During a session of esteemed counsel, Roz suggested King Dick wait for the Christmas Eve ball, when the prince’s true love will be revealed and Iver’s fate sealed.
Of course, King Dick, wanting nothing more than true, everlasting happiness for his son, sent word he was breaking his pact with the queen. On a scroll with an official seal and everything. Which means it’s a really important message, for those of you who aren’t from the realm.
King Dick shipped Resplendant out like so much cargo. I mean, lock, stock and easily a hundred pieces of luggage right back to her furious mother’s arms.
Wow. That went over big.
Not.
Who knew the queen had so much shit to throw at the wall? It’s gonna take a team of people from Got Junk? to clean that mess up.
Anyway, Queen Angria’s grown suspicious about our newcomer Toni and her coincidental appearance in Shamalot. Could it be that hers is the visage of the fair maiden the Great and Wonderful Roz saw in her stupid mirror guide (her words, not this storytellers)? Could it be she is the true intended for the dashing prince?
Queen Angria’s decided to take no chances, and she’s handed down an edict of her own.
To her henchman.
Bring Toni to her or lose your 401K—oh and your life.
Cue evil music.
“What the flying fuck gives, Flawless?” Nina barked, pointing upward with one hand while the other held the tattered hem of her yellow skirt. Her wings fluttered with erratic motion on her back as her lips formed a thin line.
Jon’s laughter rang through the forest, bouncing off the thick trees, their branches bowing from the heavy snow from the night before. “Bluebirds, of course, milady Nina,” he called with cheer as he saddled his horse Oliver and arranged for a village boy to tend his deer. “They help guide our way, milady.”
Nina stopped dead in her tracks and swatted at the circle of fluttering blue wings surrounding her head. They chirped a happy tune, occasionally sitting atop her hair, which, in the bluebirds’ defense, did rather resemble a nest.
“Dudes! Knock it the shit off. I can’t think with all this damn hair, the wings, and your racket!”
Toni, despite her lack of sleep, her uncomfortable shoes, and her Starbucks deficit, openly laughed. She’d woken up in Jon’s cottage at dawn and watched him as he’d gathered items for their journey to the castle, his large body moving in precise, fluid rhythm, captivating her.
Her heart had begun that wild fluttering again and her stomach had fairly tingled just looking at him.
As she’d hunkered down on the mattress made of straw he’d fashioned for her the night before, she’d tried to make sense of what was happening.
But she came up dry. Yes, she’d wished to be anywhere but the store, but why hadn’t the realm of Shamalot been listening when she’d wished for a million bucks? Or that Stas would die a heinous, painful death after what he’d done to her brother?
Was the realm like a random generator, granting requests with slipshod aim?
Stas… He was one person she didn’t have to worry about here, and waking up with that knowledge had brought her great peace this morning. It almost beat that question in Jon’s eyes when he’d informed them he didn’t know what this “coffee” they mourned was, and he didn’t have any anyway.
She could find a way to live without coffee if it meant Stas would never darken her doorstep ever again. Everything was a trade-off as far as she was concerned.
But still, the happiness part of this boggled her. How could a realm and some king know what would make her happy? And why was she being forced to collect this happiness?
Now, as they made their way through the thick forest, the muted orange of the sun poking out over the vast mountain ranges surrounding Shamalot, she wasn’t feeling as peaceful.
“So this vampire affliction you speak of,” Jon asked Nina as they traipsed deeper into the forest through thick snow and chilling winds. “I’m afraid we have none of your breed here in our land. Do tell me more, won’t you?”
Toni bit the inside of her cheek. They weren’t supposed to have vampire afflictions where she came from either.
When the three women had explained whom—or rather what—they were and this crisis hotline they ran back in New York for the accidentally paranormal called OOPS, Toni had almost fallen face first into her bowl of gruel, or broth, or whatever Jon was titling that greasy mess he’d given them for dinner.
In fact, her mind had railed fiercely against what they’d proclaimed until they’d shown both she and Jon exactly what they were capable of doing with their paranormal abilities.
Jon hadn’t blinked a gorgeous eye while she’d shivered in a corner with Carl at her feet, nuzzling her hand to soothe her. Fur flew, teeth flashed, the corner of Jon’s cottage was lifted without even a grunt. Yet, he’d taken it all in stride, and she supposed if you grew up with ogres in your midst, vampires and werewolves weren’t such a stretch.