Damsels in Distress: Book Two: Desperately Ever After Trilogy

by Laura Kenyon

  “Did you notice the rabbits got into the eggplants again?” she asked, tossing all of her hair over one shoulder and exposing the raven tattoo on her neck.

  “Well this is their home too, technically. Or do you want to sit them down for a chat?”

  Snow made a face. He was referring to Ruby’s absurd depiction of her—in the bestselling Children’s History of Marestam series—as someone who genuinely conversed with animals. Not that she hadn’t tried. But in all her thirty-two years, she’d never encountered one that actually could talk back.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Griffin said, pulling his glasses off to squeeze the bridge of his nose. His eyes were the color of spoiled milk—and glassy. “They probably wouldn’t take you seriously anyway. Headstrong little buggers.”

  Snow slanted her eyes, pinched the rolled-up paper between her lips, and inhaled long and slow. Then she passed it back, blew out the smoke, and hopped to her feet.

  “That’s all you’re having?”

  She brushed the petals from her skirt. “I’ve got a lot to do before people arrive. And I might as well start weaning off that stuff now. Won’t be long before we’ve got three little ones to take care of. We’ll need to be on the ball.”

  Snow could see him working this out in his head. The son of a pair of traveling musicians known as The Royal Court, Griffin had been smoking rampion with his parents for decades. And at twelve years her elder, that time added up.

  “Pies with gluten and now you’re taking away my herbs?” He flattened his palm against his chest—his soft, comfortable chest. “If you don’t love me anymore, just say so.”

  Snow bit the inside of her cheek. She knew he was joking, but they’d been through this. The two of them would never be asked to speak at the Prime Minister’s coronation or host a fashion show, but she at least wanted to be respectable parents. “Griffin, we agreed that we shouldn’t—”

  “Flaunt our political incorrectness around the children? Yeah I know.” He lumbered to his feet and looped his arm around her waist. “At least not until they hit puberty.”

  “Griff—”

  A thick finger settled over her mouth. “Just teasing. In fact—” He tilted the little white bundle up and down between his fingers. “This is the last of it. I made a batch of my famous brownies with the rest. You did promise me one last hurrah, after all.”

  Snow tried to remain turned away from him, but she loved him too darn much. He was a giant butterball compared to her friends’ stalwart husbands—all of whom could hold their own on the cover of Marestam People without further explanation—but she couldn’t care less. And she had promised him one last wild and crazy childless night.

  “One last hurrah,” she repeated, leaning her forehead into his. “How about tomorrow?”

  “So soon? I thought we had weeks to prepare to be responsible parents.”

  “We do. But think about all the leftovers we’ll have tomorrow. Munchie paradise.”

  Griffin smiled. “That’s my girl,” he said again, slapping a huge wet kiss on her cheek. She responded by digging further into him, the way she dug into her pillow before bed.

  The next five hours were going to be a rush of cooking and cleaning and assembling and entertaining. But Snow would do everything in her power to slow it down. She wanted to remember each blessed moment. She wanted to savor the words as they rolled off her lips. She wanted to capture the expressions on all of her friends’ faces as she told them that, after all this time, her dream was finally coming true.

  * * *

  Ordinarily quiet as a cloister, by seven o’clock, the area surrounding Snow White’s cottage could have been mistaken for an impromptu stop by a traveling circus. Instead of the usual wind chimes and meditation, there was loud music, raucous laughter, spirited group recollections, and numerous well-intentioned declarations that “we really should do this more often!”

  Between her frenzied trips to the kitchen, the snack table, and the recycling bin (because no one seemed to know the difference between trash and plastic), Snow barely managed to take a dozen mental snapshots. And the few bits of conversation she squeezed in seemed limited to the food, the décor, and the need to add a second bathroom.

  Several times, she almost let it slip that such a project was in the works—now that they’d have three additional tushies in the house. But she wanted to spring the good news at the perfect moment. She wasn’t sure when that would be, exactly, but it certainly was not while Belle was giving Rapunzel the cold shoulder, Penny was struggling to keep Ruby away from Belle, Dawn was looking absolutely miserable beside her husband, and Angus Kane was creating his usual invisible force field—repelling everyone except his snooty wife, his elegant niece Kiarra, and the young man who must have been Kiarra’s date. He had a boyish face and skin the shade of a perfectly toasted almond. As usual for the high-maintenance socialite, he was tear-my-clothes-off gorgeous.

