ANOTHER SNEAK PEEK OF 'OTHERWORLD'

CHAPTER: The Chamber of Wonders

Day 1 of the Trial Run

October 31st – Halloween, Wednesday evening.

To Sasha’s immense relief, the journey to her chambers was far shorter than she’d anticipated. It was not, however, without its challenges.

“Given your rather damp state,” Maddox stated as he led the way across the foyer toward the shadows sulking at the far end of the chamber, “it may be best to postpone the castle tour until tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said, drawing her coat closer around her chest. There was a definite chill to the cabbage-scented air, and it was starting to seep into Sasha’s wet clothing. Without the Cloak of Shadows to shield her, she was beginning to feel the icy brunt of it. “I can’t wait to—”

Maddox’s arm shot out, barring her way forward. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it is best to avoid the unseated flagstones.” He pointed toward the floor. “It would be truly regrettable if you were to fall through.”

Sure enough, several of the flagstones in Sasha’s path appeared to have buckled, showing a glimmer of what was below in the wide spaces between the stones.

“Yes, it would,” she said faintly. “Thanks for the tip.” She peered down at the vast darkness between the stones. “What’s below this floor?”

Maddox, too, peered down into the gap, his expression impassive. “One never knows. It could be a lake or a swamp. Or possibly the lower floor.” He gave a slight shrug. “It is Wednesday,” he said as if that explained everything. “It would be best to follow exactly where I tread.”

“Right,” she said breathlessly. “Lead the way.”

Sasha carefully matched Maddox’s silent steps, avoiding the more suspicious flagstones and ducking around the glittering streams of gold dust that poured through gaps in the high, vaulted ceiling. She paused for a second to examine the ashy, gray scorch marks that covered two of the pillars but quickly followed Maddox’s lead, ducking behind a third pillar where a shoulder-height wooden door was tucked away beneath a flickering lantern, well hidden from view.

An owl door knocker, craftily fashioned in bronze, stared back at her curiously.

“There are many passageways throughout the castle,” Maddox explained. “Some are public, others are secret. Some change throughout the course of the day, and others disappear entirely.”

“R-ight,” Sasha said slowly, even though there was nothing particularly right about a shifting, moving, ever-changing castle. “So, how do you find your way around?”

“You soon get used to it. Or, more specifically, the castle gets used to you.”

Sasha stilled. “It’s sentient?”

Maddox smiled—a bare tilt of his lips—and laid his hand fondly against the wall. “Very much so. In many ways, the castle is the living, beating heart of Between itself. If I might suggest, Your Majesty … try to take it in your stride. The more you protest, the more the castle will view your reaction as a Challenge and the more uncomfortable the experience will be.”

Sasha paused to consider that idea. “You mean … it will act out even more if I get annoyed?”

Maddox inclined his head. “It is very likely. But if you go along with whatever it throws your way …”

“… it won’t try to surprise me,” Sasha finished. “Got it.”

Between, Sasha thought, was a lot like a kindergartener. 

Maddox nodded approvingly. “It may be quite jarring initially, but before long, the castle’s eccentricities will feel as commonplace as flaming snowstorms in winter.”

“Hang on—there are flaming snowstorms in winter?”

Maddox’s gray brows dipped into a frown. “There are no such snowstorms in the Earther Realm?”

“Ah … no. Thankfully.”

The advisor clasped his hands behind his back, his head tilted in thought. “How about …  the eccentricities of Between will be as commonplace as marauding packs of wraith wolves after dark?”

Sasha’s eyes widened. “That’s a thing that happens here?”

Maddox quickly moved on. “As commonplace as the flesh-eating fish that reside—”

“Let’s stop at flesh-eating fish.”

Sasha rubbed a hand over her eyes and forcibly scrubbed everything Maddox had said during the last few minutes from her memory. As a substitute teacher, Sasha was accustomed to molding herself to fit into new situations. She was used to accepting The Way Things Were at each new school and did her best to bite her tongue and smile her way through her contract.

This is no different, she told herself firmly.

“I suppose it makes sense that a sentient kingdom has a sentient castle,” she said slowly.

Maddox looked at her expectantly.

Take it in your stride, she thought wryly. “And—and I guess that’s rather amazing.” She reached out and tentatively patted the castle wall. “Good for you, Between!”

