by Aron Lewes
Elliot suddenly pressed a silencing finger against Rank's flapping lips. “Look,” the prince hissed. He directed Rank's attention to the garden's red brick road. Princess Rose was charging down the path with an exhilarated glint in her eye. “It's Rose. I wonder where she's going.”
“Maybe she's going nowhere,” suggested a shrugging Rank. “She's been in that bed of hers for days, getting kisses from all sorts of strange men. Maybe she just wanted to walk around and think about that?”
“I'm going to follow her,” Elliot announced as he rose from the bench.
“Can I come too?” Rank asked.
“I don't mind... at long as you're quiet,” Elliot coached him. “I don't want her to realize we're following.”
Princess Rose raced to the stables. There, she was greeted by a smiling stable boy with chestnut hair. As soon as she entered, the young man lifted her off her feet and ambushed her with a kiss.
“Tye!” the princess cupped his cheeks as she shouted her lover's name. “Tye, I've missed you so much!”
“And I've missed you even more,” Tye said as he set her on her feet. “For you, it felt like a moment. For me, it's been weeks. I'm in agony without you.”
“Tye... do you still love me?” Rose's lips trembled as she asked the question.
As he whispered his answer, Tye's fingers sifted through the princess' auburn hair. “Of course. Why would you ask such a question?”
“Because...” The princess touched her lips. “Apparently... a lot of men kissed me while I was asleep.”
“I know. And it killed me,” Tye groaned. “I want to be the man who kisses these lips. The only man.”
“So... are you angry with me?”
“Of course not!” Tye wrapped his arms around Rose and kissed the top of her head. “So... who was the man who finally broke the curse?”
“Prince Elliot.” The princess' answer was followed by a sigh. “And I'm supposed to marry him, apparently.”
“So... Elliot is your soulmate?”
Rose's eyelashes fluttered at Tye's question. “What? No! I don't care what anyone else says. You are my soulmate!”
“But my kiss didn't wake you,” Tye revealed. “I was asked to kiss you two days ago, and... I failed.”
“And I don't care about that!” The princess paused to stamp her foot. “Please, please, please don't spare a thought for that stupid curse! I don't want it to come between us! I love you!”
Not far away, Rank and Elliot were peering through the stables' cracked door. Hearing the princess' declaration of love, Rank turned to Elliot and whispered, “Ouch. That had to hurt.”
“It does hurt,” the prince whimpered. “How am I supposed to marry a woman who's in love with someone else?”
Rank's shoulders popped into a shrug. “Dunno.”
“I need to try harder,” Elliot plotted. “If I really am her soulmate, I need to get her to love me instead.”
“Nah, mate, nah.” Rank swatted the prince's shoulder. “Do you know what you really need?” He didn't finish until he had the prince's attention. “You need some drinks. Let's go.”
As Prince Sharman entered the ballroom, he said to his fiance, “There will be a gala to celebrate our engagement. But... what if we celebrated my sister's upcoming nuptials as well? Would that be alright with you, Cinderella?”
“Of course,” replied Cinda, whose eyes were a bit vacant as they darted around the Winter Palace's ornate ballroom. Her slippers squeaked as they moved across the polished floor. Sharman had provided her with fancier clothing, fit for a prince's bride, but she preferred her old shoes. They were so comfortable, she couldn't bear to part with them. Fortunately, her dress' long hem concealed her shabby slippers.
“How would you feel about a double wedding as well?” Sharman asked. “You and I could marry on the same day as Rose and Elliot. A double royal wedding would be unprecedented.”
“That would be... fine.” Cinda hoped she didn't sound too apathetic. When she met Rose at supper, they barely exchanged two words with each other. Sharman's sister didn't seem too thrilled by her presence.
“I already spoke with the caterer. She's working with the palace cooks to prepare a grand feast for our engagement festivities,” Sharman went on. “Is there anything special you would like to eat on our very special day?”
“Well...” Cinda's fingers fidgeted as she pondered the prince's question. No matter how much time she spent in Sharman's company, she was never entirely comfortable with him. “I do like... cheese.”
“What type of cheese?”
“T-type?” Cinda's eyebrows snapped together. “The... umm... orange kind?”
