She stooped, reaching for a cluster of wildflowers that grew not too far from her feet.
“Yes, dear?” Charming said triumphantly.
Imelda’s fingers brushed over the crumpled horse cloak. Charming stilled. At the same moment, Ambrose willed himself to a stand.
“I don’t have a husband.”
Imelda seized the horse cloak and threw it over Charming. No matter how much Charming thrashed, the horse cloak clung to him. Charming let out a howl.
“This! Is! Not! How! This! Is! Supposed! To! Go!”
“It’s not? Do inform me,” said Imelda blithely.
Ambrose, who kept winking in and out of consciousness, only caught the muffled offerings of “the witch’s promise” and “a human prince” and “kissing a true princess” before Charming managed to throw off the horse cloak. Imelda grabbed hold of him by the neck, then reached for the golden necklace at his throat.
“No! Not that!” Charming wailed. “Without it I’ll—”
There was a snap as Imelda tore off the necklace. Golden light spread across the courtyard. Ambrose’s skull suddenly felt as though someone had managed to fit a thunderstorm inside it. He blinked a couple of times, and the world swam in and out of focus—colors lost their depth, distant sounds dissolved from his consciousness, and the things that were once huge appeared small. His pulse slowed, no longer creature frantic, but thudding powerfully through his body.
He looked down at his paws…
And realized they were hands.
He was human once more, with his clothes magically restored to his body, though slightly more torn up than they had been earlier. He winced, gingerly touching the swelling knot at the back of his head. He felt as if he’d drained an entire tankard of beer.
Ambrose looked up and saw Imelda holding a golden chain in her hand. On the ground before her, Charming scuttled backward, fully a badger once more. Before he could scamper off, Imelda reached into her pocket, drawing out a sharp-heeled shoe. She flung it to the ground, neatly trapping his foot to the forest floor. Charming yelped.
“This, uh…this don’t look too great for me, does it?”
“No,” Imelda said flatly. “It looks as if you took advantage of my kindness, tricked us, stole Ambrose’s body, stole akissfrom me, and proved that you’re every bit the weasel you look like.”
“Honey badger, actually—”
Imelda turned to the horse cloak. “Watch him, will you?”
The cloak flopped forward as if it were galloping, then fanned out its fabric around the badger, batting him every time he tried to squirm loose. Imelda turned on her heel, marching toward Ambrose.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Considering I was briefly a rodent, not particularly.”
“Carnivorous mammal,” Charming muttered.
The horse cloak smacked Charming with the edge of its hem.
Ambrose forced himself to stand, then reached for his sword.
“Oh no, wait a minute.” Charming raised his paws. “I wasn’t lying about the road! It’s right behind the hill! Trust me!”
Imelda scowled. “Poor choice of words.”
“Ah, c’mon, lady, you can’t blame me for trying! I was a magician, you know. Very handsome, too, or so I recall, and then I got cursed for no reason.”
The horse cloak raised its hem threateningly.
“Okay, fine, maybe I was courting a witch and didn’t let her know there was another witch I was sending letters to in a different country… But I never said we were exclusive…”
Another smack from the horse cloak.