“Very good, Your Majesty. Soon, you will know the castle’s passages like the back of your hand. But it is best to use the shortcuts whenever time is of the essence.” Maddox gestured toward the owl knocker. “All of the important doors in Between have Sentinels, such as this one. They will admit only a select few into the rooms they guard. As the uncrowned Queen of Between, most chambers will allow you entry. After your coronation, all of the chambers in the castle will become accessible. The doors with owl Sentinels are shortcuts. Simply tell the Sentinel where you wish to go, and it will take you to that room. If you would be so kind as to try…?”

The owl turned to Sasha and spread its wings in greeting.

Magical doors, she thought in wonder, grinning at the little owl. It sounds too wonderful to be true.

Nevertheless, she bent toward the Sentinel. “My room, please.”

The owl bowed its head, and the door opened with a faint creak. Tentatively, Sasha ducked beneath the doorway and found herself in a hallway opposite an imposing, silver-studded wooden door with guards stationed on either side.

“Majesty,” they said, bowing deeply as she approached.

“Ah … hi,” she said, awkwardly bobbing her head in return.

“Your chambers,” Maddox said, closing the passage door behind them with a sharp click.

Sasha looked back and blinked. The owl doorway was gone; not a trace of it remained on the dark stone wall. “That’s a neat trick.”

“That’s nothing,” one of the guards scoffed.

“You wait ’til the castle starts rotating,” the second guard added.

“The castle rotates?” Sasha asked. Take it in your stride. “That—that sounds like fun.”

“If you will excuse me, Your Majesty,” Maddox said, bowing, “I shall leave you here. There was an incident before your arrival that requires my attention.”

“Oh. Sure.” Sasha felt a pang of disappointment. She’d been enjoying Maddox’s calming presence and appreciated his knowledge of the castle’s potential death traps. “May I help in any way?”

“It is very generous of you to ask, Your Majesty. But it is best that I deal with the matter alone. The interior decorators who refurbished your chambers are inside and will happily show you around.”

“You hired interior decorators to decorate my room?”

“It was on His Majesty’s orders,” Maddox corrected. “He wanted you to feel welcome.”

Sasha suddenly remembered the Shadow King sitting stiffly on his uncomfortable throne in Martha’s mint-green kitchen, his expression one of forbearance while Lyla interrogated him about Sasha’s accommodations while in Between.

Sasha will be staying in the Queen’s Chambers, as befitting her station. The rooms are comfortably appointed and are currently being redecorated. Hopefully to Sasha’s taste, he had said.

Sasha had been too preoccupied to give it much notice at the time, but now—even as soggy as she was—she was rather touched that Lorn cared about her comfort. It boded well for her time in Between.

“That was very thoughtful of him,” she said, and she meant it. “I’m sure it will be lovely.”

Maddox glanced warily at the door. “It is kind of you to say so. But do keep in mind that there was not much time to prepare for your arrival. The decorators were selected more for their proximity than their skills. Moreover, none of us have seen the refurbishment; the decorators wanted you to be the first to see their ‘vision.’”

There was something oddly sarcastic about Maddox’s air quotes as he spoke the word vision.

Even so, Sasha glanced longingly at the door. Behind its studded wooden panels, there would be towels … and maybe a fireplace … and (hopefully) a haven from the flaming snowstorms, wraith wolves, and flesh-eating fish. The silver unicorn Sentinel guarding the door proudly tossed its head as if confirming her thoughts.

“Well, as long as there’s heat and hot water, I’m going to love it,” she said with a wry grin. “Thanks for showing me to my room.”

Maddox hesitated as if he wished to say more but merely bowed his head. “It was a pleasure. My apologies in advance for what you may see or experience in the chamber.”

“Wait—what do you mean?” she called out, but Maddox was well on his way down the hallway.

Staring at the back of Maddox’s gray coat, Sasha briefly wondered whether she should chase him down.

But the unicorn door chose that moment to open just a crack, and by then, it was too late.

The interior decorators had spotted her.

***

Two short, weaselly-looking men—one wearing an extravagant hat crowned with a peacock feather, the other with a complexion the color of skinned pistachios—snuck through the partially opened door and barred Sasha’s entry to the room.

