Page 54 of The Prince and His Stolen Groom
The shadow-walker added mulishly, “There was also a wizard.”
Which only made things worse. Cyril hated nothing more than a goody-two-shoes wizard who interfered in his plans. Tapping his fingers on the table, he asked, “Did the wizard fight?” If he did, that would be against the rules—the shadow-walker was a Level Two demon, after all. Cyril could file an official complaint with the council and have him removed from this story in a snap.
“No. He did offer assistance and training.”
Dammit, mentorship was perfectly within the limitations. Sighing, he rubbed his temples and considered what to do next. Part of him wanted to simply attend the wedding and let the groom fuck it all up on his own—there were enough pieces in play for it to be a spectacular failure—but that sounded so … so … soside character! He wasn’t a sidecharacter, dammit, he was a villain, and he was going to act like one!
He just had to figure out what pieces were still in play. “Who was the knight?” he asked. “Was it the prince’s lover? The one the imp saw at the marketplace?”
“This one was a young woman with red hair.”
“Hm, perhaps it was the bride. But no, why would she want to rescue her fiancé’s lover?”
“I assume she was there to rescue the groom.”
Cyril pursed his lips. “Demon.”
“Yes, master?”
“Was the groominside the towerwhen you activated scenario four-ten?”
The shadow-walker remained silent.
“You do realize that locking him inside the towerwithhis lover was theexact oppositeof what I wanted?”
More silence.
After a few minutes, Cyril realized that the outline of the shadow-walker had disappeared. He wondered how long he had been talking to air.
“Level Two my ass,” he muttered. He really needed to hire better minions. And perhaps write a complaint to both councils about the leveling system—it clearly needed reassessment. “I’ll just have to do it myself.”
He went back up to the room and softly stroked his wife’s hair until she stirred and looked up at him with a sleepy smile. “Morning already?” she asked, clutching her pillow tighter like she didn’t want to leave the bed yet.
“No, dearest, but something came up.”
Her pretty pink lips pursed in a pout. “Honey, must I remind you that we are onvacation?If we miss this wedding—”
“I promise I’ll return before then.”
She continued to pout for a moment before insisting, “You better.” Then she wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled him down for a long, thorough kiss, before sinking back into her pillows and returning to dreamland. Hopefully she remembered the conversation in the morning, but just in case, he left a note on the desk explaining his absence.
Outside the inn, he pulled the hood up on his black cloak, swished his arm dramatically, and disappeared into the night.
Chapter Twenty-One
I woke up sprawled across four surfaces, twisted like a pretzel. One leg was still on the couch, the other was on the floor along with half my body. One arm was on the coffee table, the other was somehow stretched across Brendon. He didn’t look any more comfortable, his legs hanging off one end of the chair, his head hanging off the other. He held onto my arm with both of his, less like he was snuggling it and more like he was holding me up from completely falling over the edge.
Well, he was going to have to let go, or I wouldn’t be able to get up. “Brendon, wake up.”
No response.
I struggled to untwist myself, but with one hand occupied, I just ended up flopping the rest of the way down. Face pressed into the floor, I groaned, “Brendon! Seriously, I need my arm.”
“Are you alright, Your Highness?”
I stiffened and lifted my head as best I could to see the wizard standing in the kitchen’s doorway. Last night’s events returned to me in a series of embarrassing flashbacks. While the Good Wizard had patched up my tongue, he’d lectured me on the dangers of magical towers—how they attracted all sorts of creatures and led people down the wrong path. “You are perilously close to a life of evil, young prince. You must choose more wisely going forward.”
At least he didn’t know about the kidnapping. That would probably push me from ‘perilously close’ into ‘a lost cause.’
