“Ever heard of small talk?” Bryce asked, pulling out a chair beside me.
I ignored him and kept my focus pinned on Princess Clementine. “You ever think about kidnapping someone? Not that you’d ever do that, of course, but have you ever considered it? Just for the funsies.”
Clementine blinked in shock. “Why, of course not. I’m a princess. I would never think of such things.”
“Of course not. How silly of me.” I took a bite of the melon, which tasted like a banana had had sexual relations with a hayfield, and nearly gagged. “What kind of things do you like to do for fun, Clem? Specifically, yesterday right before dinner?”
“Subtle,” Bryce said under his breath.
“I was in my chambers, doing everything a princess ought to do,” Clementine said slowly, deliberately. The way she looked at me was a little intense, like she was trying to tell me something without actually saying it—probably that she didn’t appreciate the cross-examination. “You can ask the king, if you’d like. When I left my chambers, I ran into him coming from the direction of the dungeons.”
Bryce and I exchanged a sharp look. “Are you implying something?” I asked, leaning in.
“I could never imply that I saw your dear king sneaking suspiciously around the castle,” Clementine said with a shrug, taking a dainty sip of her bubbly purple drink.
I risked a peek at the king where he stood by a hedge maze talking with Amy. There was no way he could fit under the door, but he was the king. He probably had a master key and could have broken Winston out without needing to go into the key room at all.
I shifted uncomfortably. I’d have to be more subtle with my investigation when it came to the king. I couldn’t have people mutteringtreasonagain. Tonight, I would follow him and see what he was up to.
CHAPTER 11INWHICHWEARETRAINEDINEVERYTHINGEXCEPTHORSEBACKRIDING, WHICHFEELSLIKEAMASSIVEOVERSIGHT, CONSIDERINGTHEIMPORTANCEOFHORSEBACKRIDINGINFANTASY
BRYCE
After lunch, Amy led us back across the courtyard. I hoped magic training would be less violent than this morning’s lesson, but I doubted it. Very few things were pleasant in this hellnoton Earth.
Because, yes, after the incredible pain inflicted on me during sword training by Cuthbert, aka the happiest man I’d ever met, I’d concluded I was not in a dream. And yes, maybe I did shed a tear or two upon discovering reality, as I knew it, was a lie. But who could blame me? I was stuck here withCourtney. That would make anyone cry. Nothing was familiar here, except for her, as infamous as that notorious tickle you get in the back of your throat right before you come down with the common cold.
I didn’t understand how this happened. In all my googling, I’d never seen any warnings that coatracks in lighting departments could create accidental portals to dangerous new worlds.
(Oh god. Did I remember to lock my front door when I left the house yesterday?)
And the kidnapping. That wasn’t just a dream either. A real man might be in the clutches of an Evil One, andwewere supposed to fix it? Courtney with her terrible interrogationtechniques, andmewith my… with my what? Ability to make spreadsheets? I was anaccountant. If destiny had grand plans for my humble life, I would prefer to avoid them the way I dodged weekend outings: by telling everyone something had come up, when that “something” was just my reluctance to be social.
The fact none of this was a dream also meant last night was not the off-the-record indulgence I’d thought it was. I’d slid Real Courtney suggestive Notes app messages under a table and mentioned The Infamous BuzzingThat Must Never Be Mentioned.
Worse, I’d had Real Courtney on her back. Under me. In bed.
Never. Again.
My skin grew clammy. Familiar panicky fingers clenched around my heart, trying to suffocate it quietly before it could be stabbed to death. No more slipups. No more touching.
Inching closer to Courtney, I tapped her arm. This touch was okay. It was a normal touch. A necessary one.
Courtney fell back as Amy continued ahead, still talking about who knew what.
“Do you think it’s strange how weird everyone acts?” I asked. “Like, the blacksmith’s sole purpose in life is hammering stuff. Amy’s whole existence revolves around a prophecy. The princess’s daily activities literally involvedoing princess things.”
“Why is it strange?” Courtney asked.
“This isn’t a dream,” I said.
She gave me a look. “Obviously.”
She knew it wasn’t a dream. The whole time last night, she’d known.
My mind replayed the evening over and over. I could practically feel her thighs tightening around my hips. Drawing me closer.Notpushing me away. And then today. The way she criticized the whole world for its intolerance instead of criticizing me for my weakness.
I stopped touching her arm. She terrified me—a flashing red button I couldn’t keep my hands off of.
