Of course the prince could sing.
He deserved whatever ill-begotten horror awaited him. Risa grabbed for Brunie, tucked the struggling cat under her armpit, and, despite the futility of it, marched back toward the trees. The prince could get himself killed if he wanted, but she was not going to get brainwashed and join some weird singing town in their weird singing ways. Better to take her chances with Brunhilda’s curse and die in a very heroic attempt.
She resisted the urge to glance back at Prince Javi as she yelled, “This is a bunch of nonsense!”
A gasp rippled through the crowd.
The music stopped. The singing ceased. The dancing and twirling and acrobatic displays halted. One small child was frozen upside down, midway through a cartwheel, mouth hanging open in exaggerated surprise. One of the many bakers inhabiting the place—she had counted about a dozen, which would have been a funny joke in any other scenario—dropped every loaf he’d been juggling. Eventhe birds stopped warbling. One toppled from its perch near the fountain and into the watery depths below, very much dead.
“She isn’t singing!” came a melodic screech from the crowd.
“Oh, come on. I haven’t been singing the entire time,” Risa reminded them, having pulled up short after seeing everyone’s shock.
But her words went unheeded as the girl with the golden braids fainted into the very strong arms of Prince Javi’s first admirer.
Risa shifted beneath the scrutiny of a hundred pairs of eyes. Dark shadows passed across every face, the earlier joy snuffed out like a doused flame—a warning she understood all too well by now.
Her curse had caught up.
CHAPTER EIGHTIn Which the Pair Participates in a Festival That Is Most Definitely Not Sinister at All
A portly fellow wobbled up to Risa and Prince Javi, face stricken, the few remaining strands of his silver hair plastered to a shiny brown head. He was one foot shorter than Risa and looked ready to burst out of his expensive, too-small clothes, an elegant cravat tied around his thick neck. Beneath his long, slender nose trembled a thin handlebar mustache, and equally thin lips sat beneath that.
“Welcome to Cairn,” the man sang in a booming voice that reverberated in her chest. “I’m your generous, kind host, the mayor!”
Risa could not help but narrow her eyes in suspicion. Anyone who told people that they were generous and kind were usuallynotgenerous and kind. She figured the prince couldn’t be stupid enough to take the man’s words at face value, but he, too, waxed poetic about his own great attributes.
“And I am Prince Javier of Kheadon,” sang the prince.
This time, the collective gasp that rang through the crowd was of awe, variations ofPrince Javierrising along like a wave.
Obviously, she was stuck in some kind of delusion.
“And she is…”Prince Javi trailed off, looking at her with his eyebrows raised.
He still didn’t know her name.
“Vexed,” Risa supplied, thoroughly so.
“Oh, come on.” The prince dropped the pretense of singing. “We’re already here. We can dump that awful cat at a taxidermy, get you a treat as a belated birthday celebration, and then go on our merry way. Let’s see if we can make that frown… less frown-y.”
The crowd turned in unison, hundreds of eyes boring a hole into Risa’s skull. She felt like a bug caught beneath a magnifying glass moments before it burst into flames. Even the mayor was looking at her with a calculating leer, likely making mental sums to determine if expending effort on her would be worth it. When a predatory smile pulled at his lips, she knew he’d decided.
The smile kept growing until it was much too wide and revealed both rows of teeth. His skin was pulled taut by the action, the gesture ill-fitting on his face. It was like staring at a monster trying to stuff itself into the skin of a person, the mask threatening to fall with every precarious move. There was something unsettling in the mayor’s watery brown gaze that made her stomach plummet.
“Prince Javi, you have saved the day.” Cheers erupted from every corner of town. The music started up again, more infectious than before. The mayor placed one hand on Risa’s shoulder and the other on the prince’s and, ignoring her reluctance, steered them toward the main street. Brunie wiggled out from under her arm and begantrotting after them, his ugly face contorted in an expression she could interpret only as irritation.
Bells announced their arrival in the cramped tailor’s shop. The windows featured mannequins dressed in finery; the most elaborate dress, tiered in ruffles, was displayed front and center in the bay window. Bolts of fabric were stuffed into floor-to-ceiling shelves that lined every inch of available wall space. A mahogany counter carved with flowers stood at the back, the surface buried beneath mountains of more cloth. Linen, cotton, muslin, a shimmery bundle of satin, abandoned scraps. The faint outline of a till was visible beneath a gossamer strip the color of fairy wings. Ribbons hung on string across the ceiling—as well as on light fixtures and a coat stand—fluttering like flags on a battlefield.
The mayor led Prince Javi to a plush, opulent armchair behind the bay window, where faces were pressed against the glass, eager for a look inside. Brunie, who had snuck in without notice, planted himself at Risa’s feet with his hackles raised.
“This is my sister’s shop,” the mayor explained, singing forgotten. His voice was reedy and grating against her ear. She would not have been surprised if all the singing was to disguise the mayor’s mousy voice, though how one man could inspire several hundreds of people to singall the timewas beyond her comprehension.
The mayor pulled at the heavyweight curtains, and the crowd disappeared behind the rust-brown fabric. He turned back to them, eyes scanning the room until they fell upon Brunie. Flicking his misty gaze to Risa, he asked, “Don’t you want to leave that thing outside?”
“No,” Risa said.
She watched anger flash unbidden across the mayor’s face, twistinghis features until they looked mislaid. But the rage burned brief and then it was gone, shuttered behind his eyes. He turned his attention back to the prince, an agreeable smile plastered in its appropriate place.
