A Grimm Legacy

by Janna Jennings

  Gazing up at Wilhelm through her lashes, Andi said in a light tone, "I missed you too. While we were apart I would dream of you waiting for me in our corner.” She had no idea if Wilhelm and Cynthia had a special place, but figured it was worth a shot.

  “It’s been so long, I can’t remember where that is.” The look he gave her was no less adoring than before, only mildly more intense. “I am available now though, if you care to remind me?”

  Andi shifted, not able to quite meet his eyes.

  The last bars of the waltz drew themselves out and Wilhelm held her for a second after the music stopped, and then drew back a respectable distance while still maintaining a hold on her hand. The band began a quick step and the prince tilted his head and gave her a look clearly saying, "Your move."

  Her stomach gave a quick flip before she reined it in sternly. "Would you mind, actually, if I got a quick bite to eat? I'm afraid I missed dinner."

  "I see, not as impudent as you put on." He gave a mock sigh. "I suppose I can't have you fainting on the dance floor." He gave her hand a squeeze and, turning his back to her, spoke quietly to a guard stationed by the door. Andi strained to eavesdrop but didn’t catch a single word. The guard nodded and immediately left his post. Wilhelm set his hand on her lower back and propelled her toward the buffet.

  A tug on her stocking made her turn. When she glanced back, nothing was there. A small cough sounded and Andi looked down. This time, she spotted a tiny man standing next to her shoe in a tux that would have fit a Ken doll.

  He gave a low, elegant bow. "Madam, may I have this dance?"

  Almost giggling at the absurdity of the situation, Andi managed to squash it into a wide smile.

  In one smooth movement Wilhelm maneuvered himself between her and the miniature man. She stood on her tiptoes to peek over the prince's shoulder to see him.

  "Lady Cynthia is dancing with me,” Prince Wilhelm said.

  Irritation at being spoken for wormed its way into Andi.

  "That’s not—” the tiny gentleman started to say.

  "She is tired and needs a rest,” the prince replied easily.

  Two men with revolvers at their sides and the palace crest on their sleeves appeared beside them. Now nervous laughter threatened to bubble out of Andi. She bit her lip to control herself. He was eight inches tall! What were their guns for? To swat at him?

  The tiny man's eyes swiveled between the two guards, and he slowly backed away, catching her eye and shaking his head slightly. "I was simply asking for a dance."

  The tense muscles of Wilhelm's neck visibly relaxed as he placed his hand on the small of her back again. The guards melted back into the crowd.

  "That was a little harsh," Andi said, exasperation rapidly replacing smothered laughter.

  "Did you want to dance with him?" Prince Wilhelm asked as he steered her to nearby table.

  "I wouldn't have minded,” Andi said.

  "So you'd rather dance with him than me?" the prince pressed.

  "I didn't say that.”

  "If you didn't want to, then why should you?” he asked.

  "It should have been my choice to make!" Andi snapped at him, remembering the small man’s cautionary shake of his head.

  Wilhelm wrapped an arm around Andi’s waist and pulled her exhilaratingly close and breathed into her ear, "I forgot how beautiful you are when you're angry at me."

  Reason puddled into a delighted swoon and she couldn't remember why she’d been mad a moment before. She glanced up to find Dylan staring at her from across the room as he danced with a giggly brunette. He turned quickly away and disappeared from view. Andi was suddenly aware of the goofy grin on her face and hastily wiped it off.

  As Andi ate, she found herself wondering why her grandmother left. Prince Wilhelm had waved off the servants and waited on her himself. Never far from her side for more than a minute, he scrupulously made sure her glass was full and her food hot.

  Every time she looked up, she found Wilhelm’s gaze on her, drinking her in. It was flattering and unsettling at the same time. She would be drawn in by his eyes and have to repeatedly remind herself it was her grandmother he’d loved, not Andi. Not to mention he was over two hundred years old. But if he had really been in love with Cynthia, why couldn't he tell the difference between her and Andi?

  The others—Quinn, Dylan, and Fredrick—were also never far away from Andi, and she could see them slowly working the room, dancing and chatting up as many people possible.

