Turning the chamber into a demon-infested boom-room wasn’t exactly a drink in the bar. And, annoyingly enough, it called for ingredients I definitely didn’t have on me.

  “Excellent foresight, Charlie. Did you expect to draw a massive demonic summoning circle with your own blood?” I muttered sarcastically, half-jokingly at first, but then frowned thoughtfully at the cold marble beneath my feet. “Wait. It would probably work… wouldn’t it?” I bit down gently on my lip, the faint taste of worry mingling with determination.

  But no.

  While I was always game to level up my healing skill, I was decidedly less enthusiastic about voluntarily bleeding out liters of blood onto creepy marble runes. So, shoving my shiny new demon-summoning scroll into my convenient royal handbag, where all good queens keep their dubious valuables, I stepped out of the oppressive chamber.

  My newly devoted follower was running around the hallway outside, her heavy footsteps echoing in an enthusiastic rhythm on the slick stone floor. I paused at the doorway, blinking in mild surprise. Dhriti pivoted sharply, flashing a broad, toothy grin at me that practically glowed with newfound vitality. “Thank you, my queen! I can run now without feeling like my heart is exploding!”

  “Use your new powers wisely…” I told her, my voice dazed, still processing the change in her. She was practically radiating with energy, standing taller and moving with a newfound confidence. “If we ever get separated, meet me two days before the grand auction, up near the binding stone, okay?”

  She tilted her head in confusion. “Separated? Why would—oh.” Her eyes sparkled with admiration as realization dawned. “You really think of everything; that’s why you’re the queen and I’m just your High Temple Guardian.”

  “Yeah… right,” I nodded awkwardly, suppressing an inward groan. If only she knew. “Be well, my… High Temple Guardian,” I said, trying desperately to inject some regal grandeur into my voice. Turning on my heel, I attempted my best queenly stride… which, considering I was technically a queen, meant however I walked was, by definition, royal. Right?

  Ugh.

  I put down my tiara, because walking with a crown in a city that wasn’t yet mine would not only draw stares, but mainly questions. Questions I wasn’t willing to answer… yet.

  Lost in thoughts about my dubious future as a role model to an entire kingdom, I navigated the foul-smelling labyrinth of sewers and emerged into the daylight, squinting against the sudden brightness. Brushing imaginary dust from my elegant bodice, I strode purposefully toward the Purple Dragon Auction Hall.

  As a queen would.

  Before my brain fully caught up with what my feet were doing, the man I’d previously asked for directions inclined his head politely, stepping aside to gesture me through the entrance. I froze, suddenly hyperaware of my lavish attire and unmistakably royal posture.

  Quickly improvising, I leaned in slightly as if peering through the doorway, shook my head dismissively, and turned away, heart hammering like an overenthusiastic blacksmith.

  That was too close… thank Saevrin they’re so convinced slaves can’t just upgrade their wardrobe.

  Slipping quickly into the bustling market nearby, I exhaled a sigh of relief, my pulse gradually calming amidst the comforting chaos of vendors shouting their wares and patrons jostling one another. My reprieve was short-lived as a broad woman, smiling with a merchant’s practiced insincerity, immediately swooped in.

  “Can I offer you the finest enchanting powders?” Her voice was syrupy-sweet, but her eyes glinted sharply, sizing up my clearly expensive attire with barely concealed greed.

  “Uh, what?” I stammered, my brain still fumbling to catch up with my near-disastrous slip-up at the auction house. I was here for the ingredients, but didn’t expect her to single me out. She gestured grandly at her stall, filled with tiny glass vials and shimmering pouches, each carefully displayed as if its glittering contents held the secrets of the universe.

  “Oh… uhm, I need an Ironvein Ochre treated in Alembic with Distilled Mana and its pair…” My voice dropped to an uncertain whisper, nerves creeping into my tone. Asking for this openly was basically announcing myself as some kind of outlaw mastermind… or worse, a runic terrorist.

  Anywhere else in the empire, uttering these words would earn me a cozy room in a dungeon, with complementary chains and rats for company. But this was Altandai, city of morally questionable enterprise; surely invisible rune supplies weren’t the weirdest thing being sold today.

  The wide woman’s eyes lit up brighter than enchanted torches. “Ah, a customer with fine taste! You could’ve just said Sympathetic Dust!”

  Her grin stretched even wider, showing off a missing tooth that somehow made her look more trustworthy… or perhaps just authentically shady. “A very rare dust indeed!” She rummaged enthusiastically through her oversized leather bag, the metallic clinking of bottles and vials filling the air like the unsettling chorus of a late night bar’s kitchen.

  “There you go!”

  She slapped two large glass jars on the table with an impressive flourish, followed swiftly by a heavy rod of shimmering Quicksilver. “The best supplies for spies! Nobody will know you’ve booby-trapped their safe!” She laughed, a wild cackle that sounded suspiciously like genuine amusement rather than a practiced sales pitch. I was suddenly certain this wasn’t just a joke; she’d probably booby-trapped dozens of safes herself.

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  I quickly recovered, forcing my expression into something confidently sinister… hey, fake it ‘til you make it, right? “Naturally, only the finest spy supplies will do.” The words felt absurd coming out of my mouth, but the woman nodded as if we were sharing some deep espionage secret.

  “I also need Inscriber’s—”

  “Brush?” She was already placing a delicate brush next to the jars with an eager wink. “All this for a mere thousand gold!”

  I stared at her, half-expecting a laugh, but she maintained her exuberant, calculating grin. My hesitation was clearly misunderstood as savvy bargaining because she quickly placed another jar onto the table with a thump. “Alright, alright! Quicksilver and three jars for eight hundred gold… but only because you caught me in a particularly good mood!”

