Americana Fairy Tale (19 page)

“It doesn’t matter,” Ringo said. “Only princes and princesses are supposed to be together.”

Despite finding the whole thing absurd, Taylor snorted a single laugh. “So, me being
Curseless
is really something small in the scheme of things.”

“Oh no,” Darlene said and pointed a finger, getting Taylor’s attention. “Being
Curseless
is still worse.”

Taylor crossed his arms and slumped onto a prep table. “Terrific.”

The sound of the toilet flushing was the best sound Taylor had heard all day. Corentin staggered out of the bathroom and immediately sat on one of Darlene’s stepstools.

“Better?” Darlene asked across the workspace while tending to the mixer.

“Y-yeah,” Corentin said, wiping his face with a paper towel.

Darlene adjusted her grip around her spatula like a javelin and sent it sailing across the small space to clock Corentin in the head with the rubber tip. Corentin flinched as the fresh-made glaze splattered into his hair. Taylor and Ringo both slapped their hands over their mouths. Taylor didn’t know whether to laugh or be horrified.

“Now, Henri Corentin Devereaux, tell me why you would drag your sorry huntsman carcass into my bakery with a Hatfield Princess?” Darlene asked. It appeared her good nature had vanished into anger.

Corentin held up his hands in surrender. “Hold on, hold on, calm down,” he said, begging. Taylor was baffled by Corentin cowering before the small woman. This was the same man who, without blinking, had explained how to skin pixies.

“You have five seconds to start talking, or you’re going in an oven,” Darlene said, slapping her hands to the prep table. Taylor jumped, and Ringo hid behind his back.

“You are
not
going to put me in an oven,” Corentin said, massaging his temples. “I won’t fit.”

“I just bought a new wood chipper. Makes meat pies that taste like butter. Wanna see?”

Taylor stiffened, and Ringo clung tighter to the back of Taylor’s shirt. Ringo whispered urgently, “We gotta go, we gotta go, we gotta go now.”

Corentin seemed to sense Taylor’s fear and hooked a thumb at Darlene. “She’s just trying to scare you,” he said with a smirk.

“Don’t start with me, Bacon Bit,” Darlene said and started dipping the cinnamon buns into the glaze.

Ringo was the first to snort as he broke into belly laughs. “Bacon Bit?”

“It’s a thing,” Corentin said. Taylor met Corentin’s gaze, and by the way Corentin looked at him, Taylor was going to lose it too. “Don’t,” Corentin warned him.

It was all Taylor needed before he too broke knee-slapping laugher. He bent over, trying to catch his breath, and looked helplessly at Corentin. It was such a small thing, but Taylor spit giggles again with how it hit him in the much-needed spot of tension relief. He honked for air, and he could hear Corentin telling him to breathe.

Slowly Taylor came around and relaxed. He took a breath and knew he was red in the face. He blotted his eyes with his shirt. “Oh shit. I needed that,” he sighed.

“Now, someone better start talking before the evening rush,” Darlene said and tapped the rack of freshly glazed cinnamon buns.

“All I know is Corentin promised us donuts,” Ringo said. Silently, all eyes turned to him. Ringo shrugged.

Darlene turned her attention to Corentin. “Oh, did you?”

“Sort of,” Corentin said in a seeming dismissive tone. “We need help.”

“Well, I assume so. You only show up half dead when you need something,” Darlene said and jumped when her kitchen timer beeped. “Oh, dammit, the fryer.” She hopped off her stool and scooted it over to the fryer.

This time Taylor took the lead. “My brother’s in danger,” he said. “He’s being held captive by a witch, and the witch has cursed us to be trapped on a road trip that’s going nowhere. I need to get to him before the witch kills him.” Taylor didn’t realize how shaky his plea came out until he was tearing up.

Darlene stood over the fryer, watching Taylor as the donuts burned. Corentin said nothing, watching Taylor as well.

“Please…. Please…,” Taylor croaked as his lip trembled. The stress of admitting it hit him in a rush of emotion. “I need to save him from the wi—”

“The Witchking,” Darlene said sternly.

“Yes,” Corentin said. There seemed to be sadness in his expression.

The donuts continued to burn. “You’re too late,” she said in a quiet murmur.