  “I didn’t know you invited Liam Devereaux,” Rapunzel rasped in her ear, forcing Snow to breathe in a thick cloud of vodka—even though she’d only put out wine and beer.

  She turned for clarification, but not before Dawn shoved between them with a mildly panicked look on her face. Her eyes were huge and her face was nearly the color of her hair.

  “Who’s that man with Kiarra Kane?” she asked. “Do you know him?”

  Rapunzel, evidently done trying to reconcile with Belle, shook her head. “Don’t either of you read the news? Snow I can understand. But Dawn! I thought you kept up with that stuff. Haven’t you heard of Liam Devereaux?”

  Dawn gasped. “Liam Devereaux?” Snow still didn’t know what they were talking about. “That’s Liam Devereaux? The billionaire?”

  “Yup,” Rapunzel said. “Billionaire owner of Perdemi-Divan. Best vodka I’ve ever tasted. The Mirror swears he just bought a house in Marestam, though I didn’t believe it until now. Usually when a big shot bachelor like that comes to town, he makes sure everyone knows.”

  “Well, maybe he’s different,” Dawn said, compulsively panning from the man to the floor and back again. “Maybe he wants peace and quiet. Maybe he doesn’t want crazed women to come—”

  “Knocking down his door?” Rapunzel gave a pop of laughter. “Yeah, something tells me that’s not it. If he wanted privacy, why would he come to a royal party on the arm of Kiarra Kane? She’s not exactly a wallflower.”

  Not one to indulge in gossip (especially not about her guests), Snow excused herself to mix up the untouched eggplant dip and refill the vegetable platter. She knew her friends didn’t mean anything by it, but they were too smart to act so shallow.

  Not that she was immune to that sort of thinking, but she knew how dangerous it could be. That’s why she married a man who swore by karma, ignored all of the tabloids, and never said a negative word about anyone. She didn’t care that it made her the butt of countless jokes—even those of her friends. She enjoyed living on the periphery. She didn’t mind being the weirdo monarch who made homemade jam for her guards and housed them in a hundred family cottages splattered around her “royal cottage.” She was better off this way. After all, how many princesses spent three years hiding in a condemned frat house, tripping over beer cans and doing laundry for seven stumpy undergrads in order to earn her keep? She didn’t fit into that perfect, fashionable, glamorous world. What right did she have to jaw about it?

  Snow was sorting through the pile of artery-clogging treats her guests had brought (and half-watching Kiarra put the moves on Carter, whose soon-to-be crown was apparently more appealing than Liam Devereaux’s billions), when Angus Kane sidled up beside her.

  “What a wonderful party,” he said, the smoothness of his voice catching her off guard as usual. For someone so skeletal, she always expected him to sound scratchy and pinched. But Angus spoke like one of those university professors whose wisdom you can practically smell. No wonder he was such a successful politician.

  They exchanged a brief hug. She could feel his bones throu
gh her dress. “I’m happy you could come on such short notice. You must be so busy, what with Cinderella and Aaron being away.”

  “Nonsense! I’m thrilled to take on the extra work.” He smiled and pointed at her necklace. “And I’m happy to see one of my gifts being put to good use. I’m never sure. Has it been catching all your nightmares, I hope? Bringing you good luck?”

  Snow felt her lips automatically pop up at the sides. She tried to force them back down, but this only resulted in a grotesque grimace that made it even more obvious she had something to hide.

  “I can’t complain,” she said, panning behind him to find a quick way out. That’s when she saw his wife staring bullets at the back of his head. This probably had to do with Rapunzel, who was flicking the woman’s feathered hat like a caveman discovering flames. At least she wasn’t flirting with Kiarra’s date, who seemed to be missing at the moment … along with Griffin.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as Angus twirled his gold-topped walking stick into the floor. He was wearing his usual thigh-length frock coat (wine red this time) with a silk ascot. He should have been sweating bullets. “Did Griffin say hello to you yet? He seems to have disappeared. Have you seen him?”

