Page 24 of Barbi and the Villain

With a wave of a hand, Lady Jocelyn silences everyone.

Heels click against the pavement as she steps inside the hall.

She’s wearing a light pink gown with frilly lace around the collar, sleeves, and hem. Her waist is accentuated by a thick belt with polka dots—absolutely amazing! I am, of course, taking mental notes of her outfit to go to my tailor and have a similar one done.

Her light hair flows down her back in perfect ringlets. She’s even wearing a cute headband with a pink bow at the center. Oh my, I think I’m going to die of jealousy. I need that asap!

Bad moment, Barbi. You’re in danger of being discovered and subsequently killed. It’s not the time to admire Lady J’s fashion choices—perfect as they are.

At that moment, Ivan’s eyes find mine, a sly smile curving at his lips.

He stands up.

Oh no! Goddamn it! He’s going to ruin everything!

I blink furiously as I will my brain to think of something. Quick.

He gets out of his seat.

“Your Majesty. I have…”

A loud, loud crack erupts in the air.

Ivan stills, his eyes wide.

More sounds follow before he doubles over, his expression strained.

My brows knit together in confusion. For a moment, I don’t understand what’s happening. But as a pungent smell wafts toward me, everything makes sense.

I gag.

He tries to take another step, only to fall to his knees in the middle of the aisle, right in front of the queen.

“Your… Majesty…” he stammers, his eyes bulging in his sockets. He opens his mouth to speak again, but no sound comes out—except from his butt.

Oh my!

My hand flies to my mouth in shock.

Not only does the smell intensify, but now it’s accompanied by visuals too. The previously gray pavement is stained with a dark green, verging on brown, semi-liquid concoction.

Gasps erupt in the crowd before laughter follows. But it’s not long before more people from our table start exhibiting the same symptoms, but luckily not as severe as Ivan—as in, they actually manage to leave the table and go to the bathroom.

“What is this repulsive creature doing at my feet?” Lady Jocelyn thunders, effectively silencing everyone.

She stares at Ivan’s pitiful diarrhea-ridden self and makes an expression of disgust.

“I… I…” Ivan is still trying to speak, but each attempt only pushes more foul liquid from his butt.

Damn it! Of course the pink root wouldn’t match the description from the books either. Oh, well. Better something than nothing.

Although… Somehow now I feel sorry for him, and the rest of the collateral victims of my little experiment—being stuck on a toilet is not fun.

Being so young, Willy was the only one who didn’t drink any mead—thank God for that. I would have hated for this to happen to him, too.

“What is the meaning of this? Guards! Take him away this instant! Throw him in solitary for a month for his insolence,” she commands in the most supercilious voice I’ve ever heard.

I gawk at her, unsure whether this is a dream—more like a nightmare—or not.

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