“What do you mean, too late?” Taylor’s heart thumped. “What do you mean,
too late
?” His anger grew with each word. “You have to help us. Corentin said you’d help us. Corentin promised.”

“Corentin promised you nothing!” Darlene roared, and the bakery rattled with her fury. “Huntsmen don’t make promises. They are
incapable
of making promises. Don’t you ever assume, little princess, he can deliver on any oath.”

Corentin pushed from his stool and stepped between them. “Whoa, whoa, calm the fuck down, the both of you,” he said. He put his hands on Darlene’s shoulders and nodded at the burning donuts. “Now, Darlene,” he said softly. “You’re going to start a fire. Mind doing something about that?”

Darlene grunted and snapped her fingers. The blackened donuts flew from the fryer and back to the prep table as fresh-cut rings of dough.

Ringo peeked over Taylor’s shoulder and whistled. “Way cool.”

Darlene hopped off her stool and then sank down upon it in defeat. “I can’t believe it. After all this time, no matter the centuries or space, he’d find her again,” Darlene said, holding her head.

“Her?” Taylor asked and looked at Corentin for answers. “Her?”

“Snow White,” Corentin said. He leaned back onto the edge of a prep table. “Your brother.”

The panic stabbed into Taylor. “Is he going to kill him?” he croaked.

“Worse,” Corentin said and then watched Darlene.

“How the hell do you know?” Taylor demanded. “You only remember the last four years of your life.”

“Hey,” Corentin said, his brows drawn low. “I know quite a bit about Charles Archer. He’s a frequent customer, you could say.”

Darlene sighed. “He’s right. It is worse.”

“Okay.” Taylor crossed his arms. “Just spit it out already. It’s not like I couldn’t deal with my whole family being princesses. I handled that pretty well.”

Taylor noticed Darlene watching him. She reached up and took his hand in a gentle squeeze. Taylor didn’t know what to make of it and waited. “Idi the Witchking is Snow White’s lover,” Darlene said, never looking away from Taylor.

Taylor jerked out of Darlene’s grasp and backed away. “No, no,” he said, his thoughts tumbling at the implications. “No. I’d
know
that about my brother. Charles is a guy. Atticus is a guy. There’s no way Charles would be doing that.”

Corentin tilted his head and tapped his fingers on the prep table. “How well do you know your brother?”

Fury bubbled up in Taylor with the accusation. “What kind of question is that? I know everything there is to know about him!” he snapped. He threw out an arm in anger. “He’s an officer’s candidate. He loves his country. He’s the top of his class!” Taylor looked to Ringo’s neutral expression, then to Darlene, and then to Corentin. “My brother studies so hard he doesn’t have any
time
to meet anyone!” He glared at Corentin as his face grew hot. “My brother is
not
gay.”

Corentin blinked, seeming confused by Taylor’s comment.

Taylor quickly redirected the topic. “And what is this bullshit about a witch being in love with Snow White? What is up with that? Snow White and Prince Charming hook up, and they have a ton of babies, and they all live happily ever after, and the effin’ end.” He threw his arms out, indicating the finality of his words.

“Are you done?” Corentin asked with an even expression.

“Yup,” Taylor said bitterly and let his hands slap into his thighs. “That about covers it.”

“Because there’s more,” Ringo said from behind Taylor.

“What now?” Taylor growled and threw his hands up in frustration.

Darlene stood from her seat and tugged at Taylor’s shirt. “Come with me, boys. Let’s have some donuts and coffee. I need to tell you a story.”

Ringo clapped his hands. “All right, donut time!”

T
HE
Q
UEEN
AND
H
ER
S
OLDIER

The Midas Citadel….

Once upon a time, in the darkest winter….

P
RINCESS
Z
ELLANDINE
didn’t know where else to go. Idi’s armies moved like a swift pestilence across the kingdoms. The ogres stormed the north, the titans pillaged the south, and the dragons reduced the east and west to ashes. The princesses’ armies could do nothing to stop the siege. Zellandine burned with the dragon soul within her as devastation rolled over the Enchanted Forest.

They would all die tonight. All but one.

The child within Snow White’s womb.

The Midas Citadel trembled with another volley of Idi’s enchanters. Zellandine braced herself on a column, waiting for the tremor to pass.

“Zella!” Snow White squealed from the back corner of the throne room. “It’s starting!”

