“Wonderful,” I sigh.
“Where’s your drooping assistant?” he says, arranging himself on a stack of books.
“Moping around upstairs. She just can’t this afternoon; I simply wouldn’t understand.”
“I would assume not,” he says, his dimple flashing briefly into existence. Several bluecaps appear from my apartment and settle gently on his shoulders.
“Delightful,” he coos at them.
“Not you, too,” I tell them. I scowl at him. “Must you come in here and upset absolutelyeverything?”
“It’s a small town. There’s not much to do.”
“If you make off with the bluecaps, I’ll be…” I have no reasonable threat to wave at him, I realize. “I’ll be really cross.” I’m very fond of them.
“Duly warned, Your Grace.”
“Tandy.”
“Bless you.”
I’m almost grateful—almost—when the chimes above thedoor tinkle, even as dread lines my stomach. Better the threat you don’t know than the very real, very aggravating, very attractive threat perched on a stack of moldy books you do know.
“Tanadelle!” a voice announces, and my blood runs cold.
“Hamish,” I say, a little weakly. “So good to see you.”
Chapter 21
Hamish Twiston-Gar-Beck, crown prince of the Kingdom of the Two Mountains and one of the most distressing humans I’ve ever had the misfortune of having to spend time around. Where Driz is loud but good-natured, Hamish is simply…loud. He’s six months older than I am and, for some reason, has decided that six months has bestowed upon him the wisdom of the ages. This is a decision he made when he was eight years old. He is, in a word, pompous. A pompous, fatuous, complete and utter ass.
“It is well that your parents called upon me,” he announces. “I, naturally, could not divest myself of all my royal duties immediately, but I was able to come as quickly as was possible, under the circumstances. You understand.”
“Yes, of course,” I murmur, trying not to smile. “The duties of the crown prince of the Kingdom of the Two Mountains are many indeed.”
“Indeed,” he says. He flashes a look at the pirate, raises aneyebrow, and returns his attention to me. I resist the urge to mouth an apology for his rudeness. To thepirate. Hen’s teeth, I’ve been in Little Pepperidge for too long.
“Am I to understand that you have been the most unfortunate victim of an unbreakable curse?”
“You are,” I say, keeping my voice even and noncommittal. Best not to give Hamish anything to work with. Anything more than what he already has, which is (a) my cursed state and (b) my parents’ blessing to try to break that curse. Which is quite a lot, admittedly.
“A curse so powerful, so secure, that only the kiss of a prince of the blood can break it.” He’s not asking; he’s telling.
“Perhaps,” I say. “Prince of the blood” is a very,veryold-fashioned way of saying “prince of the realm,” so it’s no surprise Hamish refers to himself thusly. I decide it’s probably best not to mention Driz has already given it a go. Hamish is notably a little insecure.
“Terribly foolish of you, you know. Unaccountably careless. It’s a wonder your parents aren’t furious.”
“I suspect they are.”
“I wouldnever,” he adds.
“Of course not.”
“We’reawfullycareful in the Kingdom of the Two Mountains, you know.”
“I do.”
“Why, no member of the royal house has touched a coin inthree hundred years.”
