It Isn't Easy Being Queen

17. Tastes Like Chicken

So, I sat.

Took a deep breath.

And began the intel-gathering process.

Which, right now, just meant paying attention.

First, observe potential escape routes.

There was a door on the opposite side of the room that probably led to the kitchens. Oddly, there were no windows. I hadn't seen one since I arrived, though I'd spent most of my time in the dungeon to be fair. Heavy tapestries hung all along the walls, perhaps hiding the windows on purpose. Natural light would interfere with the overall gloomy vibe.

And speaking of gloomy, the faded tapestries seemed to depict super depressing stories: A girl, by herself in a garden, waiting on a marble bench. A woman with a solemn face alone in a lavish bedchamber. A crone brewing magic in a cauldron, gray skull-shaped smoke rising from the bubbling liquid. Every tapestry depicted a woman alone with her grief. In the furthest tapestry, I thought I saw a tiny book like the one from the attic. But when I looked again, it was gone.

The hairs on my neck stood on end.

Before you say, "Rowen, don't be daft. Anything can happen! You're in a magical castle. Like Hogwarts but eviler. Like if Slytherin gobbled up the entire school." I know! But my logical brain did not want to accept this input. Woven artwork shouldn't change willy-nilly!

"Now, let us begin," Petronella said, and I turned my attention away from the weird tapestries. "I've brought you together because we have an enormous task ahead. In exactly four weeks, Rowen Grimshaw, the heir to the Brittlebane throne, will take the oath and become your new queen. Each of you has an important role in making that happen. She will learn to walk, talk, fly, spell cast, and dress like an evil queen. And to say that I will be unhappy if anything goes wrong is an understatement. All disappointments in this matter will receive the maximum punishment allowed by law. And remember, it's my law!"

I raised my hand. "Excuse me?"

"What?"

"My name is Rowen Keckilpenny Brown."

The queen frowned. I did not like the frown. It was the sort of frown that sent prickles of fear down my spine. "Your legal name is Rowen Grimshaw."

"My school records say Keckilpenny-Brown," I pressed on.

Petronella huffed. "You shall not keep the name of your kidnappers. You are the heir, and therefore will carry my name." Seemingly satisfied that I would not argue, Petronella cleared her throat. "Now, at the far end of the table, we have Doryu, the head of transportation and delivery." Doryu had piercing green eyes, rather like mine if I'm being honest, and dark spikey hair. He would've been rather handsome except that instead of skin, he had pale iridescent green scales. "But of course, the two of you have already met."

"We have?" I said. It hit me that there was something familiar about his eyes, but I couldn't place the rest of his face.

"Why, yes, he's the dragon that flew us here, remember?"

"But he looks very different. No wings, no fire-breathing, and he's about a thousand times smaller, though the scales are similar."

"Doryu has a humanoid form. He's a weredragon."

My forehead crinkled so hard I worried I'd have permanent lines. "But that makes no sense. Where does the extra mass go when he changes into a human? And where does it come from when he turns into a dragon? It defies the laws of physics—the conservation of mass."

Petronella cackled, an evil queen tendency. "Have you not yet learned that the only laws that matter here are mine? And why didn't you ask about this when I turned your kidnappers into toads?"