Page 44 of Fated to the Wicked King

A soft knock came at my door, swinging open, followed by the rustle of skirts as efficient attendants entered, carrying silks, ribbons, and the faint scent of violets and lilacs.

“Courtesy of the princess,” I was told.

Stunned, I blinked. I wasn’t well-versed in the lineages of all the kingdoms on Wünder. And given our frosty greeting from the prince, it was surprising to be provided for by another member of the royal house.

Before I could properly protest, I was guided toward the dressing screen as though this had always been the plan. The maids worked around me with practiced ease. It seemed only moments before they finished fussing over me and left.

Still trying to regain my bearings, I looked down at myself. I smoothed over the lush fabric with my hands in wonder. Delighted to find pockets in the new dress, I grabbed my lab coat to retrieve my usual things.

Walking to the door, I caught my reflection in the mirror and couldn’t help a pleased smile.

Under a thick fur cloak, layers of soft, deep forest green silk composed my outfit, embroidered with fine thread that curled in elegant, vine-like patterns across the fabric. The dress fit around me with delicate precision while the sleeves fell in sheer, whisper-thin layers that brushed my skin.

I turned my head. The emerald clip was back in my hair, its color coincidentally an exact match to the dress, its stone gleaming against the pale strands of my hair.

Ball gowns aside, I had never seen myself in such a luxurious outfit. Not that I could remember anyway. Had I ever worn anything like this in my real life? Was my own world anything like Wünder at all?

Even if I’d never liked dresses in the past, their mere craftsmanship and ingenuity truly fascinated me. Perhaps I would miss these things once I had found my way home.

The stone floor trembled beneath my feet.

What…?

Then it came again—the second time more forcefully, and I had to brace my hand against the doorway so I wouldn’t tip over.

Creaking stone and urgent shouts layered over the crashing of boulders.

My pulse began to race as I bolted out the door.

What was happening now?

I almost tripped over my feet as I skidded to a stop beside a hallway of arches. Looking across the way, I blinked in confusion. Then I blinked again.

I didn’t understand what I was seeing—no, that wasn’t true. I understood it enough to know it shouldn’t exist.

Not like smoke, not like mist—something heavier. Great translucent spheres bloomed into existence, as though reality was being forced outward from some unseen pressure. Shimmering with an iridescent sheen and bending the light, they warped everything they touched.

My breath caught because the nearest one was not in the courtyard right before me—it was through it.

Through the stone. Through the towers.

Through everything.

A sphere five times the size of a coach intersected the spire of the tower in the adjacent structure to my right.

I stood frozen, transfixed, as the tower didn’t crumble. Instead, the bricks stretched, elongated, fractured into impossible angles where they met the sphere’s edge. Inside the sphere, the world shifted—the same tower spinning in seasons, skimming destruction and rebuilds, days and nights, all sped up and slowed to a slurry at the same time.

The light bent like liquid across surfaces, reflecting a thousand fractured versions of the kingdom, each one slightly off, slightly wrong—developing into a slow sucking spiral.

Another eerily familiar sensation tugged at my chest, prickling the back of my neck. It was highly unlikely I had seen something like this before. But had I?

Caught between terror and awe, I couldn’t help my sudden notion. What was happening was deeply, unforgivably wrong, of course. But…it was also terrifyingly beautiful.

The floor beneath my feet rippled where another sphere cut right into the courtyard floor, cobblestones lifting and sinking in slow, unnatural waves. The building was crumbling. The whole structure was about to give way under me.

Snapping to attention, I fought against the sheer overwhelming fear rooting me in place. I pushed off and ran down the hall, down the stairs, and out the door—colliding squarely with a firm chest.

Gasping, I looked up.