Chapter Twenty
Daphne
Hart thrusts a piece of parchment into my hands. I scowl at the words, and a deep hatred for the Idols builds.
NOTICE OF SACRED REPOSSESSION
Issued under the Unquestionable Authority of the IDOLS OF THE HALLOWS.
Do not fold. Do not burn. Do not mock. Do not kiss under this notice.
WANTED: THE STONE SISTERS FOR CRIMES AGAINST FATE
DAPHNE STONE and GWYNETH STONE
Aliases include, but are not limited to:
Grimm Bloodline
Architects in Rebellion
Narrative Tamperers
The Problem(s)
That One With the Mouth
CRIMES AGAINST FATE (ALLEGED, OBVIOUS, AND EXTREMELY RUDE)
Interfering with ordained endings
REWARD
DEAD: 1,000 gold coins each
ALIVE: 3,000 gold coins each
ALIVE AND INTACT: 5,000 gold coins each. Intact includes: eyes, toes, fingers, heart, and narrative compliance.
My finger traces the terrible drawings of me and Gwyneth.
No one is going to recognize us from this.
My nose is not that wide, and my eyebrows don’t curl at the ends like a mustache that traveled up my face.
Wait. Is that what eyebrows are? Rouge facial hair that got stuck on its way off one’s face?
“Why the need to define intact?” I mutter as Theo presses himself against my spine and clamps his hands on my hips. He’s only broken contact for a tempo to shrug his clothes on. More’s the pity. That man should stay naked, but only around me. No one else can have my dragon.
“That’s your first concern?” Nash grumbles, squeezing Theo’s shoulder in greeting.
I shrug. “The realm has had it out for me since the day I was born, so the Idols organizing themselves with paperwork doesn’t change anything. Not really.”
If I say this enough times, surely it will make it true.
Hart snatches the parchment and glares at me. “No, now creatures far and wide have been offered life-changing riches to bring both you and Gwyneth to your knees before them.”
“There are only four men I’ll sink to my knees for.”
Malachi snorts, and Hart’s gaze turns heated with memory.
“How are you here?” Theo growls. His dragon is still riding him hard and needs reassurance.
“We can explain while we travel,” Nash says with a nod toward the path leading back to our horses. “I don’t want to be out in the open.”
It takes longer than it should to climb the mountain back to our campsite. The knights make quick work of clearing the evidence that we were ever here, and then we mount up and head on our way.
I huff at the indignity of the Idols’ desperate actions as they struggle for control.
Control they should never have had in the first place.
They warped this place, once ripe with wonder and promise, into a dreaded and predictable world.
They sense the realm rearing to claim its independence.
Creatures and beings might not have been alive long enough to remember the marrow of the land they exist on, but they know deep in their souls that there is something they need to fight to return to.
I don’t doubt that many will mobilize to try to bring me and Gwyneth to the Idols. They’ll fail because they’re operating within the parameters of their narrative, while we write it. You can’t alter the architect of destiny. You can get on board, or get out of the way.
Quest has become war. Breath has become blood. Intention has become violence.
“You’re doing a lot of heavy thinking,” Theo says, holding me tighter against him on the back of the horse. “Nobody, Idol or not, will steal you away from us ever again.”
I thread my fingers through his and turn to stare at him over my shoulder. “Agreed. But it is I who will burn them to the ground should anyone dare to come between us.”
His eyes squeeze closed, and he drags in a breath. His skin heats for a tempo before cooling as I skim my lips against his. “I think you stole a part of my soul,” he murmurs.
I shake my head. “No, we exchanged. Can’t you feel me here beneath your ribs?”
“I can.”
“Before I died, I made a wish,” I explain. “Let no story end because I was loved.”
“The genie couldn’t have informed us?” Theo snarls.
“It doesn’t work like that. One of you had to work out the loophole.”
“That would be me,” Nash adds. “I feel stupid for not having figured it out sooner.”
“You only had half the information,” I point out. “No harm done. I’m here now, and we are whole together in a way not even an army of Idols can deny.”
“What was your wish?” Theo asks Nash.
Nash grimaces as he faces the forest we are trekking back into. “For Daphne to return to us permanently and never leave us again. To never be at the whim of the Idols.”
“The wishes threaded together and did the unthinkable,” Theo says. “Impressive future-proofing, pretty mouse. I felt the shift in the stars and wondered for a split tempo if it was you reaching for me.”
