Page 181 of Happily Ever Witch
It helped, of course, that he and Esmeralda had flattened, scorched, and transmogrified so much of the interior. The devastation fit their villainous aesthetic perfectly. The two of them ruled all of Wonderland, but they’d made the Heart Palacetheir very own evil lair. It seemed pleased to have them, adding new rooms just as fast as the old ones got burnt.
Trevelyan crouched on the balcony of the royal bedchamber and fixed a dragon-green bowtie around the flying pig’s neck. Esmeralda had made it for the little guy and he looked quite dapper. Their pet was scheduled to be the ring bearer at their wedding that afternoon, so he needed to be presentable.
“Trev?” Esmeralda came bursting into the room. “Hide me.”
“What?” He stood up, confused as to what was happening.
“Your sister wants me to wearwhiteand Scarlett is agreeing with her.” Esmeralda hurried to duck behind the edge of the fireplace. “Wicked witches do not wear white!”
“Alright. Calm down.” Trevelyan held up his palms, prepared to smooth over the dispute. Dragons were natural mediators. “I’ll talk to Marion. I can reason with her.” He headed for the door, throwing it open. “Ez is not wearing motherfucking white!” He bellowed down the hall.
“Oh, now you’re a goddamn fashion expert?” Marion shouted back. “The man who never takes off his trench coat, even in summer?”
“I don’t like being cold. Is that such a crime?”
“No, but everyotherthing you do is a crime. Does your bride know you’re a wanted fugitive in nineteen kingdoms? That’s going to narrow the honeymoon options.”
Trevelyan rose above that provocation. Reuniting with Marion was a blessing, regardless of her attitude. When she’dcome stalking into the Heart Palace and laid eyes on him for the first time since his coma, her heartfelt greeting had been: “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Marion had been born into the aristocracy. Her accent and features bespoke the highest breeding. The rest of her would always be a felon.
Trevelyan had started for her, happiness filling him.
“Do you have any idea how hard it was to find your worthless ass?” Marion had continued angrily. “I have been searching every known land! You couldn’t maybe put a magical tracker on yourself? Is that so hard to do, Mr. Level Five Powers? Then, I’d be able to…”
The rest of her lecture had been cut short by Trevelyan hugging her.
He had never hugged Marion before. At least not that he could remember. The novelty of it had knocked her off-track. Instead of ranting at him, she’d frozen for a beat. Then, her arms had slipped around his waist and she’d held him tight. He’d heard her sniff into his chest, like she was suddenly holding back tears.
“Shit, Trev.Nowlook what you did.”
Trevelyan had smiled into her dark hair. “I love you, too.” He’d told her in the dialect of Green Dragons. As far as he knew, the two of them were the only ones who spoke it. “In every single timeline there is, you are my sister. My family.”
Marion had broken down sobbing. “You’re my family, too. And I’d thought I’d lost you!” She’d given his shoulder an irritated whack. “I thought you were gone for good, this time.”
“You should know better. I’m too evil to die, for long. I always find my way back.”
“Yeah, well, one of these days, your evil luck is going to run out. Then what?”
“Then, you’ll have to save me, Marion dear. Why else do I keep you around?”
“I keepyouaround, because I’m a glutton for punishment.”
“And because a dragon livens up any home.” He’d craned his neck, so he could look at her face. “Speaking of which, you haven’t gone into my room, have you?”
“Of course I did. But, I didn’t touch your precious brilligs, if that’s what you’re worried about. Except to throw them fresh rotting meat to eat. They’ve taken over the whole space.”
“We’ll just leave it to them, then. Keeping brilligs happy is always a wise idea. And I’m going to need to expand my room, anyway, so my mate and I can have a vacation place. Anything lavish will do.”
Marion had glanced up at him, brown eyes wet with tears and amusement. “I’ll build you a guest cottage. …And we’re putting a tracker on you. Deal with it.”
Trevelyan figured he could deal with it.
After that, he and Marion slipped back into their usual routine of screaming at each other. Both of them were content with that arrangement. But that didn’t mean she got to bully Esmeralda into a white gown.
“I’ve planned eight weddings.” Marion reminded him. “How many have you planned, dickhead?”
“Every one of your weddings has ended in disaster. Nicholas is out of his obsessed mind for continuing to show up at them. One day, he’ll be saying ‘I do’ dead.”
