Page 27

Chapter

Twenty-Five

“ I s nobody else alarmed about the glowing insects lighting our way?” Charming grumbles as we trudge across the snow. I marvel at the satisfying crunch underneath my booted feet. The fur cloak skims the ground, gathering more and more weight.

Malachi chuckles as his arm brushes against mine. “Of all the things that have happened to us over the last few diurnals, this is the least weird thing.”

“Do you think they are leading us to the Grimms?” Nash wonders.

I shake my head. “No, that’s not what I asked for.”

“Why the Blazes not?” Charming snaps.

I shrug. “My heart tells me we aren’t there yet.”

Nash reaches up to pull on a snow-laden branch. He releases it into the air, and the snow flies up before sprinkling like diamonds. “What did you ask for?” he asks as he glances at me over his shoulder.

“Somewhere safe to rest, where we can get food, sleep, and regroup while we take a breath.”

“That’s smart,” Gwyneth agrees.

I think that’s the first time anyone has ever called me smart. We really are in a different world.

“I’m not sure I like snow,” Theo grumbles as he huffs a plume of fire that sends my glowing bug friends scattering.

“Hey! No burning my sidekicks!” I snap, hands on my hips.

“Oh, no. No more sidekicks,” Hart declares.

I stumble and gasp. “Oh my Idols, we have to go back.”

Everyone stops. “Why?” Nash demands.

“Not a chance,” Charming grumbles

“We left Hamish and Eugene behind.”

“I take it back. We must return,” Charming declares as he spins on his heel and begins walking back from where we came. Who’d have thought we’d ever agree on something?

The genie winks at me and produces my capons.

“You have them?” I whisper in awe. “Thank you.”

Charming hurries back to us. Amusement plays on my sister’s face as he fusses with the feathered pair. They cluck unhappily at the snow, and Hamish releases a high-pitched shriek as something stirs in the dense forest.

“Put them back,” I whisper. “They clearly don’t enjoy the cold. It must be hard on their feet.”

The genie scoops them up into his arms and stares at Eugene solemnly. “You will not deposit your eggs on my furniture.” Eugene pecks his nose. “Fine, the armchair is your only nest. Keep your feathery butt off my silk rug.” They disappear. Where does he put them? In his lamp? Can I visit sometime?

“Is all well, handsome Harold?” Eron shouts from Hart’s clothing, making Malachi snort. Aww, he’s grown to encompass my knights and is even getting their names wrong.

“All is well, but I’ll keep you hidden away while we traverse this new land,” Hart reassures him. Good idea. We don’t want to alarm the locals with talking mirrors.

On that note, I yank my cloak open and shove Sir Sweeps-A-Lot inside. A beat passes, and then the broom violently erupts out of the bottom of my hem like a deranged woodland creature and takes Malachi’s legs out from under him.

“By all the Blazes?—”

“Shhh!” I kick Sir Sweeps-A-Lot back into hiding.

Theo rolls his eyes, and a golden sheen flickers across them.

I narrow mine right back at him. “Ooh. Does that enhance your vision?”

Why is everyone hiding stuff from me? When we get a tempo, everyone is going to have a heart to heart and reveal all their secrets to me. I don’t have any. My head is cluttered enough without trying to figure out who knows what.

A shadow shifts in the trees. “They’re here,” a grumbly voice shouts from up ahead.

“Shush, Mr. Fox, you’ll draw attention from her majesty,” a soft feminine voice chastises.

A pair of bright orange, furred creatures step out from the trees. Black, beady, but kind eyes take in our group.

“Foxes,” Gwyneth says in wonder. She’s right, they are foxes, but not like the ones back in our realm. These appear to be more lithe and delicate.

“There are too many of them,” the male mutters.

“Maybe they sent spares?” the female muses.

“The law calls for five, but at least this way we have our pick.”

“They do have a short shelf life,” the male responds.

I barely suppress a laugh when Charming’s entire face contorts. “Who are you calling short?” Charming growls.

Everyone stares at him.

“Probably best to discount that one,” the female says flatly. I clap a hand over my mouth.

Charming’s nostrils flare. “I am not short.”

“Oh, no, dear,” the female soothes. “Just... disposable.”

Gwyneth cackles, and Charming huffs.

“Jealous of a furry creature?” I ask. “How fragile is your ego?”

Charming grabs Gwyneth’s hand and tilts his nose in the air. “I am not threatened, merely infuriated.”

I shake my head at Charming and start after the strange pair as they motion for us to follow deeper into the frozen forest, with Theo and Nash flanking my sides. My ears pick up the scurry of wildlife scattering at our approach.

