“Shh, he’ll hear us,” Bryce said, very loudly.
“Susanis a bad name for a sword, and you know it.” I rolled my eyes. “Ooh, feel the wrath of Susan. A blade with a name that will strike fear into the hearts of all who hear it. Strike me down with Susan, and together we will rule the galaxy. Even Karen would be a more infamous name, if not fearsome.”
Amy’s eyes bounced between us like he was watching a Ping-Pong match. He paused, as if waiting to see if we were finished, before continuing, “Ever since you two arrived, the people have been uneasy, and chaos has taken over the land.” Amy wagged a finger. “Very suspicious. I will assemble the council and sort this matter out once and for all.”
I sobered up real quick. If Amy was onto us and everyonefigured out I was an imposter, they might lock me up and have me hung—hanged—hung? Which was something I definitely hadn’t considered when I’d thought turning myself in was a good idea.
“Hold up,” Bryce said. “Let’s talk this out like adults.”
“Yeah, Amy, grow up.” I primly brushed invisible lint off my dress.
“We have an animal sidekick, so there’s nothing to worry about,” Bryce said. “We’re definitely the heroes.”
Amy looked between us. “A talking animal approached you? In the prophecy…” His face went white, and he backed toward the door. “I thought it was a hedgehog, but perhaps I mistranslated. I must discuss this matter with the king. I fear things are not as they seem.”
Before his fumbling fingers could turn the knob, a tiny brown blur dashed under the door, darting between Bryce’s feet—Greg, the animal sidekick in question.
Greg ran, gait off-kilter, as he lugged a jar of peanut butter on his shoulder. The blood drained from Amy’s face as he looked at the rodent by his toes.
“I knew he stole my peanut butter!” I said.
Amy tried to stomp on Greg—a real dick move—gangly limbs flying.
Undeterred, Greg heaved the lid off the peanut butter and shoved his fist inside. “All disputes can be solved over peanut butter,” he said confidently. “It’s how my kin settle matters.”
“I don’t think—” I began, but Greg was already scrambling up Amy’s robes. Amy flapped his arms, trying to shake him free, but Greg clung to the fabric. He wriggled onto Amy’s shoulder.
“Get off me,” Amy yelled. “Cursed beast! Evil foe!”
Greg shoved his peanut butter–coated fist into Amy’s mouth.
Bryce and I both cringed.
Amy sputtered, smacking at the peanut butter. Slowly, the agitation bled from his face.
“See?” Greg hopped to the floor, brushing off his hands and slinging goo everywhere.
Amy coughed several times, working his tongue along the roof of his mouth. He tried to say something, but only a gasp escaped his lips. His face grew red.
“What’s going on?” Blood pounded dully in my ears. My vision was too fuzzy, too unsteady. I drilled the mouse with a glare. “What did you do?”
Amy clutched at his throat. Hives broke across his skin. He fell to his knees.
“Oh, shit,” Bryce said, which was the understatement of the century.
Our mentor, it seemed, had a peanut allergy.
Greg wrung his soggy paws. “I only wished to help by giving him a tasty morsel as a peace offering, my lady.”
Panic seized hold of my limbs. “You call shoving your fist into someone’s mouth anoffering?”
“I was trying to save you,” Greg said.
Bryce ran a shaking hand through his hair. “What do we do? We don’t have an EpiPen. We can’t call nine-one-one. Should we… should we boil water?”
“Why would we boil water?” I bellowed.
“I don’t know! That’s, like, a medieval cure-all, right?” He sank to the floor, scrubbing at his eyes like he could wash away the sight before him.