  Angus gave a slow, thoughtful nod, as if she’d just asked him to explain the origin of the universe. “I believe he went with Hunter and Rapunzel’s new fellow to fortify the beverage table. Evidently they felt it was … missing something.”

  In her head, Snow made the translation: Your decision to cut out the hard stuff was a failure. On the outside, she smiled and said, “Whatever keeps the guests happy.”

  Angus smiled back and tapped his water glass with his ring. “Spoken like a truly gracious host,” he said. “And on that note, would you mind directing an old man to the washroom?”

  Happy to end the conversation, she escorted Angus through the kitchen, past her bedroom, and down the hall that ended at a miniscule, pedestal sink bathroom. “It’s not what you’re used to, I’m sure,” she said, “but it fit our needs until now.”

  Angus squinted and tilted his head. She could actually see the wheels turning, set off by her last two, careless words. But before he could ask the follow-up, she caught Penny’s eye from back down the hall and gave an overly ecstatic wave. “Oh! I think she needs me,” she lied, walking backwards. “Extra toilet paper’s under the sink.”

  * * *

  Ever since she was a little girl—back when her father was still alive and her mother was sane—Snow’s favorite part of any party was the din after the carousing. This was when most of the guests were gone, save for the very closest of an already close group of friends. When the loud music turned into a soft soundtrack behind intimate chatter. When the leftovers had been bundled up and ferried away for lunch the next day or as a companion to the morning coffee.

  No longer showing off their pretty blouses or putting on airs, the lingerers stretched casually around the patio table—their shoulders draped in sweatshirts borrowed from the back of Snow and Griffin’s closets—sipping on sobering glasses of water, and picking on surviving desserts. Tables and counters were scattered with half empty cups, discarded napkins, and lost sunglasses. Even though the property still held five times its usual load of people, it felt oddly empty—as if the dozens who’d been there earlier had taken chunks of the atmosphere with them when they’d gone.

  “What do you suppose they’re talking about over there?” Penny asked, nodding towards Logan, Hunter, and Griffin, who were all hunched together at the far end of the yard, sharing a cigarette. Ethan, who’d had an unfortunate encounter with a bocce ball earlier in the evening, had decided to stay with the women—namely Rapunzel, who was doing a surprisingly remarkable job of playing nurse.

  The answers came quickly and from all angles.

  “Cars.”

  “Sports.”

  “Sex.”

  Ethan shook his head, a cumbersome task with the giant sack of ice attached to his temple. “If they’re talking about anything of substance, which more than likely they’re not, they’re making up ways to get rid of that horribly obnoxious bullfrog.”

  “What bullfrog?” Snow asked.

  Rapunzel ran her palm gently over his cheek and pouted. “I think that’s the injury talking. Have a brownie. It’ll help.”

  He slumped further into the table but took the brownie. “You don’t hear that? It sounds like a freaking airplane is circling the yard.”

  The women stole uncertain glances with each other. Penny, newly aware of the desserts squished behind a pile of mosquito repellent incense, leaned forward to scoop one up. “All I hear is Ruby’s incessant lecturing echoing in my head,” she whined. “Seriously, what on earth is wrong with that woman?”

  “Holy crap, what isn’t?” Rapunzel slammed her hand against the table, barely an inch from her patient, who lurched back in shock. “Oh, sorry babe. But seriously. On and on and on about Belle being the death of Marestam. Belle, for goodness sake! Belle, who rescues 100-pound dogs and paints her bedroom buttercup yellow. I was this close to shutting that witch up with my fist!”

  “All right, killer.” Ethan pushed her untouched water glass in front of her scotch. “You should drink this.”

  Snow fidgeted in her chair and then apologized for including the fairy on the guest list at all. “I had no idea she was going to be on your case all night.”

  Belle shrugged and assured everyone that no one was to blame. “It’s just water to me at this point, and I’ve grown an impervious skin.” She ended this declaration with a proud, definitive nod—not unlike one a child would give after tying her shoes for the first time. “Besides,” she added. “She’s Ruby Welles. You couldn’t not invite Ruby Welles.”

