“We deploy them into important roles, such as tutors, advisers, and trainers.”
“So the rejects train the next Charmings?” I check.
Charming scowls at me over his shoulder. “We prefer the term, the unfulfilled.”
“How is that any better?”
“Rejects makes it sound like we weren’t good enough, when the truth is, someone else was just better.”
Wow, that is quite the positive spin on matters. But the unfulfilled makes it seem like they’ll never be happy. We arrive outside a double set of wooden doors engraved with The Hallowed castle symbol. Charming juts out his arm and arches a brow at Gwyneth.
“What about Daphne?” she says.
“Oh, I’ll be just fine. You go right ahead.”
Her eyes tighten as she threads her arm through Charming’s. “How long do we have to stay?”
He grins at her. “Eager to retire to my chambers already?”
I roll my eyes as Gwyneth’s widen. “Sure, let’s go with that.” Excellent comeback, Gwyneth. Good thing Charming is more interested in his own voice than yours.
“Two turns at least. That’s when the kings will appear and condone the matches.” He smirks like he’s already thinking about her floof.Stupid prince, you’ve no clue who you’re dealing with.The doors open in unison and I half expect trumpets to sound, but alas, he’s not yettheCharming, so a few bowing Burghers are the extent of the fanfare afforded to him. He holds his head high and strides into the vast room, looking down his nose at the folks gathered there without tripping over his ego.
The obsidian walls glisten with gold dust and swathes of inky black velvet drape from the ceiling onto the ground. There’s a stage set with three empty thrones. Tall circular tables surround the immense dance floor, where many a fairy-tale couple dance to the soft notes playing from the band located in a corner near the giant arched windows. We take a few steps down to the main floor and I stay behind Charming and Gwyneth as he showboats around the room with his soon to be conquest on his arm. Well, that’s what he thinks. Fairy-tale folk seem to hover in their own groups. A group of green-skinned witches in black hats and robes mutter spells while surrounding a steaming cauldron. Several snoring Sleeping Beauties lie slumped against the wall, not to be confused with the beauties who are busy fondling inanimate objects. There is a lot of beauty and not a lot of brains in this room. A snow storm whips the air in one corner, shielding the wintry potential snow queens with icy blue eyes and scowling faces. Their permanent chill must be making them angry.
Charming laughs and jokes with each of the groups before muttering his displeasure between our stops. It appears he likes no one but himself. What a sad lonely life it must be to only ever enjoy your own company. Gwyneth kills it at being the dutiful Cinders, mostly silent but occasionally laughing at Charming’s terrible jokes. What do you call Jack with a hard on? Nobody? Anybody? Beanstalk. It doesn’t even make any sense. Are we likening Jack’s dick to a giant beanstalk? How would that work? Unless he was an actual giant, Jack wouldn’t be able to walk around with something that large dangling between his legs. Plus, since when did we think huge dicks were a joke? From the maidens’ daily chit-chat around the water well, I believe this would be an asset. Perhaps Charming is jealous? Maybe he’s overcompensating for his own size?
I busy myself with the tables of treats, sampling the delights of The Hallows cuisine and somehow lose Charming and Gwyneth in the crowds as I stuff my mouth with something sweet and gooey. I close my eyes as my tongue performs somersaults with the delicious substance.
“Do you and that tray of Hallows cakes need a room?” a deep rumbling familiar voice asks from behind me. His crystal green eyes clash with my own. Malachi’s easy smile is infectious, making me return my own as I swallow the cake and clasp the tray close to my chest.
“You can’t have them,” I blurt out.
“Pretty little maiden is lost without her Charming,” he says as his eyes scan the crowded room.
“Not my Charming, and I am no more lost than you.”
He tilts his head down to me. Because Holy Hallows, he is tall and cuts a handsome figure in a pair of dark breeches with black knee-high boots. His loose white shirt hangs open, showcasing his toned smooth golden chest. “Do you wear unicorn horn to be that shiny?” I ask before I can stop the word vomit from my mind spilling out into the realm for all to hear.
“You found the pretty mouse?” someone says behind me.
I glance over my shoulder, finding the ax-wielding idiot stalking toward me. At least he’s left his weapons in his chambers. I wonder what else he keeps in his chambers? Why in the Blazes am I thinking about his chambers?
“How many weapons do you have?” I ask before glancing at the Hallows cakes. Perhaps I should make my escape to this room reserved for Burghers with loose tongues who are safe with their treats? It might save me from being sacrificed before the next diurnal.
His lips kick up at the side. “More than a pretty mouse can handle.”
“I can handle a lot,” I mutter, spinning to face him.
“Is that so?” he murmurs, running his eyes over me. “A tiny thing from Far, Far Away is more prone to faint in the presence of The Hallowed thanhandleus.”
I raise a brow and glance around dramatically. “I see no fainting maidens falling at your feet. Perhaps you need to adjust your expectations of yourself?”
His grin widens, making me take a step back. Now that’s a scary face. I slam into the hard chest of Malachi behind me. He grips my elbows and steadies me. “Feisty pretty mouse, I like you.”
“Theo, give it a break,” Malachi drawls. “Don’t scare her.”
“My name is Daphne.”
