Page 15 of Wickedly Ever After
“What are you going to do?” Hari asked.
What indeed?
The fact she and Hector didn’t like one another was well-known. The fact they both wanted to see the other’s expertly crafted and maintained castle and grounds decimated by cutworms and weevils was legend. But very few people knew they’d been corresponding and hexing each other by mail for centuries. That sort of thing, if it got out, would bring endless speculation in the kingdom. She could see the headlines.
TheSorcerer’s Star, that horrible tabloid, would probably publish something like:
Elderly Witches Secret Love Affair—Couple Has Hot Phone Sex on Crystal Ball
TheKingdom Wall Journalwould read:
Witches, Wizards, and Graft—Corruption at Highest Levels of Magic
Witches’ Weedswould say:
Witch Rivalry Leads to Good/Evil Imbalance In Kingdom: Crop Futures Decline
Sale on Jack-In-The-Beanstalk’s Magic Root Powder!
Shop Cinderella’s Emporium for all Your Giant Pumpkin Needs!
She crumpled the paper up and tossed it in the trash. “I’m not going to do anything,” she said. “Hari, I know it’s late, but wouldyou go find our sprite and make sure she isn’t lost in the north tower again?”
Amber would make an amazing Common Princess. She certainly had the drive, ambition, and good sense to make an excellent queen. Far better than that horrible Mildred.
No one needed to know. Everything would be okay.
7
Hector
There was no mail. This surprised Hector.
Tinbit had lingered at the store a full thirty minutes waiting for it before buying liverwurst, mountain goat butter, and a pack of moss compresses for Hector to apply to the burns on his lower legs. This he did as soon as Tinbit got home. The others required a more personal treatment.
The gnome worked his legendary calendula salve into Hector’s buttocks thoroughly, clucking under his breath. “Why in the name of the Gods did you go bare?”
Hector half-turned his head. “Because you had my favorite silk boxers soaking to get the indigo out.” He yelped when Tinbit’s careful fingers worked the lotion into places he didn’t ordinarily let anyone touch. All the concern of yesterday was gone, and Tinbit was back to his usually scheduled acerbity.
“Wear briefs. Cotton won’t kill you. Quit squirming or I’ll never get this finished.”
Hector growled under his breath and held still. Ida’s silence worried him. She wasn’t one to let him have the last word. He’d expected a thunderclap of a missive, something involving doing anatomically impossible things with his private parts. She wasn’t delicate when she was angry.
A loud shriek of warning from the klaxon on the roof made him grab for his robe. Tinbit pressed a hand firmly on his back. “I’ll answer it. If it’s our reluctant dragon, I’ve got a few choice words for him.” The gnome stomped off, leaving Hector to dress slowly, careful not to undo all the good Tinbit had done with the salve.
It was the dragon. He could hear Tinbit yelling those “choice words.” With a sigh, he went out to his balcony to keep his gnome from needing calendula cream too.
“What is it, Alistair?” he said, leaning against the iron railing.
The young man was in dragon form today, probably because no dragon likes to grovel, and groveling is impossible to do as a fire-breathing monster.
“First of all,” Alistair said with a soft puff of white smoke, “I’m sorry for burning your bottom.”
Hector waved it off. “I’m not upset.” He wasn’t—not now. Even his most scalded parts felt better when he saw the black rose tucked under one of Alistair’s chest scales. “I’m glad to see you’ve chosen to uphold tradition.”
Alistair shrugged his wings. “Dad told me he’d destroy my sculptures if I didn’t. But this is all I’m doing. I’m taking the princess captive, and once she’s comfortably settled in the cave, I’m leaving. I refuse to wage a mock battle with the prince. That’s just stupid.”
It wasn’t stupid. It was tradition. Hector thought about arguing, but the burns were fresh.
