Chapter Fifteen #2
As he sidled over to it, Tasia stuck to him like glue. Adorable glue. He shouldn’t be noticing things like the cute little wrinkle of concentration scrunching her nose, but he did.
After ditching the red, Mitch saw that they were closer to some of the dancers. He pulled Tasia into his arms, resting one hand on her hip and holding her hand in the other. Their dance was mostly a gentle swaying in place. And they looked at their adversary the whole time instead of each other.
“Is she waiting for a cue?” Tasia wondered. She managed to be quieter than her usual efforts, and the fading noise level hid the rest.
Mitch used the convenience of their positions to rest his jaw against her temple. “I’m not sure. I think she has thugs outside the hall.”
Tasia stiffened but didn’t stop swaying with him. She used their joined hands to point to a young lady in a green dress trying too hard to be casual as she worked her way toward Granny and the thug. “That’s Bunny. I’m certain she’s the inside man.”
“No one else is undrugged,” he agreed.
By then, pretty much all of the conversation had stopped.
The loudest things in the building were the snores coming out of a petite and frail-looking elderly woman, which could be heard over the slow and no-longer-in-sync music.
Mitch thought the volume might be bothering Granny, because the hag was grimacing at the snorer.
“I wonder—”
But he was destined to never hear what Tasia wondered at that moment. Granny stood up with the fluidity of a miraculous healing and clapped her hands for attention. The occupants of the rooms didn’t acknowledge her in the slightest.
“Perfect,” Granny announced. “Everyone, it is time to gather your coats and any children you came with. We are going to go outside and my men will chain you together. Get moving.”
The villagers began to obey even as the sounds of fighting became apparent outside.
Without music or conversation, it was easy to hear.
As was the muffled pounding from what Mitch thought was the cellar door behind the potted plant.
Granny frowned and motioned for her personal thug to investigate the noise outside.
Mitch put himself between Tasia and the door, itching to join the fight but hesitant to rush out there without knowing who was involved.
As the big man approached the doors, one burst open for a second time to reveal an outsider wearing the same uniform as the scout.
He and the thug scuffled, but the soldier already had his sword out, so the bigger man was subdued in short order.
The shouting, which had grown louder when the door opened, began tapering off.
A startling clang came from the back of the room.
Mitch, Granny, and the soldier—the only folks possessing the wherewithal to react—spun to face the opposite wall.
There, Tasia held a frying pan aloft. At her feet lay a crumpled green form, too close to the cellar door for any reason other than mischief.
When Granny made a wordless protest, Tasia shrugged and said, “Never trust a bunny.”
If Mitch hadn’t known he loved her before, he knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt then.
The villagers who had retrieved their coats and children were bottlenecked at the front doors. The soldier tried to prevent them from leaving, but they didn’t view his sword as a deterrent and pressed on. Frank appeared behind the soldier and took stock of the situation at once.
“Excuse me, everyone,” he called in what was probably his commanding prince voice, “please, find a seat and sit down.”
Most of the older folks hadn’t moved much past their original chairs, and many of the children hadn’t woken or been collected, so those groups settled fast. A large percentage of the other villagers decided that the floor counted as a seat and sat there.
With the inactive players out of the way, Frank and the squadron of soldiers were able to create order.
Mitch waited with Tasia by the treacherous Bunny, in case she woke up. They watched as the soldiers used the chains Granny’s thugs had brought to chain the thugs. This included the men who had been trapped in the cellar.
The soldiers essentially ignored Frank after he redirected the mindless villagers.
Presumably, the royal remained undercover.
Mitch wondered if the man resented the lack of status.
Frank didn’t let on that he minded, if he did.
And the freedom of not being in charge allowed him to explain things to them.
“My sincerest apologies,” he began. “I made good time, but mobilizing even a single squadron takes time. More time, if their superior needs to be convinced of the necessity.”
“You got here in time,” Tasia assured the prince. “That’s all that matters.”
Not truly jealous that her sweet smile was directed at someone other than him, Mitch eased a bit closer to remind her that he was here, too. Tasia rewarded him with a wider grin and tucked her hand under his elbow.
They were situated in a set of chairs not far from the refreshment tables.
The soldiers had sorted the villagers by family group.
Pairs of soldiers now escorted the groups to their homes, making sure to command the villagers to sleep it off in their beds.
Mitch had overheard the earlier discussion about keeping the chained prisoners in the dance hall where it would be safer and simpler to guard them.
The scout had been dispatched to summon reinforcements.
Now he wanted to know what he had missed. He addressed the prince. “Can you tell us what happened this evening?”