Page 20 of The Prince and His Stolen Groom
After a long moment, they asked, “What?”
“We can’t see the groom before the wedding, but does ithaveto be a full suit of armor?” I glanced at Franny, who had stood up and inched closer to us, her brow creased in worry. “Don’t we have some masks left over from the last few New Year’s balls?” We celebrated the changing of the years with an annual masquerade ball to represent giving everyone a fresh, anonymous start.
“Oh! Yes, I have a few!” she exclaimed, picking up her skirts and running from the room. “I’ll meet you in the foyer!”
I kept hold of the imposter’s arm and guided them out of the room, ignoring Mother’s annoyingly pleased expression.
“Have fun, boys!”
I rolled my eyes and dragged the imposter along. Their steps were so slow and heavy that by the time we reached the foyer, Franny had beat us there, holding a mask in her hands as she bounced on her toes. “Here,” she said, thrusting it at me, her eyes locked on the imposter’s helmet.
She certainly didn’tlookmiserable, except that wasn’t her real fiancé. I had no idea how I was going to explain the situation to her when it was all over.
The imposter waited for a long moment before asking, “Is she gone?”
“No, she’s still standing here.”
“My lady, I must ask you to give me some privacy. Our future happiness depends on it.”
Franny’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, of course, my apologies.” Looking dejected, she left us alone in the hallway.
“You’re a bit of an ass, you know that?” I said, irritated with them for upsetting her.
“It’s for her own good,” the imposter replied, then turned their back on me while they removed the helmet. Their hair was red, like Brendon’s, but a darker shade—closer to auburn than burning flames. It was cut just a little bit shorter, probably to disguise the slight curl that peeked out even at that length.
Standing close to them, I realized they were also the same height as him. No wonder Kit was his stand-in if they looked this much alike. I was dying to see their face, to compare it to his, but they kept their back to me.
They turned around, wearing a full fox face, only their soft brown eyes visible.
“Are you related?” I asked.
“To who?”
Shit, fuck.I forgot that they wouldn’t know that I knew that they were an imposter. “Uh, the, uh…”Fuck fuck fuck.I opened the door and led them outside to stall for time as I scrambled for a person, any person, that fit the bill. “Queen of Gloom.” Why did I say that? The Queen of Gloom was a petite platinum blond with blue eyes.
“Through marriage, technically,” they replied, and though the mask completely hid their expression, I could hear the smile in their voice.
Because of course all of us were, thanks to the spell, related by marriage. “Which marriages were those again?”
The question stumped them, and we walked in silence for a while. It would have been a great time to prove that they were an imposter, except I honestly couldn’t remember either. “I think … cousin’s mother-in-law?” they finally said.
“All of our kids are going to be screwed,” I muttered.
“The marriage condition is a bit weird,” Kit agreed to my surprise. “Since Br—Iam an only child, it causes extra complications. It means Francesca is forced to adopt Bane as her home country for us to have anyone in the next generation to keep the spell going, otherwise our children would technically belong to Woe.”
I hadn’t thought of that. Worse, I hadn’t realized that it would mean both Franny and I had to have children. I’d been so focused on our generation I hadn’t even considered how we would get to the next one. Even if Franny escapedthismarriage, she would stillhaveto marry unless the Good Wizard had another solution for us. Maybe that’s why she’d never bothered to protest—she’d known it would be her duty either way.
“Rick?”
Fuck, was there absolutely no way for Franny to be happy and free of marital obligations? Why couldn’t my parents have had a few more kids to make it easier on all of us?
“Rick?”
It took me a moment to realize Kit was talking to me, since they hadn’t called me ‘Fred’ or ‘Freddy.’ Despite my constant reminders, very few people actually called me Rick. “What?”
“Are you alright?” they asked, their gauntleted hand gently grasping my arm.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. “We’re almost there. Is there anything you’re interested in seeing or are you just joining because my mother pressured you into it?”
