Verena
As huge and impressive as Isenmere Castle's throne room is, I'm going to say it: thrones suck.
Sure, the ornate, carved-stone behemoth I'm sitting on is pretty. It's exactly what I would expect in a fairytale kingdom that worships the faerie of pride or vanity or whatever.
But my ass is already starting to go numb as I wait for Merrick here, as the trembling castle guards suggested I should.
At least it doesn't smell like Wulf in here. I made extra sure of that by changing out of the dress that had some of his B-word smeared on the sleeve.
I still can't believe I bit him.
I can't believe how it felt as that tart, sweet, delicious minty blackberry dripped down my chin and slid down my throat, soothing the burning thirst as the Huntsman's strong body strained against me, his clear desperation for more heightening the bloodlust until—
Bad Verena. No. We don't think about the B-word.
I'm not over the effect that feeding had on Wulf.
Or how it affected me, for that matter.
I keep telling myself there's no way I'm that wildly attracted to the same guy who tortured me, so it must have been the thirst fucking up my head.
I'm so pissed that Eris didn't warn me about that not-so-fun surprise side effect of Queen Reinhilde's feeding that I haven't looked at him since the Huntsman left hours ago.
I changed clothes, chatted with Snow White more, puttered around the not-poisoned-apple tree, and found my way here—all without acknowledging the man following me through reflections.
Like much of the rest of the castle, the throne room is a stone masterpiece.
To my right, massive stained-glass windows turn the late-afternoon light outside into a spray of jewel-toned rays across the polished stone floor.
Mirrors span the wall to the left, refracting all the rainbow light flooding this huge, long room until I can't decide whether it looks spectacular or like Isenmere is trying to bring back disco.
"Verena," Eris tries yet again, this time from one of the mirrors on the left side of the long throne room.
I huff so that my veil puffs out, wordlessly flipping him off.
He makes a sound of frustration. "Once again, I'm sorry. I assumed you already knew that feeding is always a highly erotic stimulant for those who are fed on."
It's always highly erotic?
Oh my god. I have to get out of this world.
Having to drink blood is bad enough—but I'm not about to arouse other people against their will every time I bite them, just so I don't starve to death.
Eris goes on. "You drained that scoundrel in Isenhold, after all. It's only now that I'm realizing he must have been unconscious for the fun bit."
Stop. He did not just call it the fun bit.
When I still say nothing, Eris grumbles something under his breath and vanishes completely.
Not thirty seconds later, he reappears in the mirror, sighs softly, and rests his forehead against the glass.
"If you truly think I'm sadistic enough to keep that detail from you, punish me however you like. Curse at me, or call me Bug Juice or any other horrid nickname. Just…” His voice becomes surprisingly miserable.
"Please don't ignore me. You've no idea what this feels like for me, to finally have company I crave after so many stifling years of isolation with the monster who trapped me. "
Sympathy twinges in my throat.
I chose to be alone in my world for plenty of very good reasons. Still, I remember how giddy I felt when I finally made a couple of real friends again, in St. John's. I was beyond anxious about coming across like a weird loner and messing everything up in the early stages.
If they had given me the silent treatment like this, just as I was finally opening up again…
He's right. I'm being a jerk—and besides, it's not his job to warn me about everything.
"So you crave me, huh?" I tease. Pulling back the veil, I meet his multicolored pastel gaze and offer a small, peacemaking smile. "Fine. You asked for it, Beetlejuice. I won't ignore you."
"Thank you."
"Instead, I'll drive you nuts until you crave me returning to my world, just so you can have some peace and quiet."
He exhales in relief, his breath fogging the glass before he straightens. "What are peace and quiet compared to you, Fairest?"
I'm about to ask again why he's calling me that when a knock sounds through the empty throne room.
I pull my veil down in time before two castle guards open the big double doors opposite the throne.
"Is Merrick here?" I ask, excited already.
One of them bows deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty, but…"
Oh no, what now?
"But?" I press.
The other guard clears his throat, bowing as well.
"My queen, the princess is upset yet again about being locked in her rooms. She claims she is to be allowed to meet the new chamberlain.
He will arrive any moment, but although we have told her many times to stop throwing a fit by banging on the door, she—"
"Why the fuck did you lock her in her rooms again?" I interrupt, straightening on the throne.
They both look flummoxed.
"Your Majesty? She is always to be kept in her rooms unless given explicit permission to leave," one says, like he's just repeating what other guards have told him a hundred times.
Poor Snow. She really has been on her own.
But not anymore.
"Let her out at once. From now on, Snow White can leave her rooms whenever," I declare. "She's the future queen of this kingdom and has the right to go where she wants, when she wants, as long as she's safe."
"Yes, Your Majesty," one of them agrees, bowing low.
"Go warn the other guards, because if I find out anyone is treating my stepdaughter as less than the literal princess she is, I'll throw them in a…" I glance at the mirror. "Shit, what's that thing called again? A Pillsbury?"
