“I do. Now remove us from this miserable little stone and return us to Ordinary.”
“We’re not really outside of Ordin—”
Just like that, we were back in my house again.
Amy was nowhere to be seen.
“In the kitchen,” he called out. “Is everyone done making their plans and preparing for this little struggle we appear to be locked into?”
He came out of the kitchen carrying my cutting board in both hands. He’d put together coffee and tea, with sugar and dry creamer on the side.
“I am sorry for the rudimentary beverage service, but I didn’t want to go wandering the town while you were out. What might you think of me then?” He offered the cutting board. “My Queen? Tea?”
“You know I prefer coffee. And make it sweet.” Xtelle, once again in pony form, clomped over to the couch, eyed it for structure, then jumped up on it. It groaned and creaked as she tucked her pony legs beneath her. “The temperature better be exactly one-hundred-ninety-eight degrees.”
“Yes, my Queen.” He dropped six sugars into a coffee mug and poured the thick black liquid. He didn’t mix it, didn’t offer her a spoon, just passed her the cup.
She took it with a hoof that should not work that way and sipped it delicately. “Adequate.” She turned her head away, making it clear she was ignoring him.
For half a second, I saw the look he gave her: the heat, the desire.
Maybe because we were bound by that spell, I also felt a quick twinge of sadness and longing.
“My Prince?”
“Bathin,” Bathin corrected. “I’m not here for tea. I’m here for answers. Why did you bind yourself to Delaney?”
Amy folded his hands in front of him. “I could fetch you snack crackers from the cupboard if you’re feeling peckish. They’re shaped like little animals. With sprinkles.”
They stared at each other, neither man blinking.
“Amy,” Bathin said, clenching and unclenching his hands. “You’re my uncle. You think you’re funny, but you’re not.”
“I am, though. A little. You’ve always thought so.”
“Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Yes,” Amy said, “I think you have.”
“Hello?” a voice called out from the front door. “Anybody home?” Panny trotted into the living room and paused, one hoof still in the air, his goat face ticking from Amy, to Xtelle, to me.
“Hello, Delaney,” he said, like everything was normal, like he visited me all the time, like no one else was in the room. “I wanted to drop by and talk to you about the event tomorrow.”
That was a big fat lie. He had never come by my house in all the years he’d been goating around Ordinary.
“Pan,” I said. “You need to go—”
“Oh, Xtelle,” he exclaimed as if just noticing she was in the room. “Are you all right, my sweet?” He sidled right on over to her, and smooth as butter, hopped up onto the couch next to her, his silky white hair flowing with the jump.
“You!” Amy said. “Away from the queen!”
Xtelle’s mouth fell open, and her coffee cup tipped dangerously in her loosened hoof. She glanced at Pan, then swiveled her head toward Amy. A calculating look tightened her eyes.
“Oh,” she said. “Oh, my goodness. Panny. There you are,darling.”
“Panny?” Amy said. Then louder: “Darling?”
“Yes, my dear,” Pan said. “Tell me, is that pompous blowhard bothering you?”
