Page 1 of Fated to the Wicked King

One

ALICE

This is madness.

Logically, I knew that banging a metal tool in frustration against a broken furnace didn’t help get it fixed any faster.

That letting oneself get distracted by irrelevant notions didn’t lend to finer concentration on fixing said broken furnace. That rage destroyed reason, clarity, and rational thought.

The continuous banging of my wrench echoed like a bell against the brass pipework wound throughout the innards of the entire structure of the clock tower around me.

The noise would have disturbed every living thing in the area if only the vast desert wherein I lived was anything but an almost remote wasteland.

Although amidst the creaks and groans filling the ancient structure, the once never-ending, rhythmic clinking of massive metal gears and mechanical workings of the tower’s clock face, which used to be a constant, was no longer.

Strange how I’d never considered the perpetual ticking wearisome.

Silence.

That was more wearisome.

Underneath the glowing ball of witchlight hovering above me, I squinted at the broken thermocouple at the bottom of the cast-iron furnace.

The mechanism stuck halfway, stubborn and useless.

“Aahh!” Groaning, I hammered my wrench against the metal pipes once again—fruitlessly, helplessly.

A hiss of steam and a mechanical hum jerked me back to my senses as a piece of machinery came to life behind me.

Glimpses of exposed brass pipes and spinning gears passed before my eyes as a metal car clinked and clanked within the silent iron-framed cage of the elevator well installed in the corner.

“What in the fresh tide’s name is all that racket?”

The lazy query floated along as the elevator came to a stop with a jolt. A fuzzy, purple cat tugged on the wrought-iron gates, tilting his disproportionately large head sideways to squeeze past the gap he had barely bothered to open fully.

I wiped the prickly sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, and soot smudged along my forearm. I cast a glance down at myself. Wrinkled and in disarray, my lab coat, which had, at one point in time, I was sure, been pristine white, had collected several new amusing patterns of black oil spatters, coal, and smears of mold. My trousers looked as though I had trudged through Tulgey Woods during sludge season.

Tsk.

Not caring that I was covered in grime and kneeling on the floor, I shot the cat a narrow-eyed look. “Can you even believe this, Chez?”

The cat’s fur, despite being matted in places, swirled with different patterns of luminous whorls in shades of violet, accompanying the animal’s movements as he padded across the floor. “Believe what?”

“Believe what?” I echoed mockingly. “That!” I pointed my wrench accusingly at the unrolled parchment sitting atop the pile of spare parts and dust bunnies on a rickety wooden table.

Ignoring my question for the moment, he eyed the metal mechanical beast before me and the wrench in my hand. “Are you fixing that furnace or merely abusing it?”

I sat back on my heels with a huff. “This furnace is being unreasonable.”

The cat sprang from the floor to the wobbly table with a deft correction of claws and tail. He then launched again in one fluid, elastic arc to land balanced atop a wooden shelf, before peering at the aforementioned parchment.

As if responding to his need, the glowing ball of mystical light floated closer to the table.

Turning my tools back to task, I couldn’t help muttering, “‘The King does not forget unanswered invitations.’ It’s like saying attendance is not optional.”

“Why do you even have one of these? They only went out to the titled houses and kingdoms.”

“Whatever.” I waved my wrench. “Who cares how I got it? The point is—seriously? Now he’s seeking a bride like this? He’s…” My breath momentarily failing me, my hands fell slack with the tightening in my chest. “He’s looking for…” I clenched my jaw, willing annoyance and mockery to wash over me. “It’s such absolute arrogance.”