A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 2)

“We know what she goes through every day having to deal with you,” Jawson said. “It’s enough to drive someone to drink.”

“Nice working with you peckers,” Hadriel called out over his shoulder.

“Lick rust,” Gyril yelled back.

Hadriel and I walked through the glass doors into the cool room. The enchanted rosebush continued to wither in the middle of the floor, only two buds still in bloom and one branch moderately healthy. The kingdom was in bad shape.

“Great guys,” Hadriel said as I peered down at the dome for a moment. “They had a soft spot for the queen. We all did, but they volunteered to help bring the garden back. It’s nice, actually.” He held out his hands, the dirt crusted on his fingers and ground into his palms. “I’ve never gardened before, but it’s much better than watercolors or half of that other crap people around here are into.”

“Well, there is still a lot of work to be done, so I appreciate the help.”

He nodded as I made for the exit, intent on heading to my room to change. I wanted to get down to the library finally and take a nice, long look around.

“We need to visit the seamstresses,” Hadriel said. “You are in dire need of clothes.”

I groaned. “They already took my sizes.”

“Yes, lovely, and now they have to fit you. You’re long overdue. The master requested we get a move on. You can’t go waltzing into the most influential villages wearing…that. If you do, it won’t matter that you’re on the prince’s arm—they won’t take you seriously.”

“Does Nyfain put on fancy clothes?”

“No. He doesn’t need to. He’s the prince. You, however, are a nobody. As far as they are concerned, anyway.” He put his hand out flat, his pinky pressing against my arm. “You knew he was the prince, right? You’ve figured that out? I can’t remember what stop we’re on in the drama train. I’m no good at secrets. They give me indigestion.”

“I know that, yes. And yes, they will take me seriously. Healing a loved one tends to open people’s minds.”

“Yes, sure, but when the master isn’t looking, they’ll treat you like garbage. Wear something nice and wow them. They won’t even notice your surly ‘fuck off or I’ll cut you’ attitude. They are very shallow, those people. Back in the day, the nobles were the worst. Always walking around with their noses stuck in the air. Arrogant bastards. They thought that they were the prizes of the kingdom because they were dragons.”

“They were, though.”

“Yeah, but hello? Maybe a little humility? Anyway, let’s get washed up, and we’ll visit the seamstresses. I’ll go find Leala.”

“I can wash myself. I don’t need to bother her.”

“Sweetie, you need to let her do her job. She loves it. She’s one of the few people left who likes to work. Let her help you. It has put a hop in her step and a smile on her face.”

I sighed. “Fine. Tell her to hurry up. Nyfain is finally showing me the library, and I want all the time I can get in it.”

Hadriel took off at a run, the first time I’d ever seen him hurry this much. Up in my room, I’d barely gotten undressed before Leala bustled in with a pleasant smile.

“Hello, milady, how was working the everlass? Did you get it all done?” She stood behind me and helped get me out of the very intense binding.

“Yes. Done for now. Demon draught is done, too. I’ll probably help with the garden until we can harvest some more.”

“Oh yes, the garden.” She gestured me into the washroom and poured a bowl of warm water for quick washing. On the way, she stopped at the windows and looked down. “It really is coming along. I remember the queen’s garden back in the day. It was beautiful. Those roses are really overgrown. Will you be able to tame them, or will you need to pull them out and replace them?”

“Just prune them way back in a way that allows for new growth. Like a haircut. The only way to tame them is to strip the thorns from their flowers and decorate your table with them. I wouldn’t dream of it. Decorating a table is a job for daisies or tulips or something. I’ll keep the roses outside and wild.”

“I think the master would be happy to hear it.”

I knew he would. The roses reminded him of his mother, and I wanted him to view them with fondness. With pride. I was positive I could make that happen—I just needed tools and time.

After dressing me in a plain, flowing dress with no shape and no undergarments, Leala led me out of the room.

“I was told to escort you down to the seamstresses. They’ll have undergarments ready for you. You can stop using mine.”