The Scarecrow’s angry bellow cut her off. “Find them!” He screamed charging up the steps in a furious rush. It was super hard to kill a person who wasn’t a person, but at least Mommy had hurt him. All his stuffing was askew, making him look lumpy and messed up. Straw and feathers poked out every which way. “Locate that bitch and her evil whelp or I’ll have all of your heads!”
Mommy flattened her body to the wall, holding Avalon against her. Avalon squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make herself as small as possible.
“How did Guinevere get free of the dungeon?” Sir Percival demanded, hot on his heels. He was almost as mean as the Scarecrow.
“I don’t know. It was too dark on the stairs to even see her. She must have had assistance. She’s not clever enough to outmaneuver me herself.” The Scarecrow sounded mad. “Is there anyone still inhabiting the palace who could remain loyal to her?”
“No, sire. We disposed of all the Bad servants long ago and the Good folk who replaced them know better than to cross you.”
“Where’s Galahad? Could he be back?”
Percival scowled at the name. “I’m not sure, sire. No one’s seen him since King Arthur had him banished, because of his betrayal and his… attachment to the queen.”
“Find him.” The Scarecrow spat out. “In the meantime, I want Guinevere back and locked in chains immediately. Seal the doors and ensure she can’t leave the property.” He issued orders to random soldiers as he walked, pointing at them. “Cut off all her access points. Alert the perimeter guards. If Gwen escapes, she could locate the wand and ruin us!”
“Even if she gets out of the castle, the bitch won’t have anywhere to go.” Sir Percival assured him. They were so close now, Avalon was surprised they couldn’t hear her breathing. “No Good folk in the kingdom will support her, as long as she insists that Bad brat is Arthur’s heir.”
Mommy’s hand came up to cradle the back of Avalon’s head, shielding her from danger. Mommy was the best person in the world. She protected Avi. But Daddy wasn’t there, so who protected Mommy? Avalon hugged her tight, scared they would be found and her mother would be taken away, again.
Luckily, the Scarecrow and his men walked right past them.
“And someone make sure Arthur’s really dead!” The Scarecrow bellowed to nobody in particular as he stormed by.
Avalon breathed a sigh of relief as they headed down the hall, their weapons drawn.
“Fucking bastards.” Mommy muttered.
“You shouldn’t curse, Mommy. It’s a no-no.”
“Sorry, baby.” Mommy hitched Avalon up on her hip, not sounding very sorry. She hurried towards the terrace, barely squeezing through the door before one of the guards slammed it shut. “What a pretty picture!” Avalon’s art was still sitting on the small table and Mommy nodded to the sketch of the flying lady as they hurried by. “That just might be your very best drawing, yet.”
Avalon bobbed her head, pleased that her work was appreciated. “Lyrssa’s brave. Like you, Mommy.”
“Like us, baby. You and I are going to be very brave together.” She swung them both over the low railing, dropping into the flower garden below. Rocking-horseflies buzzed. Those were Avalon’s favorite and they made her feel a little bit better.
Mommy paused by a statue of Arthur’s father, kicking it over with her foot.
Avalon winced as the boring clay bust of King Uther shattered into a million pieces. “Why’d you do that?”
“I hid something under here that we might need.” She grabbed a small rolled up package from beneath the base of the ruined memorial, keeping one arm locked around Avalon. “A present from Galahad.”
Avalon smiled. “I love Gal and I love presents.”
“I love him, too.” Mommy sighed again, ‘cause she missed him a lot. “We’ll see him soon. I promise.”
“We should find him.”
“We will, but not today. Today, we’re running to the forest and we’re not stopping until we’re safe in the trees, remember?”
Avalon nodded, trying to be brave like her mommy said, but she was still afraid. “Then where are we going to go?”
“I’m not sure.” Mommy kissed the top of her head. “We’ll figure it out when we get there, won’t we?”
