Chapter Thirty Four
Daphne
“There was no problem?” Gwyneth asks as she studies the three vials of Poseidon’s blood.
“You say that like you don’t believe me,” I grumble. “I am capable of no-drama quests.”
She stares at me and blinks. “I’m your sister. I was there when you served up a toasted slipper instead of roasted meat.”
“The three little pigs were in attendance. It seemed a little insensitive to serve a hog roast. What if that hog was their long-lost Great-Aunt Eloise?”
“And the time you cleaned the town hall.”
“I warned them not to put me on rotation, and the glitter brightened up the place. I heard no complaints.”
“You were meant to dust the chairs. Instead, every person who sat down received a special delivery glitter explosion. You didn’t hear anything, because you were already safely back in our hut.”
“You lived in a hut?” Hart asks.
I roll my eyes. “We weren’t all born with silver spoons in our mouths.”
“Not the privilege you believe it to be,” he snaps.
Shame washes over me. I might not have lived in wealth, but I wasn’t subject to the cruel upbringing their father submitted them to.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t think.”
Hart’s hard exterior softens, and he sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. “No, I’m sorry. We each have our burdens.”
Theo’s hand brushes over my shoulder in comfort. I smile at him over my shoulder as he continues to our shared chamber.
Hart drops down beside me on the sofa. Once again, a twin sandwich. This is starting to be an issue.
“So we have Genie, Eron, and now Poseidon’s blood. Just one more to go,” Gwyneth says with a twist of her lips.
“Did you explain the different generations of Idols yet?” Malachi asks. He had disappeared for a shower as soon as we got back, stating salt water and his hair didn’t mix well.
“No,” I answer. “So Poseidon said he’s one of the first Idols ever created by the Grimms. The first generation, so to speak. All of them are different from the ones we commonly know.”
“I think I’ve seen something about that,” Gwyneth mutters, flicking through a book.
“And they created hundreds of storylines,” Malachi adds. “But those then became the more well-known Idols who coveted power and control.”
“Meaning the originals either retreated, or got locked down somewhere, like Poseidon,” I continue. “Those Idols still favor the original ethos of the Grimm bloodline. They want creativity to shine and for people to flourish in freedom, not be confined to a preordained destiny.”
Gwyneth stops flicking through the book and tilts her head to the side. “So if there are tiers of Idols, those five being at the top, the next rung being the ones who force our futures, what about the ones who fulfill the storyline? Are they another layer of Idols?”
“Huh,” Hart says, leaning back. “I never thought of it like that.”
“Well, we weren’t aware there were layers a turn ago,” I point out. “So we can’t think of that which we do not know.”
His lips twitch while Excalibur hums in satisfaction between me and Malachi, who frowns down at the sword. “It’s behaving weirdly,” he mutters.
“It’s an ancient, sentient sword. It’s always weird,” Hart answers.
I know what he means, but I can’t tell him what it means.
“You know, I think you’re right,” Gwyneth says as she kneels in front of the coffee table and flips through another book before scowling and snapping another open.
“When the rightful whatever—prince, king, wolf, lost princess, damsel—takes their place, I think they become an Idol by extension. A lower-level one, perhaps.”
“That makes things easier,” Charming drawls.
I narrow my eyes. “Unless I missed a wedding and coronation while I was dead, I do believe you are still one of many in the running.”
“I wasn’t talking about me.”
I follow his stare and meet Hart’s hard gaze. “But he hasn’t taken his place yet, and to do so would mean—”
“I need to marry,” Hart says carefully, without his eyes leaving mine.
“You could be the fourth Idol,” Gwyneth says. “That would be the blood problem solved and within a timeframe that works for this ridiculous summoning to a far away temple for Idols knows what.”
“The Idols do know. That’s the point,” Malachi says.
I’m too busy getting lost in Hart’s unspoken question to care about anything else.
“But I would need to marry,” Hart asserts again. This time, he arches a brow in a dare.
Silly man. He should know the answer.
“Ask me first,” I demand.
I expect him to laugh in my face and tell me it’s all a big cosmic joke. That they don’t really love me and it’s been the longest con I’ve ever known. Because how could I, Daphne Stone of Strongfair, capture the hearts of four gorgeous, caring, a little scary but a lot amazing, knights?
He slides onto the floor in front of the sofa, sinking onto one knee.
Genie pops into the room and blinks at the scene. “Oh, you’re right, I don’t want to miss this,” he mutters to Sir Sweeps-A-Lot, who was lurking behind the sofa but is now another floating spectator.
Nash strides down the corridor, his steps slowing at the scene, and to round off this show, Theo chuckles as he leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms.
Hart digs into his pocket and produces a small, black velvet box.
He flips it open, revealing an oval emerald ring surrounded by diamonds set on a white gold band.
“Daphne Stone,” he starts. Oh my holy Idol babies, is this really happening?
Like right now, right here? It’s a dream, right? I pinch my arm and yelp.
Nope, not a dream.
“I have never felt the way I feel when I’m with you. Reckless, free-falling, excited, dumbfounded, exhilarated.”
“And that’s all before morning meal,” Theo adds, which earns him a chuckle from everyone.
“I’m not just asking for your hand in marriage, but for a partnership for life.
One full of adventure, rule-breaking, calamity, and chaos.
I want it all with you, Daphne. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no fire I wouldn’t walk through, no spell I wouldn’t break, no kingdom I wouldn’t burn.
I’m asking you to be my wife, not to break a spell or to fulfill some narrative, but for the hope of a future I never dared to dream. ”
“Damn, dude, even I’m tearing up over here,” Charming chokes out.
Even that’s not enough to pull my eyes away from the green ones holding me captive.
“Daphne Stone, will you—”
I dive into his arms and tackle him to the floor. “Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes,” I say while smattering kisses all over his face.
“Marry me,” he finishes with a laugh as our mouths finally meet.
“It will be all of us eventually,” Malachi says, causing us to break apart.
“That’s right,” Nash adds, coming closer. “You aren’t saying yes to one, but four. So be sure, Daphne.”
I snort. “As if there’s any future worth living without us all together in it.”
His lips twitch. “Looks like I’m getting married, and there will be a double coronation.”
Wait. Oh, no. Me with throne rooms, crowns, and crowds? Not a good mix. There has already been an accidentally-on-purpose Prince Poopfloof poisoning and a king stabbing while on a mission to steal his precious broken sword.
“Can we keep this low key?” I whisper with a bite of my lip.
Hart’s gaze darkens. He thinks it’s because I don’t want to do this, but the reality is I do, a thousand times over. I just don’t want the pomp and circumstance of the whole ceremony.
“She wants you,” Theo growls from behind me. “She’s panicking that she’s going to mess it up or stab someone.”
“Valid concerns,” I whisper, keeping my hands wrapped around Hart as he shifts and lifts us both in a show of strength and dexterity I can only dream of.
“No, we only need us,” Hart murmurs. “And I suppose these idiots can witness.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll prepare the castle,” Theo growls.
“No, bring Merlin here. I don’t want to risk Daphne out in the open,” Nash decides.
We’re already over the chamber threshold when Malachi calls out, “Where are you two going?”
“To consummate our union,” Hart shouts with a wicked smirk at me. “We need to practice, given your desire not to mess it up.”
He throws me on the bed and pulls his shirt off. Oh, be still my beating heart.
“Now strip.”
Cancel that. Romance can wait. I’m still in my rough and tumble a maiden era.