Princess Rosslyn sat on her bed and stared at the floral wallpaper, her eyes vaguely looking out but not quite seeing.
Her mind felt dull and fuzzy. That was how she almost always felt when she had disagreements with her family. Dull and fuzzy, confused and alone.
No, she corrected herself, I had a disagreement with Carolien. To the extent that I disagreed with father, it was purely because he and I both adhered to the dialogue that Carolien had planned for us. Remarkably convincing performances perhaps, but the ideas were clearly not our own. I doubt that my father intended to take sides in the disagreement at all, until Carolien goaded me into impertinence. And I certainly did not intend to imply that I was going to cease cooperating with Lord Baranack in his efforts to see me wedded.
Although, now that she was alone, there was a part of her that thought she should do just that. If she resisted cooperation with Lord Baranack, perhaps she could see him replaced with someone more competent.
As Rosslyn had that cheery thought, a knock came at the door.
“Your Highness, may I enter?” Celeste’s voice brought a smile to her face.
Not alone anymore. The thought brought with it a surprising sense of relief. Well, I suppose I find her presence comforting, she admitted.
“Please do,” Rosslyn chirped back, struggling to contain her smile.
Celeste stepped into the room, and she carried all of Rosslyn’s usual associations with her. Warmth. The quiet intimacy of two young women who had become accustomed to each other’s company over a period of years.
It took several seconds for Rosslyn to pierce through that shared history and notice something wrong. Celeste looked uncomfortable.
“Is everything alright?” Rosslyn asked. The words felt strange exiting her throat. She was a little nervous herself.
“Oh, certainly, everything is excellent, Your Highness,” Celeste said, smiling weakly. “In fact, better than normal. I was on my way to perform my usual duties in your chamber, and Lord Baranack asked me to tell you that a suitor will be here to court you tomorrow. The visit will likely be around mid-morning, he and the King wanted you to know.”
Neither of them wanted to tell me face to face this time, huh? Rosslyn thought, grimacing. Normally, Lord Baranack or the King would explain what was going on. What she should expect. Dealing with this process was a big part of why Lord Baranack was in the country at all. But doubtless the Queen had informed him of the dinner conversation, so he fobbed off the job of dealing with Rosslyn onto Celeste. No wonder she looks uncomfortable. He made her the bearer of bad news. Surely she does not think I would hold it against her, though.
Rosslyn suppressed the urge to sigh. “Do we know anything about the suitor?” she asked.
“I believe he is a baronet, Your Highness,” Celeste said, averting her eyes.
Rosslyn’s eyes narrowed. That was a bit insulting. The lowest ranking of noble, unless you counted knights who often held no lands.
Unless he is some great warrior, Lord Baranack is truly scraping the bottom of the barrel.
When Rosslyn made no immediate reply, Celeste’s eyes darted over to her. “Your Highness? Um, did you have anything you wished me to convey to Lord Baranack?”
If I did, I would go and say my piece to his face, not send a messenger, Rosslyn thought.
But aloud, she simply said, “No, Celeste. Thank you for bringing me this word. Oh, do let the kitchen staff know that I will see the suitor in the star room, please.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Celeste said. She looked around, glancing out of Rosslyn’s window. “I, ah, observe the afternoon is drawing to a close. Would Your Highness like me to undress her and draw a bath?” Rosslyn turned to the window herself and noticed that the sun was getting quite low in the sky.
I have been in a dreadful mental fog not to realize how late it is, she thought.
“No,” she said. “Not yet. I will go into the garden and take the air for a while.”
Celeste nodded, dipped in a quick curtsy, and moved to go.
“Wait!” Rosslyn exclaimed.
The maid froze in her tracks.
Rosslyn had remembered something else she wanted to ask.
“I did not mean to startle you,” she said, forcing herself to smile awkwardly. “I only wished to stop you to ask if you know the name of a slave who works in the palace. A woman about my father’s age? She is very skilled with a sword.” Rosslyn gave a brief physical description.
“Ah, yes,” Celeste said, nodding slowly, “I believe I do know her name, Your Highness. It should come to me at any moment.” She closed her eyes, and her face gave an impression of great concentration.
“If you could also tell me anything else you know about the woman, that would be appreciated,” Rosslyn added.
