“I am not comfortable. There are no pockets. I need pockets.”
She cocks a brow at me and swings a thumb over her shoulder at the twins. “You look fabulous, and these two can carry anything your absent pockets cannot.”
I huff, stirring the stray bits of hair from my forehead. I would question Malachi’s choice of outfit if it wasn’t for the other females dashing around in similar clothing. Gone are the heavy fabrics, dazzling gowns, and puffy skirts. This sundown, I’m dressed in silky turquoise pants which hug my butt before the fabric drops to the floor. Two slits showcase my legs, ending dangerously high on my upper thighs. The matching top with gold edging wraps over my breasts before looping over my shoulders to float down my back. Gwyneth is in a similar outfit, but hers is pink with a silver edging. Metallic sandals grace our feet, their straps lacing up our calves.
“The view from back here is perfect,” Malachi adds. “This is my favorite look on you so far, Daphne.”
“I beg to differ,” Hart mutters. “I much prefer her naked and writhing on my tongue.”
My cheeks heat, and Gwyneth sneaks a side glance at me. We might be sisters, but I am not giving her a blow-by-blow account of all the things the brothers have done to me.
“Wait, when did that happen?” Malachi asks. “Daphne, you need to keep this balanced, or I’m going to get jealous.”
He’s right; he’s the only one who hasn’t given me an orgasm. In the interests of emotional balance, Malachi needs to give me one later. It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it.
We spill out into the night, and Charming turns to face us. His jaw drops at the sight of Gwyneth before he swallows, his throat bobbing.
I nudge her shoulder. “You rendered him speechless.”
“Long may it last,” she mumbles.
My broom taps my butt. I left my mirror man, my genie, and my capons with Theo and Nash. But the broom is a little clingy—it must need reassurance. But I’ll have to watch him for attachment issues.
“My lady,” Charming greets Gwyneth with a sweeping bow. I don’t even warrant a glance, probably because of the brothers at my back who scowl at any male attention we receive.
“Charming,” Gwyneth snips. She sounds bored.
That’s right, make yourself appear hard work. Perhaps he will lose interest and find a more agreeable female.
“I have commandeered the realm’s latest upgrade of carriage,” he declares, waving a hand at the giant pumpkin, which shimmers with magic under the moon. The door is open and waiting for us.
“I have also organized a separate one for your sister and her suitors,” he adds, jerking his head at a smaller drab squashbehind the pumpkin.Yeah, that’s not happening, Prince Grope and Glory.“You are more stunning than the fairest of princesses who have bathed in milk and honey their whole lives.”
I step behind him and make a silent puking motion. Gwyneth, all credit to her, doesn’t bat an eyelid, but listens to Charming drone on about how bards should write sonnets about her beauty. Oh look, he has one ready. I doubt he wrote it himself, but I guess it’s the thought that counts.
Clearly, he’s going to be awhile. Maybe he is hoping he bores her into submission? I climb inside the pumpkin, wondering why this is the latest upgrade of pumpkin. The inside is luxurious, with soft spongy moss-covered benches and a compartment for snacks and drinks. He even has two goblets of white liquid waiting. I take a sniff. Milk?Yes, of course, Prince Charming, I will swallow your suspicious white gooey liquid.That’s not happening. I tip both of them out of the window.
After stuffing the glasses under the benches, my gaze snags on the ceiling and the three button-like indentations there. Hmm. What do they do? I press the first one, and trumpets sound from inside the carriage, making me chuckle. Of course, he needs trumpets to announce his arrival anywhere. Charming turns and glowers at me.
“Get out,” he snarls and points to the wilted carriage behind this one. “I reserved this for me and your sister.”
“Who I am chaperoning,” I remind him.
He turns a shade redder as I foil hisget fresh with her floof in the fancy carriageplan. Gwyneth doesn’t need me to protect her, and Charming should know that by now. But if I am around, he is less likely to try something which would cause a broken limb.
Ignoring him, I press the next button. “Ooh, what does this one do?”
A loud honking noise makes the shiny Hallowed milling around pay attention. The horses attached to the carriage whinny their displeasure. The last button is more of a dial. Maybe it’s a volume thing? I twist it to the right. Nothing happens.
“Stop touching buttons,” Charming shouts. Typical—the fancy pumpkin is broken. That’s the problem with new and untried models.
The twins shout in unison, “Daphne, get out!”
The pumpkin rattles as the open door slams closed. Is it possessed? That’s an odd inclusion for transportation. The walls ripple like jelly before closing in on me. I jerk back but find the wall behind me much closer than it was a tempo ago. Oh, holy Idol balls. The walls compress against my body while the twins stare in horror.
“Do something,” Gwyneth shouts.
Charming folds his arms. “Don’t worry, it has a failsafe. It will shrink around her, but not crush her.”
