Page 11 of To Charm a Dark Prince

“Why do you have to be so mean to me?” She followed after him, feeling more and more like she was going to cry.

“You are slowing me down. I have waited long enough.” He jumped over a tree that had fallen into the path.

She climbed over it, cringing at the reminder that, yep, she was stillreallynaked. “Why today? Why now?”

“Those of us who tap into the magic of Avalon must stay within it to survive. I could not stay away for much longer without becoming trapped like this forever.” He huffed. “I would rather die.”

“You’re not supposed to be a cat?”

“Of course not.” He snarled.

“I don’t know! You aren’t telling me anything, so as far as I know you’ve always been a talking cat.” She jogged a little to catch up with him. She really was done with walking. Especially in the cold.

“I have not always been a talking cat.”

“Great. I’m glad we have that established.” They walked in silence for what could have been half an hour. Or ten minutes. She honestly had no way of knowing. She couldn’t resist the urge to needle the animal. If he was going to be a jerk, she was going to enjoy annoying him. “Are we there yet?”

Merlin groaned.

Smirking at how easy it was to give the cat a hard time, she started singing. “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles ofbeeer.”

The cat did nothing. She kept going. It seemed somewhere around sixty-five, he couldn’t take anymore.

“Stop! Please, stop.”

Snickering, she stopped singing. “Only because you asked nicely.” Suddenly, hope lit up her heart as she saw lights through the line of trees ahead. “Oh! Are we there?”

“It seems so.” The cat grumbled something under his breath, but she didn’t catch it. That was fine by her. She was going to have to get used to being insulted by the animal, it seemed. She could go without hearing every little detail.

As they reached the edge of the forest, Gwen let out a breath. “Whoa.” She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. What stood in front of her was a small village straight out of some kind of Renaissance fair. That was, if the designers had done a few lines of speed and the architects had decided that straight lines were for losers.

Everything looked kind of…twisted. Maybe the houses had all settled into their strange, haphazard shapes. The exterior walls were a mixture of all sorts of materials—wood, plaster, thatch; some looked made out of metal, even. Lanterns glowed atop wooden posts, illuminating the center roadway that was little more than two carriage ruts through the dirt. The light that came from the lanterns and the windows all seemed a little washed out, however. There appeared to be a mist in the air that dulled the colors. Or maybe it was just a trick of the eye.

The village was cute. Quaint, even. The lack of color made it all look a little dreary and forlorn, but it probably looked better in the daytime.

Merlin was already walking ahead toward the stone wall at the back of one of the properties nearby. She followed, suddenly now much more self-conscious about her nudity. But she couldn’t help but smile as she saw there was a clothesline on the back of the house he was leading her toward—and on it wereclothes.

Finally, clothes!

“I feel bad just stealing from people.” She kept her voice quiet as she hopped over the rock wall.

“Then you can stay naked. I don’t care,” the cat whispered back. He jumped up onto a barrel by the back of the house. The windows were covered by leather from the inside. Some of the homes looked like they had glass windows, but most either just had open holes or were covered up with something or other.

Finding a pair of dark blue cotton britches and a linen shirt, she pulled them on and tied the waist off as best she could. They weren’t the right size at all, but it was better than nothing. She let out a sigh of relief. Clothes. Check. “Now what?”

He jumped back off the barrel. “We should leave before we are discovered.”

“Leave…the village?” She blinked. “But we just got here.”

“Yes, obviously.”

“Shouldn’t we, like…ask for help? Or something?”

He snorted as if that were the dumbest idea he’d ever heard. “Do you remember my comment about torture? Because that’s how—”

The back door to the home opened. “Hello? Who is out there?” It was a woman, maybe in her fifties. Short and round, with a wide face and curly hair. Gwen couldn’t make much else out about her, as she was silhouetted from behind by the glow of a pale fire.

Gwen froze. She was right in full view. “Um—” She didn’t know what to do. Or say. She had been caught red-handed. And to make matters worse, Merlin hadvanished.Straight up disappeared into thin air. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t— I’m—uh—lost, and—”

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