Phase one of my little project was a shopping spree. With the girls staggering behind me carrying chairs, I went from booth to booth, purchasing clothing, junk food, and useless trinkets, and paying for everything with the furniture until it was gone.
Unfortunately, even overpaying everyone with life-changingamounts of wealth wasn’t enough to awaken my magic. I thought I could buy the people’s approval, but Charisma was not so easily fooled. They loved me for what I could give them, not for who I was. I probably should have known better.
Still, the morning was not altogether unpleasant. The flower girls (who were all named after plants, of course) took one look at my nightgown and coat and insisted on dress shopping. I bought them all dresses, too, and even if their awe for me was only inspired by gold, it still felt nice. It still spoke to that part of me that craved adoration. Still teased me with the idea that maybe, just maybe, I could be the amazing person they thought I was.
After the shopping spree, the girls piled the contents of their flower stand into the back of my now-empty wagon. Some of them squeezed onto the seat beside me and the others wedged in the back, then we were off.
The conversation back to the castle was joyous. They showed off the day’s spoils and passed around the food we’d bought so everyone could try everything. Their questions were incessant.How is it being a Chosen One? When did you first know you were different? What’s the worst monster you’ve ever faced?
Theyoohed andaahed over my answers (terrifying, I still don’t believe it, and late-stage capitalism) as though they were impressive.
“In the stories of old,” said Lavender, the eldest, who was seated beside me, “Chosen Ones always found time to visit the less fortunate and listen to our opinions. Our last Chosen One, Edna Johnson, was said to have joined us in our festivals, visited our orphans, and made friends with members of our community. Quite a fan of mulberry ale, that one. Legends say she insisted on sharing her brew with everyone in the kingdom.”
Edna Johnson? I wondered if that was the flapper girl immortalized by the fountain in the gardens where we’d had lunch. I guessed being free of Prohibition for a while must’ve beenexciting for her, which would explain her hipster-ish obsession with craft beer. But damn, if Amy had summoned her as he claimed, that meant Amy was even older than I thought.
“I must admit,” Lavender went on, “when you showed no interest in venturing outside the castle walls, we began to worry for the future of our kingdom. But I see now how lovely you are. You must have been quite busy with important matters, then, if it took you so long to come into the city?”
My stomach shifted uncomfortably. We’d been under instructions from Amy not to get involved. But even if we hadn’t been… would I have bothered to learn more about the kingdom? “We were told not to.” The excuse sounded weak even to me. “For safety. Foryoursafety. They told us if the bad guys knew we were friends, they may hurt you to get to me. Which is why you can’t tell anyone you met me. If anyone asks where you got the chair, say a traveler traded it to you.”
Her features softened, which made me feel even worse. “Of course.”
If what Lavender said was true, and other Chosen Ones, like Edna, were allowed to make friends with the people, what had changed in the last hundred years that made Amy so convinced it was safer for Chosen Ones to keep their distance? Had something happened with Edna herself?
Rose, one of the middle girls, piped up from the back, disrupting my thoughts. “What’s the other Chosen One like?”
My thoughts fluttered away. “Oh, Bryce?” I asked flippantly. “He’s okay, I guess.”
A brief silence ensued, followed by shrieks of delight and teasingly dramatic proclamations of Bryce’s name. Ahead, our horse’s ears twitched in annoyance, and I concurred.
“I didn’t say his name like that,” I called over them.
“Like what?” said the tiniest girl, Poppy. “Ooh, Bryyyyyce?” She spun on her heel in a swoon and collapsed onto a heap of flowers, a pudgy hand thrown over her ruddy brow.
“Is he handsome?” the quiet girl, Sage, who sat on the other side of me asked, stars in her eyes.
“No.”
The prickliest girl, aptly named Thistle, gave me a withering look.
“Fine, yes.” I sighed. “Unfortunately, he is.” They begged for details, so I stammered through a brief explanation of the Sickly Victorian Man phenomenon. “He’s not, like, muscly or conventionally attractive. He’s the kind of gorgeous that sneaks up on you.”
That was enough to convince them we were soulmates.
Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself smiling as I described Bryce’s quirks. The way I sometimes noticed him secretly grinning after I found a particularly clever way to annoy him. The way he stuck by me, no matter what, even when it involved battling a dragon. The way he cared so much about everything, even if it was starting to make me feel bad for caring about nothing.
I lapsed into silence for the rest of the trip as the girls planned our wedding. As we neared the castle, a strange sort of lightness fluttered behind my ribs—anticipation and excitement wrapped in fuzzy warmth. Inexplicably, ImissedBryce, and I couldn’t wait to see him again.
Something dreadful was happening, something I hadn’t felt since grade school, when I’d draw gel-pen hearts around my initials coupled with some pubescent boy’s.
I was developing a freakingcrushon my asshole next-door neighbor.
CHAPTER 17INWHICHWEGETPHYSICAL
BRYCE
Courtney was late. I’d been waiting with Cuthbert for hours, listening to him excitedly talk about the hand-to-hand combat we’d be practicing today. We were inside this time, in a training room—a large, rectangular space with stone walls and dark wooden arches. High windows let in streams of pale, early-morning light. We weren’t the only ones practicing, and the clanging of clashing steel echoed around us.
Thankfully, I hadn’t heard anyone talking about a dragon on the loose yet. Either Courtney and I had gotten incredibly lucky, and the dragon was breaking stereotypes and truly wasn’t interested in terrorizing villages, or it was only a matter of time.