Zellandine rushed to Snow White’s side, her footfalls heavy from her dragoon armor. She made it just in time as Snow White toppled into her, all the heavier from her own layers of enchanted steel and chain mail. Zellandine steadied her and then guided her into sitting upon the steps leading to the throne.

“Here,” Zellandine said quietly. “Let’s get your leggings off.”

Snow White nodded and allowed Zellandine to move her in any way she needed. Zellandine did away with carefully unlacing the garment. Using a measure of her magic, a rose-colored crystal knife appeared in her palm, and she used it to slice away Snow White’s leggings.

“Breathe, just breathe,” Zellandine said, barely above a whisper.

Snow White screamed as another contraction surged through her. She flailed for Zellandine’s hand, and Zellandine accepted, carefully squeezing in her armored glove.

Zellandine never raised her voice to Snow White. She was taught to never raise her voice or else she’d rouse the dragon’s soul inside her. The dragon, Zellandine was taught, must remain asleep. Should the dragon wake, her power would not discriminate against destroying all around her, including those she loved. Zellandine felt the dragon stir in her slumber in the back of her mind. She had to remain calm. She had unleashed the dragon just hours ago and held back Idi’s forces when they tried to take the Midas Citadel. Zellandine had been successful in holding them back, but they were quickly regrouping.

The citadel shook with another blast. Snow White screamed. “You need to go,” Snow White said in a half cry. “We’re outnumbered, and the witches are coming! The armies are no match for them.”

Zellandine furrowed her dark, bloodied brow. “Is he coming?” she asked ever so quietly. She gauged Snow White’s seemingly innocent reaction.

Snow White’s eyes welled with tears. “Edmund is dead…. I lost him on the first wave,” she said, then curled into another contraction.

Edmund
…. Zellandine repeated the name in her mind. The true name of Snow White’s Prince Charming, but not the man she loved. The dragon stirred in Zellandine’s soul.
Soon
, she told the creature within her. “Snow,” Zellandine said. The command in her tone got Snow White’s full attention. “Is Idi coming? Is he coming for you?”

Zellandine watched as Snow White stopped feigning innocence and showed the regret that she had been not only caught in her betrayal, but caught with the Witchking’s child.

“Please… Zella…,” Snow White begged and gripped Zellandine by her bracer. “No one can know of this….”

Zellandine jerked back as if she had put her hand in a child-eater’s oven. She stood over Snow White, and fury raged through her as the dragon roused to the forefront of her mind. “Here we are…,” Zellandine said in a terrible calmness.

The citadel shook with another blast, and distantly timbers splintered.

“You have united all of the princesses over the kingdoms into protecting the people from them,” Zellandine said, and slowly pointed toward the ruined horizon that lay beyond the window. “We protected the people from
him
,” she said, spitting the term. The dragon within her hissed. “All this time… all this time, you chose Idi over us. Over the people who loved you. You betrayed all of us. You line us up like pawns to play in your sick game and pretend to act like the forlorn princess when one of us
dies
.”

Snow White squealed with another contraction. She reached out for Zellandine. “Zella, please… understand—”

“
What
is there to understand?” Zellandine snapped, her voice rising. “You are carrying the child of a Witchking and a princess.
You
, the highest of princesses. Can you even possibly fathom what kind of abomination that is?” She paced around the reclining Snow White, her armor plates clanking together like the hammer on an anvil. “They have ravaged the world,” Zellandine said in a growl. “They have poisoned our wells with corpses. They have plagued our crops with locusts….” Zellandine bent into Snow White’s face and rumbled, “They have eaten our
children
….”

Snow White tried to push away from her, and Zellandine could smell her fear as well as feel the rapid beat of her heart. She was afraid, afraid of her second-in-command’s own power.

“Please, please,” Snow White said, sobbing openly. “I love him. My soul can’t live without him.”

Zellandine roared with the horror of it all. The citadel trembled from the rage ripping out of Zellandine’s soul. She reached out her right arm, and a bolt of rose-colored magic shot through her palm. She gripped the ethereal magic, and it solidified into the icon of her power, a multibladed lance. The swirls of blessings of the dragoons before her etched themselves over the blades and down the shaft. She snapped it forward, holding the blade point level with Snow White’s corrupt heart.