by Lish McBride
Unnoticed by the crowd and off to the side, three liveried servants walked in quietly, two of them holding what appeared to be a tablecloth. They held it taut between them, so the top was flat, but the sides of the fabric draped down and touched the floor. The one in front, Ellery, glanced at Tevin.
Tevin nodded.
Ellery made some sign with their hand, and Amaury and Kaiya whisked their cloth to the side, revealing Cedric. He was still painted every shade of the rainbow. The ostrich put his wings out and hissed, then started running up and down the aisles. The bard stopped mid-strum. Cedric hit things with his wings, knocking them over. People screeched, finally starting to move.
“It bit me!” a man yelled. “That giant bird bit me!”
“We have our diversion,” Tevin said, ushering Val out to the aisle.
In the confusion, Kaiya pulled a slim blade out of her boot and dashed to the nearest birdcage, releasing the doves. Amaury and Ellery joined her, opening cage after cage, releasing doves by the dozens. The attendants exploded into action, all of them attempting to catch the wayward birds, close the cages, or at least capture the people setting them free. Ellery, Kaiya, and Amaury did their best to hamper them.
Cedric snatched up hats, stole a wig, and dropped it onto the surprised face of the priest. One of the guards tried to corner him, lunging to grab the giant bird. Cedric squawked indignantly, biting the man in the face until he let go. It was absolute chaos. Tevin caught sight of Glendon taking hold of Lady Zarla and dragging her out of the madness. Willa was laughing so hard she was leaning over, snakes pouring from her lips. Diadora appeared to be tickling her sister. People started screaming as the snakes slithered over feet and ankles.
“Go.” Val pushed him. “We got this.”
Everyone was screaming now—or laughing—the crowd in disarray. Tevin attempted to weave through them, but it was slow going. He saw a dark streak running along the side of the room right below the windows. Hob was dodging the screaming crowd, bounding right for Tevin. People screeched and tried to skitter out of the marar’s way.
Up on the dais, the king bellowed for the guards while the queen screeched at the officiant to get on with the ceremony. Latimer stepped back away from the hubbub, but didn’t do anything else.
People climbed over chairs or shoved each other down, everyone trying to make it to an exit. At least two men were following Cedric around, trying to catch him. They had achieved mass chaos. Unfortunately, mass chaos was also making it difficult for Tevin to get to the front.
He passed the bard, who had climbed up onto a chair out of the way, holding his mandolin.
Tevin grabbed his sleeve. “Can I borrow your instrument for a minute?”
The bard handed it over to him reluctantly. Tevin strummed experimentally. He wasn’t the best musician. Not that it mattered. He played some basic chords, humming along to get people’s attention. The people next to him calmed, turning toward his voice. Tevin opened his mouth and sang. People froze, their eyes on him, gently swaying with his song, the effect rippling out until everyone in the room quieted. Hob padded up next to him, and Tevin looked down, realizing the cat had a set of keys in his mouth. His hands were full, and the cat seemed content to carry his burden for now, so Tevin kept playing.
“Once upon a time, I heard a wedding tune,” he sang, his voice clear. He picked his way around the crowd, carefully stepping over fallen hats and dented birdcages. “And once upon a time was this afternoon.” His hands were shaking—he was almost to the front now. He could see Merit pacing in her cage. “Seeing you this way, Merit, breaks my heart.” His words rang out through the room as everyone quieted to listen. He wished he could come up with better lyrics, but the thing about charm was that the words didn’t matter, just that he was saying them. “I wish I could give you a better song.”
Tevin stepped onto the dais. “I wish I could give you a better person.” He stopped playing, the mandolin dangling from his fingers. The beast’s cage was in front of him; he only had to stride a few feet. “But whatever I am, Merit, I’m yours.” He stopped singing, his attention on the beast in the cage. She stared at him, her head tilted. The beast chirped, and Hob dropped the keys by Tevin’s feet with a chuff.
