Page 34 of Wickedly Ever After
The carriage jolted to a halt. Hari rose, opened the door, and stepped down to hold it for her. She glanced around, startled by the cheers of the many common folk without lottery tickets who had turned out to watch the dragon carry off the princess from any vantage point they could find. A few knights extricated a family of gnomes from a grumpy old tree, reminding her forcefully of Hari.
“Stay with the coachman,” she told him. “This won’t take long—it’s just the dragon coming to take the princess and then the prince’s declaration speech.”
“But I need to find Tinbit—”
She took hold of his shoulder. “I know. But I want to be with you when you do.”
“Ida—”
“Please. Count it against what I owe for not being there when you needed me the most.”
“You’ve always been there when I needed you,” he said. He patted her hand.
“No hunting for Tinbit.”
“No hunting for Tinbit,” he sighed and climbed back in the coach.
Oh, when she saw Hector today, she would give him a proper piece of her mind.
“Your Goodness?” The Captain of the Guard stood just beyond a bower of white and red clematis, looking dashing in a chain mail waistcoat and light helmet. He extended his hand to take her arm when she approached the bower. “I’m here to escort you to the Witches’ Box.” His teeth shone amazingly white beneath his dark mustache.
She took his arm. “You’re Caedan Cay, aren’t you? I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you on your first quest last night. I hope it’s a very fruitful and fulfilling experience.”
His jaw tightened, but his smile never wavered. “I’d rather hoped I’d be joining the prince’s retinue on the rescue, but a quest is a great honor, of course. Good weather we are having for the day, isn’t it?”
Of course it was. It always was. She made it that way. Bright sunshine, warm as summer, shone over everything like a benevolent God of Love, glazing every tower gold and making the white marble walls glitter like diamonds. Every banner hung still or stirred only briefly in the light breeze. Flights by dragon were never comfortable things for any princess, and anything to make the journey more pleasant was a good thing.
Ida glanced at the tall man by her side, noting the way he threw his shoulders back, the way his hair waved when he lifted his chin. He looked every inch the knight she was sure he would be. No wonder theStarseized on this man as a candidate for the prince’s affection. The tabloids loved a sensational story on the brink of Happily-Ever-After. What had it been for Annabeth and Rupert’s big day? Oh, yes. Annabeth had been carrying on with a baker’s boy, and Rupert paid off a tavern wench whothreatened to expose him in a sex scandal with a threesome of randy elves.
“Can I get you anything? Refreshments? A cushion for your seat?”
“No thank you. I don’t expect I’ll need either. You should return to the prince. I’m sure he wants you by his side when the dragon arrives.” Caedan stared over his shoulder at the large pavilion where the prince would be waiting for his cue to rush to the rescue of the princess. A large white charger, arrayed in festive red and gold blankets, was being led toward the tent. “Yes, I’m sure he does. Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything, Your Goodness.”
She smiled. What a nice young man. She had her doubts about Prince Archie—he’d never seemed all that kind as a child, and at the game he’d looked downright surly—but with a good wife in Amber, and thoughtful people like Caedan surrounding him, he’d do fine. But then, almost anything would be an improvement on Rupert.
“Ida, dear, come up and visit with me!” Tara, her Good Witch counterpart from the South, waved her toward the stand. “The princess just arrived. The attendants have their work cut out for them—she arrived in a leather apron and breeches, can you believe it?” Tara looked scandalized.
“She’s a working blacksmith,” Ida said.That girl.But at least she had shown up. After the fiasco last night, Ida had begun to wonder what would go wrong next. That whole “the prince is sick” lie Annabeth had orchestrated rankled almost as much as Hector’s letters. For once, she was on the same page as he was—this event was getting entirely too political.Ugh.She couldn’t believe she was actually agreeing with him!
“Interesting.” The chill voice of Agatha cut in. “You always did pick the most…unusual…princesses.” All in black, Hector’s counterpart, Agatha of the East, fanned herself with a copy of theStar. “The papers are saying the most outrageous things about the girl, and about you.” She smirked. “They say you deliberately yanked the rose out of the Common Princess’s hand and gave it to this one, a girl chosen by some committee?” Her lip curled.
“TheStaris hardly noted for telling the truth.” Ida took her seat beside Tara, pointedly ignoring the front-page photo of her and Hector wrestling in a most undignified way on the stairs.
The smirk on Agatha’s face got wider. Evil old witch. She was almost as old as Ida, but not quite, and she’d always wanted to be in charge of the Witches’ Council. No doubt she completely approved of the riot. It irked Ida deeply that she’d wind up paying for Hector’s part in that mess if Agatha decided to blame it on her. He’d probably lean back in his chair and gloat. Where was that man? It wasn’t like him to be late, not even fashionably late. She craned around, searching for the dreadful coach and his skeleton horses.
Speaking of the bastard, here he came, jogging across the field, wearing ratty dark robes that looked like they’d been hand-dipped in indigo. He climbed the stairs, distinctly out of breath. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, tipping his hat. “One of my carriage horses broke a leg this morning.”
“Oh, what a shame. I hope you buried the poor creature decently.” Agatha sniffed.
Hector’s green eyes lit up. “A silver bone plate and it will be as good as new. I’m not about to bury a good horse simply because he’s old.” He gazed around the field, at the knights on parade, the military band warming up next to the stands, and atthe brightly colored pavilions set up on either side of the field where the drama would play out. “Pardon me if this is a foolish question, but where is the princess? Should she not be presenting herself by now?”
Ida rose. The princess’s tent stood on the left-hand side of the field, a flamboyant affair with decorative turrets and flags of blue and gold covered in fanciful stars and crowns. The princess should have been visible through the open doorway, but the tent flap remained stubbornly closed.
Agatha glared at Hector. “For that matter, Your Wickedness, where is the dragon?”
Hector’s mouth became a concerned, tight line.
Good. He needed to squirm.
