Chapter Ten Wilde
Eight Days Later
Prince Fitzroy’s Private Residence
Researching Quests
The prince’s sitting room was perfectly designed for hours of reading. Chairs positioned for either conversation or to ignore each other as we fell deeper into our research. Light sources in every corner so no shadow interrupted the page. Free of all distracting noises, movements, and people.
I’d chosen a plush armchair on my first visit and had happily returned to it every day since. A little table sat near my elbow with a cooling cup of tea and a tray of sweets to nibble on between pages.
Fitz sat on the other side of the table, his chair at a slight angle to mine. On the first day, he’d sat properly, one ankle thrown over the other knee. By the fifth, he’d relaxed into a slouched position, his head resting on the arm while his legs dangled over the other side.
“You’ll get hair in my tea,” I said, scooching my cup away.
The first time I’d scolded him, he’d immediately sat up and apologized, then sat perfectly upright for the rest of the afternoon.
This time, he grinned and rolled his head so that he could look at me upside down, tawny strands of hair sprawling over the table. “You always say that.”
“It’s always a concern,” I told him, tapping him gently on the head.
His book lay forgotten in his lap as he gazed at me. “I’m really glad I met you when I did.”
I snorted. “Was there a dearth of tea-ruining opportunities before me?”
“See!” He sat up with such enthusiasm that the table shuddered beneath him and threatened to dump the dishes onto the floor. “That’s why I like you: because you use words like ‘dearth.’ I doubt my sisters even know what that word means.”
“You should get them a dictionary for their next birthday.”
He grimaced. “I did, last year. It’s gathering dust on a shelf somewhere. My point is, Willow, I met you at exactly the right time in my life. If it’d been a little later … I could have made a terrible mistake.”
“Do you mean the quest?” I asked, shifting in my seat to better face him. “Because I found an interesting—”
“No, not the quest.” He took the book from my hands and tossed it aside.
I’d never seen him mistreat a book before. I watched where it landed, face down, spine bent, then looked at him reproachfully. “That was a library book.”
Fitz scrambled to his feet to rescue the book from the floor. He smoothed out the pages, confirmed nothing was irreparable, then tossed it aside again. This time, it landed on a couch cushion, still closed. “I haven’t told you why I’m going on a quest yet, have I?”
I hadn’t asked, because I already knew the answer and I didn’t want him to question why I needed the knowledge. “I assumed it was for the excitement of adventure.”
“No. I mean, yes. I mean …” He took a deep breath and tried a different route, “I told you about my meeting with Prince Treasure. Actually, I wasn’t completely transparent with you. It’s a meeting with the royal children from all five kingdoms.”
I’d already known that, but I widened my eyes and tried to look duly impressed.
“We have to work together to renew the Kingdom Defense Spell protecting the Desolate Lands.”
I nodded along, waiting for him to reach the important part: inviting me to join them. He’d probably have to consult the others, but I’d been working toward this invitation for over a week. Even a hint that he wanted me to join his quest would be a success.
“The last few generations have done this through marriage alliances between the kingdoms.”
Yes, yes, I know all of this. Get to the point, would you?
“If I hadn’t met you when I did, I could have been engaged tomorrow.” He ran a hand through his hair, eyes wide as he considered that possibility.
That is never going to happen. I’d made sure of it once, and I’d make sure of it a thousand more times if I had to. Because his engagement also meant Treasure’s engagement, and I refused to lose him to something so mundane as marriage.
When Fitz removed his hand, the light brown strands stuck up in wild angles.
He started pacing in front of me as he fell into a rant.
“I have a question to ask you, and it’s important you give me your honest answer.
Don’t tell me what I want to hear. I would rather a sharp, shattering truth than a soft lie. ”
I tensed, anticipating the request: will you join our quest.
“Will you wait for me?”
The first two words were correct, but the last three came out all wrong. I stared at him, waiting for him to correct the question and try again.
He stared back, waiting for an answer.
“What?”
He knelt on one knee in front of my chair and grabbed my hand.
I was so stunned by the wrong damn question coming out of his mouth that I didn’t try to pull away from him.
“Will you wait for me? I know it’s not fair to ask.
The quest will be dangerous, that’s why everyone before us has chosen the safer route of marriage.
I could die, and leave you waiting forever, but I could also live.
And I am willing to take that chance if it means being with you when I return. ”
I yanked my hand from his grasp and tried to stand up, but he’d trapped me in the chair. On instinct, I teleported to the other side of him.
He gasped and his head swiveled around as he searched the space I’d disappeared from. “Willow? Are you alright? What happened?”
All that hard work befriending him, listening to him rattle on about Chosen Ones and defeating evil.
Wasting energy teleporting between the lair and Misfortune every day.
Spending hours with him when all I wanted was to be with Treasure.
