The crowd breaks into delightedooohsandahhhs.
“Ed…mund was a brooding immortal with severe boundary issues and a strange fixation on watching Beulah sleep.”
The audience erupts into boos.
“Look at him!” I shout over the noise. “So tall! So handsome! So strong!”
Declan flexes. I lean in and whisper, “More chest,” and he obliges, lifting his shirt to show off his washboard abs in their full, shimmering glory. The women in the front row shriek and wave their scarves.
“You can see why Beulah was so taken with Edmund,” I say. “But do we want the story to end with them simply riding off into the sunset together?”
More boos, louder this time.
“Enter, Jacobius!”
Declan spins, smoothing his hair down, then flashes a charming grin at the crowd.
“Jacobius enjoyed long runs on the beach and occasionally turning into a very…large…wolf.”
With a playful growl, Declan tears open his shirt, howlsto the sky, and leaps off the stage. The crowd goes feral.
“Beulah was torn between her glittery stalker and her golden retriever wolfman,” I say once they settle. “So naturally, she did what any young woman in love does.” I pause for effect. “She jumped off a cliff.”
Gasps pop through the audience as I press the back of my hand to my forehead and swoon dramatically at the edge of the stage. Declan lunges forward, catching me before I can hit the ground, just like we rehearsed in the tent. Even with the practice, my stomach somersaults, and when his arms cradle me, relief floods my chest.
“Magickally,” I proclaim as he lifts me back onto the stage and climbs up after me, “Beulah survived! And when she washed up on shore, she realized something profound.”
The crowd leans in, and the golden-haired queen calls out, “What realization did our Beulah come to?”
“That maybe—just maybe—she didn’t need Edmund or Jacobius to fix her life. That she didn’t need to find someone else to save her. She needed to learn how to save herself.”
A thoughtful hush falls.
“And while Beulah worked on herself, Edmund and Jacobius realized they didn’t actually like fighting over the same woman. What they wanted was each other.”
Declan turns his back to the crowd, wraps his arms around himself, and mimes a steamy, over-the-top embrace. Cheers and laughter explode through the audience.
“The two men opened a charming seaside bed-and-breakfast,” I finish, “where they lived happily ever after.”
The whole crowd bursts into applause. Cheers, whistles, and elated chatter roll over the stage as we bow.
I grin, wide and breathless, and turn to Declan. “I think we did it.”
Smoke curls around us, and the warm air whips into a sudden wind that lashes the stage. Incense stings my throat. Heat pricks my skin. The audience gasps.
Something flutters through the haze, tumbling from above like a leaf caught in the breeze. It slips down my arm, brushing my skin with the faintest electric tingle.
I snatch it before it hits the ground, my fingers stinging from the contact.
The wind dies, plunging the kingdom into a silence so sudden it makes my ears ring. I stare down at the card.
The Wheel of Fortune.
My breath catches as the painted image shifts. The wheel turns. Its figures move in an endless loop, no longer paint but flesh and bone caught in perpetual motion, alive in my hands.
Out of the corner of my eye, Declan leans toward me, trying to see what has me gaping. Only, he’s moving strangely, slowly as cold molasses. His hand stretches toward me, then stalls halfway, suspended in midair.
“Declan?”
