Chapter Nine
Daphne
“Tell me again why we are splitting up the sunrise after I get you back?” Gwyneth utters in my ear.
She has never been a hugger, but my death changed her.
“Now that our dynamic duo is back, you need to return to the All Knowing and work on rewriting our future.”
“I hate it when you make sense.”
“Me too. Let’s not make a habit of it.”
She steps away and glances at the trio of knights loading the horses with supplies. “You will not leave her unattended,” she repeats for the fourth time this turn. “You will sleep, eat, and breathe with her, and if something terrible happens, I am holding each of you responsible.”
Malachi places a hand over his chest and bends a knee in front of us. There are fun reasons to be on your knees, but none of them involve your sister.
“Get up,” I hiss. “Not here.”
Malachi winks, Nash snorts, and Hart groans.
“Lady Gwyneth, I promise to keep Daphne safe from all others and from herself.”
Oh, it’s a declaration of protection, not a floof worship. Pity.
“And I shall keep you safe,” Charming says, who, not to be outdone by Malachi, also drops to his knee.
It’s far less impressive and a little desperate, which is on point for Prince Poopfloof.
“You can take the genie,” I decide. I want to make sure that she has someone to protect her from her protector.
She scowls at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can handle one prince and a bossy know it all disembodied entity.”
“It would make me feel better.”
“I’ll take the capons,” she reasons. “They still have a strange attachment to Charming since their pairing.”
As if choreographed, Hamish snuggles under Charming’s hovering butt like it’s her favorite place.
I sigh and nod. Charming stumbles to his feet, and I crouch to give Hamish and Eugene the stink eye. “Any funny business and you pluck his eyes out. Clear?”
Hamish pecks my hand, and Eugene squawks. I’ll take that as a yes.
“Why is Lorraine here?” Hart wonders as he scratches the mare’s ears. She eyeballs me like I’m her next snack.
“That would be my fault,” I admit. “She brought me here.”
All three knights blink at me. “She rode the untameable mare?” Nash mumbles.
“Of course she did,” Hart says with a shake of his head.
That stable boy put me on a crazy horse? Rude. Sucks to be him, because we have something special.
“We did things, saw things, heard things... and now we are bonded,” I say, strolling closer to her.
She snaps her teeth at me, making me jump back. “Okay, so it was a one-time thing.”
“You can ride with me,” Nash decides.
Everyone mounts their horses, and Charming and Gwyneth go in one direction, while the knights and I go in another. I glance over my shoulder at the same time as my sister and share a smile.
I’ll go rescue my dragon, and then we... are going to upend this world? Destroy it so that it can be rebuilt? Give everyone the freedom they deserve to live their own lives? Yes, that’s the right one.
Nash kisses my temple, bringing me back to the moment. “You are remarkable, you know that?” he tells me.
“How so?”
“I show you the darkest part of me and you stride over and kiss me when I look like that.”
I shrug. “We all contain a little darkness, Nash. I’m honored you feel comfortable enough to show me yours.”
The genie appears in a puff of purple glitter, spectacles perched on the end of his nose as he floats backward and flips through a book.
“What are you doing?” Malachi asks.
I eye the sword at his side. Excalibur has been quiet since my return, but the sense of connection isn’t lost. I think it’s sulking or feeling guilty for its part in my demise.
“I’m figuring out if I’m still bound to Daphne since her resurrection.”
Good question.
“What’s your conclusion?” Hart asks.
Genie slams the book closed, sneezes—sending glitter flying everywhere—and glares at me. “It depends.”
“On?” I wonder.
“If you still want me.”
“Explain,” Nash demands.
“The magic of the lamp is still registering Daphne as dead, which makes the wish binding null and void. So we can continue to act like you are…” He turns several shades paler and feigns passing out. Is he pretending to be dead?
“Dead?” I check. Always best to spell out the magic where the genie is concerned.
“Good plan. Do that,” Malachi says.
Genie props himself back up and returns to his normal pallor. “That has ramifications.”
“Like?” Nash asks.
“If Daphne and Gwyneth wield their birthright-given power, all magic will react, and then the deception will be over.”
“Making it a problem for later,” Hart points out.
Genie nods. “Yes, but—”
“There’s always a but,” Malachi groans.
“I can’t guarantee the magic of the lamp won’t retaliate when it learns of our deception.”