“Welcome to your chambers, Your Majesty!” said the weaselly little man with the peacock feather hat. “I’m Murgatroyd.” He bowed smartly, the peacock feather scraping across the ground before springing back into place. “And this is Spetzelbrass.”

The weaselly-looking man with the green complexion also bowed, his expression awed. “A pleasure.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sasha said with a smile, hoping that that’d let her pass so she could find the towels. She had a momentary vision of the threadbare, meat-scented towel under the ceremonial basin but quickly quashed it. “I’m guessing you’re the interior decorators?”

Murgatroyd gave a sharp nod. “We are indeed! Interior decorators of distinction, we are.”

“Just like it says on the card,” Spetzelbrass added, handing Sasha a business card.

“Thanks!” Sasha said. “Wow, this card is so shiny and—yikes!” She looked down at the paper cut on her thumb. “Sharp!”

“Sorry, Majesty,” Murgatroyd said, adjusting his hat so the feather wasn’t blocking his vision. “We should have warned you about that top corner.”

“It’s a shiv corner,” Spetzelbrass said. “For barfights.”

“I should have guessed,” Sasha said slowly. She went to put the card inside her pocket but paused, realizing it would probably draw blood again the next time she reached inside. “I’m just going to leave it here for now … for safety reasons.” She placed the card on the floor beside her boots.

“I’ll look after it,” the guard said.

“Be careful it doesn’t slice off your foot,” Sasha warned as she stood up, squeezing her sore thumb. “It may have developed a taste for blood.”

The guard stared warily down at the card. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t make any false moves.”

Sasha grinned and turned her attention back to the decorators. “Shall we take a look at all your hard work?”

The decorators eagerly nodded.

“Would you like to be blindfolded for the big reveal?” Murgatroyd asked hopefully. “We haven’t blindfolded anyone since our kidnapping days—”

Sasha blanched. “Your what?”

“—but I’m guessing it’s not a skill you easily forget.” Murgatroyd reached into his pocket, presumably for the kidnapping blindfold.

Sasha quickly sidled away from Murgatroyd, keeping her back to the door. “Ah … no. Thanks. I’m happy to walk into the room with my eyes wide open.”

The decorators looked momentarily disappointed but quickly recovered their good cheer.

“Then welcome to your chambers!” Murgatroyd said grandly.

“Prepare to be overwhelmed by the magnificence of what you’re about to see,” Spetzelbrass warned.

As Spetzelbrass opened the door with a flourish, Sasha immediately regretted refusing the blindfold.  

Colors—bold, bright, clashing colors—seared her vision, almost as if someone had unleashed a deranged rainbow into the room and let it run free-range through the chamber. Rugs in painfully incompatible colors and patterns—spots and animal print, stripes and squares—were scattered with gleeful abandon over the flagstone floors, including a humungous bear skin rug that sprawled menacingly across the center of the room. Sasha knew the rug had once been a bear because its head was still attached, and it did not look pleased about its fate as a floor furnishing. Paintings of rural scenes in clunky gold frames were scattered over the walls, some hung sideways to fit in the gaps. Not even the ceiling was spared: a multitude of colored lanterns swung from the rafters at decapitation height, vying for space with swathes of vibrant silk banners that matched the curtains obscuring the windows and balcony doors.

Sasha scrunched her eyes closed and could still see the room on the back of her eyelids.

“What’s your first impression, Majesty?” Spetzelbrass asked, his tone heartbreakingly eager.

Sasha slowly opened her eyes. Even though she was prepared this time, she still flinched at the visual assault.

“Wow,” was all she was able to say.

“She’s speechless,” Murgatroyd said knowingly to his partner.

“With joy?” Spetzelbrass asked hopefully.

“Sure,” Sasha said faintly. “Let’s go with that.”

Looking around—an act of great retinal bravery—Sasha was suddenly struck by a disturbing thought.

“Is this how Lorn—the King—wanted the room decorated?” she asked.

“His Majesty had a very specific ‘vision’”—Murgatroyd air quoted the term—“for the chamber …”

“ … that we pretty much ignored,” Spetzelbrass finished.

Sasha exhaled in relief. “That’s good to know.”

“He wanted the walls painted in ‘pastel’ shades,” Murgatroyd air quoted with appropriate flair.

Spetzelbrass leaned closer to Sasha. “That’s an interior design term,” he told her proudly.

