“I promise.”
“His promises aren’t worth shit,” I remind her.
“I want it in a contract,” she says.
He scowls at me. “Fine. I’ll have one drawn up.”
“No, the genie will write it. He’ll include clauses that make the contract null and void if you try to engineer any magic, love potions, wishes, kidnapping, murders, sister threatening, and narrative manipulation.”
“Fine,” he grumbles.
Genie rubs his hands together, and a long roll of parchment rolls onto the floor, the words whispering along the paper and sinking into existence.
“Any clause on the type of date?” Genie asks.
“Can’t last over two turns, must be in the Hallows, and my sister or another of my choosing will chaperone every tempo.”
Charming rolls his eyes. Clearly, we are cutting down his plan piece by piece. Good. Six dates. We can manage that.
The genie nods as he finishes putting the final touches on the contract. Gwyneth releases Charming’s neck and retreats into the living chambers, brushing past me. She flips open the lid of the wooden box and retrieves the quill. She signs her name with a flourish, then marches out and offers the same quill to Charming. He licks his lips and snatches it from her before adding his name. The genie rolls it up and floats it back to the table.
“Now, for our first date,” Charming says with a grin. “I would be honoured if you would escort me to the circus.”
I perk up. I have heard of the fabled circus, but never witnessed it. It appears every annus for three diurnals only and is a spectacle like no other. As far as dates go, this wasn’t a terrible choice.
“Not this diurnal,” Gwyneth says. “I have a to-do list as long as my arm, and you aren’t on it.”
“Six dates, six diurnals, starting now,” the genie reminds her.
Gwyneth pinches the bridge of her nose and groans.
“It’s fine,” Nash says, looking at me. “Hart and Malachi will accompany you and Gwyneth. Perhaps a little distance from the problem will help us approach these with fresh eyes.”
“Do they sell eyes at the circus?” How horrid.
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then it’s decided,” Charming says. “I shall meet you in the great hall in half a turn.”
He skips off down the corridor like he’s just got access to the promised floof. He didn’t. If anything, he’ll be lucky to survive six dates with me chaperoning—but that’s on him.
Gwyneth closes the door and leans her back against it before hanging her head. “Tell me there’s no clause about me using magic, potions, and potential death on him,” she says to the genie.
A particularly villainish grin spreads across Genie’s face. “Nope. Prince Poopfloof should have read the small print.”
This is why I love my gang of crazy creatures. “What does one wear to visit the circus?” I ask.
Malachi’s slow grin makes my heart pitter-patter wildly. “I have just the thing.”
He does? Why? He grabs my hand and tugs me toward his chambers. I should know by now that nothing good follows that particular Stirling smile.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Oh, how I long for a ridiculous dress with layers of material to protect my floof and cushion my ass when I fall. I fidget with the silky fabric, making sure my breasts aren’t putting on a show of their own as we walk toward the front of the castle to meet Charming.
“Stop fussing,” Gwyneth grumbles.
