Well,lovemight not be the right word.
I expect the sound of ticking to fill my ears; large cuckoo and grandfather clocks fill the space, though they are silent and the hands unmoving. There is a collection of other oddities, like antique dolls, figures, and other lonely things that you’d find left behind at a thrift shop.
For a room filled with clocks, it’s eerily silent. The absence of ticking makes me wonder how long the two of us have been standing together in this room. Every second that passes, a sense of unknown urgency builds inside me.
My uncle had always fiddled with old clocks and other trinkets, but I’ve never seen anything like these. I think they’re all broken beyond repair butbeautiful.
Being here reminds me in a way of Moth’s hollow. In his years spent living in the mortal realm, he’d squirreled away more shiny little trinkets than a magpie. It must be a family trait, though Moth’s collection is less… creepy.
Queen Plume stands frozen in time and, I imagine, sorrow. It’s terrible that my first urge after wanting to offer her a hug is to take a photo. Imagine how stunning this photograph would be with the clocks blurred in the background and a clockface reflected in the queen’s eyes. Goosebumps prickle across my skin.
It’s a stunning image I don’t dare capture with anything other than my memories. In her rage and grief, Queen Plume createdart,and I don’t think she even realizes it.
“Moments frozen in time,” she says with a small hum. “They’re one of my favorite things to collect from the mortal realm. The image of stopped time has provided a strange comfort since … everything.”
“Since you lost your husband—and your son.” I gulp, unsure how to comfort her in this deeply personal place; the woman has been through more tragedy than I can possiblyimagine.
“And as a result, Holly lost her mother and the kingdom their queen. At least for a while,” she continues. Unsure of what to do, I place my hand on her shoulder and am surprised when she reaches up to give me a smallsqueeze.
“Atlas seemed to swoop in just when I needed help most. It’s funny—no one ever talks about how fickle he was—a man who longed for adventure away from the castle, or so he said. The terrible thing is, he was an outstanding leader: patient, generous to the villagers, and always careful to not create ripples. To think that, all along, he was the cause of my misery.” She paces the length of the space. “I do not understand why he would do sucha thing…”
“Did youlove him?”
“He was a friend. Ithoughthe was a friend.” She stares off before finally nodding. “It was not a romantic love, but yes, I cared for him deeply. I thought he felt the same for me—and the children. To think it was all a lie…”
“You never really know some people.” The bitter words flow out before I can stop them. The more I think about two-faced assholes, the more Chris echoes through my mind. I wonder if King Atlas thought he was the hero when he damned Moth to live a life as a monster in the mortal realm.
“There is more to see.”
She takes my arm, leading me farther into the tower where ivy creates a curtain between this space and the next. Behind the makeshift curtain is the most beautiful mirror I’ve ever seen with carved birds and flowers decorating the full-length frame. The glass ripples and moves like something from afunhouse.
My heart catches in my chest—this must bea portal.
“Atlas knew I wanted a way out. In secret, he commissioned this piece from the Dragonfly Court just for me. Now I wonder if he hoped I’d leavefor good.”
“How doesit work?”
“Do you see the way it moves?” She traces the surface, and it ripples as if she’s skimming her fingers through the water. “The Dragonfly Court live in marshy waters that are said to have magical properties. They’re the ones who created—and ultimately banned—travel throughportals…”
“Banned it?”
“It is like anything,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Those with means can still grant access. I am no stranger to this privilege as you can see. Though many of my fellow rulers do more harm than good when they visit.”
“So…” I begin, tilting my head as I stare at the mirror. “Where doyou go?”
“I walk around a city where I am not queen and revel in the obscurity, perhaps do a little shopping.” Her mauve lips pick up in a genuine grin. “That is something I believe you can relate to?”
I spin the prescription bottle in my hand from its place in my pocket. “You went to my house.”
“I admit, apart from wanting to help you with your ailment, I was curious about your dwellings. It has been such a long time since I’ve seenmy son.”
“But how did youfind it?”
“Would it be too chilling to admit I used a lock of your hair?”
Oh my gosh,what?
“Maybe?” I squeak, hoping she’s notserious.
