Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

Charades

The royal princes were terrible at playing games.

If this hadn't been obvious enough from their attempt at 'eye spy' a few months back, it was being made abundantly clear now in the worst game of charades known to man.

Osmund was currently squatting on the floor, jumping around.

"Uh...is he someone trying to take a shit?" Avery asked slowly.

Bartram face palmed. "Why the hell would he be hopping around then?!"

"Maybe it's stuck," Avery replied, nonchalantly.

"God, stop being gross," Bartram snapped before desperately looking at Roland and Radley. "How about you two? Any guesses?!"

The silent brothers simply exchanged a glance before shrugging in unison.

"Thanks, very helpful, guys," Bartram muttered, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Uh...maybe he's a, um...a rabbit...?" Wheeler asked.

Osmund shook his head, beginning to hop around in a circle.

"A frog?" Bartram continued. "No wait...a toad?!?"

Osmund began to nod frantically, urging them further.

"IT'S MISTER PUMPERNICKEL!" Wheeler, Bartram, and Avery all shouted at the same time.

"Yes," Osmund gasped, flopping onto his back in exhaustion. "Oh my God, finally."

"Okay, my turn!" Avery announced, shooting to his feet. He proceeded to scowl, glaring at Wheeler.

"You're Emeric," Bartram said instantly.

"Yep."

"What?!" Osmund practically screeched. "It took you guys nearly forty minutes to guess mine!"

"But Avery's was so obvious," Batram pointed out.

"How the hell was that obvious!?!"

Batram opened his mouth to argue, when suddenly a frantic knock came from the door. The princes' attention snapped to the doorway as it opened, a rather frazzled-looking guard standing there.

"Pardon me, Your Highnesses. I told her she should come back later, but she insisted it was urgent--"

"Wheeler!" Priscilla gasped, her gaze frantic as she burst through the door with Mister Pumpernickel on her shoulder.

"Is everything okay?" Wheeler asked, eyes going wide at the sight of her.

"It's...it's complicated," Priscilla stammered. "Could we, um...talk alone for a minute?"

"Yeah," Wheeler said, quickly scrambling to his feet. "Um...do you guys mind continuing the game without me?"

The brothers exchanged a worried glance but nodded.

Wheeler offered them a tight smile in thanks before moving to join Priscilla, the two slipping out the door into the hallway.

"Can we go to your room?" Priscilla whispered, her gaze nervously darting around the corridor. "I don't want anyone to overhear us. Things might be far more dangerous here than we realized."

***

The guards stationed outside Wheeler's door were the first hint that something was terribly wrong. Since coming to live at the palace, the same several guards had been assigned there, switching only amongst themselves. Wheeler had never seen either of the men standing there now, their gazes digging into him as they watched him and Priscilla approach.

Wheeler swallowed hard, trying to ignore the prickle of nerves creeping up his spine as he finally reached for the handle, pushing the door open.

He instantly froze, eyes widening in horror at the sight before him.

Priscilla gasped, hands flying to her mouth.

Wheeler's bedroom was in a state of ruin; chairs and tables overturned, pages ripped from books, items smashed across the floor. What made Wheeler's heart jump into his throat, however, was what was lodged directly above his bed.

Pinned in place by a long, twisted dagger was Mulock's jacket, a note written on thin parchment attached.

Wheeler ran forward, yanking the dagger from the wall. Frantically, he removed the parchment, the jacket falling limply to the floor with a thud. Wheeler's hands were trembling so violently he could hardly hold the paper, his gaze desperately flickering over the message written in perfect cursive.

'Meet me at the northern tower at nightfall. You must come alone and tell no one. As long as you follow my directions, he won't get hurt. I assume I'll be seeing you soon, brother dearest.

Sincerely,

-E.'

Wheeler felt like he was going to vomit.

"What's it say?" Priscilla asked, her voice tight with panic.

"I'm sorry," Wheeler choked, crumpling the parchment in one hand. "I can't...I can't tell you." He frantically glanced at the window. Evening had already fallen, the dark of night creeping across the palace grounds. He didn't have much time. If he didn't get there fast, God knew what his brother might do to Mulock. Just the thought of it turned his stomach to knots, anxiety clawing at his throat.

"I need to go," he stammered. "I'm so sorry, Priscilla. I know you had something urgent to tell me, but I...this is an emergency."

"Don't worry, I understand," Priscilla replied, her voice strained by nerves as she stared down at Mulock's crumpled jacket. "Just...please don't let anyone hurt him..." She swallowed hard. "Or you." Priscilla's eyes had grown watery and she quickly turned away so Wheeler wouldn't see her cry. "If something happened to the two of you, I don't know what I'd do."

"I'll get him back, " Wheeler said, hoping Priscilla couldn't hear the tremble in his voice. "Neither of us are going anywhere, I promise."

And with that, Wheeler took off racing from the room, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears it seemed to drown out everything else.