A quaint cottage emerges in the distance, nestled among the shadows of ancient trees.

Wisps of smoke swirl from its tiny chimney, curling into the velvety embrace of the night sky.

Warm, inviting light spills from the windows, casting a golden glow on the surrounding landscape, beckoning weary travelers to step inside and embrace the comfort within.

“We will never all fit,” Malachi says.

I frown and tilt my head at the dwelling. “Looks can be deceiving. One summer solstice, Gwyneth and I fit an entire gang of?—”

Nash slaps a hand over my mouth. “Do not finish that sentence.”

“Knitters,” Gwyneth says. “It was a bootie charity contest to see how many booties they could knit in a turn.”

I pull my mouth free from Nash’s hand. “I took part, which is why we hosted.”

Gwyneth raises a brow at me. “That’s not the reason.”

“That’s how I remember it.”

“No, I clearly recall how you stripped?—”

I jump forward and slap my hand over her mouth, but my foot slips.

It should not surprise anyone who has ever met me that jumping around on slippery surfaces is not for the uncoordinated.

Gwyneth’s eyes widen. Dammit—we’re going down.

I push harder, making sure she slams into Charming.

May as well make himself useful and be her personal pillow.

He grunts as he falls, and Gwyneth gasps as she lands ass first on his face while my mouth squishes into her bosom.

The male creature pokes his head out of the house. “Hurry. You’re letting the heat out.”

Nash scoops me up into his arms, displaying an impressive amount of coordination. Charming pushes Gwyneth up, eyeballs me and Nash, and looks like he’s debating if he should attempt to carry Gwyneth.

His hands stretch out, and Gwyneth slaps them away. “No, Charming. I can walk.”

“You could try to let me be chivalrous,” he grumbles.

She scoffs. “If you want a fainting maiden who kisses your feet, you have picked the wrong girl.”

“No, you are perfect,” he counters.

Damn straight, she is.

We make it to the cottage and stoop under the low beam to head inside. A fire against the far wall burns bright, with a metal pot sitting over the top of it. The homely scent of stew makes my stomach rumble.

“Sit where you can,” the female fox says as she points her wooden spoon at the mismatched armchairs and sofa. Nash folds himself into the chair closest to the fire and keeps me on his lap as he unclasps my cloak. Blissful heat rolls over my skin.

Malachi and Theo stand by the now closed door with their arms folded and frowns marring their faces.

“Who are you?” Gwyneth asks.

The male turns with a collection of mismatched wooden bowls cradled in his hands. “I’m Mr. Fox, and that is the missus, Mrs. Fox.”

“Fox?” Nash asks.

“Fox by name, fox by nature,” he says.

Mrs. Fox ladles the stew into the bowls and passes them out.

Charming huffs. “I’m not eating your mysterious meat.”

“It’s funny when she says it, but disturbing coming from you,” Malachi mutters. She being me. The fact is, I asked for a safe place to rest, get warm, and get our bearings. My heart tells me this is that place and these are creatures we can trust.

I reach out and take a steaming bowl. Mrs. Fox smiles and hands me a warm chunk of soft bread with it.

I dive in and hum in the back of my throat. “It’s delicious,” I tell the gang. “If you don’t eat it, I’ll have your portions.”

Everyone accepts a bowl, even Charming, and we settle into a comfortable silence as the warm stew fills our bellies. My eyes droop. Not from poison, but from sheer exhaustion. I lean against Nash, and he folds me in his arms.

“Could we trouble you for a place to rest before we continue on our journey?” Theo asks.

Sir Sweeps-A-Lot is busy helping Mrs. Fox in the kitchen, who giggles every time he brushes against her. Little dude is winning her over. He’s such a sweetheart.

“Of course,” Mr. Fox says. “Your dens are waiting for you. We always keep them stocked and clean.”

“How can they be ours if we’ve never been here?” Gwyneth questions.

Mrs. Fox shakes her head as she wipes her hands on her apron. “Dear child, you may not have been, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t been expecting you.”

Hart leans forward and places his elbows on his knees. “Why would you be expecting us?”

“The prophecy, of course.” Mr. Fox tuts.

Oh, no. I’m not interested in being tangled up in any more prophecies. At this rate, there won’t be anything left of me.

Mrs. Fox swats him over his head with her towel. “Not now. Can’t you see the poor souls are tired? Rest. When the sun rises, we will explain.”

“We’re just trying to get to the Grimm brothers,” I whisper as my eyes slide closed, once, twice... then sweet oblivion.