I swiped my cake from his hands, and he relinquished it with surprisingly little resistance. I studied the cake for a second, deciding how best to eat the crumbling mess, but then Bryce wordlessly handed me his fork. My suspicion over the tiny kindness was not enough to keep me from tucking in, nor was the knowledge that his fork had recently been in his jerkish mouth.
The cake was soaked in warm syrup that tasted like smoky toffee. As it melted in my mouth, I let out an involuntary moan.
“What?” I asked, noticing Bryce side-eyeing me.
“You’re making sex noises in a dungeon,” he said frankly. “Time and place, Courtney. Show some decency.”
I was suddenly grateful for the dim passage, as it hopefully hid my burning cheeks. “Please. You couldn’t recognize a sex sound unless it was a deeply disappointed sigh accompanied by someone asking,That’s it?”
“I can recognizeyoursex noises,” he said coolly. “The walls in our duplex are very thin. I heard the buzzing, you know.”
Oh. My. God. We both knew what instance he was referring to, even if he had the decency not to remind me that The Buzzing occurred shortly after he shipped me a sex toy in very conspicuous, embarrassing packaging as a prank. The catchphraseElite thrusting for discerning tastesstill haunted me—well, maybehauntedwas the wrong word, as the memories weren’t entirely unpleasant.
In my defense, what was I supposed to do? Throw it out and contribute to a global plastic pollution crisis? No one could claim Courtney Westra was wasteful.
I delicately cleared my throat, trying to hide the fact I was panicking. “What you heard was my electric toothbrush. I’m very conscious of my oral hygiene.”
“Ah, of course. Discerning tastes require elite… toothbrushes. Multiple times an hour, apparently.”
My stomach twisted and turned like my body was being hurled up and down a roller coaster I’d been peer-pressured to ride. First the suggestive texts, now this. When did Bryce become so bold and goading? It was knocking me off-kilter, and it was all I could do not to let him throw me off our verbal sparring mat.
“I did not pleasure myself with a sex toyyoubought me. Thatwould be…” Well, for some reason, at the time, it had been incredibly hot. It had probably just been a heat-of-the-moment thing; using my enemy’s diabolical schemes for personal pleasure had been an exciting and taboo secret comeback. A cumback, as it were.
Looking back now, it was mortifying.
“It was mytoothbrush,” I said again, firmly.
“No one moans while they’re brushing their teeth.”
“Plaque removal is very satisfying.”
“Sure. Plaque removal. Weird turn-on, Courtney.”
“Thank the Maker you’re here!” A new voice blessedly rescued me from the conversation as we rounded a corner and stepped into an antechamber.
The voice belonged to the distraught guard standing in the small stone room, wringing his hands. The chamber appeared to be a sort of dungeon lobby, if such a thing existed. Behind the guard was a small staircase that led down through an arched opening, presumably to the cells. The room was entirely too small for the dinner party, but they all squeezed in anyway, mushing Bryce and me together near the back.
“We came as soon as we heard your summons,” Amy said, stepping forward. “Can you tell us exactly when the kidnapping occurred?” A real Nancy Drew, this one.
“About two hours ago,” said the guard.
“Why didn’t you alert us sooner?” asked the king.
“We spent a good deal of time trying to track Winston down,” explained the guard. “There was no time to send a messenger until after we realized we couldn’t catch the perpetrator.”
The visiting princess turned to Bryce and me and muttered, “Between you and me, something has always struck me as not quite right about this kingdom.”
Amy overheard and shot her a sharp look.
Before things could grow heated, I pushed and wedged myway through the crowd until I emerged next to Amy. “How did Winston escape? Did he dig out? Squeeze through the bars?”
“Whoever captured him stole a key and unlocked his cell, my lady,” said the guard sheepishly. “Come, I’ll show you where we keep the keys.”
Like an excited group of tourists, the dinner party shuffled after the guard through a side corridor I hadn’t seen before. We went down a short hall and stopped before a wooden door.
“The strangest thing is that the key room door was still closed and locked after the key inside had been stolen,” said the guard, and the group gasped with horrified delight. “The only thing we can figure is the thief crawled under the door.” He pointed at the gap, which was a little over half a foot tall. “Though they would have to be very small in stature.”
“Ah, a short king,” I murmured thoughtfully.
