The girl’s placid countenance did not waver. She rushed forward, her arms outstretched. Jerrod turned at the last moment, his deranged face melting into confusion as she pushed him over the railing. The crown fell from his grasp and hit the stones of the balcony with a toneless clatter. A scream cut pathetically across the sky as he plummeted out of sight. The girl stood a moment, waiting as the sound dwindled to an echo than ceased. She knelt slowly and plucked the crown from the balcony, cradling it in her delicate hands.

Padric released his breath as the candles in the chamber began to dim and as their light faded, so did the opulence of the room. The lush carpets, the chair of bone, the terrible bed, all diminished until only dust remained. Padric looked to Slouch Hat and Svala, finding them stunned yet unharmed. The husk nodded slowly towards the balcony and Padric looked to see the girl still there.

“And so ended the reign of Jerrod, the Second of His Name, last of the Goblin Kings.”

Her words hung in the room as she stood and turned to face them, the crown in her hands.

“And you,” she said to Padric. “Seek to reclaim his crown.”

Padric felt his skin grow cold. “No. Never.”

“You lie,” she said, taking a step into the room.

“Yes,” Padric agreed, stepping away from her. “But not about the crown. I was forced to come here by Torcan Swinehelm.”

“He seeks to test you,” the girl replied simply. “He has sent others to me. All have failed. You too will fail, Padric Piskie-kissed, for you are no heir of Jerrod.”

Padric glanced quickly at Slouch Hat, looking for answers but the husk had his gaze set firmly on the girl who continued her slow advance.

“I know,” he answered. “But how…I do not…who are you?”

The girl found the question amusing and she smiled at him. “You seek a name? I answered to the commands of his voice, the striking of his hand, the lusts of his body, but never once to a name. I was his since I can remember, the most honored and most debased of his servants. And in the end I was his undoing and he was mine.

“With his final breath, he cursed me, binding his crown to me and me to this forsaken tower. Only a legitimate survivor of Jerrod’s bloodline can claim the crown. Until that day I am its keeper and its guardian.”

She continued to walk towards Padric as she spoke, and he found himself compelled to stay away from her, countering every step with one of his own.

“Why does Torcan want the crown?” Padric felt it was wise to keep her talking. “Let the bastard fashion another!”

His back was to the wall now, forcing him to begin sliding along it as she tracked him across the room.