Page 2

Chapter

Two

W hat is Prince Poopfloof doing here?

“Thank the Idols you are here,” he says. “These people are ridiculous, imprisoning a king.”

“Prince,” I remind him. “You aren’t a sure thing for taking over your kingdom.”

He huffs. “That’s what they said. Then they had the audacity to tell me I was lying, and lying here is apparently a crime.”

“Shock and horror,” I say. My sarcasm flies right over His Majesty’s head. “How did you get here?”

“One of the knights said my Gwyneth was too busy with the Land of Reflection to allow me to honor her with my company.”

I resist the urge to laugh at that. He still thinks he’s honoring her with his presence? “And that led you here?” Seems like a leap.

“No, that led me to my mirror, who informed me that there was indeed a maiden most fair who had entered their realm. So I made a deal and followed her.”

“That maiden was me.”

“I see that now.”

I slide down to my butt and cross my legs, doing my best to ignore the damp rotten smell in the air. If talking to Prince Poopfloof helps with that, then so be it. “What deal?” He stays silent for a tempo or two before releasing a long sigh and mumbling something. “What? I didn’t hear you.”

He grumbles under his breath, and I’m a split tempo away from ignoring Prince Poopfloof when he announces, “I agreed to organize an annual royal parade dedicated to mirrors, with an emphasis on their contribution to our society. I promised I would ride on a giant mirror at the center of the parade while hollering ‘thank you for reflecting me.’”

I snort into the darkness. “That’s brilliant. I can’t wait to witness it.”

“If you didn’t cause chaos and stumble into every narrative you touch, perhaps I would have already won Gwyneth’s heart, and we would be wed and ruling my kingdom.”

I shake my head and smile. “Gwyneth is her own person. If you think she is at all influenced by anything other than her stubborn, intelligent brain, then you don’t know her at all.”

“Then help me.”

I tilt my head. “Help you what?”

“How do I woo such a woman? What does she desire? Riches? Jewels? Power?”

A chuckle escapes me. “Gwyneth desires a true heart and a strong mind. Someone who can match her quick wit and whip smart thoughts. She doesn’t lust after glitter and gold. She wants to feel challenged but supported in her quest for knowledge.”

“I already know she’s a bookworm.”

“You aren’t getting it, Charming. Gwyneth isn’t just a bookworm.

She enjoys expanding her horizons. She simultaneously has respect for history and wants to document the present.

I might stumble into adventures, but she wants to witness and record it for future generations.

You don’t woo my sister with the typical trinkets that have gotten you into a maiden’s bed before.

She’s a complex woman with complex needs. ”

“This all sounds very complicated and difficult.”

“And that’s why you will never be the right man for her. If you were, it wouldn’t be such a turnoff to put in the bare minimum to impress her.”

He mutters a few words too low for me to understand. “That’s just the problem,” he finally says. “For the first time in my life, I want to put the effort in. I want to impress her. I want her gaze to soften for me like yours does for the Stirlings. What did they do to deserve it?”

My heart clenches at the sound of their name. “When people are compatible, it isn’t difficult to figure out how to make their pieces fit. They are simply two parts of a whole that were always meant to come together. It should be effortless.”

Or five pieces of a whole in my case. Perhaps it was clumsiness that created five parts where most have two.

“I understand what you are saying, but that person also has to be open to it, and right now, your sister is so consumed with saving you, she isn’t allowing herself the opportunity to see if we are indeed meant to be.

I can’t shake the feeling that letting her go would be the worst mistake of my life. ”

Does Prince Poopfloof have a heart? Am I dreaming? I pinch my arm. Nope, still here in the land’s dungeon, awaiting my mirror man to wake up and confirm that I am not a violent maiden.

“If you are truly intent on proving yourself worthy, you need to put her needs above your own. If she is consumed with saving me, then show your support, not your derision.”

Charming hums. “That seems like solid advice.”

Will wonders never cease? I actually gave advice.

However, all the advice in the world won’t help Charming if my sister is dead set on not allowing him to be in her life.

I pick at the hem of my dress. I could give him a little help.

He’s all wrong for my sister, and I am sure anything I tell him will not persuade her otherwise.

Apparently, however, I am a sucker for the prospect of true love.