Sharman chuckled at her answer. “Do you mean cheddar, perhaps? Very well. I will speak to the caterer about cheese. I must also speak to the planner about flowers. Do you have any recommendations?”
“I do like daisies,” Cinda told him.
“Daisies? Those aren't very fancy, but... alright.” Sharman faked a smile as he slid away from his fiance. “I will return in a moment. Don't go anywhere, Cinderella.”
As soon as Sharman was gone, Cinda was approached by a uniformed guard. Her gaze had dropped to the shiny silver floor, so she didn't realize it was Fenix until he whispered her name.
“Cinda?”
Her body jolted at the sound of his voice. “Fenix?” she gasped. “Is that really you?”
“Yes...” Fenix kept his eyes on Sharman and hoped he wouldn't return too soon. “How have you been?”
“I'm fine. More importantly, how have you been?” A hundred questions floated into Cinderella's head, but she settled on the one that demanded an answer. “Why are you here?”
“Donnabella sent me to the Winter Palace on a mission. She wanted me to free Rank from the dungeon,” Fenix explained. “Oddly enough, the job is complete, but I haven't been forced to return. Usually, when a mission is finished, I'm pulled back to her like a magnet. But I'm still here, so... there must be a reason.”
“Is Rank really out of prison?”
“He is. I double checked the dungeon last night. He's definitely not there anymore.”
“Hmm...” Cinderella's mouth twisted into a lopsided frown. “Do you have any idea where he is?”
“No. None.”
“Do you have any idea where Gloriosa is?” Cinda asked. “The last time I saw her, Rank rubbed the urn. I've been worried about her.”
“I'm sorry... but no. Gloriosa is missing as well,” Fenix reported. “After you escaped with Sharman, Pitch and Jostle recovered the urn, but Gloriosa wasn't in it. I'm sorry I don't have better news.”
“It's alright.” A few seconds later, Cinda's interrogation continued. “Did Donnabella punish you for helping me?”
“Surprisingly... no. She was weirdly lenient. She said I was too cute to punish and started fussing with my hair.”
“That is weird.” When Cinda checked on Sharman, he was watching from a distance. She hoped he wouldn't wonder why she was chatting with a guard.
“I've missed you,” Fenix blurted. As he waited for her answer, his breath was trapped in his lungs.
To his relief, Cinda echoed, “I've missed you too. I've spent a lot of time worrying about you. I thought Donnabella would be irate. I thought she'd hang you upside down over a bubbling cauldron... or something equally horrid.”
“I know. I was expecting that too.”
“How long...” Cinda's voice momentarily trailed off. She thought she saw Sharman heading in their direction, but he was waylaid by a servant. In a whisper, she continued, “How long will you be at the Winter Palace?”
“I don't know. That depends on Donnabella, I suppose. I might be pulled back to her at any time.”
“That must be incredibly frustrating.”
“It can be,” Fenix answered with a sigh. “Would it be strange to say I've almost gotten used to it? I don't like being her puppet, of course, but I've--”
Cinda and Fenix's reunion was cut short by the
return of Prince Sharman, who slipped an arm around his fiance's shoulders. “Hello again, beautiful,” Sharman greeted her. “I told the planner you wanted daisies. It's hardly a regal flower, but if it makes you happy, it makes me happy as well. Oh!” Sharman's gaze suddenly snapped to Fenix. “Guard, will you do me a favor?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Fenix answered with a bow.
“Will you speak to the caterer for me? She's standing over there.” He pointed at a dark-haired woman on the opposite side of the room. “Tell her I changed my mind about the caviar. Also, tell her I request an excess of cheese.”
“It doesn't have to be an excess of cheese,” Cinda softly stated, but her remark was ignored by Sharman, who seemed a bit too determined to please her.
“Of course, Your Highness,” Fenix repeated. When the prince kissed the top of Cinda's head, he couldn't get away quickly enough. He shuffled across the room, approached the caterer, and cleared his throat. “Pardon me, ma'am, but the prince has a message for you. He's changed his mind about the caviar, and--”
When the caterer turned around, Fenix's tongue halted and his stomach dropped.
It was Donnabella.
