Page 75 of To Charm a Dark Prince

“Sure, kid. Sure. I’m not judging you. If I had a real mouth, I’d have long since dropped to my knees and—”

“Ew, ew. Stop. Stop.” She made a face. “Fine, I’ll help you and your stupid revolution. Whatever. Just stop talking.”

“Deal.”

Going on her tiptoes to grab the pumpkin from the shelf, she pulled it down and brushed some of the dust off his head. He’d been up there for a long, long time. She was careful to keep him at arm’s length as she went to the end of the aisle. The antique store was such a confusing maze of weird nooks and crannies, it took her a few seconds to find what Bertin was talking about.

There, up against the wall, was a scarecrow without a head. Its body was stuffed with sticks, hay, and even bits of random furniture. He had an old, busted piece of a table for a leg. It made him kind of resemble a pirate.

Instead of a head, a piece of a broom handle stuck up where she figured his head was supposed to go.

“What’s your plan?” she whispered down at the metal pumpkin head.

“See if I can’t find some old friends who went into hiding too. Then…we lie low until it’s time. Then, we’ll strike against Mordred.”

She shot him a look. “An army of guys made out of straw,” she whispered back. “Against him.”

“I never said it was agoodplan.” Bert huffed.

She heard the little bell go off over the door. The old man at the counter spoke to whomever it was who had entered in frightened, short phrases. It must have been Mordred, coming in to see what was taking her so long.

With a sigh, she put the metal head on the stick. “I’ll make sure they’re both distracted. Go out the back.”

The scarecrow stood up. It was exactly at that moment she realized she had put his head onbackwards, and the body had actually been sitting with its legs going the wrong way around. She figured when you didn’t have bones, it didn’t really matter.

Bertin stood, waved his hands around for a second, before grabbing his head and twisting it back around straight. Taking a step, he staggered and fell into a bookshelf. She yelped and scrambled to catch some books before they hit the ground.

“I told you not to break anything!” The shopkeep didn’t sound pleased.

“I will pay for whatever she has damaged.” Mordred. A very unamused Mordred. “Gwendolyn, are you quite all right?”

“I’m—I’m fine, just tripped. I’m good.” She laughed nervously. “You know me, just a klutz.”

“What’s a klutz?” Bertin whispered. He smelled like the family barn around the time of the fall harvest. Slightly mildewy from the dampness, but thick with the smell of hay.

“Doesn’t matter. Get out of here.” She shoved the scarecrow toward the back door she could see down a narrow, tilted hallway. The place looked like it was being held up entirely from the support of all the furniture and piles of things inside of it. “Before you get me into trouble.”

“Thanks, kid.” He patted her head with a stuffed glove. His other hand was a gardening fork, so she was much happier with the glove. “I’ll be seein’ you.” Bert quickly made his way toward the back of the shop. “Gotta spread the good word—that there’s hope. That it’s time to take a stand against tyranny.”

“Gwendolyn?” Mordred called.

“Here, sorry.” She shook her head as she headed back toward the front. She figured she’d never see the scarecrow again.

Mordred arched an eyebrow at her. “Did you get lost?” He brushed some dust off of her shoulder.

“No. Found some cool old things, got distracted.” It wasn’t a lie. Just not the whole truth.

“Come. Let us return home. You can explore the city again at another time.” Mordred held open the door for her. His patience had clearly run out. That was fine by her. She suddenly wasn’t in the mood to go prowling around more stores filled with unfriendly judgmental people and weird talking severed pumpkin heads.

She didn’t bother saying goodbye to the rude-ass store owner as she left. Walking alongside Mordred, she folded her arms over her chest. “Why do you do it, Mordred?”

“Do what?”

“Protect them. It’s clear everybody hates you. I guess I don’t get why you bother to help people that despise you.”

He stayed silent and didn’t respond to her statement. That was fine. She didn’t know what else to say and was now too lost in her thoughts to keep up a conversation.

Lancelot, Merlin, and now Bert had all called her their “hope.”

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