He shakes his head. “Fair is not about beauty, Daphne. Fair is about what’s in your heart, and that will never change. But right now, you look stunning.”
I’ve never considered that being the most fair isn’t about surface-level beauty. I’ve learned something new.
Sir Sweeps-A-Lot hovers above the bed, wearing a fancy red bow tie on his handle. He swoops down and runs his bristles along Gwyneth’s skirts, and then mine.
“He agrees,” the genie notes.
A knock reverberates on the solid door, startling me. As I turn to answer it, Eron shouts, “Don’t forget me!” I scoop him up, as we aren’t planning on returning to these chambers.
Here goes nothing. I take a deep breath before pulling open the doors and am greeted by four handsome faces. Malachi’s eyes widen, Hart blinks, Nash swallows, and Theo’s eyes flash gold. They are dressed in an array of black and red. At least we match.
“Cat got your tongues?” I wonder.
Hart bows slightly before offering me his hand. “You are a vision, Daphne, on a normal diurnal. But, and I speak for my brothers when I say this, in red silk, you are a dangerous woman who could command the world at her feet.”
My heart and confidence swell as I take his hand, feeling the weight of their gazes upon me. He tugs me closer, his mouthbrushing against my ear. “What will I find when I tear this dress from your body with my teeth?”
My throat bobs. The question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation, and I can sense the collective draw of breath from the knights behind him. “A corset and panties.” I needed to wear them to get this dress to sit correctly on my frame.
Hart nips my ear playfully, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Matching?” he demands.
I nod once.
“Fuck,” Nash growls, his voice low but laced with unmistakable hunger. I hand Hart the mirror, which he slips into his pocket.
“Oh my, it’s dark here, nestled in the breeches of a meaty knight,” Eron says.
I press my ruby-stained lips together.
“Let me see my Gwyneth,” Charming complains.
His Gwyneth? Hmm.
Nash and Theo part to allow Charming through, my capons following at his feet. Little traitors. His mouth flops open, and he stares at my sister. “You are a vision,” he whispers. Must be a first for Charming that he’s appreciating her more than his own reflection.
Gwyneth blushes, and my jaw drops to the floor. My sister, blushing. I snap my mouth closed and turn away, shaking my head. My knights surround me, leading me down the stairs and into the wide hallway.
Hart and Theo flank my sides, looping my arms, while Nash and Malachi stand beside them. My spine straightens, and I tilt my nose.World at my feet,I chant in my head.
Gwyneth and Charming follow behind us with my gang of magical creatures at their sides. My heart races in time with the heavy beat of music echoing in front us. What does a ball look like in Wonderland? My skin heats in remembrance of thecircus with Hart and Malachi. The feeling here is similar, a sultry invitation to leave proprietary at the door.
Guards flank a doorway at the end of the hallway. They swing it open, and the swell of laughter, low and knowing, caresses my skin.
The White Rabbit waits in the center, his leg thumping on the floor impatiently. “You’re late,” he grumbles as he gazes at his pocket watch.
My eyes skim the expansive room, taking in the display before us. Storm clouds, tinged red and pregnant with the promise of a storm, fill the high ceiling. Giant swathes of red and black silk flutter in a breeze.
“Spread out, as discussed,” Nash says. Wait. They have a plan, and I wasn’t part of the discussion? Rude. Nash, Malachi, and Theo slink off, leaving me with Hart and the thoughts of his teeth against my flesh.
My eyes lift, trying to find something to distract me. A haunting melody fills the stage at the other end of the room. Animated instruments sit on it, but no players are present. Folks dance in synchronisation across the wooden floor, their feet never missing a step, creating a perfection I could never achieve.
The hatter appears in front of me, a frown marring his handsome face as he sips on a cup of tea. “Where is your hat?”
“It hardly blended with my dress,” I explain. “The crown is better for this occasion.”
“You’ve got quite the face for ruling,” he muses. “But does it come with the mind for it? Or will your crown weigh too heavy?”
“I don’t wish to rule,” I point out. I wish everyone would stop hinting that it’s my fate.