“Hello again, angel!” The witch's voice was unusually dulcet. “I'm glad you're here. I have another job for you.”
When Rank poured himself another shot of rum, he could feel Gloriosa kicking him. As always, the little witch was nestled in his pocket, and she didn't approve of his pub crawl with the prince.
“You better slow down, Rank!” she chastised him. “They won't let you in the palace if you're stumbling around like a fool!”
“Who says I want to... hic... go back to the palace?” Rank slurred. “Maybe I'm done with that place?”
“What about Terra? You're just going to leave her? What if she's worried about you?”
“You really think that woman is gonna worry about Rank?” He spoke directly to his pocket, which earned him a puzzled glance from Prince Elliot. However, the prince was even deeper in his cups, so he didn't question it. “She'll be glad to be rid of me!”
“B-but...” Gloriosa needed to convince him. She didn't want Rank to return to Donnabella because she didn't want to return to Donnabella. “I think Terra secretly has feelings for you.”
A shot of rum hovered by Rank's lips as he pondered the thought. “Do you?”
“I do. I genuinely do. And why wouldn't she? You're a very handsome young man,” Gloriosa delivered the compliment with a tight-lipped smile. “So... you should return to the palace and see how it plays out.”
Rank's response was interrupted by a moaning Prince Elliot, whose head suddenly collapsed on the table. “Whyyyyy?” he bellowed. “Why would Princess Rose want some bloody stable boy more than me?”
“Sorry mate. That's sad. It really is,” replied Rank, who finally tossed his rum down his throat.
“Is he handsomerer than me?” slurred the intoxicated prince, who seemed to be inventing words. “He's certainly not richerer than me.”
“No, he wasn't handsomerer than you,” Rank defended his companion. “You're the handsomestest prince I've ever seen.”
A sleepy smile drifted across Prince Elliot's lips as he raised his head. “You think so?”
“Aye. I do.” When Rank reached for the bottle of rum, Gloriosa kicked him again.
“I think you're the best friend I've ever had, Rank,” Elliot suddenly told him. “You're the best friend I'll ever have.”
“Aww.” Rank tried to deal an affectionate slap to the prince's shoulder, but he ended up swatting the air. “I like you too, mate.” Rank's gaze drifted to one of the serving girls. Her low cut bodice made her a magnet for male eyes. “You know... maybe you should for... hic... forget about Princess Rose? There's lots of other ladies in the sea.”
Drunken Elliot's brow was pinched by Rank's remark. “There's ladies in the sea?”
“Aye. There are lots and lots of ladies in the sea.”
“Are they mermaids?”
Rank paused to scratch his head. He had apparently confused himself. “I dunno. Maybe. Anyway, my point is...” Rank leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “My point is, there are lotsa ladies out there, mate. There's no reason you should focus on just one.”
“Ahhh. You're right.” Elliot's sleepy eyes lit up. “I should forget about Rose and find someone else... or multiple someones elses!”
“Multiple someones elses is the way to go,” a slurring Rank agreed. “You're a prince. You could have twenty mistresses if you wanted 'em!”
“I'm a prince!” Elliot's fist suddenly pounded the table. “I could have forty mistresses if I wanted them!”
As Rank and Elliot nodded dozily, Gloriosa rolled her eyes. “You boys are despicable!” the pocket witch whined. “You're awful. You make me glad I don't like men!”
“Let's go get you some mistresses, mate!” Rank exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Elliot's shoulders. Together, the intoxicated twosome stumbled to the pub's front door.
As soon as they were outside, they were partially sobered by an earsplitting screech. The Cedarwood Shrieker, which had been terrorizing Westerwood, landed in the crowded marketplace. There was a chorus of screams as the townspeople fled in every direction.
“That... isn't good,” Elliot whispered to a grinning Rank.
The dragon's barbed tail slammed into a fruit stall. Watermelons and cantaloupes were obliterated by the tail's enormous spikes. As melon rained down, the dragon captured an old man in its teeth. It chose the slowest and easiest target. The man's wooden cane splintered as the Cedarwood Shrieker devoured him.
“I bet she's still hungry,” Rank mused. “I've seen a dragon eat three or four at once.”
