Page 123 of Of Brides Of Queens

My ancient mind snapped to betrayal, so savage and violent were my thoughts. But then I bounded closer and could hear somewhat of her conversation.

“Just thinking about it,” she was saying. “We used to enjoy the occasional scare.”

The princess replied in a monotone, as if speaking from a trance, “That was long ago, dear Raise. There is little ruin in giving frights, I have learned. I must center my efforts on larger targets. Numbness and despondency are very effective.”

“Every little bit of ruin counts,” Raise said cheerfully. “Who is to say you cannot scare in numbness?”

“I say so, and I must return to tend my haunted forest now.”

“B-but cannot we talk of past scares a time?” blurted Princess Raise.

There was a pause. “Why?”

“I am so lonely after being locked away.”

“Loneliness is a source of ruin. I will not seek to lessen it. Good evening, Princess Raise.”

Their conversation had swelled in volume as I covered the last few blocks between us. Princess Raise had caught up to Princess Change just one block from the haunted forest kingdom and also delayed the ruining princess. I would thank her later, especially as the king of ruin had gone off ahead.

But right now?

The two princesses came into view, and I could not guess at the sight of me, because when they noticed my blurring and blinking approach, both of them screamed and scrambled back.

My stitches were tight as drawn bowstrings. My hands clawed. My teeth felt snarling—my lips pulled back in a bared snap.

Princess Raise was nothing to me in that moment.

And Princess Change was not numb. She shrieked in fear, “Murderer!”

The princess tried to run.

Quite simply, I flung a stitch after the fleeing monster. The stitch had been part of me, and there was looseness in my torso where two patches were no longer joined after flinging the stitch away. The thrown thread looped around the princess’s feet and she crashed to the dirt.

She rolled, but in a blinking blur, I had a hand around her throat. The thread unraveled and returned to stitch my torso together again.

I did not crush her throat as I pinned her to the dirt ground. “Give it to me.”

My voice whined and grated.

She gurgled, and the skin of her face between the scars and mange deepened purple. Her yellowed eyes bulged. “W?—”

My breath was harsh in my ears. A constant growl rose with each inhale though I was unaware of making it. Blood rushed in me. Thirst of power.

Yet through that madness came a beautiful, exquisite rustle. The rustle of a dried bridal bouquet.

“Your flowers,” I demanded. And the strength of my feeling shook the very world.

Confusion lit her gaze. “But my flowers.”

“Your flowers,” hushed Princess Raise from behind me.

I maintained my grip around Princess Change’s throat as I patted her garden apron with the other hand. Princess Raise dropped to her knees on the other side.

“Sorry, Change. Nothing personal,” she said hastily. “Here they?—”

“Don’t touch them,”I snarled.

Princess Raise was flung away by the force of my fury, and I might feel sorry for such violence later. But for now, a rustling filled my ears, delicate and warm.