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Chapter

Twenty-Seven

M orning meal has long been touted as the most important of the diurnal.

Given it is the first, I agree with its importance.

However, it is also often the lightest and lacks the time needed to fully enjoy it.

If it’s so vital, why don’t we set aside more tempos for it like evening meal?

Why is it a rushed affair, stuffed into our mouths so we barely taste it before hurrying to complete whatever tasks lay ahead?

Malachi snaps his fingers in front of my face, breaking my pondering. If I were in charge, I would enforce a turn for every meal. Food, particularly food like this, should be savored, not stuffed.

“You doing okay?” Malachi asks.

“Sausages need more airtime,” I lament.

We are in the knights’ quarters and back at the books, but at least this time, we have snacks.

After dumping my book on the table, which I’m sure I already viewed last diurnal, I stand and stretch my arms in the air.

Hamish darts out from under my skirts and scurries into Hart’s room, no doubt to tell Eugene something very important.

My body is a little achy, perhaps from the position the twins had me in last sundown, but I would gladly stand this for a lifetime if it meant my annus was filled with orgasms. I was restless through the night while Malachi slept like a log beside me.

Theo was nowhere to be found. Now I’m tired and cranky.

The rest of the gang barely pay attention when I strut back and forth in front of the large arched windows overlooking the courtyard.

They are super engrossed in their research, while I am engrossed in anything that distracts me.

Sir Sweeps-A-Lot hovers next to me, observing the fair folks of the realm in deep contemplation.

The Hallowed scurry about their diurnal, exchanging brief pleasantries before disappearing to whatever narrative pulls them in.

What would they do if their annus was no longer ruled by outdated stories?

Would they blindly continue to serve an absent Idol, or would they forge their own future?

Most people like rules. It helps them to make sense of the realm, and I understand their need for it, even if I don’t share their values.

“What are you plotting?” Nash whispers in my ear. When did he abandon his books for me? I glance over my shoulder. His gaze flicks from the courtyard to me. His lips kick upward, making my heart beat a little faster.

“I am not plotting anything. All this studying and researching without results makes me angsty. I need to take a walk and get rid of some of this energy before my clumsiness takes matters into its own hands and creates something interesting.”

He sighs. “Actually, I could do with a few items from the inventory. I’ll make you a list.”

“You’re sending me shopping?”

Gwyneth’s eyes lift from her book. “I also need something.”

Why do they need things to read? I fold my arms and narrow my eyes. “You don’t need to make up phantom shopping lists in order to get me out of the chambers. I am quite capable of making my own entertainment.”

She shakes her head. “Nobody is making stuff up, Daphne. There are a few things in these books that we need to test for authenticity.”

“Meaning you found something useful?”

“Perhaps,” she agrees with an incline of her head.

“I’ll go with her,” Theo rumbles. “I’ll pick up some clean sheets.”

My head snaps toward him. “Why would you need clean sheets?” More importantly, who has been on his sheets to dirty them?

His lips twitch. “When we spelled our quarters to only admit everyone in this room, we barred the cleaning staff. We, as in all of us, need new sheets for every bed because we like to keep them fresh.”

Oh. That is a perfectly innocent reason.

Gwyneth pulls a piece of parchment from a stack next to her and scrawls something on it. “Two pink feathers and a length of gold thread,” she murmurs before glancing at Nash in question. It’s good they are making a list, because you can bet I will forget it in two tempos.

Nash grabs his open book with a frown and flicks back through the pages. “I need the hide of a bunkum.”

“The entire thing?” I counter. “I will never be able to carry that.”

“Good thing you have me with you,” Theo reminds me.

Nash continues as Gwyneth adds it to the parchment. “That’s all,” Nash declares.

I grab the list from my sister just as the genie appears in a puff of purple smoke. I waft it away with a cough.

“Is there any need for the theatrics?” I grumble. “I’m sure it can’t be good for the environment.”

The genie rolls his eyes. “Poseidon is working on a plan to meet you on land. I believe from my observations that he intends to honor the exchange of weapons. However, I am not convinced he will be happy to leave you out of the water.”

“Continue to keep us updated,” I tell him as I stride past him to the door.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Shopping,” I declare, waving the parchment in the air.