“I have not worked with her closely, Your Highness,” Celeste said, eyes still scrunched shut. “Until very recently, she spent all of her time working in the library. Then the house steward died, and after he was replaced, she was reassigned. I do not know what exactly she was doing there, but I understand she is one of the few people here who knows her letters, aside from your family.” Her eyes shot open. “I remember now! There was a male slave who knew her well, er, from before they were both here, I believe. He called her Tilly. I cannot say whether she liked the nickname or not, but that was the name for her.”
Rosslyn nodded at this. The name didn’t mean anything in particular to her. She had not expected it to. But it was good to have a name to put to the slave who was so good at fighting.
“Thank you very much, Celeste.” The maid curtsied and waited to be dismissed. “You are a comfort,” Rosslyn added softly. “I need you to know that. Your presence has improved my day. Now you may go about the rest of yours.”
Celeste did not seem to know quite what to do with the compliment. She bowed her head so that Rosslyn could not see her expression clearly.
“Your Highness compliments this humble servant too highly,” she finally said before leaving.
When the door closed behind Celeste, Rosslyn rose from her bed. It was time to go for a walk.
Entering the garden, she made a beeline for the plant where she had seen the caterpillar and the baby ladybug about to do battle that morning. She wondered which one she would see ruling the roost now. There could be only one, after all.
There is no reason for me to go look, she told herself. A caterpillar cannot defeat his natural predators. All I can expect to see is a cocksure ladybug, perhaps with a few battle scars. Maybe it will even have evolved into its adult form.
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She had to admit she was a little disappointed at the thought. She liked ladybugs. She simply liked butterflies better. But on the off-chance that the caterpillar had survived, she had made a promise, to herself as much as to the creature, that she would bring it something good to eat.
So if she wanted to be a woman of her word, she needed to see for herself if the underdog had actually survived.
When she arrived at the familiar plant, she was surprised to see neither the ladybug nor the caterpillar sitting atop the stem. At first, she couldn’t tell which one might have won.
Then she looked at the ground. There she saw almost half of a ladybug larva.
And that seemed to answer that question.
A smile crept over Rosslyn’s face.
Sometimes things turn out better than you expected, she thought. Ugly, but much better than I expected in this case.
—
Unlike previous foods Adon had eaten, he felt as if he could taste the egg yolk all through his body. Not just with his tongue, but with his whole sensory apparatus.
Maybe part of it was the fact that his entire upper body was inside the egg at this point. He was practically breathing yolk in and out.
But accompanying the rich, buttery flavor of the protein, he felt something stirring throughout his body. Just like when he ate the Ladybug Larva, except instead of steadily increasing pain, he felt a surge in power. Could that sensation really be right?
It feels like I’ve stumbled on a secret most of the insects out here don’t know about, he thought. That thought I had about stealing fire from the gods might be more accurate than I realized.
And the resulting feeling of incredible potency was almost overwhelming. He almost wanted to fight something, because he thought he should be able to take anything on right now.
I can’t win if the bird comes back, though, he reminded himself. Don’t even try to fight if she suddenly reappears. Stick to the plan. The sudden overconfidence he could feel rising within him was, his more rational mind observed, out of character for him. Is this maybe what it feels like when you’re about to evolve or something?
But besides the feeling of power, his body wasn’t changing, as far as he could tell. He had no doubt this portended an improvement of his physical condition at least, but it was impossible for him to be sure what it was just yet.
Clearly, the egg had been far more nutritious than he expected. Perhaps because he was eating a species that was considered a natural predator of his own.
He would certainly need to test this again at some point. Find some other species that was way out of his league and repeat this experiment. His mind flashed to Goldie, but he instantly banished the image. He was really hoping to actually have the ability to socialize with her once he bought Telepathy I. He wouldn’t fight the spider unless he had no other choice.
Adon’s body slid forward as he tried to get more of the delicious ambrosia for himself. He fell all the way into the shell’s interior, but it didn’t worry him. He’d been inside an egg once before after all. And the food here was top quality.
An all you could eat buffet of the Goddess’s own nectar.
He slipped into a feeding trance like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
Slurp slurp. Gulp. Swoon.
The process took a little longer than usual, due to the sheer quantity he was eating. There was also a moment that almost brought him out of it, when the texture and flavor changed—he consumed a part of the egg that reminded him a little of chicken—but it wasn’t a bad taste. So he just kept going.