Avalon popped her thumb into her mouth. Things that made sense to her usually didn’t make sense to other people. She’d figured that out a long time ago. Arthur used to get real mad when she’d tell him stuff and the Scarecrow called her names. Mommy would listen, though. She always listened, especially when it was important.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Avi?”
“I want my daddy.”
Chapter One
This Contract is entered into by Guinevere Pendragon and Midas (no last name given) willingly and knowingly. Each party wishes to define their rights and obligations under the arrangement herein discussed and attest that they fully understand all its terms, conditions, clauses, and caveats. The purpose of this Contract is to ensure there will be no misunderstanding in the future and to facilitate a smooth and profitable partnership.
Clause 1- General Purpose of Contract
Gold could buy many things.
Palaces. Armies. Women. Just about anything a man could want, really.
But gold couldn’t buy class.
At least, that’s what everyone told him. All his life, Midas had been trying to prove them wrong. He refused to accept that there was anything in existence that he couldn’t purchase.
Class was proving to be an elusive item on his shopping list, though. He’d tried to acquire it in a thousand different ways and he’d still come up empty. Maybe it was hopeless. Maybe class was just an innate quality that some people were born with and most people weren’t. That possibility never seemed as frustratingly true as when he saw Arthur’s wife entered the ballroom.
She was shivering and soaking wet from the rain. Her dress was so worn that it was falling apart. Her body was frail, her pale hair a bedraggled mess around her colorless face. In her arms, she carried a small girl who couldn’t have been more than five. Quite frankly, Guinevere Pendragon looked as if she’d just walked straight through hell itself, carrying her daughter on her hip.
And somehow she was still the only woman in the room.
All around Midas, the finely-dressed guests at the party transformed. Their lavish clothes and priceless jewelry became gaudy. Their artful, cutting laughter suddenly seemed grating. Their carefully made up faces now looked overblown and fake. Next to Guinevere, all the illusions they had crafted for themselves fell away and revealed the common tin under their gilded surfaces.
Imitations would always look like imitations when you set them next to the genuine article. When you compared them to the best.
From his perch on the balcony, Midas’ golden eyes sited on Guinevere and he saw what he could never have. He had more money than he could ever spend and enough power to change the course of history, but he didn’t possess what this tiny woman wore like perfume.
Class.
His detractors were right. Midas could try and fake it, but his efforts no doubt looked just as artificial as the rest of the partygoers’. In that moment, he saw the truth. You couldn’t bullshit class. Couldn’t pick it up like a new language. Couldn’t bibbity-bob it into existence with a fairy godmother. It was quite simply bred in the bone. Guinevere had it and he wanted it.
And if she was coming to Midas, she must want something from him, too.
Satisfaction filled him. He’d been right, too. Everything was for sale, if you offered the right price. Everything. Midas believed that with a fervor other men reserved for God and kingdom. If he couldn’t buy class itself, he’d simply own someone who possessed it. It amounted to the same thing.
Every day, people showed up at his custom-designed castle to pay homage and beg favors. Guinevere might be royalty, but she was no different in that respect. He could already tell. She needed something desperately or she would’ve s
tayed far away.
They’d certainly never met before. Arthur would roll over in his tomb before he’d let his pristine bride within a mile of the Kingpin. Their dearly departed ruler was quoted as calling Midas a “violent predator who lured innocents into his evil clutches.” It was all right there in the trial transcripts, along with other memorably colorful phrases such as “upstart commoner,” “mindless gorilla” and “tawdry, feral animal.”
The “tawdry” part was just a low-blow, in Midas’ opinion, but the jury sure had liked it.
In any case, classy noblewomen and their sleeping daughters usually stayed far, far away from Midas and his home. Especially with the Round Table about to begin. The guests at his bacchanalia were the worst the kingdom had to offer. Soulless predators in the sometimes literal sense of the words. A lady like Guinevere would never willingly walk through his front door.
Not unless she was completely out of options.
