Wishing for Ruin: Fae Fantasy Romance (King of Monsters Book 3)

Shadows and champagne. A volatile mix, especially in the Citadel of the King of Monsters.
That concoction was about to be shaken, but not before I had a nice, long stretch. I pulled my arms above my head as I wandered down the stairs from my room. Morning sunlight drifted through the windows on the landing, warming my body with its gentle light.
It had been a long week since my last adventure, and I was finally feeling refreshed after a few days of only sleeping and eating. Doro fluttered around my head, still acting like an old worried hen.
“I’m feeling fine,” I assured him as I trudged down one step at a time. “I was just a little tired after using my magic, is all.”
Doro chirped and flew faster, showing his lack of faith in my words.
Our little disagreement was interrupted by a sudden cold draft that washed over me. I stopped on the landing to the thirteenth floor and wrapped my arms around myself.
Where did that come from? I thought to myself as I looked around. Did someone leave a window open?
I scoured the passage, but none of the lanterns were lit, and no window could be seen at the end of the hall, plunging the corridor into deep, impenetrable shadows. A faint noise like nails scuffing on the floor reached my ears. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
Doro snatched a piece of my hair in his mouth and tugged, shaking me free from my fascination. I leaned away, a part of me still curious about the foreboding hall. The other part was terrified.
A bustling from downstairs captured my attention, and I scurried down the stairs to the second-floor balcony that overlooked the entrance hall. The place was in complete chaos. Men and women alike, all dressed in clean shirts and pants or dresses, whisked about, carrying baskets of flowers, crates of food, mops, brooms, streamers, wreathes, and anything else one would need for a special occasion.
Elma stood in the middle of the mayhem, trying her best to direct everyone who flew past her. “No, you go to the kitchen with that bowl! You there, dust the library at once, and bring another girl with you! It’ll take the two of you an hour to do it! Watch the barrels!” Two men came sprinting through the door, each rolling a barrel in front of him. She stabbed a finger at the open dining hall doors. “To the kitchen right now, and don’t knock anyone down!”
I draped my arms over the railing and watched the hustle and bustle with a quiet smile. There had been many times when I had watched my father’s servants prepare for a grand gala or celebration. Those were the happier times, when the gaiety of the occasion couldn’t be marred by the awkwardness of my situation with my family.
Elma caught sight of me on the balcony and offered me a smile through the grimace. “Missy! A good morning to you!”
“And to you, I hope,” I answered as I watched a half dozen people move out, only to be replaced by a dozen more. “What’s going on?”
“Wouldn’t you know it? Those fool merchants all arrived early and want to start the conference now!” She threw up her arms, her expression a mix of frustration and resignation. “A week early! I never heard of the like!”
“Miss Cloutier!”
The shout came from Gama as the short toad pushed his way through the chaos at the front doors. He wore a long robe trimmed with gold lace over his slick body, which dragged behind him a few feet. The toad yelped when one of the scurrying servants stepped on his rag, yanking him off his feet and onto his butt. He whipped his upper body around to glare at the fellow, a man carrying several wine boxes.
The man shrugged as he passed by. “Sorry about that. Didn’t see you down there.”
Gama’s cheeks reddened. “You impertinent-”
“Coming through!” a woman shouted, a duster in hand.
Gama scrambled to his feet, snatched his extra length into a bundle in his short arms, and scurried over to us. “Get some control over this mess at once!”
She wagged a finger at him. “I won’t be blamed for anything that happens because those foppy fools decided to start their bickering early this round.”
“Then why don’t you get someone to help you?” he countered, waving a webbed hand at the mess. Part of his load spilled onto the floor, forcing him to stoop and try to bundle it back up. “I’m sure you can get some trustworthy pica to come here for the price we’d offer.”
“Pica? In this season?” she snapped, putting her fists on her hips. “When the farmers are all getting ready for their harvest galas? I’d be lucky to find the worst pica to help me.”
“Then I’ll do it!”
The bellow came from outside, but the source was soon made known as the helpers were shoved aside. Throm marched through their numbers, his head held high and his britches hitched up. He left more chaos in his wake as the carriers precariously balanced their shaken loads, casting dark looks at the overbearing dwarf.
“Coming through!” he shouted, squeezing past some of the handlers. A few fruit baskets were spilled, scattering the food all over the busy floor, and a partial case of wine poured out of its box. “Better learn some harder grips if you’re to stay here,” he scolded them, earning him more enemies. He stopped in front of Elma and puffed out his chest. “Just say the word, and I’ll lift anything for ya.”
Elma’s cheeks were flushed, but not with pleasure. Her whole body trembled as she glared at him and his calamity trail. “That word is ‘out.’”
Throm wrinkled his nose. “Ya can’t be throwing away my help without seeing me in action first.”
“Lift yourself and get out of here right now.”
“Why don’t I try lifting some of these barrels-“
“Out!” she shrieked as she stabbed a finger at the door. “Now!”
“But-”
“Out!”
Her voice rang throughout the hall, causing all to quake beneath it. Even the earth began to quiver. Then the quivering got worse.
“Earthquake!”