CHAPTER FOUR #2
Em cleared her throat. “Oh, I mean, of course, you have!”
The expression on Faylorn’s face was worth her arrogance. The wizard blinked like he tried to clear his memory of her overly pompous ego. He must’ve expected the standard, “I’m not a queen yet,” or “please, I’m not a chosen one,” or “I don’t want to be chosen” reply.
So, being a bitch is original. Got it. Em bit back her smirk and threw a flare of elegance into her sweeping curtsy to the imp.
“The Almighty Queen of Stars, Princess of the White Rose Valley, and Heir to the Cursed-But-Once-Uncursed-Tower accepts your amazement,” she said.
I’m tired of writing the stupid tower’s name, just FYI.
Polo’s grin widened. “Thank you, Highness.”
Em almost asked Polo to call her by her name, but her request would be cliché as the sidekick’s nickname for her. No doubt, there would be worse things to tolerate than being called ‘Highness’ in this shitty quest anyway.
Faylorn’s smoky laugh confused her. The wizard shook his head, smirking as he stroked his beard. “You never cease to amaze me, lass.”
Disappointment sank in. Em hoped the mentor’s confusion would’ve lasted longer. If she was going to keep her originality, she’d have to do more than brag and accept a plethora of stupid names.
“I loved the way you hit me on the head.” Polo grinned at her. If he could do anything other than grin and bounce, she’d be amazed. “Although, I must say, highness, that mauve color does not complement your skin tone.”
Rolling her eyes was too stereotypical a reaction, so Em forced a hollow chuckle. “You amuse me, Polo.”
This imp is anything but amusing.
“Really?” Polo clapped his hands. “‘Cause your mom amuses me!”
Hell no.
“Of course,” she smiled thinly.
Why one clapped their hands for joy never made sense to Em. In fact, it was a family pet peeve. Her mom once fought a butterfly queen who clapped for everything, even when she was sad. Since then, Em avoided the action, because it gave Mom a headache at the memory.
“Now, Polo Took-Took,” Faylorn said. “It is time for me and the Chosen One to continue our journey.”
“Don’t leave yet.” Polo tugged at Em’s skirt, batting his beady eyes up at her. “I know a shortcut through the Glorious Musclewood. You can come enjoy a weekend festival in Tolk-Town with my family. They’d be overjoyed to see you, Highness.”
“We’re avoiding publicity,” Faylorn said.
As you talk about me in the open of an Elf forest, for anyone spying to overhear.
“And anyway, we’re here to get horses,” the wizard added.
“Hold your horses, old man! Tolk-Town has ponies,” Polo argued. “Good ponies.”
“I bet yours is named Bill.” Em grumbled.
“We need Eallesborough Castle steeds,” Faylorn said. “And I’d like to have Upsilon Miriandynus back.”
“Well now, that’s a mighty mouthful of a name to say,” Polo said. “And just a warning, old man, I’m not one to usually use my mouth for everything—if you know what I mean.”
Gross.
“We cannot continue to delay. It is time we must be going.” Faylorn stepped past the imp, visibly fed up with him as Em was. “Good day, Polo Took-Took.”
Em didn’t glance back at the pouting Polo as she hurried after the wizard. She left her walking stick behind, not wanting to carry it anymore. For all she cared, Polo could take it home with him and brag about how it belonged to the Chosen One.
Relief for leaving the not-so-funny-but-supposed-to-be sidekick behind gave her about three seconds to relax.
Wait. Em paused in her tracks. Don’t sidekicks usually follow the Main Character?
Yep.
“Polo Took-Took.” Faylorn stopped alongside her and turned on his heel with a swish of his robes. “This is hardly the time.”
Em moaned.
Polo shadowed them from a few yards off, following. He held her walking stick out towards Em, pouting. “You forgot this, Highness.”
“Keep it,” she said. “You can use it on your way home.”
Home. Go back home, please.
“Thank you.” Polo beamed, hugging the staff. He shoved his way between her and Faylorn, batting his eyelashes at her. “A gentleman always needs a long stick at his disposal. I’ll need it for the quest!”
“You’re nothing but trouble, Polo Took-Took,” Faylorn grumbled. “We can’t have you getting in our way.”
“Trouble for your mom!” Polo clicked his cheek. “And anyway, don’t you know about the prophecy?”
“Of course, I do.” Faylorn scoffed. “I left retirement as a wizard to dedicate my life to helping study and complete it.”
“Good,” Polo grinned. “Because, according to the prophecy, you need three people on your adventure. She’ll become Queen, aided by a mentor who will probably die and become a ghost. Three other adventurers will join her for growth, dialogue, and future fangirls.
Amongst them shall be her One True Love.
I can fill in one of those roles. I also make good tatters and coffee every morning, if it matters. ”
“What about enchiladas?” Em asked. “Or birria?”
“I have no clue what those are!” Polo continued to bounce about. “But if it involves meat, count me in!”
Figures. She never thought she’d miss the shitty cafeteria food at Sanderson, but here she was, probably destined to eat nothing but potatoes, bread, and cheese for the next long weeks.
I should’ve brought some of Mom’s caramel-taffy.
“Fine.” Faylorn sighed and turned to keep walking. “Come along, Polo Took-Took, and don’t get underfoot.”
“Yippee!” Polo raced ahead, skipping with the walking stick like it was his dance partner, which happened to be three times his height. “Let’s go kill the dragon!”
“Shush!” Faylorn snatched the imp, covering Polo’s mouth with his hand.
He scanned the surrounding trees with narrowed eyes.
Em’s heart skipped a beat as she joined him in surveying the trees.
She’d never considered that maybe the Elves would be unwelcoming to the prophecy.
But her mentor’s tight grip on Polo and his furrowing brow warned her to stay alert.
“Some may not take that bold a statement so lightly, Took-Took,” the wizard whispered.
Polo spluttered past the wizard’s hand. “Why not?”
“Some of us don’t agree with the idea of becoming a pile of embers,” a voice said behind them. Something sharp dug into Em’s shoulder blades, and a gasp escaped her.
An arrowhead.
“None of you should move,” the voice warned. “Or we’ll shoot your loud-breathing-noses sky high.”