Page 73 of The Prince and His Stolen Groom
Kit’s cheeks darkened in a blush, her only acknowledgement of the pet name.
Somehow, Franny caught up to them before they reached the front door. She doubled over to put one hand on her knee while the other clutched her side. “I’m … ready,” she panted, smiling faintly.
She’d changed into bright pink breeches and pale pink shirtsleeves that billowed out to ridiculous proportions.
Brendon thought of Rick’s notes on the letters and agreed that Franny owned far too much pink. In one day she’d already managed to wear six different shades. Since he couldn’t shake her off at this point, he asked, “No more distractions or costume changes?”
Kit nodded, eyes downcast and contrite.
Franny narrowed her eyes at Brendon, but agreed, “Let’s find my brother.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Voices pulled me out of the depths of unconsciousness. A wave of pain throbbed from the back of my head and all of my limbs felt numb and a little tingly. I peeled one eye open and immediately closed it to shut out the bright light. I didn’t even realize I’d groaned in protest until a voice whispered, “Shh, he’s waking up.”
With a bracing breath, I forced my head up and my eyes open, though everything was still a bit out of focus. “Where am I?” I tried to ask, but it came out more like, “Wrmy.”
Someone snapped their fingers and in an imperious voice called, “Imp, the potion.”
Thinking of the other damn potions I’d suffered through, I sealed my lips tight and struggled to hide my face against my shoulder as a small, clawed hand grabbed my chin.
“Master,” a high-pitched voice whined, “he’s not cooperating!”
The other person sighed, and the small hand left my chin, replaced by a larger, stronger one. I looked up into a hooded face before a thumb shoved into my mouth and forcefully pulled my jaw down. The familiar, cinnamon taste of a health potion filled my mouth, which would have been pleasant if I could swallow properly. Half of it spilled out before the hooded figure released me.
I swallowed and focused on my breathing as the pain receded from the back of my head. The lights became easier to handle but the numbness remained. When I looked down, I realized it was becausethey’d tied my arms and legs to a chair with familiar red rope. Either they weren’t professionals, or they didn’t care if I kept my limbs after this, because they’d tied me tight enough to cut off circulation.
“Pestilence,” I whispered, watching the ropes hopefully. Nothing happened. “Pestilence,” I said more forcefully. Still nothing.
“Ah, is that the counter command?” the hooded figure asked. “I’m afraid I had to remove the enchantment.” The voice was charming and polite, which really fucking annoyed me.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
The room darkened, the shadows thickening, stretching toward me like grasping hands. The figure before me grew taller, their voice deepening it filled the room. “I am the Lord of Darkness, Prince of Shadows, Bringer of Terrible Evil, The Great and Powerful Cyril.”
I stared up into the shadowed hood, admittedly impressed and a little scared. But the more the ropes bit into my wrists, the more my annoyance overpowered everything else. “Great introduction, Cereal. But what the fuck is going on?”
After a long moment, the shadows faded, and the figure returned to their original size. “Cyril,” they repeated in clear annoyance.
“Sure, whatever. Why did you kidnap me just to bring me tomy own fucking tower?”
The figure removed their hood to glare at me properly, revealing a handsome, fifties-ish man with salt and pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard that framed his fierce scowl. Not how I expected an evil mage to look. Honestly, I thought there’d be scars or horns orsomethingas a mark of evil, but he wouldn’t even stand out in a crowd.
“I am here,” Cereal announced, flinging the folds of the cape behind him in a billowing, dramatic fashion that freed up his arms so he could grab another chair. He sat in it and arranged himself before finishing his sentence, “To discuss the wedding. The oneyoujust ran away from.”
How did he even know about that? “Technically, it was the rehearsal,” I muttered.
He gave me a look that said ‘does it actually matter?’ and also answered his own question ‘no, it doesn’t, so I’m going to continue lecturing you.’ “Do you plan to go through with it?”
I stared at him blankly, trying to understand the question. Did he know I was trying to take Franny’s place? Why would he care? Was there something else going on here that I didn’t know about? If I said the wrong thing, I could fuck this all up, and it was really hard to thinkwith part of my brain screaming at me about the dangers of remaining tied up for too long. “Since you went through the trouble of tying me up, I don’t think you intend to kill me. Can you loosen the ropes before they cause permanent damage?”
The mage blinked and looked at my hands, which were red-verging-on-purple, then down at my feet, which were still in my boots so he couldn’t see anything anyway. “If you attempt to run, I have other methods of subduing you,” he warned, then snapped his fingers and ordered his little imp minion to untie me.
I watched the creature warily. Since there was only one in the room, I was pretty sure it was the same one who bit me, and I didn’t need to experience that again. The imp grumbled unhappily as it worked. The binding went from dangerously tight to loose enough that, if I wiggled right, I could pull my arm through. I withheld all wiggling, waiting for a more advantageous time.
“Now, where were we?” Cereal asked, crossing one leg over his knee.
“The wedding,” I said, still not sure what he wanted. “I assume you’re here to ruin it?”