That doesn’t sound good. We need to control what we can in this land of chaos. Look at me, murderous reformed resurrected maiden.
“Let’s not try to deceive the magic,” I decide. “We have enough happening without meddling with lies.”
Genie nods and snaps his fingers. A bolt of power hits my chest, and my breath huffs out in surprise.
“You okay?” Nash asks.
I rub my hand between my breasts and nod.
That emptiness which has haunted me since my return is smaller.
I feel more like me, but I’m still missing something, and I don’t know what it is.
Until I figure it out, it’s pointless bothering the knights with it.
Dragon rescue first, then I can fill all my holes with knights.
Oh, Idols, even I know that sounded bad.
“Great news—you still have two wishes left in the bank,” Genie declares with a rub of his hands. “When you are ready, holler.”
I raise a brow. “No wishes today. I think it’s wise to take a beat before introducing whatever chaos you’re trying to unleash.”
Genie pouts. “Spoilsport.”
“She does a good enough job on her own,” Hart points out. “No magical help required.”
Sir Sweeps-A-Lot bashes Genie on his head. Well, he attempts to. It goes through his body.
Genie bats him away with a sigh. “Rude. Take a genie out for dinner first before you stick your bristles in places best left unseen.”
I chuckle at their antics. Wait… “Are there girl genies?”
“Of course. It’s an equal society,” Genie replies.
“And is there a special genie in your lamp?”
Genie blinks. “Not recently. There was once a lady I fell for, but she left me for a carpet with better fringe.”
Hart blinks. “You’re joking.”
Genie sniffs. “She said he swept her off her feet. You know the worst part?”
I do not, but I’m fascinated to find out. “Tell us,” I coax.
He gestures at his wispy lower half. “We don’t even have feet.”
Malachi snorts.
I glare at him. Don’t make light of my genie’s emotional pain.
“I’m sorry she didn’t see you for all you are,” I reply. “She wasn’t the right genie for you, but...”
“Don’t try to help,” Nash grumbles against my ear.
“I vow we’ll find you the perfect partner.” Oops, too late. I won’t apologize for helping those who have stuck by me through thick, thin, and magical shackles.
“I’ll add it to your long list of promises,” Nash mutters, guiding his horse onto a curling forest path. Crooked, tall trees curve over our heads, casting creepy shadows.
“How long until we reach Theo?” I wonder.
Hart presses his lips together. “A few diurnals at best.”
“Unless he senses you and comes to us,” Nash points out.
That seems like the best and quickest solution to reuniting me with my dragon man.
A fork in the road appears, and Malachi chooses the left one. Nash pulls on the reins, stopping our horse. “Where are you going?” he asks.
Malachi looks over his shoulder, finding Hart frozen as well.
“Briar Wood is the safest.” Malachi points ahead of him.
“The Forbidden Forest is the quickest,” Nash argues while pointing toward the right path.
It’s not like Malachi to take a safe route.
Malachi squints at us. “Safe means alive. I’m not taking any unnecessary risks with the woman I love.”
Hart shakes his head. “It adds two diurnals on our journey.”
“No matter which path we take,” Nash adds. “If trouble is intent on finding Daphne, it will.”
Something howls a long, mournful sound that raises the hairs on my arms.
Sir Sweeps-A-Lot swoops around the back of us, no doubt intending to find protection, however, our horse is not a fan of the bristles against his butt. He jerks and takes off down the right side.
“I guess that’s decided,” Hart calls out.
“For the record, I disagree with this decision. No one sane takes a stroll through the Forbidden Forest. The clue is in the name,” Malachi grumbles as they catch up to us on their horses.
Nash’s arms clench around my waist, keeping me safe and secure.
How can he doubt himself? This complex man wouldn’t hurt me for all the gold in the kingdom.
“Sanity is for the ordinary,” I shout, then giggle with the freedom I’m finding on a galloping horse through a dark forest. I tip my head back and lean it against Nash’s shoulder to stare at the sky, while the forest comes alive with the sounds of critters fleeing from our approach.
The horses slow to a walk after a few tempos, the path covered in logs and stones forcing us to tread carefully. A faint humming drifts through the air.
“Do you hear that?” I whisper.
Malachi nods. “Sounds like singing.”
“Sounds like trouble,” Hart corrects.
The humming grows louder. The bushes ahead part, revealing a clearing filled with tiny figures dancing in a ring, wearing dresses made from flower petals and glistening silk. They glow like candle flames given limbs.
