Hated Corbin for falling in love with her friend and forcing Elise to choose.
Hated the princes for treating her like the enemy, even though they were supposed to be her family.
But mostly she hated herself, and how much she wanted to love them.
Chapter Three
ATLAS
There was nothing quite as unpleasantly distinctive as the smell of adolescent boys.
Atlas wrinkled his nose in disgust as he stomped the mud from his boots on the steps outside the kitchen door. “Ms. Fumley has been feeding the intruders again, Phoebe.” He looked down at the white goose that stood at his feet. “She doesn’t seem to understand that it just encourages them.”
The DeJuyant estate had been built at the top of one of the highest mountains in Cygnus, the location chosen precisely because it was nearly impossible to reach unless one knew the secret. Generations of Atlas’s family had lived there in peace, unbothered by the residents of the sprawling city that lay at the base of the mountain.
It was a peace that Atlas had taken for granted until about a year before, when someone leaked the secret of the Beanstalk—a narrow crevice in the cliffside with thick, hardy vines that clung to the rock. At well over seven feet tall, Atlas was able to scale the Beanstalk withease. He simply braced himself against the cliffs on either side and used his width to his advantage. For an average-sized person, however, the climb was a much more dangerous endeavor, as it was a forty-foot drop to sharp rocks below if they fell from the summit.
Dangerous, but not impossible, especially with the support of the vines acting as makeshift ropes.
And dangerous, but not impossible, endeavors were apparently incredibly enticing to teenage boys.
When the first self-proclaimed adventurer had shown up a year ago, he had taken one look at Atlas, then turned tail and run. Atlas had hoped that would be the end of things, but it was only the beginning. Every few weeks another young man appeared, eager to catch a glimpse of the “giant” that lived at the top of the mountain. His housekeeper, Ms. Fumley, sometimes took pity on them and fed them before sending them on their way, but her kindness only seemed to exacerbate the issue.
If there was anything more enticing than dangerous, but not impossible, endeavors, it was a dangerous endeavor with the added reward of delicious food at the end.
“This is getting out of hand,” he muttered.
Phoebe let out a honk of agreement.
“If it’s a giant they want to see, maybe we should give it to them, eh, Phee? Maybe they just need a few good scares to keep them at the bottom of the mountain.”
The goose shook out her wings before hopping up the steps and waddling through the open kitchen door.
“Good plan. We’ll just charge right in and catch them by surprise.” Atlas stomped up the steps and across thewooden floor, purposefully making as much noise as he could. He contorted his face into an angry scowl and bellowed, “What is that I smell, Ms. Fumley? Another boy you’ve brought to boil for my breakfast tomorrow?”
He shoved open the door to the small, informal dining room, using enough force to send it banging into the wall. A tall, gangly, freckle-faced youth at the table stood so fast that his chair clattered to the floor. His face went white as a sheet, and an unintelligible squeak left his mouth before he turned and ran out of the room, tripping over his own feet as he went.
Atlas waited until he heard the sound of the front door slamming to turn his glare on Ms. Fumley, who stood on the other side of the table. “You need to stop feeding them.”
The housekeeper put her hands on her round hips. She had looked the same for as long as Atlas could remember—gray hair, soft curves, and sharp, bright eyes that didn’t miss a thing. “I’ll feed whom I like. Those poor boys are always hungry after working so hard to climb up the cliffs.”
“They’re coming up here to gawk, and you’re rewarding them.”
“Youreward them when you charge in like a raging bull. They’re looking for a thrill, and you’re giving it to them. Being chased away by a terrifying giant is a much better story to tell their friends than having a warm meal with a boring old lady and a soft-spoken man who spends far too much time alone. Now, wipe that scowl off your face before it stays that way, and you ruin whatever small chance there is left of you ever finding awife.”
“I don’t need a wife.” He dutifully cleared his expression anyway.
“Well, I’m certainly not going to be looking after your house forever.” Ms. Fumley sank slowly into one of the wooden chairs, using the table as support.
Guilt lanced through him. “If you’re looking to retire…”
“Tut, tut, boy.” She waved a hand. “Who said anything about retirement? But the point is that I won’t be around forever, and you’re going to need someone to look after you and make sure you don’t turn into a grouchy old hermit—or more of one, anyway.”
Atlas stepped around the table to pick up the overturned chair. “I’m not grouchy.”
Ms. Fumley dropped her chin and lifted her eyebrows.
“And I’m not a hermit. I have you and Phoebe to keep me company.” He turned the chair sideways and sat down, angling his knees so they didn’t hit the table. At the mention of her name, the goose flapped her wings and jumped onto his lap, settling down with a throaty purr.
