"Tell me about the night I was born."
"There was a thick, cold fog clinging to our ankles and the moon was full."
"Isn't it always a full moon?"
"But there was also a comet streaking across the heavens."
"I mean, what happened that night that made it all go so wrong?"
"What else? It started with love. Doesn't it always?"
Is there anything more mortifying than throwing up on the boots of someone you recently imprisoned? If so, I'd like to know what that could be, because at that point, I wanted to jump into the cell's crevasse and start digging.
I swallowed hard, trying to rid my mouth of the foul taste, wishing for a toothbrush.
I couldn't face Blade, so I lay there on the floor with my eyes closed pretending to be dead (Yes, I said if I returned to the cell, it would be over my dead body, but this was a healthier option.)
Something poked me in the forehead. My eyelids opened without my permission, and there he was, Mr. Swashbuckling Annoyance, Minion to the Queen of Brittlebane kneeling beside me, his stupid curls flopping over his eyes, beckoning to be touched. "What are you doing?" I demanded, pushing his hand away even though part of me wanted to familiarize myself with every tendon, knuckle, and finger.
"Just checking that you're alive."
"That's how you check? By poking me in the forehead? Have you ever had a CPR class?"
Blade cocked his head like an inquisitive cockatoo. "A what?"
"You're supposed to look for a person's pulse, not poke them."
He shrugged. "I thought poking would be faster."
He had a point. I sat, wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my horse costume. "Sorry about messing up your boots. Though, to be truthful, you're lucky I hadn't eaten in a long time. Could've been worse."
"That's okay; it's not the first time," he said.
"So, girls routinely barf on your boots? Have you ever thought maybe it's you?"
He pursed his lips. (Have I mentioned how full and soft they looked? No? Okay, good, then pretend I didn't say anything.) "Do you always talk to people this way?"
"Only the ones that annoy me," I said. "So, yes."
"Good, just checking that it wasn't only me," he said, dark eyes twinkling like the night sky.
"Not at all, but you do seem to bring out the worst," I said, mostly to distract myself from his stupid eyes. "Did you mean what you said about me being evil?"
"Jury's still out, but since you came back ..." he arched his eyebrows so high, they disappeared into the curls. "You did come back for me, right?"
I couldn't let him think I was here to rescue him.
Could I?
I held up my arm to silence him and cleared my throat while I tried to decide whether to let him think I was a good person.
Pros of lying: Blade would like me and maybe help me find my dads and escape.
Cons of lying: Blade would despise me, and I'd never find out what his curls felt like.
But that was idiotic! I didn't want to feel his curls!
Did I?
He poked me again in the forehead.
"Hey!" I said. "Stop doing that!"
"Sorry, I thought maybe you were unconscious again since you haven't spoken in about five seconds, and that's not normal for you."
"You've known me for like ten minutes."
"I know you like to talk," he said. "Well, maybe 'talk' isn't quite the word. You like to pontificate."
"That's because I'm usually right, and you are generally wrong," I pontificated.
"Are you going to tell me why you're here?"
The lie burned inside my mouth, like a strong mint pressed into the tip of my tongue. My idiotic conscience swept in, battling my better judgment, and winning. "About that ..."
"You picked your original self in the mirror test and are here strictly because of your poor choice?"
"You knew?" I flicked his shoulder with the back of my hand.
"I know things. Hear things. Okay, Malcolm told me."
"What a big mouth ghost. I'll remember that."
"Ghosts don't really have mouths. Don't mention it to Malcolm, okay? He's very upset that he can't eat."
"He's been dead for like a thousand years. You'd think he'd have gotten over it by now," I said.
"It hasn't been that long, and some people have a hard time accepting their circumstances," he said, leveling his gaze at me.
"Are we still talking about Malcolm?"
"I have no idea what we're talking about, but it's time for me to go."
"How are you planning to get out of this cell?"
Smiling, he held up the key.
"How did you get that?" I stammered.
"Took it out of your pocket when I poked your forehead."
Boy, did he look smug. I tried to grab it, but of course he was too fast. Grrrrr!
He closed his fingers over the key. "You're not getting this again," he said.
"But you're going to let me out, right?"
"You mean because you didn't leave me here to be eternally punished for not fixing Petronella's hangnail?"
"Exactly. I imprisoned you, so you'd have an excuse. I thought we'd been over that."
"So thoughtful."
"Glad you agree."