“Where are Sharman's guards?” Elliot cried, looking down at Rank's uniform. “Doesn't your prince do anything to protect his people?”
“I guess I could try to drive it away on my own,” Rank said as he raised his wand.
“On your own? But you'll be eaten!”
“Maybe.” Rank's wand tapped his chin as he staggered forward. “But it'd be a glorious way to die, don't you think? Besides, I'm so drunk, I might not even feel it.”
A spray of fire gushed from the dragon's gaping mouth. Cottages and stalls were torched as the beast turned its head.
An old woman doddered into the marketplace and chucked her cane at the dragon's head. “Horrid creature! That was my husband!” she screamed. “You took away my reason to live, so you might as well kill me too!”
The woman won the dragon's attention. Its red eyes narrowed as her cane bounced off its head. When it tried to lunge at her, Rank wiggled his wand, putting a temporary wall between the woman and the beast. The dragon's descending head slammed into the magic wall, and for a few seconds, the beast looked dazed.
As soon as it recovered, the Cedarwood Shrieker leapt from the marketplace and landed on a thatched cottage. The dwelling's walls were flattened by the Shrieker's massive weight. When the dragon landed, it wasn't far from Prince Elliot. As the sobering prince dashed away, the dragon opened its mouth, unleashing a second stream of fire.
Elliot wasn't fast enough. The dragon's flames licked the bottom of his breeches, igniting his clothes. As fire crawled up the prince's legs, he dropped to the ground, screaming and thrashing.
Rank rushed over, wiggling his wand as he summoned the necessary element. A cascade splashed down on the flailing prince, who gurgled uncontrollably as the water crushed him. When the flames were out, Rank grabbed Elliot's arm and dragged him away from the dragon's line of sight.
As the soggy prince hobbled away, he looked down at his scorched leg with a whimper. “My leg! It's burnt!”
“It doesn't look too bad, though.” Rank's nose wrinkled as he studied the burn. “Honestly, mate, I've seen worse.”
“Really? But it hurts a lot!” Elliot cried, removing his spectacles. One of the lenses was crushed by his fall, so they were useless. “It's throbbing! I can practically smell t
he cooked flesh!”
Without another word, Rank dropped the panicked prince behind the pub, then he returned to the Cedarwood Shrieker. The dragon's clawed hand was rummaging through the remains of the crushed cottage. When she located food, the beast huffed happily. A handful of petrified spectators watched as the dragon dragged out an injured man. With a snort, the Shrieker flung the man's broken body into its open mouth.
As the beast chewed and swallowed, it started searching for more. Most of the spectators scattered before the dragon chose them.
“Aren't you full yet, beastie?” Rank whispered. “You're a bit of a glutton, aren't you?”
If he was going to drive the dragon away before it found its third meal, Rank needed a plan. He ran back to the widowed old woman and seized her arm. To strengthen his magic, the reaver mage needed her sorrow.
“What are you doing?” As she squawked her disapproval, she battered Rank's head with her purse. “Get off of me at once.”
Ignoring the blows from the old lady's purse, Rank focused on his magic. Like a swinging pendulum, his wand waved back and forth. As the wand moved, the sky darkened. Gray clouds gathered over the dragon's hissing head. The Cedarwood Shrieker was still digging through the cottage rubble, hunting for easy prey.
With a flick of his wand, Rank called down a bolt of lightning. Unfortunately, the old woman clobbered his head at the same time, and the first bolt missed. He wrenched the purse from her fingers, tucked it under his arm, and tried again. Without her purse, she tried to use her arms as weapons. Her elbow plowed into Rank's hip, but at least he didn't miss. When the yellow bolt struck the dragon's scales, every ear in Westerwood was pierced by the dragon's roar.
Rank pointed his wand at the sky and sent down another arrow of electricity. Unfortunately, the dragon leapt away, avoiding Rank's weaponized lightning. When the Cedarwood Shrieker lunged at a little girl, Rank shifted to another spell. He cleared the clouds and dropped a magical rope around the Shrieker's neck. With a flick of his wand, he pulled back on the rope, sparing the girl from a brush with the dragon's teeth.
“Will you let go of me, you stupid brute?” the woman squawked as she pummeled him. Her rage made the rope even tighter.
