Chapter 26 But Then Again, Crows are the Least of My Problems #2
Once he’s lost to shadows, I follow the wall closely until I arrive at Hanry’s formal royal suite.
At least, that’s where I hope I’ve arrived: like last night, I meet no door-fairy, and there aren’t noises seeping out of the rooms. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad sign.
But I want it to mean that Hanry’s in as miserable straits as I imagine: that he’s imprisoned.
Waiting for my rescue. Held against his will, awaiting marital enslavement to an unkind and beautiful human trafficker princess fairy.
Any alternative is unimaginable.
He shouted for help, after all. He stared into my eyes and said, “Help!”
Ignoring the rapid beating of my heart, I lift my fist and knock.
The person who answers isn’t a groomsman or a fairy servant.
It’s Hanry’s mom. Who is also Fairyland’s queen, but I have to emphasize: Queen Mab has retreated from the State Room to hang out in her son’s suite on the morning of his wedding. If that’s not a red flag the size of Italy, what is?
“Sam-a-manta!” Queen Mab beams. “Perfect timing. I was just thinking. Nix the purple. We need yellow flowers instead. To glow like sunlight.”
“Or pee,” contributes a treble voice inside the room.
“Yes,” Mab agrees. “Or pollen. Flower pee.”
Another voice chimes in. “Actually, I believe that pollen is flower—”
“Your Highness, we have a problem,” I interject before the group of Hanry’s captors and friends can embarrass themselves further. These tacky fay need to get it together. “We have a capital-P Problem.”
“Go on,” says Mab.
“I’ve discovered that Princess May’s ex is here. Inside the castle.” I stare at Mab, imbuing my warning with all the solemnity I can. “And he’s trying to steal his body back from her.”
“His body?” Mab asks. It figures she’d be intrigued.
“Yes, she’s been holding on to it for a few centuries,” I explain, well aware this is borderline incomprehensible behavior. “Maybe you should look into it.”
“I should say so!”
“Heads-up, though—you might need some of the groomsmen along to investigate. Word is, May’s ex is extremely strong. A warrior king. And if he’s back, body and all… he could do quite a bit of damage.”
I know Bulan doesn’t want his body back. As far as I know, he has no continuing interest romantically in its captor. And for all I know, centuries of atrophy have given him a dad bod.
But Mab doesn’t know that.
The queen snaps her fingers. “You’re talking about Bran!” she says. “I remember Bran! That rascal. Rochester, come here. Boys, we’ve got to intervene.”
The name “Bran” feels like a close miss for Bulan, so I figure we’re on the same page as Mab calls the groomsmen/jailors to her by name.
I suspect she’s the world’s only mother-in-law of the bride-to-be who’s excited about chaos on her son’s wedding day.
Oh well, works for me. While she commands the room’s attention and barks orders, I do what I know how to do best: become invisible.
Slipping back against a wall, I aesthetically become one with a lampshade as the whole pack sets off, armed with worrisome, dangerous-looking medieval weapons. At least my hard-practiced skill of seeming bland to the point of invisibility is working. No one seems interested in me any longer.
Until the very last second, when a fairy groomsman brushes against my treacherous tulle while adjusting the sword on his belt.
“Don’t mind me. I’m setting wine out for photos,” I say, shooing him along. “You guys go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”
Once the fay departs, I abandon the lampshade and my wine bottle prop.
“Hanry?” I call out into the silence. “Hanry, are you in here somewhere?”
It’s so still in here, so quiet, I’m nearly convinced he isn’t.
But Hanry could be gagged. He could be unconscious!
One of these doors could lead to a dungeon.
Fueled by a morally dubious hope that Hanry is facing as much, if not more, tragedy than I’ve imagined for him, I poke my head into one room, then another.
I dip into a closet. I lift a carpet, checking for oubliette entrances.
At last, I find a room filled with desserts, aperitifs, and—and five extra-buff, weight-lifting-competition-winner-type male fairies holding hands in a circle around Hanry.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Really.
And yet I am.
And so is he.
“Sabby?” Hanry exclaims.
The fairies divert from hand-holding to building an invisible wall with their hands.
Like… mimes, miming a wall. Behind this hastily constructed barrier that should not be able to hold back a small rabbit, much less a prince, Hanry wears a gold-trimmed suit of ivory linen.
He’s got a very impressive sash. And manacles. Who could forget the golden manacles?
“This is… kinky,” I say.
Hanry looks ashamed. “I can explain.”
That’d be great. Also: Would it?
When I left Salem, I was getting to the point where I could recognize Hanry from behind.
With his size, it wasn’t exactly challenging.
But looking at him now, head-on, he’s both familiar and unfamiliar.
Mostly the same. This Hanry looks better groomed, I’ll confess.
His hands aren’t dirty. I think he’s been moisturizing.
Mostly, the difference revolves around his chin: his stubble has made admirable progress toward a beard.
It almost hides his mouth. I try not to gaze too long at that mouth, remembering the feel of it on mine. My hands twitch to touch him.
But the only kind of touching they should do is whatever’s necessary to lead him away from here. I swallow, finding my mouth unexpectedly dry. We broke up before I left for New York; he doesn’t have any idea what I’ve been doing all these weeks. He doesn’t know how horrible it was, how lonely.
How different the last twelve hours have been. How—how wonderful.
Minus the whole part where I found out Hanry was marrying a gorgeous fairy princess.
“My diversion won’t keep your mom busy long,” I say, biting down my weaker impulses. Namely, the ones that make me want to scramble to Hanry’s side, begging him to declare his love and tell me he would never consider marrying May. “We’ve got five minutes, tops.”
“Sabby, I know you have questions,” says Hanry. “I owe you answers.”
Ah, fuck it. If I can’t get declarations of undying love, I’ll take answers.
“You know what?” I say. “You’re right.”
I settle onto an upholstered settee in front of Hanry and his animate cage. I do my best to ignore the vigorously miming muscle and focus only on my ex-boyfriend’s mortified blue eyes.
“Where do you want to start?”