He had completely forgotten about the queen until she shouted, “You! Those are mine!” She charged at him, only to be met by Val and Kaiya.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Val raised her pistols. Kaiya stood next to her, her slim dagger in hand and a wicked gleam in her eye.
“No!” Lady Angelique yelled. She threw her shoulders back and held her head high. “You can’t have her. Guards! Someone!” But everyone, including the king, had been swayed by the song. No one stepped forward to help. “Lady Zarla, we had an agreement!”
Merit’s mother stood off against the wall, Glendon’s arms around her. Lady Zarla regarded the queen. She looked at her daughter, pacing in the cage. Finally, she turned her head to Tevin. “An agreement my daughter couldn’t sign.” She dipped her chin once decisively at Tevin. “See if you can break the curse.”
Lady Angelique hissed through her teeth. “How dare you!”
Lady Zarla’s lips curled in a smile.
The queen snarled, lunging toward Tevin, only to be confronted by a large, angry marar. The cat paced forward, slowly herding Lady Angelique back.
“Don’t move,” Val warned, her pistols still up. Tevin could see Latimer off to the side, his eyes wide, his face bloodless.
“Mother,” Latimer croaked. “Please.”
She didn’t seem to hear him; her eyes were on the keys by Tevin’s feet. She lunged to the side, attempting to get past the cat, but he was faster. She stumbled back, trying to catch herself from falling, only to get tangled up in the long train of her gown. Her hands windmilling to regain balance, she started to go down. There was a flash of color as the king came, grabbing for his wife. She scrabbled onto him, only to tangle him up into her dress. As one, they tumbled to the side, their legs hitting the sill before they tipped out the window. For a moment, they seemed to hang in the air. Then, with a golden blur, they fell to the ground.
Latimer fell to his knees, his voice ragged and wordless as he screamed.
“Ellery,” Tevin yelled to get the healer’s attention. “See to him, will you?”
“I got this,” Willa said, holding up her skirts and picking around the debris on the floor. She ignored the bright green lizard that ran along her shoulder as she dropped down and put her arms around Eric Latimer, the new king of Huldre, as his world fell apart.
“Thank you,” Tevin said to her. He picked up the keys and went to Merit’s cage.
“Wait.” Latimer’s voice was a thready croak, the room going silent except for the cooing of the doves. “Mother gave her an overdose of bloom.” He held his hand out, indicating the room. “If you open that cage, she could tear into everyone here. She’s not herself.”
Tevin paused. He looked into the cage. The beast snarled back, drool dripping from her jaws. “Val?”
“Yes?” She still had her pistols out and ready.
“Perhaps we best evacuate the room?”
“You heard the man,” Ellery said, standing tall in their palace finery. They clapped their hands. “Everyone out! Guards! Guards! Clear the room!”
A flurry of activity then as everyone left except for Tevin’s friends, Latimer, Lady Zarla, and Glendon. Amaury corralled their group into the far corner for safety’s sake. Val and Kaiya stood in front of them all, weapons out, in case of the worst. Cedric hid in the middle, giving a plaintive chirp. Amaury and Diadora put their arms around the ostrich, comforting him. Hob, somewhat disdainful of the whole affair, sprawled in a sunbeam.
Tevin dropped down and back onto his heels, his eyes meeting the beast. “Merit?”
She growled.
He saw no sign of her in the beast’s eyes. Tevin swall
owed. He sorted through the keys, inserting them into the lock until he found one that fit. “Merit Cravan, I have come for you, though I have nothing to offer but myself. I’m not a good man, but I’m trying. My heart is nothing special, but it’s all yours.” He heard the click of the lock opening. “I love you beyond reason. Let’s hope that’s enough.” Tevin yanked the door open and stepped back. The beast leaned on its haunches, ready to spring. He shook with adrenaline and fear but kept his eyes on hers. If this was to be his end, he’d meet it head-on.
“Will you have me?”
The beast sprang.
CHAPTER 34
A FAIRY-TALE ENDING
Merit knew rage. That was what the beast understood, and they were one. It was all-encompassing. She was tinder, and the frenzy burned through her. There was no room for anything else except the want, and what the beast wanted was freedom. Instead it got the cage.
