Page 14 of Royally Hacked Belle & Flame
DAEMON
Ifucking hate snow.
Even as a kid I never liked the cold, but after wasting two-thirds of my life freezing my ass off in Dyaspora, I’ve developed a special kind of loathing for it.
Today, though, the snow doesn’t look quite as bad as usual. The road to the village is picturesque, the snow falling in fat flakes. Red ribbons flutter from the lampposts, and someone has wound pine garlands around the trunks of the oak trees. When we reach the high street, the decorations are even more excessive. Candle flames dance in every window, baubles hang from rafters and a burst of laughter and the chorus of an olddrinking song spill from the pub’s open door as a man stumbles out, his cheeks flushed with ale and firelight.
In contrast, my friends and I are silent and stoic as we walk.
They don’t typically like snow either, but I know that’s not the problem. Fox, Jett, and Kastian decided to tag along on my search for Nikolas’s missing grandchildren, and the seriousness of the situation is affecting all of us. Even Jett, who is always smiling, scowls darkly.
He doesn’t say it, but I know what he’s thinking. Nobody wants to be the one to find out the missing kids are actually…well, missing.
Ellender is a dangerous place, and sometimes people disappear. Jett was one of those kids who ended up living on the street with a pack of other orphans and runaways. He’s never told us exactly how he ended up there, but I wonder if this situation hits too close to home.
“Where are we even supposed to start?” Jett asks, cutting into my thoughts. “Do we just go door to door? Or search the woods?”
“Kids don’t just vanish,” Kastian cuts in. “They always have a reason to run, or a place they like to hide. If we find out where that is, we’ll find them.”
“I don’t know where to start,” I admit. “I’m hoping it will help to talk to their teacher. Maybe she knows where they typically go to play.”
Fox reaches up and dusts snow from his blonde hair. “It’s cold,” he says, stating the obvious.
I throw him a sideways look. If it were Jett making such an obvious statement, I’d tell him to shut up and use his brain, but with Fox I’m inclined to take him more seriously.
Fox isn’t much of a talker, but after knowing him for decades I know that his lack of talking isn’t because he has nothing to say. He’s probably the smartest of all of us, and doesn’t explainhimself because he thinks whatever has already occurred to him should be obvious to everyone else. Like, when I asked why he’d sent Nikolas to talk to me, he just said: “They’re kids,” and left it at that.
“What’s your point?” I ask.
He looks sour, like he always does when he has to explain himself. “They disappeared last night, and it was cold then too. If they’re still alive, then they would have taken shelter somewhere. We should be looking for them in caves or abandoned houses, not in their schoolyard.”
I cock my head. “Fair enough, but I still want to talk to the teacher and maybe some of the other children.”
He shrugs. “As long as it doesn’t take too long. It’ll be dark soon.”
I nod grimly, and put my head down as we all walk a bit faster toward the school.
We find the teacher in the school courtyard, where children in half-finished pine cone crowns and garlands of mistletoe and ivy shuffle through some kind of synchronized dance.
As we draw closer, I notice how dejected the children look. A boy drops his ribbon wand. A girl’s eyes well with tears as she stares at two empty spots in their formation.
The teacher claps her hands twice to get the children’s attention, then freezes mid-motion when she spots us at thegate. Her smile stretches too wide as she smooths her apron and curtsies so quickly she nearly loses her balance. “Your Majesty!”
The children pivot toward us, their faces droopy and sad. I lift my hand in greeting. The teacher’s voice rises an octave. “Everyone rest for a moment,” she calls, then adds with sudden sharpness, “Stay where I can see you.”
“Afternoon,” I greet her, closing the space between us. “Are you Madam Merriweather?”
“Yes!” the woman gushes. “Are you here about the children’s procession? I wouldn’t have expected you to come personally, but I’m sure they would be happy to show you what we’re working on.”
“The children’s procession?” I echo, confused.
“For the wedding,” she clarifies.
It takes me a long moment to understand what the fuck she’s talking about, then I vaguely recall a conversation between Alix and my mother about the local school children from the village helping to carry the train of Alix’s dress. I didn’t realize that would require so much rehearsal.
“No, actually. We’re here about two missing children.”
The teacher’s face falls. “Oh. Of course, I should have realized. Would you all like to step away with me for a moment? The children are traumatized enough as is by the disappearance of their friends. I’m trying to stay upbeat because I don’t want to upset them further.”
