Chapter Nine Wilde
The Next Day
A Small Café in the Capital City of Misfortune
Getting to Know the Wrong Prince
The stack of books next to Fitz’s elbow wasn’t nearly as large as the one he’d taken from the library.
He could reasonably carry them home himself but had allowed me to silently take some during our walk.
A few storefronts down, we’d spotted some scattered outside seating, and he suggested we eat an early luncheon.
“So, Willow,” he began and paused to sip his coffee. Some of it spilled over the edge. He grimaced and set the cup down, patting at the damp spot on his waistcoat.
I cupped my chin in my hand and waited for him to finish.
Once he did, he settled back into his chair and stared at me for a long moment. “What was I saying?”
“I have no idea.”
He laughed, like I’d said something funny instead of simply stating the truth. “Right, that’s fair. I didn’t get much further than your name. Which is beautiful, by the way. Where does it come from?”
“A tree?”
He laughed again and fiddled with his cup. He started to raise it to his lips, remembered what happened last time, and set it down again. “What brings you to Misfortune?”
I straightened and sipped my own coffee to buy myself time. “What do you mean?”
“I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Have you met every person in Misfortune? I had no idea a prince’s social life was so extensive.” But if he had met every citizen, did that prove I wasn’t one of them?
The third laugh was dry and a bit choked. “No, of course not, I just know a lot of people who frequent the Luckless Library, and you stand out.”
I hummed noncommittally and drank more coffee. The hot liquid burned my throat as I swallowed too much at once. “You’re right, I am new to the kingdom. I’m from Bane originally.”
“Really? That’s wonderful! I’m meeting one of Bane’s princes next week.”
“Prince Treasure,” I said. Too late, I realized my intonation hadn’t been inquisitive enough.
Fitz’s brow furrowed slightly. “Yes, how did you know?”
“An educated guess. You’re of a similar age, if I recall, so I’m not surprised you’re close.”
“Not, close exactly. This will be our first introduction.” The furrows in his brow deepened and he frowned down at his cup. “At least, I think it is.”
I had no idea whether they’d met earlier in Trey’s twelve-year mission.
Fitz shouldn’t remember any of the other meetings between the royal champions, and yet …
Delilah’s scattered memories made me wonder what all had slipped through the cracks.
“If you did meet before, he must not have left much of an impression.”
Fitz continued to pensively stare at his coffee for several long seconds before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I was trying to get to know you better, but my head’s off into the clouds. Shall we finish up here?”
“Of course, I’m sure you’re busy.” Dammit, I’d lost my opportunity to talk about Treasure and the upcoming meeting. Frustrated, I shoved the last bite of my egg pastry into my mouth and washed it down with a long gulp of coffee.
Fitz blinked at me, his eyes huge and owlish behind his round glasses. Weakly, he raised his hand to call for the check. Silence stretched between us as we waited, then he fussed with paying the bill. Even after it was paid, he remained seated, fiddling with his fork.
I’d promised the new minions I’d review their contract today. If I wasn’t going to strengthen my friendship with Fitz or secure an invitation to the quest, at least I could see to my other duties.
I started to stand but paused when Fitz asked, “Do you have somewhere else to be?” His eyes were pinched, his lips pursed and quivering slightly.
“No,” I said carefully, “but I thought that was a dismissal.”
“No!” He lunged toward me, hand outstretched.
I raised my own hand to ward him off, unsure of his intentions.
He bumped into the table in his enthusiasm, rattling the dishes. The coffee cup he’d been toying with tipped over into his lap. “Shit!”
The noise attracted the guards and the waitstaff, who both ran over to investigate. The waitstaff saw the guards’ drawn swords and skidded to a halt, bumping into another table that was thankfully empty of any patrons.
The guards reached us a few seconds later. One of them aimed their sword at me while the other grabbed the prince and yanked him away from the table.
“I’m fine!” Fitz insisted. “I spilled coffee on myself, like a damned idiot! That’s all!”
I looked at the sword pointed at my chest, then back up at the guard. His eyes widened and he instinctively stepped back. When he realized what he’d done, he tried to play it off as only following orders, bowing to his prince. Both guards remained within arm’s reach.
Fitz shoved his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. After taking a moment to compose himself, he dropped his hand, looked me in the eye, and asked, “Would you like to join me for an afternoon of quest research? That’s what I meant. It wasn’t a dismissal; it was a suggestion to change locations.”
A genuine smile spread across my lips as my plan progressed gradually in the correct direction. “That sounds wonderful.” The minions could wait a little longer.
That Evening
The Lord of Grimnight’s Evil Lair
Meeting with Unhappy Minions
I teleported into the throne room this time to find the orcs on one side and the lacertians on the other, glaring at each other. I didn’t remember this much tension between them any of the times before, but perhaps their displeasure stemmed from a lack of clear contracts.
Fyodor glanced at me and drawled lazily, “Your Lordship.”
I’d taken the title for myself in a heated moment. Now that my temper had cooled, the address settled on my shoulders like a cloak of thorns. “I apologize if I’ve kept you waiting.”
The orc’s brow furrowed, and the lacertians exchanged uncertain looks.
I pulled two contracts from the shadows and said, “Leaders, step forward.”
Fyodor and the lacertian leader stepped forward.
“What is your name?” I asked the lacertian.
“Sisyph,” they replied, the name a long hiss.
I nodded once and handed them each a contract. “Standard Level Five minion contracts. They detail your pay, room and board, and length of service—”
“Level Five?” Fyodor asked, one dark eyebrow raised. “Does the Council of Evil know you’re under-classifying your minions?”
I frowned. “I’m not under-classifying anyone.
That’s what the advertisement was for, and that’s all I’m qualified to offer you.
” Officially, I wasn’t qualified to offer them any level.
Apprentices weren’t supposed to hire minions.
But I’d already done much worse things that would put the council in a snit, including claiming my master’s title without their approval.
“You ripped a hole in time and space.” The last word was almost lost in Sisyph’s hiss.
That wasn’t exactly what had happened, but it was close enough that I didn’t argue. “Yes, well, that’s a secret between you, me, and the other hundred minions who witnessed it. No need to bring the council into this.” Not that they could, anyway.
Fyodor considered a moment, then declared, “I decide on my people’s assignments.”
Was he upset that I’d put one of his orcs in my kitchen? “Aside from the one I assigned to the kitchens—”
“Gleb.”
“Aside from Gleb. I need him in the kitchens or the imps will set them on fire.”
Fyodor nodded briskly. “Understood.”
Sisyph’s eyes skated between us for a moment, then he declared, “Us too.”
The more they involved themselves in the lair’s care, the less I was responsible for. It’d allow me more time to focus on my plan. “Permission granted. All I ask is that you protect the lair inside and out.”
We made the necessary addendums, and they signed their contracts.
When it was my turn to sign, I paused. Technically, if I signed them as the Lord of Grimnight when I didn’t officially hold the title, they would be invalid, but the minions wouldn’t know that. It would be the kind of thing my old master would do.
I carefully and clearly signed ‘Wilde’, the only name I had any real claim to.
I may have taken my master’s title, but I would never be like him.