She paced and paced and pacedpacedpaced, the rage growing, breathing, becoming alive.
Then a man.
Noises she no longer understood.
A door opening.
Freedom.
She leapt for it.
* * *
• • •
Later she heard there was a golden light. Bards insisted that the doves all sang together and everything in the kingdom, even the dishes, came to life and danced with joy. None of that was true, though it sounded lovely. Merit thought it might be a little difficult to eat with a dancing fork, but that was the difference between a fairy tale and reality. In a fairy tale, you never have to think about the practicalities of such things. You don’t have to wonder how the beast changed or how Latimer would manage now that he was suddenly thrust into the leadership of a large kingdom, his family dead, scandal hanging like a pall. No one has to think past the happily-ever-after, really. That’s where the pain of day-to-day living lies. Who wants to think about that?
Merit wanted it.
All of it.
Buried deep in all the pain and mess of everyday life, well, that’s where joy can be found, too. She would get to wake up every day and deal with the good and the bad of living, but with her friends and Tevin at her side. That was the real happily-ever-after—not that there was no adversity to ever be dealt with, but that you had people to share and ease the burden of it.
If asked, what anyone in the ballroom could have told you was that the beast hit Tevin head-on. They rolled, Tevin landing on his back. The beast reared up, her claws extended, and stopped. He held his hands out, palms open, his face calm. The beast paused, her eyes confused. She sniffed. She hiccupped. No one blinked, and yet no one saw the change. One minute, there was a beast, and the next, there was Merit.
She was, unfortunately, suddenly quite naked in a room with several elaborately dressed people and a lot of cooing doves. Merit squeaked and tried to cover herself as she looked down at Tevin, her friends, then back to Tevin. She blinked down at him. “Tevin?”
“Yes, Merit?”
“I think . . .” She frowned at the utter destruction of the room. Gilded birdcages hung drunkenly from hooks, chairs were knocked over, flowers were trampled into the carpets. “Did I do this?”
“No. It was mostly us,” Tevin said. “Amaury, can we have your jacket?” Tevin’s brother shrugged off his jacket, ran over to drape it around Merit, and stepped away as if he didn’t want to intrude. Merit slipped her arms into it.
“I don’t . . .” She trailed off, her face pinched in thought. “Where are we? The last I remember, I was in the library.”
“You’re always in the library.” Tevin grasped one of her hands gently, leaving the other to hold Amaury’s jacket shut. “Merit, look.”
Merit glanced at her hand, looked back at the mess, and then her head whipped back as she stared at her hand again. She made a fist before spreading her fingers wide. She touched her lips, her cheeks, her nose. Then Merit scrambled up, staring at her legs.
“The curse is gone.” The words were quiet and reverent as they left her lips. She whooped, dancing around in a circle. “My curse is gone! Why is my curse gone?” She frowned at him. “Did I get married?”
“No, Merit.” He eased himself up and dusted himself off.
“Then why is the beast gone?”
“Because I came for you,” Tevin said. “Not for your title, or your wealth.” He pulled her into his arms. “Not for your pointy ears, or your blood, but just for you.”
Merit looked up at him. “You came for me?”
“Yes,” he said. “And I would do it again, too. I love you, Merit. Who else is going to yell at me and throw cake when I’m terrible?”
She grinned at him then, stood up on her toes, and kissed him.
Whatever had been holding her friends back burst, and all of them ran forward to cry and hold Merit as she sobbed and laughed in relief. It was over. It was all over.
* * *
• • •
There was a moment, after much hugging and rejoicing, that Merit looked up to see her mother. Merit stared at her from the safety of Tevin’s arms, bracing herself for the argument she knew was coming. Lady Zarla stepped forward hesitantly. She reached out, touching Merit’s hair, her cheek, her chin. Lady Zarla gasped out a short cry, her eyes filling. “My daughter.” She pulled her close, her eyes shut, one arm around Merit, the other around Tevin. She held them to her.
