Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
Adelicious smell of freshly roasted coffee filled my nostrils.
I breathed it in, still half asleep, and moaned softly.
It smelled like heaven—exactly like my lazy Saturday mornings with Vincent, in our gorgeous super-king size bed, wrapped up in crisp white Egyptian ten-thousand-thread count sheets.
Vincent ran on coffee in the same way that cars run on gas; he always got up early, pulled a double shot of espresso, and brought it back to bed so he could talk to me about the coming day.
Except now, he was bringing a tiny cup of espresso back to the beautiful, willowy young Seraphina, not me.
Heartache pierced the fog of my memory and reality set in. Vincent was gone. My old life was gone. And the only coffee I could afford was freeze-dried instant blend which tasted like old, boiled mung beans.
Keeping my eyes shut, I repeated my mantras over and over until the pain in my chest eased. I am a strong, capable woman. I can rebuild my life. I deserve happiness. I am enough.
The beautiful smell of fresh coffee lingered, though, and I cracked my eyes open, wondering if I’d forgotten to close a window or something.
There was a horse in my face.
I jolted and scrambled upright, backing up against the pillows behind me.
The horse sneered. “Well, look who finally decided to join the land of the living? I was beginning to think you were going to lie there and snore all morning.”
I clutched my chest. “What… what…”
“Ooh. So eloquent.” The little horse curled his lip, eying me bitchily. “It’s nice to meet you too, Chosen.”
My brain couldn’t process what I was seeing.
A tiny horse, smaller than a Shetland pony, was standing by my bedside, talking to me.
His hide was a beautiful tan—no, a pure gold that sparkled in the morning light.
He had a shiny black snout, and a long, shimmering bright-white mane of hair that tumbled off his crown and neck and down his back like he was a model in a haircare commercial.
I gaped. The horse was standing upright. On his back hooves. Looming over me, in fact, and somehow balancing a delicate blue china cup on one hoof.
I stammered. “W— Wh— Who are you?”
The little miniature horse clip-clopped backwards a little, still walking upright, and tossed his hair, revealing two stubby horns on his crown. “You do not know? You have not heard the deep sighs of longing when my name is spoken? You have not witnessed the frenzied bidding for my services?”
I pinched my eyes closed, then opened them again. Nope, he was still there.
“I am Cecil!” the horse boomed, striking a pose.
My lips felt numb. This was crazy. “What the fuck? What the actual fuck? You’re a… you’re a…”
His head whipped towards me, and his eyes narrowed. “Bitch, if you call me a horse, I will gore you. I don’t care who you are. I will skewer you like a Thai chicken satay stick.”
I closed my eyes again, breathing deeply. “I am firmly rooted in reality. I am a strong, capable woman. I am in control.”
He let out a snort. “Ugh. You mortals and your delicate sensibilities. Here, drink this.” I felt hot china nudge me sharply in my left boob.
The horse was pushing a cup of espresso on me.
“I forget how much your kind needs a jump-start in the morning. Maybe once you are suitably conscious, you will remember your manners.”
I felt something crack inside me. All the progress I’d made, all the therapy, all the mantras, the medications… and I was seeing a… a…
“Unicorn?”
“Please.” The horse curled his lip superciliously. “I am more than a mere unicorn. In fact, I am the only one who has evolved beyond the basic bitches in my herd.”
I mouthed for a moment. No words came out.
He waved his hoof. “I’m sure the rest of my primitive brethren will catch up one day,” he sighed dramatically. “Now, sip your single origin, and let's get on with the day. We have work to do!”
I stared at the little horse, realizing for the first time that there was something wrong with the wall behind him.
It was far further back than it should be.
A lot further back, and for some reason, instead of being painted stark white, it was now papered in vertical stripes of duck-egg blue and cream silk wallpaper.
I felt like I was falling. I’d really truly lost my mind, probably for good this time.
Just before I spiraled completely, a memory of my father suddenly popped up into my mind’s eye—wild dirty-blond sticking out of his head like he’d been electrocuted, grinning at me with his huge banana-split smile that split his freckled white face in half.
Sweet baby girl, nothing is ever lost when you’ve still got a smile on your face.