“With subtle ‘gilding.’”

“That’s another interior design term,” Spetzelbrass added helpfully.

Sasha stared at the non-pastel, non-gilded, black stone walls—or at least the bits that peeked out between the paintings and the colored drapery.

“That actually sounds lovely,” she said wistfully. And tasteful, and it would have suited her perfectly. “But I guess you changed your mind?”

“Nah.” Murgatroyd shook his head. “We tried it, but the walls sucked up all the paint.”

“And didn’t give it back,” Spetzelbrass added indignantly.

Sasha stole a wary glance at the walls. “That’s a thing that can happen here, huh?”

Spetzelbrass shrugged. “Who knew?”

“So, we went a different direction,” Murgatroyd continued. “Excessive color. We call our ‘vision’ …” He paused dramatically. “The Chamber of Wonders.”

“The Chamber of Wonders,” Spetzelbrass echoed in hushed tones.

They looked at her expectantly.

“It’s your turn to say it, Majesty,” Murgatroyd prompted.

“Oh! The Chamber of Wonders,” Sasha dutifully repeated.

“Very good, Majesty,” Murgatroyd said approvingly. “I could really hear the wonder in your voice.”

It was actually mild panic, but Sasha thought it was kinder not to correct Murgatroyd.

“Allow us to walk you through our ‘vision.’” Murgatroyd gestured for Sasha to follow him as they made a circuit of the chambers. “We were inspired by a grand house we once robbed in the kingdom of Vetch. Fanciest place we’ve ever seen.”

“Vetch is always at the height of fashion, your Majesty,” Spetzelbrass said. “You can’t go wrong with a Vetch-inspired chamber.”

Given the evidence presented before her, Sasha felt inclined to disagree with that statement.

“Good to know,” she said instead.

“If you would be so kind as to direct your attention to your left.” Murgatroyd gestured to where a pair of armchairs and a chaise huddled cozily around the fireplace. “We’ve set up a sitting area so that you can entertain your guests in grand style.”

For a moment, Sasha wondered if her vision had been permanently impaired because the furniture appeared far smaller than what she was used to. It was also considerably pinker and much, much shinier.

But as she examined it more closely, she realized that the furniture was, indeed, oddly shrunken in the same way that a fine pair of woolen socks becomes so much smaller after being accidentally placed in a dryer on the ‘high’ setting. The furniture was also pinker and at least twelve percent shinier when viewed up close.

“The furniture is dwarven-crafted,” Murgatroyd explained. He lovingly stroked the glistening upholstery. “It’s very exclusive.”

“So exclusive,” Spetzelbrass whispered.

“There’s not much dwarven-crafted furniture in Between,” Murgatroyd continued, “on account of there not being that many dwarves.”

“You’ll be the envy of all your friends!” Spetzelbrass cried.

“I’m very excited to have exclusive furniture,” Sasha began. “But don’t you think it’s a little … ah, small?”

“Well ...” Murgatroyd scratched the back of his neck. “For most folks, yes. For dwarves, no. It’s probably just the right size for them.”

“R-ight,” Sasha said, nodding. The fact that she was not a dwarf and was considerably taller than most seemed to have escaped the decorators’ notice. She smiled stiffly. “Good point.” 

She stepped closer to the fireplace and stretched her hands toward the flames. “Well, I certainly approve of the fire!” She glanced up at the mantle. “I can’t wai—aghh!”

She quickly skittered back, her heart pounding. Above the mantle was the mounted head of an elk, but it was nothing like the ones in Sasha’s realm—this one was nightmare fuel. It had ten-inch fangs, razor-sharp antlers that spanned the entire fireplace, and a crazed expression in its bloodshot eyes. It looked as though it was plotting to break free of its hangings and vengefully impale everyone in the room.

Sasha swallowed and looked away to the nearby side table … only to spot an equally vicious-looking stuffed ferret standing on its hind legs, its tiny claws outstretched as if ready to attack.  To its left was a trio of murderous-looking stuffed mice mounted on a clock, their beady, red eyes seeming to track Sasha’s every move. 

“Ah …” She cleared her throat. “I see that the Chamber of Wonders contains a lot of taxidermy.”