“Ugh, I hate these guys,” Genie grumbles. “They make your insanity look ordinary. Let me know when you are done.” He disappears.
Okay, then.
One spins toward us and gasps. “Visitors.”
“Fire sprites,” Nash murmurs. “Don’t look them in the eye.”
Too late.
The others stop dancing, and dozens of tiny faces turn in unison.
“Well,” I declare, “this is promising.”
A sprite floats closer, her hair crackling like embers. “You have entered our rehearsal.”
“For what?” Malachi asks.
She smiles, sharp and sweet. “The wedding, of course.”
Hart stiffens. “Whose wedding?”
She points at me. “Yours.”
I blink. “I beg your sparkly pardon?”
The sprites erupt into cheers, and music swells around us. Two of them toss a garland of flowers over my head.
Nash reaches for his sword. “Take it off.”
“Don’t!” the sprite shrieks. “It is bad luck to remove the bride’s crown until she has been deflowered.”
“I am not a bride,” I protest. “Plus, the deflowering has already occurred.”
The sprite tilts her head. “But you are traveling with three handsome knights. And a mop.”
Sir Sweeps-A-Lot shivers in outrage at being reduced to an inferior cleaning tool.
“Three is most unusual,” the sprite continues as she peeks at each of the Stirlings. “Very scandalous. We adore scandal.”
“Actually, there’s another one,” I add.
Malachi pinches the bridge of his nose. “We don’t have time for this.”
The sprites gather around us, chattering louder and louder. “Four, you say?”
“That is what she said,” another answers.
“Then it is she.”
“It must be.”
“And now we see.”
“All this excitement is making me pee,” I add.
The sprites freeze.
“I thought we were rhyming,” I point out. “But also, now that I’ve said it, I need to pee.”
“Can’t you hold it?” Hart asks.
“No, because it’s all I can think about now.”
Nash’s mouth brushes my ear. “I’ll distract you.”
I shiver. “I’m all for distractions, but I must insist on visiting the bathroom.”
Hart and Malachi leap off their horses and lift me off mine. “Where can I go?” I ask the sprites. I don’t want to pee in their pretty flower beds. They form a line and usher me toward a thick bush. I glance over my shoulder at Nash, who is a step behind me. “I can’t go with you watching.”
“Tough.”
I park my hands on my hips and raise my chin. “I exercise my right to use the bathroom in peace.”
He folds his arms and jerks his head at the bush. “If I can’t see your head, I’m coming in after you.”
“Pushy freaking knight.” I duck inside, swatting at the branches before crouching and relieving myself. Why is it only a dribble? I thought it would be a waterfall of epic proportions with how much my bladder was protesting.
Blissfully empty and in more of a sprite-negotiating mood, I stride into the clearing with my knights and broom in tow. I point to my crown of flowers. “I cannot marry, for not all my heart is present. I hope you understand.”
They chatter in high tones, which makes me wince.
One drifts closer. “Every wedding needs a dance,” the sprite insists. “Or the forest will be offended.”
“Can the forest be… un-offended?” I ask.
She considers this. “One dance. Then you may go.”
Nash leans closer. “We should just leave.”
A thorny vine slithers across the path behind us, sealing it shut with a soft, decisive rustle.
Hart sighs. “Or we dance.”
Malachi turns to me. “Pick one.”
I grin. “Oh, we’re dancing.”
The sprites drag me into the center of a glowing circle while they clap and sing. Nash spins me once, looking like he’d rather fight an army than attend a fairy wedding. Malachi steps in next, nimble and graceful. Hart follows, steady and warm.
The sprites squeal in delight.
“This is the most romantic chaos we’ve had in years,” one whispers.
“Write that down,” another replies. “We’ll tell the mushrooms.”
“Please don’t tell the mushrooms,” Hart mutters.
The dance ends with a flourish, and the sprites clap, satisfied. The flowery crown crumbles into harmless petals around my feet.
“Thank you, bride-not-bride,” the lead sprite says. “The forest is pleased.” The vines withdraw, reopening the path. Before we leave, she floats close and whispers, “The dragon you seek is hungry.”
“Hungry, how?” I ask, glad I sent the capons with Gwyneth. I’m not sure we can come back from Theo devouring my pets.
But the sprites are already dissolving into drifting sparks, leaving my question dangling in the air like the Cheshire Cat’s smile.