ChapterFour
The Hallowed Palace is a warren of cold hallways and closed doors. My hand itches to open every single one and discover what’s inside. They can’t all be bedrooms, how many Hallowed-in-training are there? The biggest dwelling I’ve ever been in was The Duke’s. He had a grand total of three chambers, which is almost unheard of in Far, Far Away. Even Rapunzel’s tower only had two.
Charming throws open a door and strolls through. I glance at Gwyneth. “Are these his chambers? Because I think I made my feelings clear on a trio event,” I whisper.
“These are your chambers,” Charming hollers from inside. The guards carrying our belongings follow and the mirror gets propped against the far wall. We enter last, into an opulent gold and black themed room.
Two large canopied beds sit side by side with a small table separating them. The longest wall opposite the beds is dominated by arched leaded windows and cushioned benches for all the blessed Hallowed to seat their asses while they look over the courtyard and dream of their happily ever after. I never understood the daydreamers. I was more the ‘grab the diurnal by the horns and make my happily ever after happen’ type of girl. No one was going to hand it to me on a silver platter, or even a stone platter. Nobody handed me anything, because I more often than not dropped it.
“Oh illustrious Dorothy, you are still, without a doubt, the fairest in all the realm. Although I have not seen the land of So Far Away, I believe they are monstrous creatures and hold no beauty.”
“Dude, give it a break,” I mumble as I push open a door and come face to face with the wonder of indoor plumbing. I’ve seen it before in The Duke’s home when he had us wait on a party he threw for the leaders of the surrounding villages. That was the first and the last time I ever worked a party. It wasn’t my fault the floor was uneven and the soup was hot. Plus, it was red—who serves red soup? It’s incredibly dangerous for all light-colored fabric as the wife of a leader discovered. It also burns.
Anyway, indoor plumbing. I have no clue how it all works. “There’s a seat in here, but I think it’s broken and leaking because there’s a hole in it filled with water.”
“Um, that’s a toilet,” Charming says as he pokes his head around the door with a raised brow.
I fold my arms and raise both brows.Beat that, Charming.
“Toilet?” Gwyneth says, pushing past him and into the tiled room.
“Um yes, where you do your business,” Charming says, scratching the back of his neck.
Gwyneth blinks at him rapidly. He shrugs his shoulders and steps backwards. “You’ll figure it out.”
We wait for the bedroom door to thud closed, before laughter erupts from us. “I can’t breathe,” I gasp.
“His face,” Gwyneth adds, with one hand against the wall and the other clutching her stomach as she bends over. We’re poor, not stupid. Everyone knows what a toilet is. Poor Charming, he’d bitten off more than he could swallow when he picked Gwyneth, and by default, me.
“Business,” I choke out as I air quote Charming’s words.
We take a hot tempo before we stop laughing. I point at the metal thing hanging from the ceiling. “This must be a shower.” I’d heard of them, but my bathing experiences were limited to the bucket of water collected from the well and on special occasions a trip to the lake, which was a five-mile trek. It was a beautiful place to wash, but you were muckier by the time you returned than when you started off. Also, the pesky pixies liked to steal your clothing while you bathed. I’d found this out the hard way and had to trudge through the village naked as the day I was born.
A knock echoes through the room. Gwyneth turns on her heel and strides to the door, flinging it open. “Hi,” she says to whomever is out there.
“I’m Jess, and I’m here with your dresses,” someone snaps. Gwyneth’s face switches from friendly to hostile in a split tempo. Here’s the thing about my sister—she will do anything for you until you cross her. Then she becomes an unforgiving wintry woman who will freeze you where you stand.
A tall slim redhead struts into the room like she owns it, but she lacks the shine of The Hallowed, which means she’s a Burgher. She sneers at Gwyneth, then at me, as she lays the dresses in her arms on the bed closest to the door. She tilts her head as she scans my body. “You might need a bigger size for those breasts. Charming prefers a handful.”
She says this as if she knows and it takes a whole tempo before I realize she is a reject Cinders. “Well, it's not me he is testing, and I’m sure I will manage with the dress fine,” I mutter, waving my hand at Gwyneth.
“Why are there two of you?” she wonders. “Was it because he couldn’t find one female in all of Far, Far Away to suit his needs? Are things that dire in the land since my departure?”
“You should know, Jess,” I point out.
She flushes red, confirming my suspicions. “You won’t hold his attention for longer than a diurnal.”
“Hopefully less,” Gwyneth mutters.
“The feast is in three turns. There are undergarments in the cabinet,” Jess informs us as she spins and exits the room. “Be ready. Someone will be here to collect you beforehand. Don’t go snooping. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.”
Gwyneth slams the door closed behind her and huffs. “Somehow, I feel like that’s exactly what she wants to happen.”
“Agreed.”
“She was not at all fair,” the mirror man mutters.
“Never a truer truth has been spoken,” Gwyneth answers him.