“About that,” Murgatroyd said, his hooked nose twitching. “Spetzelbrass and myself got to talking while we were dragging the squirrel candelabra up the stairs—”

“‘Squirrel candelabra?’” Sasha looked around. Sure enough, standing proudly beside a desk on the opposite side of the room was a candelabra as high as her shoulder covered in gold squirrels in various majestic poses, all holding candles. “Huh. Squirrel candelabra.”

“It’s very tall,” Spetzelbrass noted.

“And while we were carrying that fine candelabra up the stairs,” Murgatroyd continued, “Spetzelbrass and I got to talking. We figured it’s gotta be lonely coming to a new realm and leaving all your friends and family and your fire-breathing lizards behind.”

Sasha blinked. “I don’t have any fire-breathing—never mind.” She waved away her comment. “Please, go on.”

“We thought you might need some company,” Murgatroyd said. “So, we got some for you.”

Sasha stared at the bloodthirsty array of stuffed animals arranged before her, and her heart twinged. “That was actually very thoughtful.” And terrifying, but mostly thoughtful. “I—thank you.”

She took a kinder look at the creatures and noticed something she’d missed during her first horrified glance.

“Why are they all wearing crowns?” she asked, gesturing to the glittery gold crowns adorning each of the fearsome creatures.

“Well, you’re a queen,” Murgatroyd said. “We figured queens would have fancy friends.”

Sasha’s lips twitched. “They look very fancy.”

“Too fancy?” Spetzelbrass asked, wringing his hands.

Sasha glanced up at the terrifying elk-beast. It stared back as if daring her to take away its crown. “Just fancy enough.”

Spetzelbrass exhaled in a rush. “Good … good.”

“We heard that you’re an artist,” Murgatroyd said, “so we tried to ‘curate’ interesting and unique art pieces to liven the place up, including these fine paintings depicting outdoor scenes.” He gestured to several of the paintings where jolly-looking people, mostly pantless, cavorted across the countryside.

“And one-of-a-kind ceramics,” Spetzelbrass said, pointing to the bookshelf, “such as these leapfrogging horses.”

Sasha stared at the horses. They were not leapfrogging.

“Ah … where did you find these interesting and unique art pieces?” Sasha asked. “A gallery? Museum?”

“From a caravan that was liberated from a pothole,” Murgatroyd said.

Liberated. The decorator hadn’t used air quotes, but Sasha had a feeling it was a euphemism for stole.

“It was bound for an esteemed dwarven establishment,” Murgatroyd added.

“Bordellos truly have the most luxuriant furnishings,” Spetzelbrass said with an authoritative nod.

Sasha let out a bark of laughter and wrapped her hand over her mouth to stop whatever else was about to come out. Once she’d composed herself, she carefully removed her hand. “Are you saying these furnishings were meant for a dwarven bordello?”

The decorators nodded vigorously.

Sasha took another look at the leapfrogging horses. “That explains a lot.…” She shook her head, trying to hide her smile. “Well, gentlemen, you have done an amazing job. Thank you.”

“Oh, no—there’s more, Majesty,” Murgatroyd said.

“There’s more?” Sasha whimpered.

The two decorators nodded enthusiastically.

“Just wait till you see your bed chamber!” Spetzelbrass said gleefully.

“Must I?” she blurted. “I mean … must I wait a moment longer?”

The decorators beamed.

“Step through this archway,” Murgatroyd said, beckoning Sasha to follow him into the next room, “and take a look at the other parts of the chamber.”

“Don’t step on the bear’s head,” Spetzelbrass warned, pointing down at the rug. “It wouldn’t be polite.”

The bear glared at Sasha warningly.

“Thanks for pointing that out,” Sasha said as she stepped gingerly around the rug.

The bed was a monstrously large four-poster—easily twice the size of a regular king-sized bed—covered in a multi-colored silk canopy, like a giant circus tent. Sasha tentatively pulled one of the curtains aside and peered within. She could barely make out the bed beneath the multitude of fur blankets and throw pillows of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

“Miss Adeline would love those,” she murmured. She looked up at the roof of the canopy and blinked at her own stunned reflection. “Is that—is there a mirror above the bed?”

“Yes,” Spetzelbrass answered, crossing to her side. He waved merrily at his reflection.

“It’s a good defense measure,” Murgatroyd explained. “You’ll be able to see if someone’s coming to rob you—”

“Or stab you,” Spetzelbrass added far too cheerfully.

