Page 8

Chapter

Seven

“ A re you okay?” Gwyneth asks as she rushes over and scans me from head to toe before spinning me around and running her hands over my back. Sir Sweeps-A-Lot flies into the room and brushes against my shoulder.

“I’m about to rename you Sir Snitch-A-Lot,” I grumble as Gwyneth spins me around. Her fingers poke at the bloody hole in my dress.

“What happened?” Nash demands.

I shrug like it’s nothing, but the truth is, no matter the amount of times I’ve been accidentally injured, being targeted purposefully is entirely different.

“Malice, the girl who possessed my body, stabbed me before she stole my sword and came through the mirror.”

The sword in question hums with power, and my fingers twitch with the need to reunite. Sadly, the temporary parting didn’t break the link between us, and now my judgy sword needs reassurance.

My capons plonk their asses on my feet like a pair of slippers. I wonder who is in charge of Hamish right now? They need a cute name. Charmish or Haming?

Hart staggers to his feet as he overcomes his pain.

“I healed my fair Deborah,” Eron declares. The name confusion brings a smile to my face, but also sadness, knowing his distortion is a symptom of the missing shards Malice is holding hostage.

I give him a thumbs up, which makes him blush.

“Excuse me, I need to deal with the evil one,” Eron declares before he disappears.

“Anything else you need to tell us?” Theo growls as he circles the room, looking a split tempo away from devouring me.

I tilt my chin up and fold my arms. “I retrieved the sword,” I point out in case they missed the fact that I accomplished my mission. They celebrated with Malice like she was their queen. Where is my appreciation? “Also, I did a spell in prison.”

Malachi, who has been silent up to this point, steps closer and raises a brow. “You’re a witch now?”

I scowl at him. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

Charmish aggressively pecks my boot.

“You did a spell,” Malachi says.

I blink and then shiver as the cold, damp air that surrounded me in the prison seems to wrap around me. “Oh! No, I meant I spent some time in the dungeons.”

“Voluntarily?” Nash wonders.

It’s a fair question. I end up in some odd places. I shake my head. “There was some confusion over who was responsible for Eron’s injuries.”

“Eron?” Gwyneth asks as she tilts her head.

“Our mirror man. Funny story—he’s actually the Land of Reflection’s king.”

Her mouth falls open, and snaps closed. My world is once more right when I’ve made my sister speechless.

“And Charming?” Theo asks. He’s still keeping his distance, as if he doesn’t trust himself not to ravage me where I stand. Damn the audience.

I point at the capon. “Prince Poopfloof is in there. You need to get him back to his body in the next turn, or he’ll be stuck forever.”

Gwyneth’s lips twitch. She’s seriously contemplating leaving him to his fate.

“What was he doing in the Land of Reflection?” Hart grumbles. “I doubt he suddenly found his chivalry and was there to aid your efforts.”

“No, he was misinformed. He thought Gwyneth had entered the Land of Reflection, so he followed her.”

“He did something unselfish?” Gwyneth mutters, folding her arms and glowering at my capons.

Why is no one trying to kiss me?

“He seems reluctantly smitten with you, which is why you should take him to his chambers so he can be reunited with his body and waste his time trying to woo you.”

Also, I want some alone time with my knights and to curse them all for not covering me with their maleness and muscles the tempo I got back. What does a maiden need to do to get some attention?

Get trapped in another world? Check.

Go to prison for something she was not guilty of? Check.

Rescue the sword from an Idol? Check.

There’s a tension in the room tethering the five of us together. I just need some alone time.

“We could leave him like that,” Gwyneth muses. I knew it. She harbors a little darkness in that beautiful soul of hers.

Charmish makes an unhappy, weird croaky clucking noise before darting under the table, making Eugene follow in solidarity. Sir Sweeps-A-Lot decides this must be where the magical sidekicks go and shoves himself under the low table.

“I don’t think he wants to go back,” Malachi says with a chuckle.

I drop to my knees and crawl across the floor to look at Charmish. “Hey, dude, no need to panic. We can have you back in your body in five tempos, but you need to come out from under there.”

Charmish’s beady eyes track my hand as I move toward him. He pecks it in warning, and I snatch it back with a huff.

“I don’t know what you are fussing about,” I snap. “You can hardly woo my sister’s floof from under the table. Also, I’m pretty sure your mini Charming will be even smaller and not compatible with a maiden. I have the same issue with dragons, except I’m the smaller one.”

Charmish huffs at me and settles down onto the floor. Eugene pecks his neck. Is that affection? Oh my Idols, has Charming finally found his match with a capon?