If he’s right and I am blocking the way for Gwyneth finding her own happily ever after, then I need to counteract it.

Of course, there is the tiny detail of my eyes being pecked on as they say their vows, but I’m sure there is a workaround.

Perhaps we could march corpses down the aisle.

I’m sure they wouldn’t mind getting their eyeballs pecked out.

“She likes the color pink. A deep pink, not the pale one or the bright one, the one bordering on red.”

“Pink, got it. What else?”

I can’t believe I am helping him. “She’s always wanted to visit the hot springs. We only had the pond in Strongfair to bathe in. At best, it’s lukewarm. At worst, freezing.”

“There’s a hot spring under the Hallows Palace,” he says with wonder.

There is? Now I want to visit it too.

“My sister has always been drawn to the moonlight and stars, more so than the blue skies and chirping birds.”

“I can do dates under the stars.”

“But don’t over script it. She enjoys a small sense of adventure. Oh, and dress less stuffy.”

“What is less stuffy?”

“Not like you are a tempo away from proposing and whisking her off to a ball.”

It must be hard for him to understand, since he’s been conditioned his entire life to walk around like a Prince Charming on the verge of being crowned. That kind of life pressure must be difficult.

Silence stretches and I take the time to peer into each of the darkened cells filled with an array of different creatures. I wonder what they did to be dumped in the dungeon?

I flick a pebble against the bars, the metallic pings echoing around the room. I need to do something to pass the time.

“You want to play a game?” I ask Charming.

He snorts. “Not especially, but I guess it will pass the time.”

“The guy in the far left cell opposite us. The one with the overly dramatic mustache. What’s his crime?”

The guy in question glares at me.

Charming huffs. “Public disturbance for faulty facial hair?”

“Wrong,” the woman in the next cell declares. “He tried to marry a goose. It was a political alliance gone terribly wrong.”

The mustached prisoner groans. “For the last time, it was a swan!”

I wink at him. “That’s what they all say.”

Charming groans. “We are in actual danger, and you’re making jokes?”

I shrug to no one in particular. “It’s my survival technique. What’s yours?”

Charming sighs. “Dramatic monologues give me comfort.” Figures that he prefers the sound of his own voice to anything else.

“How did you end up here?” Charming eventually asks.

Now I must be dreaming, if he’s asking about something other than himself or how he can win over my sister.

Still, I’m not about to spill my tangled mess to him.

“I was on my way to the mirror when a girl ambushed Eron and me. She knocked him out before disappearing through my mirror and took over my body.”

“This imposter is with Gwyneth?”

Do I sense a level of protectiveness? Maybe there’s hope for this prince yet. “That’s right.”

“What’s her name?” he asks.

“Malice.” An ominous chorus of hisses from the other barred caverns makes the hairs on my arms lift. That being said, I’m not here for the vague disapproval of Malice. “If someone has something to say, then they should speak clearly,” I demand.

Shadows pool into the corner of my cell, the inky being emerging like a nightmare. “Did... did someone say Malice?” it rasps, its voice somewhere between a wheeze and a laugh.

I press my back against the cold, unyielding wall as something long and impossibly dark slinks into the faint light of the single torch.

It’s like a dragon had a baby with a shadow monster.

Its mouth pulls up, revealing gleaming needle-sharp teeth.

I swallow and force down the fear trying to gain control of my veins.

I remind myself this dragon is tiny compared to Theo and Arthur.

Both of which I survived, one of which I kept.

The creature’s golden eyes gleam as it licks its lips.

“You know Malice?” I ask, impressed with how steady my voice sounds.

“Oh, you poor, clueless female. You’ve gone and said the cursed name.”

“What, Malice?” I ask. There’s no power in a name, unless you will it so. The other creatures hiss again, shrinking back as if the name physically burns them. Apparently, I’ve hit a nerve.

“You’ve got no idea what’s coming,” the shadow dragon says, scraping its pointed tail across the stone floor. “Let me tell you the tragic tale of Malice.”

Charming groans loudly from his cell. “Oh, great. A lecture from a dungeon pest. What’s next, a puppet show?”

“Shut it, imposter prince,” the creature snaps. “Your station means nothing to us in this realm. The shadows could devour you, and no one would care to look for you.”