Chapter Thirty Seven
Daphne
I’m no longer a maiden. I’m a married woman with a brood of knights, and collectively with my sister, we’re embarking on a quest to turn this world inside out and upside down. It will be remade as it was always meant to be. The future is looking uncertain, and that’s a beautiful thing.
Luckily, I was allowed to ditch my crown because that thing is a recipe for Daphne disaster, and the gang has made it clear they’d rather I saved my personal and unique brand of chaos for after the rebellion and redistribution of power.
I have vowed to do my best, but it doesn’t adhere to a schedule or obey commands, least of all mine.
Given the demand for us to appear at this temple, no one challenged us as we left the Hallows, but a fair few folk did offer their support in wanting the reign of Idol control to end.
“Stop squirming, pretty mouse,” Theo grumbles.
“My floof is sore from riding,” I point out.
“We’ve been riding a turn.”
I shrug. “Didn’t say it was from riding a horse.”
“Too much information,” Genie grumbles while floating beside us.
“Do you have sausages and floofs?” I wonder.
“Both, when the occasion calls for it.”
I try to imagine genies getting naked and spicy. Where do their wispy bits go?
“How does that work?” I ask. Maybe it’s like Nash and his shadows that obey his commands. My gaze lands on the dark knight leading the charge.
“There are many ways,” Genie mutters. “Several I’m sure you are already aware of.”
“If we’re talking about sexual positions,” Charming says in a voice far too loud. Why is he here again?
“I’ve seen enough of your sexual positions to warrant a lifetime of therapy,” I growl with a glare in his direction.
He has my precious sister positioned on the front of his saddle with his possessive hands securing her to him like she belongs there.
I will feed him to the horses as snacks if he hurts her.
Then again, she is fierce enough without me.
There probably wouldn’t be anything left but bones after she flayed him alive. That makes me smile.
“Your mind is a dark and delicious place,” Theo murmurs, thumbs rubbing circles against my hip bones.
“You have no idea,” I answer with a smirk over my shoulder as I let a few fantasies play out across my mind involving all four of my knights. It’s been a long time coming, and I need it to happen.
He huffs as he picks up on everything I’m wishing for. “All of that and more is coming for you, my queen.”
I roll my eyes. “Less of the queen, more of the floof planning, because I cannot ride for two diurnals in this state.”
Hart glances over his shoulder from his position beside Nash.
He winks at me, and there’s no doubt in my mind that we’d still be in bed if we’d had time.
What do people call it? A honeymoon? I have no need of seeing the wonders of the world when everything I want and need is in their hearts. And their breeches.
Sir Sweeps-A-Lot makes endless circles around us like a protective pooch. The poor guy is going to tire himself out if he doesn’t slow down.
“We need to ride until sunset, or we won’t get there on time,” Hart says.
And we have to be on time to ensure his sister stays alive.
We ride. We ride some more, and then, just when I think the universe might show mercy, we continue riding as if my suffering is part of some grand cosmic entertainment.
“My floof has officially filed a complaint,” I announce to no one and everyone. “It has drafted a strongly worded letter and everything.”
“You do not have a floof that can write,” Theo says, his chest warm and solid against my back as the horse carries us forward at a steady pace.
“Are you the proud owner of a floof?” I shoot back. He grins wild and wide. “Don’t answer that. Anyway, she’s capable of many things. None of them currently pleasant.”
“We’ve been riding for four turns,” Hart calls out, as though that makes it better and not worse.
“Exactly. I was not built for this. I’m in my pillow princess era, not whatever this torture is. I need regular worship to maintain a healthy floof.”
“Make it stop,” Charming drawls.
“You were worshiped this morning,” Theo murmurs, his breath ghosting over my ear, which does nothing to help my current situation.
“That was turns ago,” I explain. “I have needs, Theo. Immediate, pressing, very sore needs. Floof rest and airing.”
Theo’s hands tighten on the reins as he exhales, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and restraint. “I could carry you.”
I turn my head enough to fix him with a look. “Absolutely not.”
“It would solve your problem.”
“It would create several new ones,” I counter. “None of which are suitable for a moving horse, an audience, or my dignity.”
“Dignity is overrated,” he says, kissing the tip of my nose.
Genie floats alongside us, hands clasped behind his back like a man enjoying a leisurely stroll rather than witnessing my slow descent into madness. “You could always walk.”
I stare at him. “We do want to arrive on time, don’t we?”