"I was being facetious."
"So was I."
"Touché!" he said.
"Oh, adorable. Using a sword fighting word."
"Technically, it's a fencing term, but yes."
"Look, Minion of Massive Annoyance, I need to get to that banquet. The only rule, as far as I can tell, is that I get there by any means necessary. And if you're standing between me and my escape, you might want to move."
Blade drew back and grinned. "As far as I can tell, I have the key. I have the weapon. And you have ... let me think." He gave me the once over. "Oh, yeah, nothing. Bye."
He stomped over to the bars, totally turning his back to me. Unwise! I stood, teetered a little, and jumped, pushing him into the crevasse.
"Arrggghhhh," he cried, tumbling into the hole. "Why'd you do that?"
"Just hand me that key. Clearly, you've lost."
"Not quite," he said, springing out of the hole like a Jedi.
I squealed. "What the heck? You're a fricking Jedi?"
"No idea what you're talking about, but I've got my eye on you, so don't try anything. I have a mighty sword, and I'm not afraid to use it."
"Bragging about your sword? Typical."
His face reddened, and it made him even more handsome, dammit! I needed to convince him to free me. What tools did I have?
Let's see:
1. Scintillating personality? (As if!)
2. Overwhelming odor from horse costume (possible torture device)
3. Partially working legs
4. Fists (bringing fists to a sword-fight didn't sound hopeful)
5. Computer prowess (Where's a killer robot when you need one?)
6. Feminine wiles. (Hey, stop laughing!)
Okay, feminine wiles it was!
"Okay, you're right," I said, looking up at him from beneath my lashes. "I have nothing. But if you let me out, I will make it worth your while." I tried to smile sexily, but it probably came off more like an aneurism.
"Are you ..." He doubled over, laughing. "... are you ..." He gasped for breath. Tears streaked down his face. "Are you trying to flirt with me?"
Now it was my turn to go red. "No. Yes. Maybe. Come on, dude. Please give me a break."
"Fine, since you were honest for a change. But you can't go to the banquet like that."
"Like what?"
"Like a roomful of trolls during a garlic eating marathon."
Trolls had garlic eating contests? Cool. But the truth was, Blade was right. I smelled terrible. But I had escaped the evil bathroom, and I still had Olivia's basket. "I'll change." He stood there watching me. "Turn around."
He shook his head. "I'm not falling for that again."
I sighed. "Just go outside the cell where I can't tackle you into a hole and turn around. But please don't leave, okay?"
"I have a feeling if I did, you'd make me pay."
"Finally, you understand me!" I said. He exited the cell, and I waited until his back was turned before I opened the basket, and set about making myself presentable, or at least tidy enough to avoid the queen's ire.
As I peeled the horse costume off, something fell out of the inside pocket. Papa's glasses! I'd totally forgotten about them.
"Please stop gaping at me!" I commanded, commandingly.
"I am not gaping," Blade said.
"Then why is your mouth open? Waiting for a delicious fly to drop in for a quick snack?"
He rolled his eyes and closed his mouth. "There. Better? It's not my fault you look like a ..."
I stopped walking and put my hands on my hips. "Like what? What do I look like, Minion?"
"Blade." He gulped and his eyes softened. "You look like a ... well ... a girl."
"News flash. I am a girl!" I said, walking ahead of Blade so he couldn't see my smile. No one had ever called me a girl before in that way. I silently thanked Olivia for the contents of the basket. A beautiful gown, a handheld silver mirror that contained no unwanted 'Rowens,' a moist towel, a hairbrush that made my hair gleam, some lip gloss, and even a toothbrush! I walked in front of Blade, so he couldn't see me feeling mildly pretty for the first time in my life.
"Was hard to tell when you were dressed up like the back end of a mule."
"There you go, ruining everything!" I said.
"Huh?"
"Never mind!" I stomped off.
"Rowen?"
I ignored him.
"Hey, Rowen, that's not ..."
I put my hands over my ears. "I can't hear you!"
I turned a corner and tramped down a curved stairway, so narrow, I practically had to turn sideways.The stairs were made of cold, damp stone and were slick with moss and mildew. The steps were uneven and crumbled in places, making it difficult to maintain footing.
A chill wind blew up from below, right under my skirts, making me kind of miss the flannel horse costume. And the smell was so horrid, I had to breathe through my mouth to keep from gagging. It reminded me of that time in the chem lab at school when someone tried to reproduce the famed stink bomb known as Stench Soup.
