Her head tilted a bit off-kilter, the gloopy neck stump making it easy to recognize her as another incarnation of Hydra. But I had to be looking at Gwennie, or rather Gwenevere, of legend. But Hydra showed not a single clue that she knew who I was. She was either a far better actress than she had ever given me indication, or Kato was right and this head transformation had not gone as planned.
Hydra/Gwenevere’s hair was done up in an intricate spiral that framed her face, a face that was smooth like porcelain and just as flawless. The rest of her left something to be desired. In my defense, the body I’d fetched was a woman, and with curves just like Verte had requested. It’s not my fault that she didn’t say exactly how big she wanted those curves. Or where. The gut was a perfectly logical choice, really. But I didn’t need stolen memories of Dorthea’s fashion sense to know the dress she was wearing was a crime.
“So you three are the cause of all this ruckus. Sit,” Gwenevere snapped and pointed to a row of chairs in front of a large, wooden desk that was cluttered with knickknacks. The desk and everything on it was dusty and musty and completely out of place in the very feminine, lilac, floral-wallpapered room. On the desk there was a wizarding war trophy from centuries ago that had Merlin’s name inscribed on it.
I sat down slowly, waiting for some sign of recognition from Hydra. Kato was still giving me the eye. Like his big, winter-blue eyeballs were screaming, Don’t screw up.
The emerald dragon clamored up onto the desk. “I was just doing my job patrolling, and they came out of nowhere and attacked me to break the barrier.” He pointed his gem tail at Mordred. “It was that one. The really bad man was the ringleader.” He sniffed, putting his head in the air a bit.
“Aw, now, sweetums, what has mummy told you? There are no bad men, just men that make bad choices.”
“I could have taken him, but everyone knows the dark prince doesn’t play fair.”
Gwennie quit rubbing noses with the dragon and stared down Mordred. “I’ve tried to keep the past in the past, so we can focus on your future. However, you don’t seem to be making much progress, so perhaps we need to rethink how much future you have.”
Mordred stared back. “I will not apologize.”
Gwennie stood up and walked around the desk. I think she was trying to slink, but, well, she more sort of oozed and hoisted herself up on the desk in front of the prince. “You can’t apologize since you clearly don’t know what you did wrong.”
“I told thee when I came here that I care not for your treatment. I live only for the grail and restoring Camelot to what it should have been before Arthur’s terrible reign. I regret your trinket got in my way, but I did what needest to be done. That is not wrong.”
Gwennie leaned forward and placed a hand on Mordred, her voice like poisoned honey. “What’s wrong is that you got caught.” She sighed. “I know you and my first husband had your little battle. You lost. So I need you to ask yourself: How bad do you want to win this time? Clearly your inept attempts are a cry for help. You’ve got to commit one hundred and ten percent. The only one standing in your way is you.” She turned to Kato and ran the back of her hand down his face while he tried to suppress a shudder. “And you, you poor, handsome lackey. I’m afraid you seem to be doomed to be a hopeless underling. Keep working at it, and remember that the best endings belong to the bold.” She turned to me. “And you…” She paused and crinkled her nose, her voice less honey and more acid. “I don’t know you. Who are you and why are you here?”
“Rex, the huntsman,” Kato answered for me. “He’s my annoying cousin, always following me around. I was just sending him back—”
“Shh.” She pinched his lips together to cut off his rambling. “Lesson number five, Sir Kay. Mind your own business and look out for yourself if you want to stay ahead.” She softened her face and turned to Merlin. “It seems we have an intruder in our midst. It is imperative that this remains a secure facility.” She twirled her finger in his beard.
“It is, my lady.”
Still intertwining Merlin’s beard, she yanked her hand down while her voice went up an octave, rattling the crystal kitties. “Then what is this person doing here?”
“Well…you see…”
“Not good enough. Anything but perfection is a failure. Next time we could have heroes busting in, putting all our progress in jeopardy as they hope to make a name for themselves. Or worse, we could have an invasion of maidens seeking to be cursed or take my rightful place.” She let go of Merlin and inched closer to me. “In fact, maybe it’s too late. You don’t look manly enough to be the Huntsman.”
Now I was starting to see why Kato had warned me off. I was also starting to worry that the Gwennie head had been in that ironwood lockbox for a very good reason.
“It’s just like, um, Kay said. Except I’m not the Huntsman. Just his kid.” I coughed. “His son. Nope, no girl cooties on me. Takes a man to live in the forest, my dad always said,” I added, pitching my voice lower. The last part was true at least. “Anyway, I’ve heard about your school. And I’m here to learn. Stuff.”
Kato sighed heavily and scrunched up his face. I rolled my eyes. Maybe I’d said the wrong thing, but Gwennie stopped looking like she wanted to eat me.
“Yes, I think I’ve read a bit of your story. I can see the resemblance to your father. You certainly look weak and could benefit from our treatments. So if that’s to be the case, let us seize the day and get started.”
“Wait…treatments?”
She ignored me and picked up a spellphone. “It’s me. Gather the patients…mmmhmm. Yes, we are having an impromptu group therapy session.” She paused. “Oh…I’m thinking at the Globe, so ready the unicorns for the treatment.”
A pair of orderlies grabbed my arms and marched me out before I could even say, “Unicorns?”
“You can tell a true A-list villain from the wannabes by how exotic their evil, pampered pets are. Parrots and white cats are for common crooks.”
—Robin Leeches, Lifestyles of the Rich and Villainous
21
Extreme Group Therapy
The orderlies led us back down the hill and to a round barnlike building made of wood and stone. At the entrance, the guys were led to the left, while I got nudged right. I was not a princess, so I can only blame Dorthea’s bond intruding again, but as we passed the stables, I couldn’t help but squeal.
“They’re so cute!” Each stall housed a miniature pony. Some were unicorns, some were pegasi, but all had vibrant and colorful coats, manes, and tails. They were abso-pixing-dorable. “Can I pet one?”
My guards snickered at me. “You’ll get your chance.”
They prodded me to keep walking. As I passed, a little, pink pony sneezed, spraying glitter every which way. Maybe this unicorn-therapy thing wouldn’t be so bad.