He smiles. “I’m just making helpful suggestions. You could always wish for an ever-healthy floof, free from bruising and chafing.”
I have never been more tempted by a wish.
Ahead of us, Hart laughs, the sound carrying back on the wind as he leans toward Nash to say something I don’t catch.
Malachi rides behind us, a steady presence I can feel without looking, while Charming continues to exist in a way that irritates me on principle.
My sister remains her typical stoic self, eyes peeled for danger and cataloguing everything for future reference.
Sir Sweeps-A-Lot is having the time of his annus. The broom zips in wide, enthusiastic circles around the horses, darting between legs and tails like a creature that has never once considered the concept of consequences. He swoops low, then higher, then... I grimace.
“Watch the horse,” Nash snaps as Sir Sweeps-A-Lot clips the flank of his steed.
The horse startles, rearing just enough to send a ripple of chaos through the group as reins tighten and curses follow.
Theo steadies us with ease, one arm locking around me as the world tilts for a terrifying heartbeat before settling again.
Sir Sweeps-A-Lot freezes mid-air, innocent as can be. If I were a broom, I think I would look the same.
“We explicitly said no disasters on this road trip,” Malachi says, voice edged with warning.
Sir Sweeps-A-Lot slowly drifts backward, then spins in a neat little circle like he meant to do that.
“He’s proud of himself,” I utter with a low chuckle.
Nash and Hart glare at him over their shoulders in warning.
We continue on, the rhythm of hooves picking up again.
The path widens, and we pass through a small cluster of villagers gathered at the edge of the road.
Their reactions are mixed. Some cheer. Actual cheering.
Hands raised, voices calling out blessings and thanks, eyes bright with something that looks dangerously like hope.
Others throw things. Not large things. Nothing fatal. But enough to make a point. A loaf of bread hits the ground near Hart’s horse. A wilted cabbage narrowly misses Charming. What a waste of an opportunity.
“Idols above,” someone shouts. “You’ll doom us all.”
“Bit dramatic,” I call back, lifting a hand in what I intend to be a reassuring wave, but I think lands more like unhinged enthusiasm.
Another voice rises. “Free us!”
“Yes,” I agree. “That’s the plan.”
“Or destroy everything!” a different villager yells.
“Also a possibility,” I admit. “We’re keeping things flexible.”
“Daphne,” Gwyneth hisses.
“Right. Inspiring. I can do inspiring.”
I straighten in the saddle, ignoring the way my entire lower half protests. My floof is going to need a damn massage.
“People of—” I gesture because I didn’t catch the name, “—this place! We ride not for glory, nor crowns, nor the questionable actions of the Idols, but for freedom! For choice! For a future where no one tells you how your story ends.”
The horse shifts, and my balance follows. Theo’s arm tightens as I tip sideways, my grand speech devolving into an undignified grab for stability.
“Also for better seating arrangements and floof rights for all,” I finish, clinging to him with what little grace I have left.
There’s a beat where the villagers digest my words. I don’t even make sense to myself, so hopefully there’s no follow-up questions.
Someone cheers, while someone else throws another cabbage.
“I think that went well,” I declare.
“It did not,” Gwyneth replies.
“I didn’t fall off the horse,” I counter.
“Almost.”
“Almost,” I repeat. “Which means I didn’t. This is what winning looks like.”
Theo’s chest rumbles with quiet laughter, and he presses a kiss to my temple. “Chaotic optimism looks good on you.”
“It’s all I have,” I say, lifting my chin as we ride on. “That, and a very brave floof.”
After a brief toilet break, we continue on with the floof torture. The landscape shifts from the vaguely familiar to the unknown.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“On the outskirts of So Far Away,” Genie explains.
“We got here fast.”
“It’s a different part to where Theo’s dragon was sulking,” he explains.
He’s lucky I’m between him and said dragon with the way his chest heats and the rumble from his throat. It all spells violence.
The grass thickens beneath us, lush and emerald, not trodden or trampled.
Each blade catches the light as if it’s been polished for presentation.
The trees lean inward, their branches weaving together overhead until the sky fractures into thin ribbons of gold and shadow.
The air tastes different, clean and sweet.
Theo’s body tightens behind me in a subtle movement, but I feel it in the way his chest shifts against my back. “Something’s off,” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I agree. “My floof has progressed from suffering to numbness. I believe that’s the next stage before detachment.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“It should be.”