Chapter Three
The Man with the Mustache Means Business
My day started with morning snuggles in bed, strong coffee, and an unexpected summons to the castle. Once Miles arrived and reassured me he had everything under control at the café, I kissed Lake goodbye and then left with Briar and Maddox.
Now, I sat in a super fancy sitting room within the castle. Waiting. For what? I had no idea.
The armchair was far from comfortable. I wiggled on the cushion and tried not to let my thoughts jump to all the horrible reasons why I could’ve been summoned. Like maybe they’d learned about me being from another world, thought I was a spy, and intended to torture me for information.
Maybe Prince Douchebag—aka Cedric—was bored and wanted a new plaything to torment. More anxious fidgeting.
Tall windows revealed an overcast sky. On the short horse ride there, I’d smelled rain in the air. Hopefully, it held off until I returned home.
If I returned.
Okay, no one liked a morbid muffin. Time to take a breath and chill out.
The door opened.
“Good morrow,” an older man greeted me. A bushy white mustache covered his entire upper lip, and his thinning gray hair was slicked back. A younger man trailed behind him. “You must be Evan Clark.”
I quickly stood. “Yes, sir.”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Walter Willoughby, Lord Mayor of Exalos.” He rested a hand over his chest and tipped his head to me. “I do hope you haven’t been waiting long. This one—” He waved toward the younger guy. “—was late in alerting me to your arrival.”
Exalos? My heart thumped harder. That was where my mom had been from.
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all.” I offered the younger one a smile. He must’ve been Walter’s attendant. He weakly returned the gesture. Something told me he’d received quite the talking-to on the way there, given his defeated posture. “What’s your name?”
That took him by surprise. “Percival, sir.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, then turned to the Monopoly Man’s twin brother. “What can I do for you, um… Mr. Willoughby?”
I wasn’t the best at knowing how to address those in power. Poor Prince Sawyer had dealt with my flailing around plenty of times in my attempt to do so.
“Lord Mayor, if you will.” Walter motioned to the armchairs. “Please. Let’s sit.”
I sank back down to the cushion.
“You.” He snapped his fingers at Percival. “Fetch us tea.”
“Right away, sir.” Percival nodded and exited the room.
“Worthless boy,” Walter mumbled as he sat across from me. He straightened his suit jacket and crossed one ankle over his knee. “I’m sure you relate all too well to such ignorance from subordinates. I rarely have a personal attendant for more than a fortnight before I show them to the door.”
Maybe if you treated them better, that wouldn’t happen.But I bit back the words.
“I wouldn’t know, sir. I don’t have an attendant.”
“What a shame.” Walter tsked. “A highly successful businessman such as yourself shouldn’t do everything onyour own. Appointments. Chores. Fetching meals. We have subordinates to perform those mediocre tasks for us. But anyway.” He flicked his hand. “Shall we get to business? I’ve journeyed all this way to Bremloc to speak with you about your fine establishment.”
“My café?”
“Yes. The Brewed Muffin, is it? I requested an audience with the king to discuss the matter, and he gave me his blessing to extend the offer to you.”
“Offer?”
Percival returned carrying a tray with a teapot and cups and placed it on the table between the armchairs. He filled a cup and added two cubes of sugar from the bowl before stirring and handing it to Walter. Once the older man took a sip and nodded his approval, Percival stepped aside.
