A page from Princess of Bones - third title in the Graeffenland series..............

Chapter 1 – Morning in the Ivory Palace.

The bell rang. It rang gently but insistently, as it always did. Nirnadel awoke. Sunshine shone in from the eastern window of her chamber, streaking the floor and the bedclothes, with a lovely golden colour. Oh, another day! She stared up at the pale silken canopy over her bed. She stretched her slim, agile body, under the bedclothes.
Why she wondered, did she have to bother with a routine? Still, it was her father’s orders. The bell rang, again. It would continue to ring until she was out of bed, this was how it was. She sighed. Another day, more exercises, more lessons, all pointless, she said to herself. It’s not like I’m ever going to work is it? She mused.
She sat up. A tall heavy set bald zombie stood staring through her and at the wall. Somewhere it had lost an eye. The well made suit and shoes, made it almost look dapper, if such could be said of the undead.
“Good morning, Plank.” She said, conversationally.
Plank, was her Butler. He had been so for more years than she could remember, her father, deciding she needed, a Butler, and mobile alarm clock, when she was but a waif. She would have to mind out for the eye. No good squishing it into the carpet. Her father hated buying new things, and this perplexed her. After all her father was the King. What is the point of being King if you can’t buy stuff?
Her father was also rich, but he seemed to spend all his money on laboratory equipment, experiments, esoteric and exotic antiques and relics. Ask for a new dress and it was all, but I gave you your allowance just the other day!
The bell rang again.
“I’m up!” She said a bit miffed, and a little annoyed.
“Mifftress, isn’t out offff bed yaet...” Said Plank.
Plank had been well restored, but there was only so much that could be done. He had been with the family, since the great triumph of her father over the dark creature from beyond.
Obediently, Nirnadel slid from the silken sheets. She was nude. It didn’t matter. Poor old Plank, she thought, he’s only doing his job. Doing their job, was, what zombies did. Often they did lots of jobs, working until they were beyond salvage and repair. She looked around her chamber. Ah, there it was. Her lovely emerald green dress, nicely laundered. Below were her low green court shoes. She got dressed.
She looked at Plank as he obediently stared through the wall. Apparently, someone had told her, he had died heroically fighting the unkillable fiend plants. She believed it. In his prime, Plank must have been formidable.
She put her shoes on. Ah, there it was! Greenish yellow, like a hardboiled egg that’s become moldy. She gingerly picked it up.
“Hand.” She said.
Plank began unwinding the wrappings on his wrist.
“No, no! Hold out your hand!” She quickly corrected herself. Zombies could be so literal. Plank extended his arm, hand still attached.
“Here. Now, go down to maintenance and tell them to use the good glue. Remember, the good glue.”
Plank nodded slowly, turned and left.
She wished she could have living servants. How she wished she could! Her father forbade it. It was too dangerous. She was too important. He had too many enemies, he said. One day she would understand, he said.
Well, she was eighteen now, and she wanted some freedom! Not endless walks round the Palace gardens, zombie musicians, and mirror theatre.