And for the second time in as many days, I had to scramble to find clothes. The Strawberry dress was dirty, so I had no choice but to pull on the green one I’d bought the day before—even though I’d meant to wear that one at Christmas in a few days.
“My turn!” Brigid said, barging into the room in the same way her golf cart charged down the kingdom’s only road.
She carried a vanilla dress with bell sleeves in with her on a hanger, holding it high so the long skirt didn’t drag on the floor.
Long like a wedding gown.Is that for me?
Brigid used the pretty frock to swat at her brother and the Shadow King. “Shoo! Shoo! Away with you two now. The Mountain Princess has got it from here!”
The dress was for me to wear—after a shower set to strip-paint mode.
Brigid insisted, “Lest you go down the aisle reeking of my brother. Seriously, babes, did you let him put it in your bum? I didn’t think you had that in you, but it’s a good idea for us kingdom bears. I had my outsider husband put it in there on the first date. Lil’ necessary preview, if ye know what I mean.”
I did know what she meant, and it worried me that my Brigid translator had started working so well. Less than an hour before I found out if I’d never see her again.
After zipping me into a dress that turned out to be my exact measurements and was made by the female bear whose dress shop I’d liked so much.
But how?
“You sleep like the dead, babes, and the Shadow King’s always up for a project that doesn’t involve him having to talk—like taking measurements.”
The dress fit me perfectly, squeezing at my chest and fanning out in the prettiest way until it hit the floor. Also, the bell sleeves made me feel like something fairy-born. And it had pockets!
“It’s a tall girl’s dream dress, isn’t it?” Brigid said, flashing me an approving look in the washroom’s vanity mirror. “Now sit, and let’s see if that YouTuber who said she could teach anyone to braid Black hair was full of shite.”
As Brigid installed a hopeful crown braid, she told me that the ceremony had already been set up in the throne area of the palace.
“Reckon the servants are never going to forgive your High King for springing this on them right before the holidays. All hands on deck to set up chairs for the lot of us.”
“The lot of us?” I repeated, not liking the sound of that.
From what I could tell from my short time in the Secret Kingdom, “the lot of us” could mean just me and the two training kings. Or “the lot of us” could mean the entire kingdom.
Unfortunately, it meant the latter.
“By tradition, the whole of the kingdom is invited to the ceremony,” Brigid explained. “After all, if the High King says yea, then it basically becomes a royal wedding. Did Tadhg not tell ye any of this?”
“No, he didn’t,” I answered between clenched teeth. The overabundance of love I’d felt for him the previous day began to cool considerably.
“Probably because he knew you’d pull a runner if you had the full gory details.” Brigid’s tone was both wise and cruel. “I mean,who wants to risk getting rejected in front of an entire town? I tell ye, these traditions of ours are something else.”
“Have you considered amending them?” I suggested with as much politeness as I could muster, which, at that point, was not a lot.
“If the High King gives ye a yea, dusting off those old rules and updating them should probably be your first point of business,” Brigid suggested. “Ah, ain’t you a feek piece of confetti? I cannot stand myself for doing so well with this crown braid. I am most definitely going to like, comment, and hit subscribe on Braids4U’s video.”
The braid she’d cornrowed in a circle around my head and interspersed with heatherwasindeed gorgeous. I was torn between thanking her for her efforts and crying. Both won out.
“Thank you,” I said with a watery voice. “I hope… I hope all this effort was worth it.”
“Aw, dry those up! It’s fifty/fifty, either way. And him deciding right before Christmas might be a good thing.” Brigid tipped her head to the side with a thoughtful frown. “Or a bad thing.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “But either way, ye’ve got to keep up yer chin. If I were ye, I’d carry my whittling knife in with me and stab the bastard if he dares to give a bear as gorgeous as ye a nay.”
Brigid unwrapped the towel she’d put around my shoulders and shook it out. “Just make sure ye do it somewhere fatal, okay, babes? Don’t just stab—slice open his guts. Then, for good measure, pull that other knife across his throat. I mean, that’s what it was meant for anyway, iddn’t it? What was it called again? A gutting knife?”
“A gouging knife.” I was beginning to deeply regret showing Brigid the whittling set Tadhg had gifted me.
“That’ll do it, too, I bet. Especially if you aim for the eyes.” She made a high stabbing then worrisome scooping motion to illustrate her point.