“Thank you. Oh, thank you.”
Merit held her back and wept.
* * *
• • •
Ellery eventually went to fetch Merit some proper clothing. She couldn’t waltz about the place in Amaury’s jacket forever. Once she was dressed, they adjourned to the dining hall. A huge feast was laid out, covered in gleaming silver domes, just waiting for someone to lift the lids. Bottles of wine breathed at every table, and though everything looked very fine, Merit missed her own dining room. This one was very pretty, but cold, and had no magic of home to it. Still, they liberated one of the bottles, poured everyone a glass, and told Merit everything. Val and Ellery did most of the talking while Merit hung on every word.
Tevin stayed quiet, rolling the empty wineglass between his hands. Merit could see the tense set of his shoulders, and though he smiled during the story, he seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Once the tale was finished, Merit took her friends aside, giving them instructions—all except for Tevin. She left him sitting to the side, waiting. Everyone scurried off, leaving them alone in the room.
“It’s rather lovely, don’t you think?” Merit asked, her fingers tracing along the spine of a napkin folded into the shape of a swan. “So much work, gone to waste.”
“I suppose it’s pretty in a way,” Tevin said, “but I’m glad it’s not being used. Unless—” He swallowed hard, looking back down at the glass in his hands. “Your curse is broken now. You can do anything you want. You don’t even have to get married.”
She strode over to him then, each step purposeful. When she got close enough, she waited until he raised his head and looked up at her. “No, I don’t have to do anything now. I don’t have to marry Latimer. Or Cedric. Or Freddie.” She took his face in her hands. “This is much better. I get to be me. Because of you and our friends, I got myself back.”
Tevin wrapped his arms around her and waited for her to pull away. When she didn’t, his grip tightened, and he buried his face against her stomach.
She pushed her fingers through his hair. “What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know.” His words came out muffled. “We didn’t plan this far.”
Merit nodded. “Then how about I tell you what I have in mind, and you tell me if you agree with my plan?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “I suggest we not let this feast go to the dogs.”
Tevin looked up at her sharply.
“I suggest we gather our
friends close and give everyone here something to celebrate. Then I highly recommend that we go back to our home, together, and never come here again. Would you like that?”
Tevin laced his fingers through hers. “I’m right certain that I saw an officiant around here somewhere.”
“You think we can convince him to try again?” she asked, her grin cheeky.
“I can convince him to dance a jig if you want.” His gaze turned speculative. “They probably already paid him. Let’s make him earn his coin.”
* * *
• • •
Merit and Tevin decided to be married outside. It didn’t seem right to use the hall where she was supposed to marry Latimer. Plus it was an absolute mess. They found Latimer out on a balcony overlooking his orchards, his tail twitching slowly, a half-empty bottle held loosely in one fist.
“It was my mother’s plan,” Latimer said, his voice hoarse. “Our coffers were almost empty. She wanted your crops, your land.” He turned, sliding down against the rock half wall, sitting on the ground. Only then did he look at them. “We were close to losing everything.” He set the bottle down beside him and closed his eyes, tipping his face back. “I needed to marry you, and quickly.” His smile was faint and bitter. “Never could tell her no. And now my family name is properly ruined, and my parents are dead.” His expression crumpled. “What am I going to do?”
Despite everything, Merit felt a little sorry for Latimer. She was still angry at him, but he’d paid dearly for his crimes; the king and queen had paid with their lives. They were rotten and terrible, but they were still his parents, and it would hurt.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Merit said gently.
A broken laugh erupted from Latimer. “What we did to you was the worst kind of violation, Merit. The fact that I regret it, that I doubted it, doesn’t matter.” He shook his head slowly. “I can never make it up to you.” He expelled a breath. “I paid Godling Price to curse Cedric. I gave Freddie something to make him dizzy. I didn’t mean for him to fall, but that didn’t matter.” He turned to Tevin. “I did my best to turn Merit and her mother against you.”
