Page 85 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
“Then you’ll have to follow them into the forest and convince Wilde to try a more conventional form of flirtation,” Cyril said. “I’ve tracked the location of Brutus’ lair. I can enchant a map to show you the most direct route and provide a few supplies to help you defend yourselves.” A small investment for a potential apprentice.
“How do we break the curse?” Brendon asked.
Cyril shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there. I’d need to go with you, and well … I do have a reputation to uphold. I can’t be mistaken for a—” he shuddered before spitting out the word “—hero. I’d lose all credibility within the evil community.”
“I understand,” Rick said. “We’ll take whatever help you can give us.”
Within the hour, they had packed up the map and supplies. They were just headed out the door when the bell rang.
“I swear, if it’s a solicitor this time,” Cyril grumbled as he stomped to the door and threw it open.
Aknight in shining armor stood beyond.
Cyril narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have time for Chosen One nonsense—”
“Am I too late?” The knight’s tinny voice drowned Cyril out. They pushed up their visor, exposing a red, sweaty face with short strands of brown hair sticking to their cheeks. “Have Brendon and Rick left already?”
“Kit!” Lucinda exclaimed, bustling over to wrap her arms around the knight in a hug they probably couldn’t feel.
“We were about to set off,” Brendon said.
The armor clanged as Kit turned around and marched back down the stairs. “Then let’s go.”
“You should change into something more practical,” Rick suggested. “We’re going into a forest, not a battlefield. The armor will draw too much attention.”
“Nope, I’m keeping it on.”
Brendon and Rick exchanged a silent look and mutually agreed not to waste time arguing. After one final goodbye and thank you to Lucinda and Cyril, they left the safety of the evil mage’s gated community and followed their children into the cursed forest.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Can I at least get something to clean up—” The tattered cards on the floor rustled ominously. I held up my ink covered hands and backed toward the lobby.
“You don’t have to be so rude,” Delilah said, glowering at the librarian. “We’re here to break the curse, which also benefits the library—”
“Out!” The librarian’s shout lifted the cards into the air once more, and the whole catalog chased us out of the library.
Maximus reached the doors first and held one open, gesturing for us to precede him. Cards that were aimed at him swerved at the last minute, burying themselves in the door or targeting someone else.
One grazed my cheek, cutting a fresh line of blood that instantly filled with ink. I hissed in pain and slapped my hand against the wound, hoping the pressure would ease the burn. While I was distracted, my foot caught on an uneven stone and I crashed onto the path, catching myself with one elbow and one hand.
Someone else slammed into me from behind. The added weight pressed me flat to the ground and knocked the wind out of me. I barely felt the additional thump as someone else made the same mistake, creating a pile of disgraced royals.
“What”—the voice chilled the ink and blood coating my skin, raising goosebumps along my flesh—“is going on here?”
With my face pressed against stone and multiple people piled on my back, I couldn’t answer.
Suddenly, the weight eased away, and Delilah cried out as she tumbled onto the front lawn. She rolled over a few times in the overgrown grass before slowing to a stop.
Another weight lifted, and Fitz grunted as he slammed onto the path beside me. His glasses were askew, his eyes dazed. The words had disappeared from his skin though, so he still looked better than he had in the library.
I raised my head to see Wilde standing before me. Anger sharpened his expression until his eyes alone could slit someone’s throat. He crouched and cupped my cheek, staining his pale hand black. “Who did this?” His voice and touch were so soft they disappeared into the night.
“The librarian.” I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth.
His gaze moved to the double doors, closed now, since Maximus had run to help the others to their feet.
I grabbed Wilde’s sleeve, leaving a black handprint on his white shirt. “Wait—”
