Page 13 of The Prince and His Stolen Groom
I edged toward the door, worried he would spring up and attack me as soon as I lowered my guard. He just continued lying on the couch, a sad little princely lump. I reached for the door in slow motion, giving him plenty of time. He never moved.
Dammit, I’d been trying to rescue my sister, but somehow I’d ended up the villain of our story.
Interruption One
Far away from the Desolated Lands, a real villain was busy plotting. Or, more specifically, his wife was.
“But, honey, it's a royal wedding, the first one inyears! Wehaveto go!”
The Lord of Darkness, Prince of Shadows, Bringer of Terrible Evil, The Great and Powerful Cyril, only looked up from his paperwork because his wife had sprawled herself across his desk, giving him no choice. Her fluffy blue skirts and petticoats spread prettily around her, adding a splash of color to his otherwise drab office. “Cookie,” he said, softening his tone from his usual booming evil voice, “we don't even have an invitation.”
“But you're anevil mage," she pouted, “why can't we simply crash the party?”
“We can,” he conceded, “but then it becomes work. And honestly”—he picked up the copy of the Town Crier she had shoved in his face announcing the upcoming nuptials in a faraway kingdom—“invading Woe simply isn't worth the hassle. I've been there before, you know—nasty place. Food rotting in the fields, out of business signs on half the stores. They probably don't even have a functional inn, which means we would have to camp.”
“I don’t care!” She rolled over and leaned forward on both hands. In this new position, her arms pushed her breasts together, plumping up her cleavage so it almost spilled out of her bodice. No doubt onpurpose—she’d successfully used this tactic to earn his agreement dozens of times. “It's all anyone is talking about at the marketplace!” Her lower lip quivered, and she widened her green eyes beseechingly. “The Soul Stealer took her wife and their apprentice to the last royal wedding! Meredith wouldn’t stop bragging forweeks! No one has been to the Desolated Lands in years—they'd all be terribly jealous."
The Soul Stealerwashis biggest rival; making her wife jealous would be extra satisfying. Cyril stroked his pointy beard thoughtfully. “You promise not to complain? Even if it's a barren wasteland and a cash bar?”
“You won't hear apeepfrom me, I swear!" She could see him wavering and added, “There may even be a peasant revolt, perhaps a few beheadings if the monarchs arereallynasty.”
She always knew exactly the right things to say.
“Alright, peaches, we'll go!”
She squealed in glee and threw herself into his lap, kissing him all over his face, leaving perfect pink imprints of her lips behind. “But remember,” she said as she pulled away, “this is vacation,notwork. If you decide to invade Woe, you'll simply have to wait until afterwards.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” he promised, knowing there would be nothing to tempt him there anyway.
Chapter Six
I arrived at the feast late, my entrance drawing everyone’s direct, accusatory gazes. Fussing with the ends of my long sleeves, I pretended that tardiness was perfectly normal for me. It wasn’t at all influenced by the fact I had a captive to check in on.
My family sat at a table at the back of the room, positioned so that all seats faced the guests. One empty seat remained next to my mother, and she placed her hand on the back of the chair in a silent order to sit down and stop making an ass of myself.
I sat down, but I made no promises on the second part.
Francesca and the fake groom sat at the other end of the table. Though the physical distance wasn’t far, with our parents separating us, I’d have a hard time talking to either of them throughout the meal.
Father stood and addressed the crowd, a wine glass loosely held in his hand. “Welcome, everyone, to this momentous occasion. This joining of two great families will not only protect the five kingdoms but will lead to future prosperity and happiness for all.”
I zoned out after the first two sentences. Father enjoyed long, poetic speeches, both giving them and listening to them. If no one stopped him, it would probably go on for another half-hour.
Knowing his tendencies to drone on, Mother motioned for the staff to begin serving. A prepared plate was set in front of me—grilled lamb, roasted asparagus, buttered potatoes, and a soft roll. Running back and forth between the castle and the tower had worked up anappetite. A forkful of potatoes was halfway to my mouth when Father’s words penetrated my thick skull.
“And to my future son. Though I have not had the pleasure to know you yet, I trust that I will grow to love and understand you as I do my own children. Welcome to the family.”
My fork slowly lowered back to the plate. The servings were generous, the food cooked to perfection, yet I couldn’t eat a damn bite. All I could think of was Brendan in my tiny tower kitchen, eating a sandwich or a bowl of oatmeal, missing the feast held in his honor.
“Are you alright, Frederick?” Mother murmured, hiding her concern behind a sip of wine.
“Rick,” I corrected automatically. “I’m fine.” I stabbed a spear of asparagus and chewed it thoroughly to satisfy her.
As the dining hall filled with friendly chatter, fewer people watched the head table. With less attention on us, I leaned back in my chair, trying to see the imposter. They couldn’t take off their helmet unless they were confident no one knew what the prince looked like. They also wouldn’t want to cause problems later once the real prince returned to marry Franny. Would they claim they were going on a hunger strike?
The visor was pushed up to expose only their mouth, covering their eyes as a result. They fumbled with their fork and bumped it into their chin and cheek a few times before successfully taking a bite.
I snorted.Serves them right for using a suit of armor to trick us.
