“And that is?” His peaked brows quirked.
She shook her head, that was a secret only she and The Blue shared. “Trust me with her, I swear I shall do right by you.”
Become mad yourself… Danika snorted, Cheshire was not as dumb as he might sometimes appear. This was a mad, mad business. Sure to fail.
But it was their only hope.
Closing her eyes, she called the Huntsman.
The bar was raucous tonight. The queen had found herself a new consort from the crystal region. A flamboyant peacock of a man with legs like a frog’s and a waist that stretched out farther than he was tall. She claimed love at first sight. In truth, it was lust… for his pocket book.
But the pig faced queen wasn’t much in the way of looks herself.
Tonight was the eve of the royal couples hand fasting, mandatory party for all denizens of the Red Queen’s court.
The Huntsman sat in the corner booth, his brown cape on and with hood over his head, keeping to himself as he often did. Chugging one tankard after another, feeling nothing.
Even as the laughter grew, as the woman attempted to lure him in with seductive poses meant to expose their scantily clad bodies, he felt numb.
The bar had been honed out of solid obsidian, only well placed grooves in the walls meant to hold fat beeswax candles helped to cut through the dark interior. Dwarves danced with hamadryad’s. Their bark like skin appearing more reptilian than tree like in the low lighting as they twirled and danced on bare feet around their miniature partners.
Maidens dressed in gowns of only the finest spider silk paraded themselves about, in search of their own prince charming.
It was enough to drive a man half insane. Thankfully he was usually spared such prattle, a Huntsman didn’t make much coin.
A serving wench dressed in a gown two sizes too small shoved another tankard of ale in his face. “’Ere love, on the ‘ouse.”
Grunting a thank you, he turned his back to her. It wasn’t that Matilda was a bad woman, she might even be pleasant company, but it was no secret that was a woman in search of a man, and it obviously didn’t much matter whether he was rich or poor. So long as he had a pole between his legs, she’d take him.
Aeric had fallen prey to a woman’s charms once before—his jaw clenched—he’d never be so easily beguiled again.
A shiver of displaced air kissed his temple and then a pink bolt of light apparated before him. Danika’s floating head materialized within the sphere.
“Godmother,” he drawled, not particularly enthused to hear what she might say. It wasn’t his fault that all inhabitants of Kingdom were assigned a godmother. As far as godmother’s went, she wasn’t nearly as pushy as some. But it was no secret that godmother’s generally only came calling when they wished to set one up with their ‘one true love’. He snorted in disgust.
Last thing he wanted was to be saddled with another spoiled wench. Women didn’t want a man for who they were, they wanted a man for who they thought they could make them be.
A lesson he’d learned well.
“Huntsman, I’ve need of you.”
Danika kept him on his toes though, because she didn’t always come calling with the desire to pair him up.
But he wasn’t much in the mood to be contracted out right now either. Thanks to the Queen’s nuptial’s he’d been given a month’s wages and told to go enjoy himself. A rare kindness from his Queen, maybe she did love the toad after all.
“You’ve need of me,” his tone was brusque. “Indeed. And what does a godmother need that she’d come to a lowly Huntsman for it?”
He took a swig of the ice-cold ale as he waited. Her cherubic face twisted up into an embarrassed looking frown. “I wish you to find something for me. There is none in Kingdom as good as you.”
His brow twitched. “You’ve the Wolf. Ask him. I’m busy.”
She huffed and he had no problem picturing her crossing her arms over her busty chest. “Wolf and Red are currently indisposed. They recently birthed a litter, a wolf never leaves his mate so soon after that, and well you know. Otherwise trust me, I’d be seeking him out in a nanosecond.”
“Not interested.”
“Bloody hell, Huntsman, you’re the most vile, awful, mean-spirited…” Her nose scrunched up.
And on and on it went, it was often this way with his godmother. It’d only taken her ten years to figure out that there’d be no love matches in his future. He was a bachelor and damn proud of it.
“Duly noted.” He tipped his head at her before taking another swig.
“Gah! A pox on you, you black-hearted fiend. I’m not asking, I’m telling.”
He chuckled. “Want to run that by my Queen. I’m sure she’d love to hear you say so.” No need to tell her that he was currently supposed to be taking some much needed time off.
“Huntsman, I’ve never asked you for anything.”
“Not true. You asked me to follow your filthy blackguard. I did.”