And now Fitz had ripped away my plans and neatly shredded them with some forlorn, fake chivalrous ‘wait for me’ bullshit. “I am not alright.”
Fitz jumped at the sound of my voice and whirled around to face me. Because he was still on one knee, he twisted at an awkward angle and ended up on his butt on the ground. He gawked up at me, fishlike in his shock. “How did you do that?”
“Wait for you,” I sneered. “I do not wait, I act. You should be asking me to join your quest, not wait for you like some pining wife whose husband has gone off to war!”
His eyes widened with every word of my outburst. “You thought I was going to invite you on the quest?” As if I hadn’t just shouted at him, his expression softened into a mixture of pity and understanding.
He pushed himself to his feet and took a tentative step toward me.
“I would love for you to join our quest, Willow, but it’s royal champions only. ”
“Did you even ask?” I demanded.
“Well, no.”
“Are you afraid I’ll hinder your success?”
Somewhere in the distance, a bell chimed through the house, but we were both too absorbed to acknowledge it.
“Not after I saw you do that,” he replied, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the chair. “Why didn’t you ever mention you could do magic?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Would that have convinced you I belonged on the quest?” Perhaps that’s where I’d gone wrong. If I retraced a few steps, I could reveal my magic earlier to salvage the current plan.
“It certainly makes a difference. I can’t necessarily ask everyone if I can bring my girlfriend along—”
“Your what?”
“—but I could convince them to invite a mage.”
“In training,” I corrected. Though that wasn’t true anymore, since I’d stolen a title.
“Even then, it’s impressive.” A slow smile bloomed over his face. “Maybe we can journey on this quest together.”
I helped up my hand. “Let’s back up a few lines.”
Fitz glanced up and asked, “To which one?”
“To the one where you said the word ‘girlfriend.’ I assume you meant friend who is female.”
His brow furrowed. “Well, no, I meant … lover? Romantic partner? Future wife, hopefully?”
“I think you’ve misunderstood—”
A knock on the door interrupted me as an attendant announced, “Your first guests have arrived, Your Highness. Prince Treasure Banes and Princess Delilah Woeful are waiting for you.”
“Let them wait,” Fitz growled.
“No, let them come in,” I insisted, heart racing at the thought of finally seeing Trey again after almost two weeks. It would also be the perfect way to distract Fitz from this gods awful conversation.
Fitz grabbed my shoulders, his fingers digging into my muscles in his desperation to hold on to me. “Willow, you must realize that—”
The door opened. I looked toward it in time to see Trey walk in.
The vibrant green jacket he wore made his hair look even redder than usual, like a forest on fire.
He paused in the doorway, his eyes widening as he took in the tableau in front of him.
Recognition, or shock at the scene he’d stumbled in on?
“I’m in love with you.”
The words came out of the wrong mouth.
Fitz hadn’t noticed the door opening, and he took advantage of my distraction to lean in for a kiss.
I planted my hand in the center of his face and tried to shove him away.
He froze, startled by my violent rejection, but didn’t release me yet.
“Weellooh?” My fake name came out muffled and wet against my palm.
Delilah poked her head around her cousin, watching the display with wide eyes. She reminded me of the imps, who sniffed out drama like a hound on the hunt.
“Fitz, I’m so sorry,” I said, still pushing him steadily away from my face. “But I am already in love with someone else.”
He finally stepped back, putting a few feet of space between us. His glasses were askew, his lips wet with his own saliva, and he stared at me like a wounded puppy. “With who?”
With him. I didn’t say it aloud, but my heart ached as if it were trying to escape my chest and launch itself at Treasure. I’d unconsciously taken a step toward him.
Beside Trey, Delilah’s nostrils flared as if she was scenting the air. Her eyes widened in outrage as she pointed at me. “You!”
Shit, that was definitely recognition. I’d thought a disguise would fool everyone, but I hadn’t considered that Delilah might recognize my scent. It seemed not all her feline features came from the lost collar.
Everything had been going so well and had turned to shit so quickly. At this point, there was no salvaging this plan, so I’d simply have to try again.
I raised my hand, fingers pressed together for a snap. “Re—”
“You aren’t running away this time!” Delilah shouted as she lunged at me.
Her arms closed around my middle as my snap and my command finished at the same time, “—set.”
We crashed to the ground hard enough to knock the wind from me.
Delilah landed on top of me and recovered quicker.
She adjusted her position to straddle me, weighing me down with her body, and grabbed both of my wrists.
She slammed them above my head, holding me in place as if I was struggling against her when all I had managed so far was a gasping wheeze.
Why do I keep getting into these situations with the wrong person?
Her eyes blazed with fury as she glared down at me.
I anticipated a whole range of questions: What did you do? Where are we? Where’s your evil master? What’s your evil plot? But I failed to guess the first question she asked.
“Where’s my collar?”