Their kingdom had no king. And their castle had no servants.
Nine girls, all orphans, were adopted by the king of Runa, one from each of the nine kingdoms ravaged by Red Fever. They grew up as sisters, and as royal princesses, with a loving king and...
Willow left the shop in Merridell with a tremulous heart. Holy Toes. He had expected the cost. Binding a book took time and skill, and he wanted it done properly. He just hadn't expected to feel this nervous about it.
He mounted Rupy and rode out of Merridell, the red sun glowering from the west. Calling out his presumption and arrogance in thinking Maelyn—or anyone—could ever like it. If he ended up humiliated... well, so be it. She was worth the risk to him.
He had not yet received a response to his note and wondered what it meant. Was she angry? Or just too busy with her royal duties? He didn't know what it was like to rule a kingdom, but could imagine the heaviness of that burden.
"What is it they say, Rupy? Uneasy rests the head that wears the crown—or something of that sort. She carries a lot for someone so young. Seems unfair."
They had left Merridell behind them, riding past vineyards where the grape clusters had not yet ripened but still gave fruity sweetness to the air. The hay fields lay ahead of him, a few outlying farms, and then the town of Creaklee which he hoped to reach by sundown. Willow rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit his sister Maple liked to mock. He couldn't shake the squirmy regret he felt.
"Hang it all! I don't want to do it." Willow jerked the reins and stopped. "I've changed my mind, Rupy. Let's go back and cancel the order."
Rupy flicked her head in a way that looked like a head shake to Willow. No, you silly boy, she seemed to say. You're going to finish what you started.
Willow sighed and let her walk onward. "Finish what I've started," he muttered. What he'd started was a life in Runa, and with each day and each decision, he bound himself more tightly to it. Did he want that? Felt like so many other things remained unfinished, like his life in Grunwold, his studies at the university. And his hobby—which his family had never supported. Rowan had, but poor Rowan had been dull-witted, a fact even the most kindhearted person couldn't deny.
"I tried to please them," Willow said to Rupy. "Concentrated on my university studies as my mother wished. I know she would love to see me become a scholar—a professor like her own father. Rowan and Alder didn't have the brains for it. I did."
That was all he had expected. Until the summons from King Jarrod had come, immediately following Rowan's death. He had thought it a mistake at first. He still couldn't understand why Jarrod had wanted him.
He walked into the Old Ogre Inn to find supper being served to a full common room, something sure to put Roke in good spirits. Willow stopped by the counter to request a plate, then climbed the steps to his room to remove his riding gloves and wash his face. He returned to the common room with The Carnivorous Carriage under his arm, hoping to be left alone.
The tables had filled. Willow took a counter seat and lay the book open beside his plate of pork ribs, charred, but somehow still moist and delicious. Roke had outdone himself. Willow ate with one hand only, using his clean fingers to turn the pages.
He smirked a few times and snickered under his breath. The book entertained him. He found the horror elements to be so overdone, he suspected the writer had meant it to be more humorous than frightening. A sensitive reader, such as Maelyn, might not perceive it that way, and be disgusted. But Willow found the whole thing laughable.
"What's got you chuckling?" Roke asked, coming over to remove his plate of bones.
"Oh, this book. I like it." Willow shut the book and showed it to Roke. "Ever heard of it?"
Roke read the title and shook his head. "Probably the only copy made."
"I know, but listen to this!" Willow grabbed back the book and opened to the first page. "Listen to how it starts: 'With a sickened heart and shaken bones, I must tell you the tale of Lorrick, a land once visited by a curse so foul, that none there now travel except by foot, and none but the foolhardy ever speak of what occurred in that unhappy town, which resulted in the creation of Bloodless Day, and the burning of the carriages."
Willow laughed. "That is one sentence! It all goes on in that way."
Roke looked at him, plate of bones still in hand. "Why did they burn the carriages?"
"What's Bloodless Day?" asked the man in the next counter chair who had taken no notice of Willow up to now.
Willow shifted to face him better. "It's the day when they burned all the carriages because they were trying to get rid of the bad one. But they don't actually know if the bad one is really gone."
"What's the bad one?" Roke asked.
"The bad one is...." Willow spread his hands, at a loss for words. "Well, I would have to read you the whole book."
The man beside him shrugged. "We're just sittin' here. Read some."
"Yeah, read some," Roke said.
Willow didn't believe them at first. He read aloud two pages, expecting them to become bored. They didn't—in fact, he acquired another listener. By the bottom of the third page, he was being asked to raise his voice so others in the common room could hear. Willow turned his chair outward, lifted the book, and continued.
Two hours later, he was still reading to a full room. And he wanted to laugh.
Why had he been so worried? This book was ridiculous and yet the people here loved it, laughing uproariously when the carriage consumed its first victim. He liked these people. He liked this kingdom. He liked the princesses. And he liked Maelyn.
He would finish what he started.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