If you always look on the bright side, the darkness will never take hold.
Dad, the eternal optimist. He was crazier than a bag full of snakes—the complete opposite to my prim, responsible, uptight mother, but he knew how to have a good time. I knew exactly what he’d say to me right now. Roll with it, darl. Have some fun.
He was right. I might have lost my marbles, but someone was bringing me a cup of coffee. It smelled delicious, too.
Fuck it. If I was going nuts, I might as well have fun with it.
“Oh, yes, of course.” I nodded at the horse graciously. “Please forgive me. It’s lovely to meet you, Cecil.”
He put his hoof on his chest. “She speaks! And she has remembered her manners.” Cecil bowed his long face. “Enchante, Chosen.”
I took a sip of coffee; the smooth, delicious brew rolled over my tongue—rich, luscious, dark nutty with hints of cocoa and berry. I sighed with pleasure. “This is exquisite.”
“I should hope so! I told them that only a double boiler three-group professional with no less than two steam wands would do.” He wrinkled his nose. “And they kept coming back with those… those… pod machines.” He shuddered. “What do they think we are? Savages?”
“Indeed,” I murmured, taking another sip. Yesterday I would have given my right eyeball for one of those pod machines.
“Do you know how hard it was to get those two meatheads to follow instructions?” He huffed out a breath of exasperation. “I don’t know how Prince Donovan puts up with them.”
I peered at him. “You sent Eryk and Nate out to steal me a coffee machine?”
“Please,” he sniffed. “They left gold coins. And it was the only thing I wanted for your new home that Violet couldn’t manifest. On that note.” He waved his hoof grandly. “What do you think of your new bedroom?”
I turned away from the sassy little pony and looked around, trying to keep my heart from thumping right out of my chest.
The room was enormous. The threadbare gray carpet was gone.
Instead, beautiful old, bleached wood floorboards flowed seamlessly under a thick beige rug.
The walls—that gorgeous cream and duck-egg blue paper—perfectly complemented the four black-framed arched windows that looked out on the flowing skyline of San Francisco, right down to the water.
Delicate antique tables were placed by the windows, with tasteful vases filled with orchids.
The end of the room used to be less than four feet of space where my multi-storage closet sat; it was the place where I stacked my wardrobe, my cleaning products, and literally everything else I owned.
The far wall was now twenty feet away, and the closet had disappeared.
Now, there was an open door. Beyond the door, I could see a walk-in dressing room, with a French-style vanity, soft lighting, and a large gilt-framed mirror.
I glanced down, overwhelmed, and saw that my bed was different, too. It was almost a replica of my old bed, in my old house—a super-king, with crisp white sheets and a fluffy cream-colored goose down comforter.
A lump rose in my throat. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered.
“Of course it is!” Cecil clomped towards me.
“This is my talent! My magic. I find space, and I make it beautiful, tailored perfectly to my client’s desires.
” He pursed his lips. “I must admit, I was quite worried when that brawny idiot Nate dragged me out of the castle. I wasn’t sure what monster the Queen would be sending me to serve.
But you, my dear…” He nodded graciously. “You have very good taste.”
I swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump. “Thank you.”
“Come.” Cecil stomped his hoof, reached out, and plucked the empty china cup out of my hands. “Get up. You must see the absolute glory of the rest of the House.”
“The house?”
“House. With a capital H, my dear. Violet House has established herself in place on top of this dwelling like a fruit tree grafted on a useless, ugly base. I have been working all night! I have spared no ounce of magic! I am simply exhausted!”
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Oh, you’ve done the rest of the house, too?
Okay.” I rolled out of bed, savoring the warm oak floorboards under my feet.
A strange zing pulsed through me, rising from where my toes wiggled on the floor.
It felt odd, but pleasant, like a perky little kid patting me, saying good morning! Good morning!
I stretched, pushing my arms up over my head. A silk robe dropped down from nowhere, slipping over my hands, draping over my shoulders, the cool fabric brushing my bare skin. “That’s a nice touch.”
“You're welcome. It wasn’t for your benefit, though. Prince Donovan has urgently requested your presence, and there’s no way anyone will be able to concentrate on anything with those enormous boobs thrust in their face.”