Hell yeah. “You bet,” she said affably.
Toni cleared her throat and rolled her head on her neck to work out the kinks. Opening her mouth wide, she inhaled and exhaled with slow precision—before the burn of a stream of fire rose upward and exploded from her throat in billowing fashion.
She aimed the flames directly at the queen, spraying her thoroughly. Queen Angria fell to the floor with a howl, her black and purple dress splaying out behind her.
“I’ll kill youuuuuu!” she bellowed, shaking the entire room as she threw her hands over her face to shield herself.
As if she hadn’t heard that before.
But lucky for Toni, as Angria fought the flames, she also released the spell gluing her to the chair, giving her a chance to make her escape.
Lunging from the chair, she bolted toward the door, hoping against hope she could find her way back to the ballroom to warn the king that Angria was here and on the warpath.
The entire ballroom stopped all motion as Nina lifted Jon high in the air and demanded an answer, her arm trembling. “I said, who. The. Fuck. Are. You?”
Marty and Wanda grabbed at Nina’s arms. “Put him down, Nina!” they yelled in unison.
But Nina wasn’t letting go, and his warrior’s heart, despite the dire circumstance, smiled. First, it meant she still had a bit of her strength. Second, she was fiercely loyal, unafraid to protect her own, and Toni had become one of hers by circumstance. If Toni chose to return to her homeland, she would be well cared for.
Gripping her wrists, Jon looked down at her from the shelter of his hooded jacket, keeping his voice calm, his eyes steady. “Please put me down, Pale One, so you do not tax yourself, and I shall explain.”
Nina gave him a good hard shake before she let go of him, dropping him on the floor in a heap as she said with a sneer, “You damn well better, you piece o’ royal shit. Why do you look exactly—and I don’t just mean a little, I mean exactly—like the damn guy in the fancy pants and stupid knee-highs?”
“My stockings are not stupid! Arrest her for—for—I don’t know for what!” the prince shouted in a bluster of red cheeks and spittle flying from his mouth. “Just arrest her for insulting me!”
The king turned with a sharp pivot of his foot just as the prince issued the order, stopping the procession toward his throne. The crowd all turned to stare in Jon’s vicinity, their eyes wide.
This was the very reason Jon had been avoiding this Christmas Eve. He’d hoped to do this quietly, privately. Alas, nothing was going quite the way he’d planned.
Wanda jammed a finger under his nose, her ivory wings feverishly flapping her ire. “I knew it! I knew there was something just a little off about you, Hot Pants. Not something bad, but something off, and I’m never wrong,” she yelled, yanking him to his feet. “What gives, Flawless?”
Marty crossed her arms over her chest and nodded her head vehemently. “’Rucy, you got some splainin’ to do.”
“Who are you? Remove your cloak’s hood and reveal yourself!” the king shouted, barging through the crowd to stand before Jon as the queen and the prince followed behind, their eyes peering over his shoulder.
Jon instantly bowed, sweeping his arm across his midsection. “My apologies for disturbing your festivities, Sire.”
“Rise!” the king thundered as his guards surrounded him on the chance Jon was a threat.
Jon did as he was bade, standing to face the king, his jaw clenched, his determination in place for what was about to come. He pushed the hood from his head.
And then the king gasped, as did the queen.
Aka, Mom and Dad.
His mother clutched the glittering jewelry at her long neck with a gloved hand, her eyes wide, her ageless face full of horror. “Who are you?” she hissed.
Well, if he was ever going to, as Marty said, shoot his wad, it would be now. “I am Prince Iver Daring, firstborn of King Dick and Queen Jane of the beloved Shamalot.”
Chapter 16
You could have heard a pin drop, but only for seconds before the crowd burst into a ripple of gasps.
Toni’s mouth fell open as she hung over the balcony, watching Jon’s confession unfold. And as it did, everything made sense. His chivalry, his immaculate manners, the slip Muriel had made with his name, how sad he’d been about missing his family, those obligations he’d talked about.
All of it.
She was going to kill him. Gut him with his stupid sword of wrath. Because what Queen Angria had said was true—she really was the love of the real prince’s life, and her life had been in imminent danger because he was off playing Robin Hood, Prince of Stealing Other People’s Identities.