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To call our next destination a Royal Bedchamber would be to grossly understate the impact of the place.
It wasn’t fit for a king so much as a… well, a god. In size alone, it staggered me. Okay, Torvaston was a troll, and they aren’t short, but even so: how much space does one person need? We emerged in a chamber the approximate size of a football field (yes, I exaggerate, but not by much). Dominating the centre of that space was a bed large enough to sleep about thirty human-sized people. Its four posts were trees, crystalline and sparkling but clearly tree-shaped, and apparently alive. Canopies of cobwebby gauze hung about it, and its pillows and blankets had the kind of plushness a Ves could cheerfully sink into forever.
I’ve never seen an article of furniture so clearly scream mag