“I was reaching for you, but back here where you could find me. I would never be so cruel as to taunt you with something you couldn’t have.”
“Do I?” His voice is raw and vulnerable.
“Do you what?”
“Have you?”
I hate that my demise shook their confidence and the way they live their lives. “Always,” I vow. It was true before I died, and now we are bound in a way that no one can undo.
He presses his forehead against my head and breathes me in like he’s drunk on my scent.
I need a bath. Once you start smelling your own dirt, you know it’s time to take action.
And now that I have all the pieces of my soul, they can stop edging me with a lack of sausage.
This maiden is sausage-starved and ready to gorge on it.
“I can hear you,” Theo mutters with a laugh.
“She didn’t speak, brother,” Nash points out.
“Oh, I know. But she just thought about how we’ve been withholding sausages and now she’s ready to take all of us.”
“That’s paraphrasing and taking quite a few liberties with the use of sausage in my mind.”
“Seriously?” Malachi whines from behind her. “You can hear her?”
“Not everything, just snippets, but specifically when she’s thinking of us.”
“Why would that be?” Hart asks from his lead position.
Theo stiffens, and a whisper of wonder caresses my mind, the word he toys with just out of reach. “I’m not certain,” he settles on. He’s lying. He does know, but he’s confused and not ready to accept it.
“What’s the plan for getting back to the Hallows and the Living Library?” I ask, redirecting the conversation. We’ll need to circle back to this, but I don’t want to push him before he’s ready. It’s been an eventful diurnal. We can space out the shocking revelations.
“We’ll make it to Damsel Village before nightfall,” Hart explains. “Somewhere we know is safe.”
“The real issue will be when we work through the villages around the Hallows,” Nash adds. “Those are the most likely to be tempted with a pot of life-changing gold. They hold no allegiance to us and have not been wronged by the Idols in the same way as the So Far Away occupants.”
I perk up. “Will we visit your sister?”
Malachi chuckles. “Yes, and I’m sure she’ll have plenty of questions for the resurrected maiden who stole our hearts.”
We enter the Forbidden Forest once more, and curious eyes follow our path while suspicious shadows weigh up whether we’re friend or foe. The air grows heavier. We’re no longer just passing through; we’re being assessed.
“Do you feel that?” Nash mutters.
Theo’s arms tighten around me. “Yes.”
I feel it too. That prickling sensation between the shoulder blades that says someone, somewhere, is considering doing something idiotic. I should know, as I’m normally the one doing the doing.
The first arrow sails past my head, lifting my hair before it buries itself in the tree trunk ahead with a thunk. Hart jerks the reins, and his horse rears, lips rippling in warning.
“Ambush!” Malachi barks as if we haven’t already figured that out.
A second arrow whistles past my other ear and disappears into a thick bush, taking a lock of my hair with it.
“Well, that’s rude,” I announce.
Theo growls low, making me recall he has a penchant for stealing my hair, and it seems he’s rather possessive over it.
Chaos explodes.
Arrows rain down from the trees like the forest has developed a personal vendetta. But none of them touch us. Strange, we aren’t tiny targets, so either they are terrible shots with the worst luck or they are trying to scare us. Too late, mellows, we have faced and conquered death.
Hart draws his sword in a single, vicious movement.
Nash pivots his horse, creating a circle of protection around me and Theo. My dragon curves his body tighter to mine, an armor made of muscles and fury.
Malachi stands in his stirrups, blade flashing as he knocks an arrow out of the air. He really knows how to handle Excalibur. I’m only a tiny bit jealous of the fact I didn’t display even a little of the elegance he does.
“Stay down!” Theo growls into my ear.
“Down where?” I hiss. “I’m on a horse.”
More arrows. More grunts of displeasure. But I don’t sense blood drawn or pain from my knights.
A voice rings out from the trees. “Halt in the name of—” An arrow thuds into the ground near the speaker. “Ow. Who fired that?”
Another voice yells back, “You told us to fire but not hit them.”
“Not at me, you cabbage.”
“Barry the unreliable strikes again,” someone grumbles.
“At least I hit something. Miss by a mile Mike couldn’t hit a giant from two feet away,” the guy who I’m assuming is Barry says.
I wriggle under Theo, trying to see who’s ambushing us. Mike and Barry don’t sound like threatening names.