My broom zooms around my ankles. “You want to go out, Sir Sweeps-A-Lot?”

The genie appears between me and the door, his gaze burrowing into mine as he folds his arms and puffs out his chest. “Tell me you did not name the broom without naming myself or your faithful mirror man.”

So they did want names? I’m an idiot. “I did name him, but I wasn’t aware you wanted one, too.”

“All magical things want names,” the genie counters.

“What would you like yours to be?”

He blinks, his black eyebrows wiggling as he thinks. “I don’t know.”

“Have you ever had a name?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, when you think of what you would like to be known as, let me know. In the meantime, for the sake of clarity, I’ll continue to call you Genie, since you are the only one.”

“That’s right. I am the only one,” he whispers. Wait, is he actually the only genie? That would make him the genie. I have the sword, the mirror man, and now the genie? That seems like one too many thes to be a coincidence.

Theo shoves his hand through the genie’s body and flings the door open.

The genie glares at him. “That was rude.”

“We have places to be while you have an existential genie crisis,” Theo drawls.

“You could have asked me to move,” Genie points out.

Theo shrugs, grabs my hand, and drags me from the room before shutting the door behind us. Sir Sweeps-A-Lot makes it out of the room and hovers at our side like a faithful dog.

Theo keeps hold of my hand as he leads us through the castle to wherever they keep things such as pink feathers, gold threads, and bunkum hides. Are these things all in one place? Seems like an odd collection.

Trusting Theo to keep me upright, I glance at the list to see they added to it.

A long stand? A snowball? Striped paint?

My frown deepens as I suspect we are being sent on an impossible task. Still, they are the ones stuck doing boring research while I am roaming the castle on an actual adventure.

“You want to go via the kitchen?” Theo asks.

I snort. “I’m not always thinking about sausages. Just fifty percent of the time.” He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, eighty percent. But no, I don’t want to go via the kitchen.”

I avoid the curious gazes of the Hallowed as we pass. I have enough narratives going on and don’t need to be involved in any more.

We duck under a low archway into a long stone corridor, then head down some wonky steps. The air grows cooler around us, making me shiver.

“Not much farther,” he mutters as we pass a couple of guards who nod at Theo and frown at me. I’m a nobody here, and that can only be a good thing. If they had any idea of the chaos in their midst, they would grab me, throw me in the closest dungeon, and toss the key into the nearest abyss.

Theo throws open a door and pulls me inside a dark room. Fire torches ignite along the walls, bringing into view a vast room with thousands of shelves. I can’t even see the opposite end of the impossible space.

“This is where we find everything we need,” Theo says. “What’s first on your list?”

I glance at the parchment. “Two pink feathers.”

He releases my hand and strolls down the center of the room, twisting his head left and right. How in the Blazes would he know which row to examine? I follow him with my magical broom, a faithful companion. Ah, there are symbols on the ends, giving a clue what to expect on the tall shelves.

A giggle erupts in the room, and a short, shadowy figure runs along the edge of the wall. Theo freezes, his body tensing, and I sense his dragon close to the surface, ready to wreck the room if he deems whatever creature lurking as a threat.

Something else moves on the opposite side. Another giggle. Nasty nefarious things don’t giggle like children. At least, I hope they don’t, because if they do, that’s an extra level of creepy I am not ready for. Sir Sweeps-A-Lot hides behind my back.

“Show yourselves,” Theo snarls.

I huff as I walk to his side. “Growling at them will not give them the confidence to approach us.” I crouch to make myself smaller.

“Hey, we won’t hurt you.” Two more of the figures stumble against the wall, but stay hidden in the shadows.

They must be wearing clogs, as the unmistakable sound of wood taps against the stone floor.

“Is it she?” a high-pitched boy’s voice asks.

“It is,” another answers.

“But is it the she?” a similar one from the opposite side of the room asks.

“She who is she,” another adds.

Given I am the only she in the room, they must be talking about me, albeit in a nonsensical manner.

Theo groans. “Ignore them.”

They emerge from the shadows, stumbling closer toward us. Aww, they are boy puppets dressed in shorts with suspenders and cute colored hats.

“Hey, I’m Daphne.” I tilt my head, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. The closest one walks funny, with one leg longer than the other. Poor little guy.