Chapter 3: The Floor That Breathed My Name
1033 Words
“Queens wear crowns. I wore dread.”
The ride upward ended with a silence that didn’t feel like peace; it felt like the calm breath before a throat is slit.
Valerius said nothing when we stopped.
The great obsidian doors of the ninth floor glided open with a whisper of power, revealing a corridor laced with violet firelight and floors paved with liquid black marble. A breeze drifted from somewhere deep inside, carrying notes of burnt roses, clean parchment, and something like spice-soaked iron.
“My floor?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
He gave a slight nod. “The entire ninth is yours. All of it.”
It was bigger than the whole palace I grew up in with my brothern the grandest one in Moonland. That palace had gold gates and moonlit towers, and still… this felt larger, grander… lonelier.
He didn’t step inside with me.
At the threshold, he turned as the guard went back down, and he was obviously about to go up and beyond, vanishing into spiraling levels I couldn’t even see the end of.
He lingered in silence before glancing at the battalion of pale women waiting just inside the chamber maids, handpicked, wearing matching emerald sashes.
“They’ll get you ready,” he said.
“Ready for what?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. Just turned slightly like he might disappear into air again.
“Wait,” I said, stepping forward. “How will I move around? How do I go up or down if I can’t… hover? Or fly. Or whatever you all do. Or am I a prisoner here?”
That made him pause.
He turned to look at me, unreadable eyes glittering under the crimson chandelier above us.
Then
without a word he simply rose into the air, like a shadow being unstitched from the earth.
Gone.
I turned to the women, and they bowed deeply. Silent.
Then one stepped forward Elaris. The only familiar face in this godless place.
"Your Grace,” she said with a gentle smile. “Welcome home.”
There must have been at least twelve maids waiting. I only allowed two inside my chamber proper, alongside Elaris. I couldn’t bear the weight of so many eyes.
They didn’t argue.
Apparently, bathing myself was taboo. An offense. An act unworthy of a queen.
“I’m not crippled,” I muttered, sitting stiffly on the edge of a silver basin carved like a giant flower.
“But you are sacred,” Elaris said. “Royal blood especially wolf blood must never be wasted on exertion. You are to be preserved, not tested.”
They scrubbed gently. Like I was glass.
With crushed orchid oils. With milk-blood soap that shimmered silver under the candlelight. They rinsed my hair with rosewater and wrapped me in sheets so soft I wondered if they were woven from clouds. I asked questions. Dozens.
About the palace.
About the kingdom.
About what came next.
“How will I walk around if I can’t float?” I asked again.
That one… none of them answered.
I snapped. Not harsh. But with authority.
“Should I repeat myself?”
The room stilled.
Elaris bowed her head. “No, Your Grace. That answer belongs to the King alone. He has chosen to reveal it at his leisure.”
I swallowed hard.
Took in the room.
It wasn’t just a floor. It was a world. Dozens of chambers. A vast inner court with blackwater fountains. Walls that flickered between scenes of forests, oceans, and fire. A bed that could have slept an army. Windows that looked into a false night where the moon never changed position. The same ghostly glow since we arrived.
No sun.
Just the moon.
Always the moon.
After hours, they finally allowed me to eat.
Alone.
At a table set for one, under a canopy of stained glass that bled red light onto everything I touched. The food… didn’t match theirs. It didn’t feel like it came from the same kitchen.
The meat was perfectly seared, dusted with lavender spice. The wine was deep and thick, like the kind my brother used to bring back from his hunts.
I didn’t eat much.
Something in me twisted. A hunger deeper than food.
Then came the robe.
Soft. Velvet. Deep crimson and sheer in all the wrong places.
I stared at the reflection of myself in the floor-length mirror as they brought the final outfit barely more than net and silk draped over skin. It hugged my body like a second skin, revealing more than it covered.
“What… is this?” I asked flatly.
They giggled.
And I realized I had spoken aloud:
“…Are we going to have s*x?”
I froze. Blinked. Then I straightened my back.
“Wait. I’m the queen. I can say what I want.”
Still, they said nothing. Until Elaris stepped forward and gently clasped my torn hand the same one still marked from the blood covenant.
“You’ll have to consummate the marriage,” she said quietly. “It is the final seal to complete the ritual. Blood alone is not enough.”
My heart pounded. Once. Twice. Louder.
I was suddenly aware of how quiet the palace had become. How far away from the others I was.
My hand my torn hand ached under her fingers.
“And my guard?” I asked, suddenly. “The werewolf I brought. My protector.”
My true love.
“The King made arrangements,” Elaris said calmly. “He is fine. You will see him tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
That word sounded fake.
Had there even been a tomorrow since I arrived?
Since we entered that portal, there had been no sun. No change. Just an endless dusk ruled by crimson moons and silent halls.
Had it been one night? A week?
Time didn’t work here.
The floor trembled. Not harshly. Not enough to alarm.
But enough.
I turned slowly toward the great mirrored doors at the end of my sleeping chamber.
The torches dimmed.
The moonlight on the balcony flickered.
I knew it before they said anything.
He was coming.
The King.
My husband.
Valerius Draven.
- Writer