“—while you’re sleeping.”

Sasha’s reflection looked decidedly panicked at the prospect.

“The mirror also lets you chat to yourself while you’re in bed,” Murgatroyd continued. “I don’t know about you, but I find it helpful to give myself the odd pep talk.”

“I use the mirror in my bathing chamber,” Spetzelbrass confessed. “It’s very motivating.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Sasha said. “Are there any other rooms I need to see?” She braced herself for their answer.

“Only your dressing room and the bathing chamber,” Murgatroyd said. “But we didn’t get a chance to decorate those.”

Sasha tried to hide her relief. “What a shame.”

“Don’t worry, Majesty—we can come by and decorate them after you’ve settled in,” Spetzelbrass said reassuringly.

“No! I mean, there’s no need.” Sasha gave the decorators a quick smile. “You’ve worked so hard already, what with dealing with the paint-sucking walls … and arranging all those throw pillows … and finding tiny crowns for all those animals … and dragging squirrel candelabras up staircases....”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Murgatroyd said, waving away her concern. “We love our work.”

“And we really hope you love it, too, Majesty,” Spetzelbrass said. “Because if you love it, we’ll get a Royal Reference from His Majesty.”

“And if you don’t love it, His Majesty will give us a one-way trip to the Wetlands,” Murgatroyd said. “And he wasn’t talking about a holiday, if you catch my drift.”

“He was talking about a swamping,” Spetzelbrass clarified. “We made sure.”

Sasha remembered her time in the Wetlands, with its cloying white mist and treacherous quicksand, and shuddered. “That wouldn’t be fun.”

“It might even be dire,” Murgatroyd said.

“Fatally dire,” Spetzelbrass added.

Sasha looked down at the expectant faces of the decorators and bit her lip. She had a terrible feeling that if the Shadow King took one look at this room, he would swamp them before they had a chance to show him the leapfrogging horses.

“You know …” she began, reaching into her trusty crossbody bag, “I’m not sure if you’ll get a Royal Reference …”

“I have a ‘vision’ that we’re going to be spending the night in a swamp of our choice,” Murgatroyd told his partner with a sigh.

“But,” Sasha continued, “you can have the Queen’s Stamp of Approval.” She pushed aside her packet of tissues, tunneled past several energy bars and a couple of loose graphite pencils, and grinned triumphantly as she pulled out a plastic zip-locked bag filled with stickers. 

“Here,” she said, pulling out her fanciest gold star stickers. “For services in interior decoration.” She peeled off two stickers and placed them with as much pomp as she could manage on the decorators’ tunics.

“It’s not a reference,” she said apologetically, “but it will stop you from getting swamped.”

I’ll make sure of that, she thought grimly.

The two decorators stared down at their stickers with wide eyes.

“Will you look at that!” Murgatroyd said in awe.

Spetzelbrass puffed out his chest. “This is better than a Royal Reference, mark my words!”

Sasha grinned. She could get the hang of queening. She gestured grandly toward the door. “Now, go off and use your gift to decorate the world.” She looked down at her soggy coat. “As soon as possible because I really need a shower.”

The decorators almost tripped over themselves as they bowed and scurried out of the room.

“Of course, Majesty!” Murgatroyd called out, bowing again as he stumbled out the door.

“Thank you, Majesty!” Spetzelbrass called out as he rushed after his partner, his hand cupped protectively over his sticker.

Once they left, Sasha looked around the chamber, her eyes watering slightly.

“So … this is where I’ll be sleeping for the next seven days.” She glanced warily at the taxidermy animals and tried not to shudder when they appeared to stare back. “Assuming one of you guys doesn’t try to kill me while I sleep … which, for the record, you shouldn’t attempt because I have a self-defense mirror.”

She took a few hesitant steps toward the elk-beast over the mantle. “Please don’t be sentient,” she whispered, tentatively patting his nose.

Thankfully, he didn’t answer back. Sasha took this as a good sign.

She paused beside the pink armchairs. They reminded her of the tiny furniture in her kindergarten classroom, which made her unexpectedly melancholy.

“Enough of that,” she told herself, shaking her head, her wet curls whipping her in the face. She winced and tugged her hair back behind her ears. “Let’s just focus on getting dry,” she muttered and marched to the dressing chamber. 