Yes, of course the someone was me!
Good times!
The stairs eventually ended in an alcove in front of a massive wooden door that glowed a sickly fluorescent green. Its hinges were rusted; the wood gouged as if by an enormous monster. I shivered. "Where have you taken me? This isn't the banquet hall."
"I tried to tell you. Do you always walk in front of people when you don't know where you're going?"
I didn't admit that it was a habit of mine. "What is this place?"
Blade shuddered. "The old torture chamber. We better head back up. And I have an idea; this time you follow me!"
"Torture chamber?" I said, running my finger down one of the gouges.
"No one's allowed in there."
"Why not?"
"You ask too many questions."
"Where's the new torture chamber?"
Blade's lips pressed together. He was not gaping anymore, so there was that.
I followed Blade as he briskly led me higher, higher, higher in the castle. Can I just say that castles are ridiculous? They're damp, dark, cold, drafty, smelly, and traversing them is exhausting. Still, as I ascended the castle, my blood heated and I could feel the power prickling just beneath my skin. Although I'd only known of my powers for a day, their buzzing warmth were as natural and familiar as a heartbeat.
About eight-thousand flights up, I spied a red velvet settee. Just as I was about to collapse onto it, I smelled something marvelous. Food! My stomach growled. Blade spun. "What was that sound? A troll?"
"I think so," I said, having no idea what a troll sounded like.
(What? I was not going to admit it was my stomach!)
A loud bell clanged, echoing in the stony passageway. Bong, bong, bong ...
He grabbed my hand. "Faster, we're almost there."
Warm firelight played against the stones as we hurried through an archway just as the bells chimed six. I'd made it in time! I would not be turned into a unicorn or served on a platter with barbecue sauce! Sweet relief coursed through my veins.
On the other side of the archway was a magnificent, gilded banquet hall, wrapped in tapestries, with thick carpets, and a crystal chandelier throwing candlelight, like fairy dust, over the room. A line of burly guards, all dressed like Blade, stood in the rear, swords hanging from their scabbards.
"Ah, you made it," said Queen Petronellla, seated at the head of a table populated with the strangest group of dinner guests you could imagine—like a gathering of enthusiastic cosplayers at Comic-Con. "Excellent evil queening, Rowen," she said. "Please take a seat." Then she leveled her gaze at Blade, and I stood firm. "You, however, are a huge disappointment, allowing yourself to be bested. That, combined with your poor pedicure skills, has earned you a place in the dungeon for a minimum of a thousand years. Guards!"
"Wait!" I cried, my powers gathering in my fingertips. "It wasn't his fault." I pushed him behind me, though I wasn't sure why. Did I think I my measly totally out of control powers were enough to protect him from an evil queen and her very formidable army?
Petronella lifted a white eyebrow. "Why, Rowen, are you interfering with my justice system?" she said silkily.
"I am," I said, trying to keep my voice from quivering too much.
"Rowen, stop," Blade whispered. "You cannot help me."
The queen twirled her pearls. "I see. Well, then we shall make it two thousand years then."
I stomped my foot. "That's not fair!" My fingertips began to glow, a wind swirled around me. I knew I could unleash it and destroy the room if I wanted.
"I don't think you want to do that," the queen said.
"I really think I do. Let Blade go!"
Petronella scooted her chair back revealing a terrarium on a gilded stand beside her. Two toads peered out at me from inside.
"Dad! Papa!" I cried. The wind cut out. Thank goodness. I didn't want to risk hurting my parents.
One of the guards seized Blade's shoulders and dragged him toward the archway. "Don't worry, Blade. I will save you," I promised, but how? I couldn't even save myself.
And there you have it! Yet another exciting installment of It Isn't Easy Being Queen! I so love writing scenes with Rowen and Blade going at each other. It's so fun! Hope you had as much fun reading it as I did with the writing.
What will happen next? Will Ro save Blade? Her dads? Will she finally eat? Wait till you find out what they're serving for dinner!
Thank you in advance for reading, voting, leaving a gazillion comments, etc. They really keep me going.
One last thing. I made the illustration of Blade using AI. So fun! Is he how you pictured him? His hair is supposed to be a little longer, but it was so cute, I kept it.
xoxoxoxo
Britt
Dedicating this chapter to ruby2025 because I've really been enjoying all her comments! Thanks, Ruby!!!