No, wait. That's the company with the cute little dough guy.
"Pillory," Eris supplies.
"A pillory," I finish the threat like I have all the evil confidence in the world.
It works because the guards rush out at once. A moment later, three different guards walk through the doors, escorting Merrick into the castle at last.
I stand, beaming through the veil. "Merrick! You made it."
Through the open double doors behind him, I see several people carrying large bags and chests full of Merrick's clothing and other belongings into the castle.
The reinstated chamberlain is dressed even more nicely than when I first ran into him.
His rich red surcoat glitters with small golden beads in a swirling pattern.
His head is held high, his eyes sweeping through the room like he's already making a list of ways to tidy up everything Schultz may have neglected.
When he notices the way the three guards are standing, he clears his throat loudly and makes a point of straightening his spine. They get the message and quickly stand at attention.
Then Merrick bows slightly to me, smiling brightly.
"My queen. I cannot tell you how pleased I am to walk the halls of Isenmere Castle once more. I swear upon Ayna's beauty that I shall do everything in my power to bring glory back to our fair kingdom. I am eager to survey the castle at once, if it pleases Your Majesty to accompany me."
A man of action. Thank god.
"I'd love that," I grin. "So long as you don't mind the princess tagging along. She'll be here any moment."
Surprise flickers over his features before it turns into warm approval. He takes a few steps closer and lowers his voice so only I will hear him, and not the guards.
"Am I to understand that your bout of amnesia has improved your relationship with His late Majesty's daughter?"
As if on cue, Snow White hurries through the double doors. She's out of breath, clearly having run all the way here.
Her gaze widens on Merrick. She clearly recognizes him—which makes sense because now that I think about it, he would have left the castle when she was about seven years old.
Her face lights up with joy. "It is you! Ver—Her Majesty didn't say! Oh, Merrick, how dearly I've missed you."
She throws her arms around him. Even though Merrick seems to have a proclivity for appearances and decorum, he hugs her back tightly for a moment.
Aww.
When one of the guards scowls and reaches toward Snow White like he's about to reprimand her for behaving like this, all I have to do is look sharply at him, my veil swishing.
"Back off, slick. You never touch the princess. Got it?"
There is an extra bite in my voice, but I can't help being protective. These guards have clearly treated Snow White almost as badly as the queen did.
If I find out they ever laid a hand on this girl or made her feel unsafe in other ways, I'll send Wulf to fucking annihilate them. As long as I don't see the violence, I have no problem with assholes getting what they deserve.
The guard shrinks back. "Y-yes, Your Majesty."
"That goes for everyone else, too," I warn the other guards, glowering at them through the veil as they bow in agreement.
Merrick sniffs and straightens, prompting the princess to do the same. I'm surprised his eyes look a little misty, but he brushes off his surcoat to resume his professional tone.
"My dear princess, I see Ayna has blessed you just as she blessed your father. You have his exact countenance. Were you a boy, I suspect you would be the spitting image of the king when he was your age."
Snow White beams. "I will gladly take your word for it, since Father told me you two grew up together as the closest of friends."
Now that these two have reunited, Merrick gets back to kicking ass and taking names, announcing that this will just be a brief survey as he leaves the throne room.
I follow him, as does Snow White. The guards seem too frightened of me to tag along. Eris walks among nearby reflective surfaces, observing curiously.
For the next twenty minutes, as Merrick sweeps through the castle, it's crystal clear that he's the right man for this job.
Even though this place looks like a grandiose maze of ornate stone, stairs, bridges, and arched stained glass windows to me, Idris Elba's lookalike obviously knows this castle like I know the back of my bruised hand.
"Not enough candelabras in here," he tells a manservant we pass in one of the halls. "Get four more at once and space them out, just so. Isenmere Castle is far too beautiful to not be illuminated when night falls, do you not think?"
"Yes, sir." The servant hurries away.
In each room we pass through, Merrick stops to make mental notes, eyeing things with the astuteness of an unleashed perfectionist in his element.
Though he's kind about it, he expertly gets the castle staff to snap into action.
They obviously respect the reinstated chamberlain as they rush to obey every task he gives out, running to dust the great hall or get mud out of a courtyard or polish stained glass.
As we walk through an empty corridor where no one will see her looking unafraid of me, Snow White leans over to whisper conspiratorially.
"He moves with the ferocity of a storm, but instead of wreckage and chaos, pure order follows."
"He's the Monica Geller of chamberlains," I agree.
"Who?"
"Someone from my world, kind of. She's obsessed with being tidy."
Snow White's eyes sparkle with humor. "Does she make a speck of dust or wrinkled tapestry tremble with fear, as Merrick does?"
"Let's just say I want to lock them in a messy room together and see who comes out alive."
When Merrick turns to see what's making us lag behind, Snow White cuts off her giggle, and we both feign innocence.
Merrick is still ahead of us as we step out into the lower courtyard, but he pulls up short when he nearly collides with a walking wall of strength—a.k.a., Wulf.