Page 68 of The Crown’s Temptation

The room remained silent. Then a gasp. “Oh shit, she is not lying.”

A man with boils all over his face and a strange piece of metal protruding from his left eye stood. “The story tracks. The new guard, that was his name, goes by Ernie for short.” He paused. “Didn’t come in today and I had to work extra.” He glared at me. “I put him on the schedule for next week.”

I tried not to smile. What were the odds that the name I made up was the name of an actual guard?

And that he guards the east wing of the northeast corridor. It must truly exist. I would need to tell Fiersa that her subjective location has some objectivity after all.

“You should probably take him off,” I said calmly. “He most certainly has been eaten.”

I coughed again. And spat into the cup and lifted it up. “Unless you would like to taste him to confirm his future availability.”

The room stayed silent. I sank back into my seat and reached for the dice. I picked them up and felt them properly before I did anything else. Weighted on one side, dragging left.

I had been playing dice since I was twelve in the servants' quarters beneath the Baron’s estate, with kitchen hands who cheated as naturally as they breathed and assumed a girl had no head for numbers. In truth, I had an excellent head for numbers and a weighted die still lands true if you know how to compensate for the drag. I rolled.

The dice bounced twice. Stopped.

The room went quiet.

"Impossible," the red-faced creature said.

"She beat him," said another, with something that sounded almost like reluctant respect.

Groans rose around the table. One knocked his cup off the edge. The creature at the head stared at the dice. Then clicked his tongue. "A deal's a deal." He cut the ropes. The woman collapsed forward and began dragging herself toward the door, her remaining hand flat against the floor, breath coming sharp. Hope crossed her face.

Halfway there, something landed on her back.

She screamed once. Teeth sank into her neck. Blood spread across the floor. The room erupted into applause.

I stared at him. "You lied."

The creature chewing on her shoulder looked up. "We did."

The laughter returned.

I looked around the room slowly.

"You are all pathetic."

The laughter faltered.

"I have met undead with more honor."

Silence.

"I hope every one of you rots inside this shithole forever."

The chair beside me exploded backward. A hand closed around my throat and the red-faced creature slammed me across the table hard enough to scatter the dice. Wood cracked beneath me. His face hovered inches from mine.

"Listen carefully, Rathmor whore." His breath smelled of iron. “Our new king clearly can’t decide whether he wants to fuck you or kill you." His grip tightened. "He should do us all a favor and do both."

Cheers erupted.

"When he's finished," he looked around the room, "I'll take my turn."

More jeers.

I looked at him. “If you’re as terrible at fucking as you are at dice, I’d rather you not waste my time.”