Page 11 of Once Upon an Enchanted Kiss

She pressed cold fingertips to her lips, imagining what it would be like to leave this place behind. To become her own person. To marry for love instead of duty. Or perhaps not marry at all. The more she thought about it, the more her heart pounded with excitement.

She shot to her feet suddenly, then turned to the dragonfly still on the railing. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For the advice.” Rosamund flashed her a smile and then took off running back up the path toward the castle, her skirts in her fists.

She was going to pack a bag, wait for the cover of nightfall, and then leave this place forever.

When the princess was at the end of the path, the dragonfly rose up from the railing and, using a bit of magic, turned back into her true form. Queen Rowena watched her go, a deep guttural laugh bubbling up her throat.

“You are so welcome, princess.”

Her plan worked beautifully. Now all she had to do was give the girl a little push and she’d prick her finger on a thorn in no time.

Grinning, she waved her arms and disappeared in a puff of magic, returning to her home deep in the Eternal Court.

Chapter 5

PrincePhillipgrabbedthetankard of ale and quaffed it, the liquid trickling down his chin as he did so. Then he thumped it back down on the table, grinning at his best mates. They cheered his ability to drink the pint in one gulp.

“Your turn, my friend,” Phillip said to Jeffrey, his best friend.

Jeffrey scowled as he grabbed the tankard in one hand. Charles and Phillip both cheered him on, but Phillip had the broadest grin of all. Around them, the tavern was a buzz of activity. None of the other patrons paid them any mind and the bartender didn’t realize the Crown Prince of Woodhaven was sitting under his roof.

Lord Jeffrey lifted the tankard and started to drink. Halfway through, he choked and slammed it down on the table with a loud thud. He huffed out a breath, his head falling to the table as he gulped in breaths. Phillip and Charles laughed.

“Maybe next time, old friend!” Phillip said, patting him on the back.

Jeffrey lifted his head and wiped his chin with the back of his hand, glaring at him. “Show off,” he muttered.

“Indeed, I am,” he said, sounding jovial.

“I’ll get us another round,” Charles said, rising and heading over to the bartender.

Phillip didn’t have the heart to tell him no. He was having too much of a good time. He leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the back two legs and watching the crowd around them. The tavern was packed this time of night with all types of men—and some women, too. Fisherman and hunters mostly. He and his friends spent the afternoon pretending to hunt pheasant. In truth, they killed nothing. He was windblown and tired, but happy.

Jeffrey ran a finger around the rim of his half-full tankard watching him watch the tavern.

“So, when are you going to fess up?” he asked, cutting him a glance.

“Fess up?” Phillip replied, his brows furrowed in question as he looked at him.

He and Jeffrey were friends their entire lives. They grew up together from the crib to now. They played cards together, gambled, chased women, hunted, fished, and everything in between. He dragged along his younger brother, Charles, on most of the hunting excursions.

Jeffrey leaned close and said, “The betrothal.”

Instantly, Phillip’s mood darkened. He frowned down into his empty tankard, wishing Charles would hurry with the next round.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.

“Because it’s nearly time, isn’t it?” Jeffrey teased. “You and I both know the time of the wedding approaches. Aren’t you supposed to be in Myst Hall right now?”

“IsaidI don’t want to talk about it.”

Charles returned with three tankards and plopped them down in the middle of the table, the froth swishing over the edges.

“Talk about what?” he asked.

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