“You…” He growled in frustration, and she could see the outline of his arms against the starry sky as he gripped the sides of his head. “I can’t just leave you here!”
“Why not? I would have been here whether or not you knew about it.”
“You’ll be alone.”
“Which means, statistically, I’m far less likely to be attacked or robbed than if there were, say, a strange man in the forest.”
“Look...” An irritated huff escaped him. “I still don’t know your name.”
“Lindy.”
“Look, Lindy. I don’t know what kind of ideas you’ve conjured up about camping in the wilderness, but something tells me you’re not prepared. Do you even know how to start a fire? What about food? Have you ever cooked before?”
Panic clawed at her throat at the reminder that not only was she alone, but she was in far over her head. If she was going to break the princes’ curse, she would have to live long enough to see the task done.
“I’ll figure it out.”I always do.
“I’m sure your family is worried about you.” Atlas’s tone shifted as he changed tactics, and Lindy decided she much preferred grumpy to cajoling.
She laughed bitterly. “Trust me, myfamilyis not doing a whole lot of worrying on my behalf. My husband is dead. My stepsons are swans. My sister hasn’t done more than briefly acknowledge my existence in years, and my father practically threw me to the first available man who offered. Once my little brother was born and he could finally pass the throne on to a male heir, I became little more than a bargaining chip.”
“Throne?” His voice dropped to a confused whisper.
“Oh, did I not introduce myself correctly?” Lindy curtsied sarcastically, though it was doubtful he could see her. “I am Belinda Olorin, Queen of Cygnus.”
He was silent for a moment, whether stunned or simply trying to process the information, she couldn’t tell. “The guard at the castle today said the king had died.”
“You just found out today? Do you live under a rock or something?”
“The top of the mountain. Current events tend to take a while to reach me.”
“If you live up there, why are you looking for your goose all the way down here?”
She reprimanded herself as soon as the question left her mouth.Why are you asking him questions? We don’t want him to stay for conversation; we want him toleave.
And yet, there was a small part of her—the crumpled, cast-aside corner of her heart that still longed for human connection despite her best attempts at convincing herself she was better off alone—that wanted to extend the moment. Wanted a few more minutes of not being alone. Of having someone interested in her as a person rather than being treated as a person of interest.
“Prince Jacques goosenapped Phoebe.”
The unexpected statement pulled her from her moment of self-pity. “What?”
“He stole my goose. He climbed up the Beanstalk and stole my goose.”
“Beanstalk? I thought you said you lived at the top of the mountain.”
“It’s just what we call the narrow path you have to climb to get there,” Atlas explained impatiently. “But that’s not important. Whatisimportant is the fact thathe took Phoebe and I need him to tell me what he did with her.”
Jacques must have used the goose as part of his prank. But why put so much effort into stealing a bird?
“Feel free to ask him.” She gestured toward the lake. “But I don’t know how much help he’ll be in his current state.”
“Wait.” She heard the crunch of the sand as Atlas spun on his heel. “When you said your stepsons were cursed…”
“I meant the princes,” she finished for him.
“Can they talk?”
“They’re very good at hissing.”
