Page 18 of Wickedly Ever After (A Fairy Tale Romp, #1)

Rupert snorted. “Don’t get me started on the Star .

That tabloid will say anything to sell their rag.

Caedan and Archie are friends, that’s it.

Between you and me, I’m sending Caedan on that quest for the Holey Pail with Pin-Dragon and the others tomorrow.

That will get him away from Archie. If I’m really lucky, he’ll get himself eaten by a griffin and we’ll have no more of this ‘what the people want’ nonsense.

What they need is Happily-Ever-After—at least that’s all we need to keep them quiet.

” Rupert rose as the referee called offsides.

“What I want you to do is take him aside and tell him it will be okay, that once it’s done, once the potion sinks in, he won’t care about anything but what’s right for the kingdom.

He’ll believe it coming from someone other than me. I hope.”

“He hasn’t had the potion yet? But…the dinner—”

“Annabeth decided to do it here. More festive this way—you know how she feels about all that pomp with no party.” He sauntered over to the table to where his wife and child waited and poured himself a huge flagon of dwarf-brewed beer.

Hector sank deeper into his seat, wishing he had a drink too.

First a reluctant dragon, now a rebellious prince.

Could this Happily-Ever-After get any worse?

Granted, it sounded like Archie had acquired some common sense, at least in regard to what made a kingdom happy, and it almost made Hector feel a bit sorry about the zombie flies he’d come up with to torment Archie in the marshes.

“Gather around, people, gather around!” Rupert boomed, raising his glass. The room didn’t quiet—if anything, it got louder and the tittering of the ladies-in-waiting sounded as shrill as the buzzing of hornets.

“I have a surprise for everyone. In light of the importance of this occasion for all the people”—Rupert stared rather pointedly at Archie—”we’ve decided that everyone should get a seat at the Prince’s Dinner.

Gentlemen, ladies—I give you the future king of our country, Prince Archibald Quentin Rupert the Second! ”

The clapping in the room suddenly became a roar. Hector, baffled, glanced out at the field, where the game had stopped and a giant picture of the prince, looking startled and more than a little embarrassed, appeared in the crystal ball hovering over the field.

Ida sat down beside Hector, pointedly staring at anything but him.

“Your idea?” he said, making no attempt to hide his scorn.

“Hardly,” she said through clenched teeth.

“This was supposed to be done last night.”

“If you’d been there, you’d know why it wasn’t,” she interrupted. “He wasn’t there.”

“What?”

“The crown prince. He wasn’t there. Not feeling well, Annabeth said.”

“You could have—” He stopped in the middle of his sentence as his own face and Ida’s appeared on the crystal to more cheers.

Ida smiled and raised her hand as if casting a good luck charm over all the spectators.

The crystal panned back to the royal family.

Now Rupert was shaking Caedan’s hand and saying something about “exemplary kindness” and “noble values” and how after his quest, he’d be knighted so he could always have a seat beside the prince.

The young man didn’t look very happy about it.

Probably knew the king was hoping he’d end up in a griffin’s stomach.

“This is utterly inane,” Hector snarled. “You should have gone to the boy’s room and given him the potion.”

She sneered at him. “Oh, that’s the way we do it, is it? We ram potions down people’s throats like medicine?”

“You know perfectly well that’s not what I meant—”

“Now, I know it’s not tradition,” Rupert said, smiling indulgently at Annabeth, “but we just couldn’t have a special event like this without inviting all of Archie’s friends and our loyal subjects to share this happy occasion with us.

” He raised a glass to the screen. “Please join our royal family in a toast to the happy prince and his future bride!”

Caedan, frowning almost as much as Hector, came forward, bearing a golden goblet filled with a wine that shivered red and gold, reflecting in the mirror finish. “My prince,” he said, dropping to one knee.

Hector glanced at Ida. “If this was your idea of forcing me to attend one of these, I don’t approve.”

“Hector, believe me, the only event I ever want to attend with you is your funeral.”

More cheers. The prince had just raised his glass to the crowd.

Hector rose. “You stay and see this through—I’m done with it.”

“Go on, palm the whole thing off on me! That’s what you always do, isn’t it?”

Ramrod straight, he stalked away. He wouldn’t be baited into arguing further.

This wasn’t the venue, but tomorrow at the Council meeting, he’d have plenty to say.

He was all for progress, but when royals turned the single most important piece of magic that kept their world afloat into a spectacle, like some political propaganda, lines had to be drawn.

He grabbed the marble out of his pocket. “Tinbit, I’m headed back to the hotel. Could you order me a bottle of wine? On second thought, something stronger.”

The gnome’s face appeared, very flushed. “Oh, uh, Hector, I—” Tinbit gasped.

“Tinbit? Are you sick?”

“No, I just…didn’t expect.…oh, wow—”

“Tinbit? Are you all right?”

“Perfect—just kind of busy…”

Hector’s face burned. “Oh. No need to explain. How…uh, long do you think you’ll be?”

“I don’t know—oh, wow, Hari, oh—please—don’t stop.”

Wait a minute. Hari? “Tinbit?” he yelled at the marble, now showing him a room rolling away.

“Tinbit!” No answer. Hector brought the marble up to his eye, staring furiously at two small figures more or less attached from the hips down.

A raucous cheer from the crowd let him know Rupert was talking again.

Probably announced something like ale for the whole crowd.

Rage filled him. It could not be coincidence, Ida North mentioning “Hari” just before he heard Tinbit moaning that name in complete ecstasy.

She’d done it on purpose. She’d put her gnome in touch with his to get back at him for that candor curse.

How dare she! He hadn’t loved Tinbit all his life to see him break his heart over Ida North’s manservant. He charged back up the stairs.

Ida North ran smack into him, headbutted him in the chest, and sent him tumbling sideways.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“You watch where you’re going,” Ida retaliated, face flushed.

“Trouble?” Hector asked, ice dripping from his voice.

“No,” Ida said with equal frost. “I have a headache and wish to return to my hotel room.”

“Is that so? No plans for your manservant Hari to fix you a hot toddy?”

She glared at him. “No. Get out of my way.”

He moved back into her path. “Did you know your gnome and my gnome would be together tonight? Did you send your gnome to seduce mine?”

Ida’s pink cheeks turned maroon. “How dare you! You know damned well your gnome has been sending mine letters!”

“I didn’t know who Tinbit was writing to or I would’ve forbidden it!”

“Bullshit! Hari is like a son to me, and you allowed your butler to seduce him—” She drew her wand.

He didn’t even think. He waved his staff. A thousand spiders poured out of the sleeves of his jersey and galloped over Ida. They immediately set to work, throwing threads, spinning, pulling everything together they could—her shirtsleeves, her pants, the curls in her hair, her eyelids—

She screamed and blasted him.

Bright yellow butterflies descended on his head in a golden horde. They beat his face with their wings, hard as tiny hailstones. They stabbed him with tongues as sharp as needles.

He struck at her wand, catching it between his staff and the railing. It broke. Spiders and butterflies exploded, multiplying from hundreds into thousands, and from thousands into millions.