  Rapunzel let out the sort of agonizing groan that might ordinarily have sent the royal guards running—if they weren’t all home sleeping off the party. It was no secret that she and Ruby hated each other to the core. “Why does everyone have to worship the ground that woman walks on? Walks being the operative word there. It’s not like she can freaking fly or anything.”

  Penny laughed and began pulling bite-size bits off her second brownie. “Would it make a difference if she could?”

  The question sat in the air for a few moments and then fell, indicating either an upcoming shift in conversation or the end of the evening.

  “On the subject of obligatory invitations,” Dawn piped up for the first time in what seemed like an hour. “Angus Kane had quite an entourage tonight.”

  Ethan whistled. “Yeah he did.” He was leaning fully back in his chair now, with the icepack plopped smack on top of his face. Both arms hung loosely over the sides of the chair, as if he was summoning the moon to fall into his empty lap. “Half the realm’ll be talking about Kiarra’s outfit tomorrow. I mean, did you see how low—”

  Rapunzel cut him off with a swift knock to the elbow. This caused his ice pack to drop, his chair to propel forward, and half the table to erupt with uncontrollable laughter—after verifying that he was unharmed, of course. When he climbed back up again, he immediately reached across the table for another brownie as Rapunzel praised the physical virtues of Kiarra’s date instead.

  “Oh, Liam wasn’t her date,” Dawn interrupted.

  Rapunzel scoffed. “What do you mean? I saw them with my own eyes.”

  “Oh… umm… well, I mean he was her date, of course,” Dawn let out a weak laugh. “But did you see how she was hanging off Carter by the end of the night? I think she wants to be your sister-in-law, Penny.”

  At this, Snow popped to her feet and called Griffin over. This conversation was just getting worse and worse, and she was running out of time.

  Her husband was still walking over when she reached for his hand and pulled him to her side. She smiled. All eyes steadied on her. The moment had arrived. She tried to savor each word as it left her lips. “Our application’s been approved,” she said. “We’re adopting triplet baby boys in October!”

  “Three!” B
elle was the first to her feet. She threw her arms around Snow and then fell straight into Griffin.

  He let out a surprised squawk and tried to keep her steady. “Don’t tell me that baby bump’s throwing your balance off already!”

  Belle giggled into her sleeve. “Nah, probably just too much sugar. Those brownies are fantastic!”

  “Brownies?” Snow heard Griffin ask. Something about the tone of his voice caught her attention.

  “Yeah, they really are delicious!” Rapunzel shouted from the far end of the table. Not surprisingly, she was waiting for everyone else to get their congratulations in before even bothering to stand up. “Who made them? I don’t bake but I’d start for these. I like that extra little crunch. It’s almost like … like …”

  “Oregano,” Penny declared.

  Everything that happened next did so in slow motion. Griffin looked up and locked eyes with Snow. Then he panned, one hand on his mouth, around the table. Penny was cackling into Logan’s shoulder. Ethan was sprawled back in his seat, snoring. Rapunzel was trying to catch the smoke from the incense between her fingers.

  “Where did those come from?” He pointed at the plate. His hand was shaking.

  Snow clenched her fist and tried to force the panic down. Griffin wouldn’t be so stupid as to leave rampion brownies in the kitchen—especially around the Prime Minister and a pregnant woman. “They were with all the other desserts,” she said. “One of the guests must have brought them.”

  Either the next words came without sound or all of Snow’s senses had shut down.

  No. I made those. We were supposed to have them tomorrow.

  And with that, the floodgates opened. A billion levels of laughter and screams surged into Snow’s head as she grabbed a half-awake Belle, dragged her through the cottage, and pulled her into the tiny, fine-until-now, pedestal sink bathroom.

  The Marestam Mirror

  Diamond Ropes and Velvet Cake

  By Perrin Hildebrand, King of Gossip

  WHEN I heard Queen Snow was throwing a birthday bash for her husband, my first reaction was something like: Huh? And then: Why bother?