Two of the ogres Midas employed as guards moved in, wanting to know Guinevere’s business at the party. Midas had to stop himself from interfering as they loomed over her. His instincts told him to stalk down there and clear her path. The feeling was so strong that his free palm tightened on the banister in front of him, the leather glove clenching around the gold railing. He forced himself to wait and see what she’d do.
Clearly, his men planned to toss Gwen out on her sweet little ass. Just as clearly, she didn’t plan to leave. Midas expected tears or pleading. Instead the woman squared her shoulders and faced them down, ready for a fight.
His head tilted at the show of strength.
Interesting.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Jill Hill demanded, coming up beside him. “How dare she show her fucking face at this party!”
Midas didn’t even glance in Jill’s direction. “You know the queen?” Somehow he doubted it. They didn’t exactly run in the same social circles. Jill operated the most exclusive “gentleman’s club” in Camelot and Guinevere… did whatever the hell royalty did with their frivolous lives. Attend tea parties maybe?
Jill tossed back her long red hair, arranging her body to show off her ample curves to best advantage. “No, darling. I knew Arthur.”
Ah, that made more sense. Jill was attracted to powerful men and no one had been more powerful than the king. Until he fell four stories onto that cobblestone patio, anyway. That was one battle not even their fearless leader could win.
“I never met the man.” Midas said mildly. “Unless you count my trial.”
He detested Arthur, alive or dead. In addition to the whole “tawdry, feral animal” remark, the king had done everything in his power to ruin Midas. God, you’d think Midas was the only villain in Camelot, the way that jackass had railed against him. If Midas was the kind of guy to hold a grudge, he’d be especially pissed over the six months he’d spent in prison thanks to Arthur’s vendetta. Also the whole “sending men to murder him” thing. That hadn’t been fun.
And what kind of pretentious dickhead actually used the word “tawdry,” anyway?
“Well, Arthur was fabulous.” Jill assured him, tears welling at the thought of their lost ruler. “Practically a saint. He deserved so much better than that damn ice queen. Gwen is totally heartless!”
Midas made a noncommittal sound. People said he was heartless, too, so he wasn’t about to hold that against the girl. And was it his imagination or were Guinevere’s breasts the absolute perfect size? A dozen plastic surgeries could never replicate the natural, elegant shape of them. This woman had simply been born the best.
“Their marriage certainly wasn’t a love match.” Jill continued. “Just some prophesized union pushed on Arthur by the wizards. Especially by Gwen’s nut-ball father. Her lineage is all any man would ever want from her.”
“No. It’s not.” The attraction she held for Midas had nothing to do with her social status. Guinevere could have been raised in a barnyard and she still would have been fascinating. Even someone as stupid as Arthur must have appreciated the beauty of this woman.
Jill ignored his opinion. “Arthur and Guinevere were both totally free to see other people.” She shook her head, like she was an expert on marriage. Which she was, given her clientele. “That’s the way it is with Good folk. They always say ‘I do’ for political standing, rather than waiting for their True Love. Especially when there’s a royal marriage on the line.”
Midas kept his eyes on Guinevere. She didn’t look like the type to screw around on her husband, but Jill had a point. It was impossible to underestimate what Good folk were capable of. Besides, everyone knew Arthur wasn’t Gwen’s True Love. Maybe she saw that as a loophole in their marriage contract. Smart people always took advantage of the fine print, after all. Midas had certainly heard rumors about her infidelity.
Lots of rumors. Everyone had.
“They say that little girl isn’t even Arthur’s.” Jill continued. “How could she be? She was born Bad. What are the odds of two Good parents having a Bad baby?”
“It happens.” Midas knew that better than most. That bologna sandwich flashed through his mind and he shook it away.
“Well, Arthur wasn’t convinced. Neither was I. We discussed all their marital problems.” She sighed, feeling sorry for the dead king and the countless ways that he’d suffered. “He needed more than just a warm body from me. He needed a real friend. A partner.”
Midas glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
“We used to talk a lot!” Jill insisted, sensing his skepticism. “People like to talk to me after sex. You know that. Well, not personally, since you’re all,” she held up her hands and pointedly waved her fingers, “afflicted.”
