“You know, for supposedly being a prince, you really lack a sense of finesse. Both your words and tail use force to get what you want. Maybe if you had tried a softer approach from the start, we wouldn’t be here now.”
“Yes, things would be different if only I’d given you poetry and a mountain of shoes.” Kato did a very un-chimeralike eye roll. Then again, maybe chimeras did eye rolls all the time. How should I know? “In my domain, being soft will get you killed. Subjects respond to strength, not fine clothes and false pretty words.”
“They also respond well to someone who bathes regularly,” I muttered, then, louder, “How come you can talk now? Was it something in the pie?”
His tailed twitched and thumped against the glass case, rattling and clinking the potions together. “More than likely it was something in your wish that kept me from speaking until the spell matured.”
“Well, now that you’ve mattered”— I tried to match his high and mighty tone—“maybe we can figure out a way to break that barrier.” I had a little experience with that sort of thing, though the dragon at the Emerald palace was not only prettier but much less violent than Crow’s see-through vaporizer.
“Don’t worry. I already have a plan.” He put his head down and gnawed on something.
I tried to straighten my back and crane my neck just enough to see what the spell Kato was doing. “That’s great. I don’t suppose you’d mind filling me in on said plan? Are you going to chew your way out? Or smack open a wall with your tail?”
“I said…don’t worry about it. I don’t need anyone else’s help. I’ve got…it…under…control.” He struggled to break whatever he was chewing on free.
A thought occurred to me—even with Kato talking, it was awfully quiet in here. “Hey, have you seen Rexi?”
Kato growled around a full mouth. “Quit bothering me. I’m…mrph…busy.”
I tried really hard not to feel like I was being dismissed. I failed miserably. Being home, being here…it was all the same. Every time I wanted to have a picnic or a girl day with my mom, I heard the same thing. Well, it was closer to, Come back later. I’m busy running every teeny tiny detail of everyone’s life. I’d known stepmothers that spent more time with family than the queen found for me. And if she’d let me, I probably could have helped—or at least not messed it up so badly that Verte couldn’t fix it after.
“At last,” Kato said triumphantly, spitting a black piece of something out of his mouth. It was hard to tell from the angle and distance, but it looked like he’d gnawed off one of his black talons.
I propped myself up again, high enough that he could see the full displeasure on my face. “So, let me get this straight. We’re being held prisoner, awaiting death, dismemberment, or torture by off-key show tunes, and you think the best plan is to give yourself a manicure?”
We were completely pixed.
Behind the white door, two voices sounded like they were getting closer.
“Pretend to be asleep,” Kato instructed.
Controlling little beast. Still, he didn’t have to tell me twice. My head hit the pillow an instant before the door swung open. I deepened my breaths to look more asleep—and to keep from hyperventilating. My eyes were mere slits, so that I could see just enough to move before death hit me.
“I told you it was her. We’re agreed on the payment, then?” Black Crow stayed back in the door frame. Her robust shape barred the way to the exit even if my feet had been untied. She stood next to the Gray Witch.
I lowered my lashes so she couldn’t see that I was awake.
“Yes, yes. Five hundred and you can keep the bespelled ball of fur.” Griz’s voice was way too close for my liking. I could feel her breath on my cheek. In my mind, I envisioned her crouching low to look over her purchase—me.
“He’s a chimera. Very ra—”
“Spare me, Crow.”
Silence, but the hot air stayed on my face.
“Really, I expected more from the long-awaited Girl of Emerald. Maybe you’re just a simple child after all.”
It was all I could do not to jump a foot in the air when a hand brushed the hair off my face.
“So delicate,” Griz said softly into my ear. Something sharp pressed against my neck. “So fragile.”
The pressure increased but pulled back suddenly at the introduction of a new sound. The first few bars from the Wrong Direction’s hit song, “My Spell’s What Makes You Beautiful,” came from somewhere close by.
Saved by the spellphone, though I hadn’t taken either lady for a fan of Munchkin music. Apparently Griz was the one with the guilty pleasure, because she’s the one who answered.
“What is it? I’m busy,” she said in clipped tones.
I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end very clearly, but it sounded like they said, She’s awake.