  Fredrick stayed within a few yards from Quinn whenever he could, trying to use his eyes to bore holes into any man’s head that spoke with her. When someone asked her to dance, Andi thought he’d spontaneously combust.

  Dylan was following through on his strategy of gathering information by flirting with the most attractive women at the feast. He danced with one right after the other—a busty blonde wearing what looked like a slip made of fishnets, or a redhead with a slit in her dress so high she nearly flashed the entire ballroom when Dylan dipped her during a tango.

  He could tango. What sixteen-year-old guy could tango?

  He snuck away in the direction the food kept arriving from at one point during the evening. When he reappeared, she studiously avoided meeting his eyes and inching closer to the prince when she thought he might be looking.

  While Wilhelm tried to draw her attention with funny stories of people he knew in court, her gaze wandered. Normally she would be more engaged, but her mind wouldn't stop churning. She thought—no she knew—the way home was in this castle somewhere. But where? It had to be someplace out of the way so people wouldn't be stepping in and out of it every day.

  There had to be hundreds of people between the main ballroom and the attached rooms she could see through the walls of arches. The wait staff was obvious in their livery, and she spotted more guards standing unobtrusively around the rooms.

  The guests, on the other hand, were really eye-catching. Every nationality Andi could image had a representative, and the clothing was so varied—every fashion from the last 200 years in every country seemed acceptable dress. She felt like she was at a costume party as women in flapper dresses spoke with gentleman in WWI aviator caps, and hoop skirts straight from the civil war gossiped alongside a cocktail dress made entirely of peacock feathers. Andi swore she even saw a dress featured on the red carpet at the last awards show.

  As her gaze strayed over the room, one woman kept catching her eye. She stood alone, drink in hand, surveying the crowd with a cold, detached look. She was young, very beautiful with a thick mane of golden hair, woven through with flowers, falling to her waist. She wore a flowing green evening gown, sleeves trailing to the floor, decorated with the same flowers adorning her hair. The longer Andi observed her, the more convinced she became that the woman wasn’t just watching the crowd, but one person in particular.

  Quinn was down on one knee chatting with the minuscule man Wilhelm so rudely dismissed, Fredrick hovering close by. When Quinn left him to dance with the man in the aviator’s cap, the mysterious woman's gaze followed.

  "The look on his face was priceless, he had no idea how we knew he was consorting with the Earl of Devonshire."

  Andi tuned back into Wilhelm’s story just in time to realize she was completely lost.

  He watched her with raised eyebrows, and Andi shot in the dark. "How did you know?"

  Wilhelm chuckled and ran a light finger along the frame of her face from her brow to her chin, tilting his head to look her in the eye. "Someone's mind has been wandering."

  A shiver ran down Andi's spine and she struggled to refocus herself. She gave him a half smile. "Sorry, my mind is a little scattered tonight."

  "I said we used my mother's magic mirror. It's a close guarded family secret. It can see anywhere, so of course it's the perfect spying tool for the more… delicate negotiations in court,” Wilhelm said.

  Andi’s ears pricked up at the words ‘magic mirror.’ That definitely had potential. Elorium’s
very own version of GPS. Her mind began to race with possible scenarios for getting Wilhelm to take her to it.

  "Wilhelm, there are so many people here. Do you know everyone?" Andi asked.

  The prince scanned the room. "Just about. No other handsome men catching your eye, I hope?"

  "I actually don't recognize that woman. Do you know her?" Andi titled her chin in the direction of the woman in the green dress and flowers. Wilhelm sat up straighter for a better look.

  "Dame Gothel? I know of her. She’s an enchantress of limited ability and gets called to the castle on occasion when someone is sick. She has a small gift for healing. Why do you ask?"

  "She just reminds me of someone I know." Andi dodged the question best she could.

  Dame Gothel's gaze passed over Quinn several times as she continued to dance her way across the ballroom. Andi's worry ratcheted up a notch now that the strange woman’s interest in her friend was confirmed.