“Cursed.” Midas corrected, not taking offense.
“Whatever. Point is, people like to fuck and talk. Usually in that order. With Arthur it was more than that, though. He respected me.” Jill dabbed at her eyes. “We were so happy, until that bitch murdered him.”
That rumor was an incontrovertible fact according to half the Good folk in the kingdom. Few of them wanted to believe the Once and Future Asshole got drunk and tumbled over a railing. It was far more comforting to whisper that his heartless queen was behind it.
“My only consolation is the Scarecrow is making her pay for her crimes.” Jill ranted. “He’s going to take everything from that cold-blooded monster.”
Midas kept his attention on Guinevere, who was still arguing with his guards. She hitched her child farther up her hip and didn’t back down from the eight-foot ogres glowering at her. Did cold-blooded monsters hold their sleeping daughters so carefully?
“Gwen’s coming to beg for help, you know.” Jill fairly spat out the words. “To defeat the Scarecrow, she needs someone powerful on her side and that’s you. But, you can’t get involved in this.” She shook her head. “The Scarecrow is leaving you alone right now, but you’re Bad. If you draw too much attention…” She trailed off and lowered her voice. “I know enough about the Scarecrow’s plans for our kind to know they aren’t plans that you want to be a part of.”
Midas didn’t doubt that for a second. The Scarecrow never bothered to hide his hatred of Bad folk. His “plans” no doubt involved all of them being transported to labor camps or vanishing into rabbit holes.
“If you offer Gwen any sort of sanctuary, you’ll piss off the Scarecrow and he’ll come after you.” Jill added, just in case Midas hadn’t reasoned that out for himself. “These days, the best option for us is to keep our heads down and our mouths shut.”
“I’ve never been much good at blending in.” Midas took a sip of champagne from his ornate glass. Every inch of it was decorated with gold and engraved with intricate designs. It had cost a fortune. The very best crystal money could buy.
“Gwen has got nothing left to offer.” Jill stressed. “No money, no power… There’s nothing in this for you.”
“Of course there’s something in it for me.” He kept his tone bored, even as he memorized every move
Guinevere made. “I’m about to own a queen.”
Jill stared at Midas like he was out of his mind. Maybe he was.
“You can’t be serious.” She finally sputtered. “That’s what this is about? Getting that bitch into bed? Since when do you care about sex, Midas? You’ve never even slept with me.” Apparently, she viewed that as conclusive proof that he was celibate. “Is this some kind of revenge, because she was Arthur’s wife?”
“No.” It was about Midas refusing to settle for inferior belongings.
Jill didn’t like that simple answer. “You can’t… collect Gwen Pendragon like you do your damn paintings and horses and books. You can’t just buy the Queen of Camelot!”
“I can buy anything.”
Jill made a frustrated sound at the finality of his tone. “That girl is poison and I’m not standing anywhere close to you when the fallout starts.” Her eyes were furious and betrayed. “Don’t come whining to me when this blows up in your face.” She went stalking off in an offended huff. “I swear to God, you’re usually smarter than this, Midas.”
Jill was at least partially right. It was a terrible idea to back the underdog in the battle for Camelot’s throne. Midas knew that. The Scarecrow was too powerful and he had the support of the kingdom’s Good folk. Gwen was going to lose this war. The smart play would be to keep out of her messy little life.
But no one could warn Midas away from what he wanted and he wanted the best.
It was a hopeless stance for someone like him to take. There were two kinds of people in the world: Those born Good and those born Bad. Laws made sure Good folk were always on top. People like Guinevere lived their lives insulated from people like Midas, safe behind their protective walls. Bad folk were nothing but a disposable underclass. Wolves and witches and ugly stepsisters never got “the best” of anything. Society made sure of that. If a villain like Midas wanted to possess something of real value, he had to take it.
…Unless, of course, something of real value came marching straight into his home and saved him the trouble of stealing it for himself.
Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4) Page 55