In contrast to the technicolor taxidermy excess of the other chambers, the dressing chamber was an austere room with only a few pieces of furniture: an ornate, full-length mirror that took up almost an entire wall, a dressing table topped with a beveled three-way mirror and matching chair, and an enormous wardrobe made of dark wood carved with fierce, winged creatures that looked as though it could easily be the portal to an enchanted world.

Sasha smiled when she saw her suitcases neatly lined up in the corner.

“Glad you got here safely,” she told them.

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a doorway and, better yet, what appeared to be a humongous, claw-footed bath. 

“Oh, yes!” she groaned happily as she ran inside.

To the relief of Sasha’s retinas, the bathing chamber had a calming botanical theme, with faded sage-green tiles covering the walls and floor interrupted by the occasional chipped floral mosaic. Better yet, there was a shelf piled high with green linen towels that thankfully didn’t smell like rancid lunch meats. There were also bricks of pale-gold soap arranged in neat stacks. Sasha lifted one to her nose and inhaled the scent of orange peel and something spicy that reminded her of ginger. 

But the sage-green bathtub was the true star of the room. Deliciously deep and big enough for at least four people to stretch out comfortably, it was exactly what Sasha needed and more than made up for the lack of a shower. 

Without a second thought, she stripped off her wet clothes and turned the bronze taps.

And turned them.

And turned them.

And turned them once more. 

And then swore viciously. 

“Why aren’t you working? Why?” she groaned. “Am I doomed? I am starting to feel doomed.…”

She was also starting to feel as though someone was watching her. 

Warily, she turned around and then jumped back in shock. Behind her was a stuffed weasel, his arms raised in victory. Like his friends in the other room, he was wearing a gold crown, but for some reason, he was also dressed in a pair of jaunty red pantaloons. As Sasha stared at him, he appeared to wink at her.

“Dash it! The decorators lied–they got to this room, too!”

As it turned out, the pantaloon weasel was the last straw.

Sasha snatched two towels from the shelf, wrapped one haphazardly around herself, and stormed back to the dressing room. 

“Crying kingdoms,” she muttered, toweling herself dry.

“Semi-circular formations,” she snorted, rummaging through her suitcase. 

“Kama Sutra horse statues,” she grumbled, yanking on dry clothes.

“Vicious taxidermy,” she ranted, wrapping her hair in a towel as she returned to her bed chamber. 

“And it’s only …” She peered at the vicious mouse clock. “Two in the afternoon? Are you kidding me?”

A wave of homesickness hit her so hard and fast that her knees almost buckled. She stumbled over to the bed and sat down heavily, burying her face in her hands. For a long moment, she surrendered to the feeling … letting it wash over her until each breath came out in fitful gasps, and her shoulders began to shake. 

“No,” she told herself sternly. She dropped her hands and looked up at her reflection in the ceiling mirror. “Don’t you dare let stuffed rodents and sex horses defeat you!” She shook her finger at her reflection for good measure and took a trembling breath. “I’m going to crush this whole queen thing, do you hear me? I will conquer Every. Single. Obstacle and become ‘The Most Queenly Monarch of Them All!’”

She took another breath and exhaled slowly, trying to push down the rising wave of panic. “You can’t give up,” she whispered to her wild-eyed reflection. “Everyone in Old Middleton is depending on you. Just … just get through tonight, okay? And then get through tomorrow … and the next day … and keep doing that for the rest of your life.”

Her reflection did not look particularly comforted by her words, and frankly, Sasha couldn’t blame it.

Thankfully, a sharp knock on her chamber door disrupted her rather dismal thoughts.

“Let’s hope it’s not another stuffed weasel,” she muttered as she scraped herself off the mattress and headed for the door. “We’re at capacity.”

The Pantaloon Weasel by Rebecca Morse

***

NOTE: This is an early, unedited excerpt and may differ greatly from the final version. Please do not post the chapter on other sites.

OTHERWORLD, Book 2 of The Chronicles of Between

Copyright © 2024 L. L. Starling

Published by Wicked Fables Press

Illustrations by Rebecca Morse. Illustrations copyright © 2024 Rebecca Morse.

Title Illustration by Louisa Gallie. Illustrations copyright © 2024 Louisa Gallie.

All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by United States of America copyright law. For permissions requests contact:

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