Chapter 16 The Royal Court
The Royal Court
After completing one more loop of the town, Sage was satisfied that they had correctly adjusted their lay of the land and made satisfactory notes and measurements to develop a new town map.
The basic logistics of the streets and buildings remained the same, thankfully, but the changed ambience of the place was certainly in keeping with the fairy-tale theme that was unravelling.
Her own cottage remained biscuity, and she tried not to take it personally that hers was the house to have been given the “witch in the woods” treatment.
The rest of the residential roads were all simply a fraction quainter and cuter, impossibly charming and picturesque, with a patchwork kind of appeal that felt as though they had been captured in watercolours for a picture book.
Their half-timbered fronts were in shades of cream and honey, rather than red brick.
Thatched roofs had been laid and crooked chimneys popped from underneath, while a ludicrous number of geraniums spilled everywhere on either side of brightly coloured front doors.
There were some bolder, braver changes from Lilara’s magic too, which left Sage and Casimir a little dazed, to say the least. The train station had become a steam railway, and tourism from outside of the town seemed to have been halted as a result.
The Dap had lost all modern conveniences (although there weren’t many to begin with) to transform into a fully-fledged tavern.
Raucous laughter and a strong whiff of ale spilled out of the higgledy-piggledy windows.
Sage’s favourite town haunt, Peregrin Books, with its narrow, leaning facade and swinging sign, had swapped its contemporary “Halloween and Horror” display for what seemed to be mostly just…
aged rolls of parchment and rough handmade chronicles.
Other stops along the way—the garden centre, the doctor’s surgery, even Wheat and Walnut—had all been swapped for bustling market stalls, bursting with handcrafted goods.
They didn’t even bother to plot the bus stop outside Apricot Cottage B only a few bruises.”
“You are hurt, I knew it.” Sage felt sick at the sight.
“We should take you to the hospital, just to make sure it’s nothing worse.
” Laurel groaned impatiently while Sage carried on.
“You’ll stay at my place tonight, got that?
Once I’ve got everything under control and you’re safe again, then we’ll—”
“Will you listen to me? I’m fine,” Laurel insisted, getting annoyed as she always did with Sage’s overcautiousness.
She stuck out an ankle from underneath her endless petticoats.
“I am not sleeping on your lumpy couch like I’m nineteen again.
The only thing that hurts is my feet; they’re absolutely killing in these cute shoes, but it’s worth it.
You’d think glass slippers would be made to measure or at least come with blister cushions. ”