  A man in Shakespearean costume, complete with hose, doublet, and absurd-looking breeches passed through her field of vision. He had a dark goatee and mustache, but that didn’t keep Andi from recognizing him.

  "I’m going to the powder room, but you'd better be ready to dance when I get back," she said breezily to Wilhelm before bolting after the man.

  Andi wove her way through one of the arches, catching Quinn's eye as she went. Shouldering people aside, she tried to be quick without drawing attention to herself. She stood in the middle of the crowd and scanned the faces. He was gone.

  Jerking her head at the ladies room, Andi ducked inside with Quinn on her heels. While Andi checked all the stalls, Quinn locked the door. They sank down on the couch in the lounge area.

  “I saw Mr. Jackson!” Andi gasped.

  "What?”

  A knock sounded on the door. Andi shared a glance with Quinn.

  "Just a moment," Quinn called.

  "I don't think it can wait!" Dylan shouted back in a singsong voice.

  Quinn unlocked the door, letting Dylan and Fredrick slip inside.

  “Mr. Jackson’s here!” Andi repeated for the boys’ benefit.

  “Where?” Fredrick said, spinning in a circle as if he expected to find him in the woman’s bathroom.

  “He’s dressed like Shakespeare,” Andi explained. “He had on a fake beard and hat, but it was definitely him.”

  Andi caught the look that passed among the others.

  “I’m not making it up!” she said hotly.

  “We don’t think you are,” Quinn said, placing a hand on her elbow. “But if he’s here, why hasn’t he tried to contact one of us? He helped last time, with the giant.”

  “I don’t know,” Andi said, exasperated at being expected to know someone’s motivations.

  "We’ll have to talk about it later,” Fredrick said. “Did you find out anything?”

  "The prince thinks I'm Cynthia. Apparently, he can't tell a difference,” she said, only sulking a little. “He doesn't know where the passageway is. But guys, there’s a magic mirror here somewhere. If we can find it, maybe it can tell us the way home.” Andi paused and stared at her toes, unsure how to say the next bit. “I don't know why Cynthia left in the first place. Wilhelm adored her."

  "It’s because he’s a manipulative, possessive, control freak," Dylan said, examining a fingernail.

  "How would you know?” Andi fumed quietly. “You haven’t noticed anyone not falling out of their dress all night.”

  “Guys, we don’t have time to get into it right now,” Quinn said. “Dylan?”

  "None of the guests really knew who Cynthia was, which keeps with the story. Molly, one of the kitchen maids, remembers seeing her wandering alone in the west wing of the castle during the last feast.” He perched on the arm of the couch, not meeting Andi’s eyes. "She said it was odd, because it's the royal family’s private quarters."

  "Who'll be able to get back there, then?" Quinn asked.

  Andi's stomach gave a roll that could have been nerves or excitement. She was positive she could get Wilhelm to take her, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to ask him or not.

  "No sweat, Molly's already offered." Dylan thumbed his lapels and grinned wolfishly at Andi. "Would love to give me a 'private tour.’"

  "You’ve got to be kidding me.” Quinn raised an eyebrow at him.

  Dylan put on a wounded face. "I keep telling you, I have a way with the ladies.”

  Andi bristled, pretty sure Dylan was all talk, but spitting mad all the same.

  "Fine. I don't have much, just the name of Cynthia's best friend right before she disappeared." Quinn made sure of their undivided attention. "Rapunzel.”

  “The really long hair, locked away in a tower, Rapunzel?” Andi asked.

  “At this point, I think it’s safe to assume that’s the one. I don't know if it connects in any way, but keep it in mind." Quinn glanced at the door. "We'd better go."

  Voices bounced around outside and the door wiggled against the lock.

  "Get in the stalls, quick!" Andi shoved both the boys in the same stall, making sure to push Dylan harder than necessary, and banged the door closed as Quinn popped the lock on the bathroom door open and stepped back quickly from the door.

  "Here it goes. Must have been stuck.”

