Page 23 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
“What about this one?” Delilah asked, waving a copy ofMonster Slayers Wantedthrough the air.
Fitz made a valiant effort to read it, his head rocking from side-to-side, before he finally gave up and asked, “Could you read it out loud for us?”
Delilah lowered the pamphlet and cleared her throat. Then she coughed and gagged slightly, sticking her tongue out as her eyes bugged wide open.
Oh gods, is she about to cough up a hairball?
Maximus passed her a glass of water, which she sipped slowly before setting it aside with a murmured thank you. Clearing her throat again—because that worked so well the first time—she slowly and stiltedly read the entry, “Seeking adventurers to slay the Night Stalker. The beast’s lair is on the edge of Scribton, and it keeps eating our chickens, goats, and lamps.”
“Do you meanlambs?” Angelica asked.
Delilah paused and re-read the word. “It sayslamps.With ap.”
“That’s obviously a mistake. Monsters don’t run around eating people’s lamps.”
“How would you know? You’ve never been outside the boundary.”
“Because it makes nosense—”
“Mistake or not,” I raised my voice to drown Angelica out, “can we assume the beast is being a nuisance?”
“Nuisance, yes,” Fitz agreed. “But is it a great and terrible evil?”
“Is it sentient?” Maximus asked, his voice calm and quiet. “If it’s not, then it can’t be evil. It’s just trying to survive.”
“Most beasts are sentient,” Delilah replied, though her excitement faltered. “Though this sounds more like a hound than a cat, which makes it less likely to be evil.”
Thankfully, no one questioned her thought processes. “Morality questions aside,” I said, “that sounds more like a side quest than a main quest. Something you’d take care of for quick cash, not to present your accomplishments to the Good Wizard.”
“Good point,” Fitz said, pulling out a piece of paper. “We’ll need to speak with the Good Wizard before setting out to make sure our quest of choice fits the parameters of the spell. Especially since we’re the first generation to choose this option.” He wrote a quick note and rifled around one of the side table drawers for an envelope. Then he walked to the door and pulled on a bell rope.
We all watched him in silence while we waited for someone to answer the call. He glanced at us, then shoved his glasses up his nose and looked up at the ceiling, humming to himself. When an attendant finally arrived, he sighed in relief. “Deliver this to the Good Wizard. Oh, and since you’re here—could you bring us some lunch? I think we’ll be here for a while.”
I flipped through another pamphlet, barely registering the contents, until one familiar word stood out to me:Grimnight.
Fuck, so he’s in the pamphlets after all.
When I focused on the entry, I realized it was only tangentially related to the old man.
Seeking adventurers to lift the curse on the Grimnight Forest. Fifty years ago, Traumstead was a happy, prosperous city with a thriving marketplace and a large library dedicated to magical tomes. Then an evil mage descended upon the city, demanding they surrender all their valuables and pledge half of their yearly income to him. After the mayor refused, a forest sprouted in the middle of city hall. The supernatural trees spread quickly, taking over homes and buildings, forcing the residents to flee. The spread continues to this day, threatening the borders of Hud and Kwilson. The citizens of these towns have pooled their funds together to reward any brave adventurers who lift the curse and defeat the evil within the forest.
I stared at the entry in confusion. The old man had earned his titleafterI’d left, and he’d never explained how. He’d been a child when the curse was originally cast, so he couldn’t be responsible for it. How was he related to the original Lord of Grimnight?
It didn’t matter who cast the curse, only that this quest fit our needs. It was the perfect excuse to guide the champions into the old man’s trap. My tight grip crinkled the pamphlet’s pages.Why couldn’t you stay obscure?
Fitz’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “I found one.” He pushed his glasses higher up his nose and said, “This is a bounty placed for The Lord of Darkness, Prince of Shadows, Bringer of Terrible Evil, The Great and Powerful—”
“No!” Delilah screamed. She jumped out of her seat and snatched the pamphlet from his hands and chomped down on the corner. Since she wasn’t wearing the collar, she only had dull, human teeth, which struggled to gnaw through the paper. Eventually, she tore off a chunk, spit it on the ground, and bit it again.
“That’s enough!” I chided, stealing it from her before she gave her tongue a papercut.
“We can’t go after Cyril!” she insisted.
Angelica narrowed her eyes. “Are you on a first name basis with an evil mage?” She clutched her own pamphlet tight to her chest and gasped in affront. “You’re working for him, aren’t you? Spying on us? Trying to tear the spell down.”
I flinched and dropped the pamphlet. “I’m not—”
Delilah’s loud, long hiss cut off my denial before I revealed too much. “I’m not a spy! But I’ve met his wife, and she’s very sweet, and funny, and if you kill her husband, she’ll never write another book again! We’re in the middle of a series!”