  Fine, whatever, not my money anyway. I leaned in slightly, keeping my voice conspiratorial. “Tell you what. You point me toward a decent inn where I won’t have to worry about being peeked at, and we’ve got a deal… even though we both know this is daylight robbery.”

  Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Information included? Delightful! You and your guards can stay at the finest establishment in Altandai: Wolf’s Fang Inn!” She gestured dramatically down the busy street toward a bustling crossroads, pocketing the coins with practiced speed.

  “Just straight ahead, turn left at the crossroads; you can’t miss it!”

  I nodded and quietly tucked the jars and brush into my queenly handbag… well; it was a regular handbag, but it belonged to a queen now, right? Ugh, Charlie, stay humble. “Thanks,” I muttered, feeling uncomfortably like I’d just been fleeced but refusing to let it bother me. “Wolves are friends…”

  “Of course!” she called cheerily as I turned away.

  Murmuring to myself, “Yeah, Charlie, come on… Wolves are friends. This is not Karzi. By going there… you show that some wolves are friends.”

  I set off toward the Wolf’s Fang Inn.

  The building was easy enough to spot, even among Altandai’s unique architecture… distinctly hideous, fashioned from that same rosy marble I’d grown to loathe deeply. From the outside, its design was similar of something a deranged sculptor would carve after a bad fever dream involving wolves.

  I pushed the heavy wooden door open, and the smell of warm ale and smoked meats wrapped around me like a welcoming cloak, chasing away the lingering sewer stench.

  The interior was even more wolf-obsessed than the exterior… every beam, every stool, every lantern featured some wolfish element. Carved wooden wolves lounged across the ceiling beams, their amber eyes glinting in the dim firelight, watching every move patrons made. Plush fur rugs sprawled across the floor, definitely real and suspiciously wolf-like.

  Queen Charlie approves that. Furs are also friends! …I have to stop with this queen nonsense.

  Even the bar counter had paw-print motifs burned into its polished surface, worn smooth by countless drunken hands.

  The innkeeper, a lanky man whose eyes held the calculating glint of a money-minded predator, greeted me with warmth. “Welcome to Wolf’s Fang, milady! How might we accommodate you today?”

  “Three weeks’ stay, please,” I replied, keeping my voice confident, every bit the confident noble I needed him to believe I was.

  “For you, milady,” he said, appraising my attire approvingly, “a mere eleven gold and fifty silvers. Best rate in Altandai, guaranteed.”

  Only that? Oh, dear me.

  I inwardly groaned at the blatant rip-off that merchant had inflicted upon me, but hey, queenly finances, royal budget… sponsored by former captors. “Perfect,” I said, handing over the coins without hesitation. He slid a heavy brass key across the counter, nodding courteously.

  “Room’s upstairs, first door on your left. Enjoy your stay!”

  The wooden staircase creaked satisfyingly beneath my feet as I climbed, each step bringing me further away from memories of barns and slavery. Let them search if they cared.

  I doubted anyone would bother looking beyond the comforts of their ignorance. This fine noble lady and that ugly slave? One person? How could that be? Surely, that slave was abducted by a master of an almost white dragon person, and the purple sky person would blame him.

  I should’ve run away the first day. But no, my confidence was somehow broken despite the spell not working… Wait, it wasn’t working, was it? I wasn’t still influenced by it?

  Stupid Master of the Sky, he should burn in not-a-dragon cave!

  Okay, sanity check done, no compulsion to be kind to him. With that, I unlocked my room and pushed open the door, immediately surprised by its generous size and cleanliness.

  Large windows flooded the chamber with warm sunlight, illuminating a spacious bed piled high with soft blankets and pillows. Not as good as my new bed, but an improvement, and I wouldn’t have to heal my back after one night.

  But what really caught my eye, and made my exhausted soul cry tears of joy, was a luxurious bath carved directly from that cursed rosy marble.

  Before my brain fully registered the decision, I had thrown my handbag onto the bed, my clothes were already dismissed, dignity be damned. I raced across the chilly wooden floorboards, jumped into the bath with embarrassing enthusiasm, and activated the runes. Warm water rushed from hidden channels, filling the tub rapidly.

  The water was deliciously hot, steam spiraling up like some heavenly dance of relaxation.

  Settling into the soothing embrace of hot water, my muscles relaxed, tension slipping away like ice beneath a summer sun. I let my head rest against the marble edge, eyes closing in utter bliss. “This…” I sighed aloud, voice echoing gently off the rosy marble walls, “is exactly what I should’ve done from day one.”

  The only sounds now were the quiet splashes of water and my contented breathing.

  Slowly, my thoughts started drifting back to my plans and dangers awaiting me. Binding stones, demons, grandmasters… ugh. Couldn’t I just stay here forever, queen of a bathtub kingdom?

  No stress, no slaves, no weird cloud-god nagging me about exploiting things.

  But I knew that wasn’t an option. I had a city to conquer, demons to summon, and slavers to terrify. Still, at least for now, I allowed myself the illusion of peace. As I sank deeper into the steamy comfort, my mind drifted lazily, half-forming vague strategies and plans.

  Maybe I should treat this whole situation like one big, elaborate exploit.

  I snorted quietly, amused at my own stubborn chaos. “Queen Charlie, ruler of improvisation,” I muttered, dipping deeper until only my head remained above water. Steam curled lazily around me, rising softly into the air, blurring the edges of reality and dream.

  Outside the window, Altandai carried on its brutal hustle, oblivious to the revolutionary schemes forming in this rosy-stoned bath. For now, though, none of that mattered. For this short, perfect moment, I was just Charlie… warm, relaxed, and happily plotting chaos.

  And damn it felt good.

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