  An elderly woman used her cane to propel open the door, followed closely by what appeared to be her nurse. Andi flashed them a nervous smile as they tottered past before the door swung closed and she headed back to her prince.

  Chapter 27

  “Now if you'll excuse me, I have an adorable maid to win over."

  Dylan was stuck in a bathroom stall with Fredrick for several awkward minutes before Quinn provided a distraction to get them out, of the girl's bathroom unseen.

  He tried to speed past as soon as they were free, but Fredrick grabbed his arm.

  "What?" Dylan snapped when he couldn't shake Fredrick off immediately.

  "Lay off a bit.”

  "He’s been all over her the whole night!” Dylan spat. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't trust him. There’s something a little too slick about him.”

  "I don't trust him either. Keep an eye on them, just consider toning it down,” Fredrick said.

  Dylan caught sight of Quinn exiting the ladies room, headed in their direction.

  "Consider it,” Fredrick repeated as Quinn approach. He turned on his heel, letting his long legs take him swiftly back to the ballroom.

  "What was that about?" Quinn asked, staring after Fredrick with a wistful glance. The look wasn't lost on Dylan, but he didn't comment on it. They were going to have to work that out themselves.

  "Guy talk.” Dylan ran a hand lightly over his tux front. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have an adorable maid to win over."

  "Dylan." Quinn caught his hand with hers and pulled him to a stop. "Are you comfortable with this? Because if you aren't we'll find another way."

  Instead of answering, Dylan spun her hand in his, brought it to his lips and gave it a sloppy kiss.

  "Sometimes you've just gotta take one for the team." He rolled his eyes up to hers, sparkling with the joke, his face still hovering over her hand.

  He didn’t sidetrack Quinn.

  "Dylan?" she insisted.

  He dropped her hand and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You are far more intuitive than is good for you. Really, are you going to make me say this?"

  "Yep."

  "It’s not like I haven’t used my—talent—to talk people into stuff before. You know, I talked myself out of a night in jail once,” he recalled.

  "Seriously? What did you do?"

  "Long story involving a prank with some lobster traps,” Dylan said, smiling at the memory. “It runs in the family. You should have seen my grandfather persuade people to do things. Although he didn’t use his abilities for such nefarious deeds, as he put it.”

  Remembering his grandfather was like a wonderful ache he got from pushing his body to its physical limit, but it w
as still painful.

  "The…devious individuals I usually end up manipulating one way or the other deserve it. Molly is—she’s different."

  “The kitchen maid?” Quinn clarified.

  Dylan nodded and stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. “But we have got to get out of here, and this is our best chance. Andi can’t be left with that overbearing jerk another minute.”

  He took off down the corridor, sure he could feel Quinn’s eyes boring into back.

  Dodging countless guests, each decked out in more finery than the last, Dylan wove his way toward the kitchens. He ducked inside the stainless steel double doors and, trying to stay out of the way of the mad rush, searched for Molly.

  He found her carefully icing a tray of cakes about to leave the kitchens. Slightly plump with apple cheeks, she had tendrils of dark brown hair escaping from her cap and clinging to her neck. She was focused on her work and biting her bottom lip as she kept her hand steady.

  "Molly! Pssst, Molly!" Dylan staged whispered, trying not to attract unwanted attention.

  A strong pair of fingers clamped onto his ear and he yelped. A diminutive woman glared up at him from under sleek gray eyebrows. "Mr. Peterson, vat did I tell you about loitering in my kitchen?"

  "Kochien, how can you be mad at me when you know it's your streusel that lures me in?” Dylan asked, trying to grin at her through tears of pain.

  She released his ear. "Streusel, yah?" she challenged eyeing Molly across the kitchen.

  The dark haired kitchen maid watched the spectacle with wide eyes while the icing dripped unnoticed onto the counter.

  "Well, the streusel…”—he grabbed Kochien’s hand, twirled, and dipped her low as the staff looked on in amazement—"and you, of course."

  Something clattered loudly as one of the staff dropped a pot. The cook laughed and the wrinkles around her eyes took over her face as she slapped Dylan's arm. He stood her up straight.