Eventually, he came out of his trance. It felt disappointing in a way. The meal was over far too soon. The egg was so good, he thought he could have eaten it forever and never had enough.
But forever wasn’t an option.
When he fully came to, Adon was stuffed inside of the eggshell. He could tell that his skin had burst, and some pieces of it had fallen away, while he was absorbed in eating.
Well, of course it did, he thought. I ate something that was stuffed into a container larger than my own body.
Now, the body that had fallen into the shell filled out much of the shell’s volume.
I’ll just eat my way out, he thought. The idea didn’t bother him. He remembered that even humans were technically capable of eating eggshells. They just really didn’t like to find themselves doing so.
Adon listened to make sure he still didn’t hear any bird sounds from outside the shell. Then he smashed his way through the nearest shell wall with the tips of his mandibles and started pulling bits of shell into his mouth.
Confirmed, it’s not nearly as good as eating the inside of the egg. No big surprise there. It had a lame mineral flavor, a little like chalk maybe, but at least he could feel there was some nutritional value in what he was eating.
Still, Adon only broke up and ate the amount of shell that was needed to make his exit. He was very conscious, now that he was out of his trance, that he was exceedingly vulnerable here. The dead leaves, soaked with egg yolk, had stuck to the sides of the egg shell as he moved around inside it, and he was now only covered on his lower half. Even there, they were only plastered to his partially shed skin, which meant they might come off at any time. All of that made the leaves almost useless as camouflage, but he didn’t bother to discard them.
Every second was critical now.
As he emerged from the shell, Adon had seen that the quality of the light had changed. With his new vision, it was easy to recognize that twilight was approaching. He’d been lucky so far, to be left alone enjoying his meal. But soon the bluebird would be back.
He didn’t want to be here when that happened. If he was, he would have to go to his backup plan.
Yet his eyes played greedily over the three remaining eggs.
He knew that this gambit was a one-time thing. The bird would never leave her eggs vulnerable to such an attack by him again. Either Adon would die on the bird’s return, or she would take some precautions to prevent ever losing another egg to something like him. Perhaps relocate her nest to the top of some building, which would make his improvised camouflage useless.
This was my one shot, he thought. And he knew he’d devastated the bluebird already, just by eating one of her four eggs. He wasn’t motivated so much by the idea of getting back at her anymore. It was sheer greed.
How could he ever eat a leaf again after tasting something like that? He would still be able to enjoy ants and other proteins, but no matter how good they were, he doubted they would match his experience with the egg. Eating this thing was the polar opposite of eating a leaf. A transcendent experience that he suspected had probably permanently improved his body—he would check his Status to verify this once he was safe.
There was nothing for it. He was going to take an egg with him. It was an idea he had been contemplating since he first considered going after the eggs. Eat one here, yes, because he could make a small enough hole to get into the egg and then simply stay there without the bluebird noticing, if necessary. And take one with him when he left, if he had the opportunity to do so without being caught.
It felt riskier to do the latter now that he was here in person. But it was also something he wanted to do very badly. Adon decided to stick with his original plan.
He began to move even as he weighed the option of retreat. As he planned this expedition, he’d vaguely remembered that spiders wrapped their own eggs in silk to protect them from predators and accidents. Now Adon began quickly spinning his own silk around one of the eggs, in what he hoped was a reinforcing layer. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that he should try to climb down from the birdhouse in broad daylight openly carrying an egg.
Instead he would envelop his chosen egg in his silky coating, then throw it from the birdhouse and hope that it survived the fall.
Then Adon himself would join it. He’d already noticed that he didn’t take much damage from falling. Gravity was his escape plan. If he managed to do everything before the bird appeared.
He excreted his silk diligently, in thick layers, all over the egg, and he did it as quickly as he could.
The longer he took, the more nervous he became.
This is starting to feel like a bad idea, he thought. But you’re in it now.
He finished and sealed the egg at both ends.
There. Now, even if shattered on impact with the ground, hopefully the silk would hold most of the yolk in. Adon knew that spider silk could sometimes be watertight if applied correctly, but he didn’t flatter himself that he was quite there yet.
He picked up the egg in between his front legs—the missing one had fully grown back now—and he took his first steps toward the entrance.
Then Adon heard the distant sound of wing beats.