Page 105 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
Angelica paused and watched as a vine curled more firmly around the rail. The wet, mossy stones of the dungeon were a purposeful aesthetic that only threatened the health and safety of the Lord of Grimnight’s prisoners. Didn’t interfering with the stairs also threaten his minions? What if an orc slipped on a fresh patch of ivy and fell? Didn’t the mage care for his own employees?
Well, he wasevil, so perhaps he encouraged workplace malpractice.
She filed that information away and continued up the stairs.
Now, if she were an anchor, where would she be?
The sea.
Gosh, she’d spent too much time with Dirk if that was her first answer. She shook her head and focused on what she knew rather than what she didn’t: the anchor was the key to breaking the curse; the Lord of Grimnight, like most evil mages, had an overinflated ego. The anchor would either be in his office, somewhere he could gloat over it privately—perhaps even stroke it as he admired his own evil genius—or on display where everyone could see it.
If he’d put it on display, it might be heavily guarded. Getting close to it unnoticed would be almost impossible. If it was in his office, she risked finding the evil mage before she found the anchor. But one evil mage seemed easier to fight than a room full of minions, so she chose to search his office first.
Where would an evil mage put their study? Underground or in a tower. Certainly not the ground floor. Since the dungeons were underground, she assumed the Lord of Grimnight would want to be above his prisoners, metaphorically and physically, so she found some stairs and started making her way up.
The first thing she found at the top of the stairs was a directory for the offices on the floor.
The second thing she found was a lacertian.
The lacertian hadn’t noticed her yet. The upper half of their body leaned into one office while their feet remained in the hallway. Their tail stretched out straight behind them to maintain their balance. “Champions? Are you in here?”
Angelica pressed her back to the wall, trying to blend in with her surroundings. Unfortunately, her dress reflected light, and the walls had been painted a dreary black. Maybe if she struck a pose and stood absolutely still, they would mistake her for a painting.
The lacertian’s search yielded no results. They abandoned that office and walked down the hall, away from Angelica, to search somewhere else. The lackluster way they continued to call for the champions—thus alerting everyone to their presence—implied that they didn’t care about their task.
Angelica hoped all the minions were so committed to their jobs.
Once the lacertian was gone, Angelica perused the directory for any hint of which office the evil mage would have claimed for his own. City planning, public works, tax assessment. None of them sounded particularly grand.
She ignored all of them and continued to the next floor.
A large section of the third floor was dedicated to an enormous office. A bronze plaque hung above the door with the words “Mayor’s Office” carefully etched into the metal. Below it hung a second sign, made of battered black metal, that read “Lord of Grimnight” and belowthatwas a sign that read “Keep Out.”
On the door itself were a bevy of warnings, all overlapping each other:Knock First, I Mean It, Cursed, Danger Ahead, Beware of Mage.
None of the warnings had much impact when the door stood six inches open.
Angelica tiptoed over the threshold, hoping to avoid any traps. When no rope net dropped and no magic burst around her, she relaxed and flounced the rest of the way into the office.
The Lord of Grimnight had truly outdone himself on the decorations. Everything was black—black carpet, black furniture, black curtains. The only spot of color were the books spread haphazardly about the room.
Fitz would want to know what kind of books an evil mage kept in his study.
Angelica picked one of them up and examined the silver title on the spine:Love and Other Curses.Was it some kind of spell book? And why did the name Lucy Merryweather sound familiar?
She perused the rest of the room, looking for anything that could qualify as an ‘anchor.’ The most obvious choice was the largesomethinghidden behind a swath of black fabric. She tugged the fabric down, revealing a gilded mirror.
Instead of her own reflection, Angelica saw a strange man. He sat at a desk, testing a cup of steaming tea with small, careful sips. When he noticed her, he almost dropped the teacup into his lap. Hot liquid splashed onto his hands, and he swore and sloshed even more over the edge as he hurriedly set it down.
“Are you alright, cookie?” a worried voice called from out of sight.
“I’m fine, dearest!” The man wiped his hands with a handkerchief and composed himself before examining Angelica. “You aren’t Brutus.”
“Brutus?” she asked, blinking in surprise.
The man snorted and corrected, “Sorry, the Lord of Grimnight, or whatever silly title he’s stolen for himself.”
“No, I’m not.”