He grumbles, ruffles his feathers, and his eyes go wide.

What in the Blazes? He lifts his butt and spins to stare at the egg he’s just laid.

He pecks it like the egg personally offended him, and Sir Sweeps-A-Lot decides this is the best time to clean the floor, dusting the egg gently like it’s an actual child.

“Did Charming just lay an egg?” Nash asks.

Eugene bursts into a flurry of movement, which looks suspiciously like she’s roasting Charmish. Poor choice of words. Sir Sweeps-A-Lot zooms out from under the table and hides behind the sofa. Poor broom is being blasted for doing his job.

“Hey, Charming,” Nash says, bending to glare at my possessed capon. “If you don’t get your feathery butt out here, we are going to leave you inside that capon for the rest of your very short life.”

My gaze snaps to him. “Why are you threatening my capon?”

“I am not, but relatively speaking, capons live a considerably shorter length of time than the Hallowed.”

“That makes sense.”

Charmish nudges Eugene away from his egg and plonks himself down over it. Umm, I guess the egg is coming with us?

“For Hallowed sake,” Theo grumbles before bending and scooping up Charmish along with his egg and depositing both in Gwyneth’s arms. “Go deal with that.”

She huffs as I stand. “Fine, but don’t let Daphne leave, follow any rabbits, or step through any mirrors.”

“What about breathing?” I question. “Is that allowed?”

She gifts me with her sister, don’t mess with me murderous-eyes look. “At this stage, it’s optional.”

I roll my eyes as she sweeps out of the room, leaving me with the four knights who stare at me like I’m a fragile flower. I drag my teeth over my bottom lip as the Stirling brothers circle around me like sharks. My gaze tracks them like a clock, and I straighten my spine.

“You made careless decisions, again,” Nash says with a shake of his head.

“And made us worry about you, again,” Malachi adds. Oh Idol balls, if the happy twin is pissed, I’m for sure in trouble.

Hart’s lips twitch. “You kneed me in the balls.”

“I thought you were Charming,” I remind him.

“I was less than a turn away from tearing a hole through the realm to reach you,” Theo says as they conveniently ignore the fact that I was in there retrieving the sword we need and averting a disaster with Poseidon.

“I got the sword, didn’t I?”

“But at what cost?” Nash says, raising a brow as his brothers go still at his question.

I fold my arms and glare at him. “When I gather my true power—whatever that means—I have to return to the ocean and free Poseidon.”

“Another deal,” Theo growls. “When will you learn?”

“I didn’t take the sketchy deal with the weird dragon in the dungeon, so give me a little credit.”

Theo’s nostrils flare. “I have the mind to take you to my cave and keep you there for eternity.”

“Is that meant to be a threat?”

He shakes his head and takes a step toward me. The rest of them follow, surrounding me. Their enormous bodies create a vacuum of muscle and maleness that makes my head spin. Hart’s hand threads into my hair from behind and he yanks, baring my neck. Now we are talking.

I stare at him unblinking. “You don’t scare me, Hart.”

“I should,” he mutters. His mouth descends onto mine, and he steals all my protests, my worries, and my doubts, replacing them with fervent desire and a buzzing beneath my flesh that calls for fewer clothes. One of my hands wraps around Hart’s head, keeping us fused together.

Someone licks a hot path up my neck, making me groan. The buttons on my dress fly across the room before teeth scrape along my nipple. My free hand lands in their hair. Malachi, I think. Another hand trails up my skirts, skimming my thighs. I groan as my core clenches in need.

“We don’t have nearly enough time for this,” Nash mumbles against my inner thigh.

“Every one of us wants to devour you, Daphne. Turn your world upside down and inside out until you are a quivering mess of need. We won’t stop until you beg us, and even then we’ll push you past where you think your limits are. ”

If we continue to wait for a convenient time, I think we will be dying old sexless lives. My life is full of calamities, and I’ve learned to snatch whatever peaceful moments of time I can, be it a tempo here or a turn there.

“Don’t stop,” I grumble against Hart’s lips. “I saw you kissing her, and I need to erase it.”

“It wasn’t real,” he reassures me.

Tears form in my eyes. I know what he’s saying, but my heart won’t listen.

“Let her deal with Hart,” Nash decides, pulling back and leaving a cruel ache between my legs.

The others release me. Hart sweeps me up into his arms, and my legs wrap around his waist. I peer at him with an arched brow. “What are you doing?”

He strides past his brothers and through the door of his chambers before slamming it closed with a sweep of his boot. He drops me on the bed, and I bounce, eliciting a giggle from my throat.