Page 53 of Charmless
Mal rocked me in his arms, murmuring. “There now, my brave, beautiful Ella. Tell me. What has happened to overwhelm you like this?”
“Everything!” I sobbed out the tale of all my recent woes. I was crying so hard, I wasn’t sure how much was comprehensible to Mal, but he patted my back, making soothing noises as I jumbled together the day’s events.
“And - and now Florian is p-persecuting me with - with music and Ryland s-says to stay away from his brother because there never w-was a dragon and W-Withypole took some of my memories and put them in his pocket. And I had to kiss him in the square in front of everyone to keep him from having Tom Piper arrested.”
“You kissed the fairy!”
“No!” I hiccupped. “Florian. You told me when he woke up from his pixie dust binge, he would forget all about me, but he didn’t and now I cannot set foot out of the house without him plaguing me with flowers and bad poetry and marriage proposals. I have no peace at home either because Em cannot understand why I won’t leap at the chance to marry such a handsome prince. Now Ryland is warning me how ruthless his brother is, and I don’t know whether to believe him or not. I am just so exhausted by all of it.”
The words poured out of me in a breathless flood. Mal cuddled me close as I finally managed to regain control of myself. I drew away from him, groping for the towel to dry my eyes and wipe my nose.
“Sorry for falling apart on you and sniveling all over your shirt,” I mumbled.
“I was already wet, and I’d take your snot over Delphine coughing up hairballs on my bed any day.”
I gave a watery chuckle. “How I have missed you, Hawkridge.”
“And I you. I would have found a way to come to you much sooner if I had realized you were on the verge of losing your mind.” Mal drew me back into arms, resting his chin on top of my head. “I am here now so don’t fret any more about either of those idiot princes. They will be taken care of soon enough.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Why, nothing.” I felt Mal shrug, but there was an edge to his voice that filled me with foreboding.
I shifted in his arms, trying to peer up at him. “Mal, please tell me you are not planning to do anything reckless to protect me from Florian.”
“Reckless? Who? Me?” Mal laughed.
I pulled away from him. “I am serious. Commander Crushington still suspects that the League of the Missing Heir was behind the theft in the Aura Chamber and he thinks you are part of that.”
“How very unfair of him,” Mal drawled. “Just because I happen to be missing my hair to accuse me of joining up with some league of disgruntled bald men?—”
“Stop it, Mal! This is nothing to jest about. You know right well I am referring to that secret group of madmen plotting to overthrow the king.”
“You think they are mad?”
“Certainly, they are. They would have to be, to believe in some old fairy story about a long-lost heir. I have had to work very hard to convince the commander you are far too sensible to ever be involved with such a thing. I even had to tell him where you really were the night of the ball.
“You what!”
“Well, not the part about us stealing the orb. Just how we met up on the grounds outside of the palace at midnight.”
When Mal rolled his eyes, I added defensively, “Ihadto tell Horatio at least part of the truth to persuade him you were not responsible for the attack on the Aura Chamber.”
“Have I never taught you anything, Ella? Rule number one. Never volunteer information. And if you are accused of something, rules two, three and four.”
“Obfuscate. Obfuscate. Obfuscate,” I repeated along with him.
Despite how worried I was, the word brought a reluctant smile to my lips. Mal and I had been messing about in his grandfather’s forbidden magic workshop. When we had broken some of the potion flasks, Mal had invented a fanciful excuse for how the accident had occurred. Hiram Hawkridge had angrily accused Mal of obfuscating.
Mal and I had become entranced with the word.Obfuscatingsounded nicer than lying. It had a certain elegance to it. We had merrily obfuscated our way out of trouble for many of the misdeeds of our childhood.
My smile faded as I set the memory aside.
I regarded Mal anxiously, “You are too sensible, aren’t you? To ever get involved with this League of the Missing Heir.”
“How long have you known me, Ella? Well enough to realize I am far too cynical and selfish to ever espouse any cause but my own. I am a lover, not a fighter.”
I wished the lantern light had been bright enough that I could have read his eyes, but I had to be satisfied with his answer. Mal might lie to everyone else, but he was not in the habit of obfuscating with me.
