouty lower lip.

“A mad king is exactly right. He, and you , must learn to do without the pleasure of the flesh. In this way, you will know of each other’s minds and power. This will give you diversity of emotion and union.” This will heal a frayed union.

Or begin to.

That is all I could undertake tonight—a beginning for all. And for myself.

I shuddered at the thought of what I must do.

“My queen is aware of the failings of my union,” Princess Raise said, turning her face in a way that suggested furtive looks at the others.

I saw no reason to hide that knowledge now. “Your king holds you in greater esteem than his purpose.”

The other princesses gasped. And no wonder.

His affliction was no small thing, though his origins as a foot soldier had meant he would never succeed as a king.

I held a great deal of respect for King Raise, for he had tried so mightily and for so long to be a monster he was not.

He had done this entirely for others and never for himself.

“Then who upholds his purpose? How is it that his princes did not torture purpose back into him?” asked Princess Take.

Princess Raise hung her head. “I uphold his purpose.”

There was a silence after her confession that spoke of the utter confusion of princesses in general.

Until Princess Raise, a princess had only existed to witness her king’s rhyme and reason.

She had not existed to carry out her king’s rhyme and reason.

There had always been a barrier there, an absence of the quality that might drive a princess to action.

I saw the concrete limitations in pawns, too, in a differing sense—they lacked the ability to decipher and connect. That is why Huckery stood out so well.

“H-how?” Princess Change spluttered. “How could you… do that?”

How was a great question, and irrelevant in this instance.

I rested back in the armchair. “How does anything arise in monsterdom, but through the intentions of ancients? Kings could not save the world, and so a queen was created, and yet the plan was always in place, and so a queen was always fated to save the world where kings were never intended to. So King Raise was always meant to struggle between love and purpose. So his princess was always meant to help him. The how does not matter. We can deal with what is.”

Princesses stared at me in confusion.

I leaned forward. “I see a solution that is unprecedented. I cannot tell, though, whether this solution will ruin or save your union, Princess Raise. But I cannot fathom any other path.”

Princess Raise’s breaths quickened. She did not immediately speak, then managed to say, “If there is no other path, then this solution must be the way.”

She did not ask for the solution because she was afraid to know, and I could empathize with her mind’s instincts to protect itself.

I said, “Your king has been reduced, and I must reduce him further. I must uplift you at the same time.”

“Reduce him to what?” The shadows on her face darkened.

What. What indeed. “A king shall become a duke.”

There had never been a duke in monsterdom, so I had not expected there to be much reaction.

She sighed. “And me?”

“You will become the Grand Duchess Regnant, a Grand Duchess powerful in her own right and able to exercise her power over a duchy, which is part of my queendom and previously was the kingdom of King Raise. I believe you would be shackled in your duke’s place.

I believe that he will become a champion of my queendom.

I believe that only one of you was able to balance love and purpose.

You are overdue the freedom and power to go about this.

Your husband is overdue the freedom of being free from it. ”

“You have many beliefs and not much else,” said Princess Take.

I dipped my head. “This is unprecedented. I am not arrogant enough to suppose how ancients might need to balance the equation of power. These are the things I believe will come to fruition, and I could well be incorrect. This could well lead to ruin, both because I operate on instinct and likely connection, and because?—”