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Snow Blight
Once Upon a Time in Assjacket
Saranna DeWylde
Contents
Acknowledgments
The Kiss
Escape to Assjacket
The Warlock in Question
A Kiss in Time Saves Nine
Other Authors in Magic and Mayhem
Acknowledgments
Big thanks to Robyn for letting me play in her sandbox again. It’s such a blast to take vacations in Assjacket and pose our dolls together.
Thank you to Renee George for the great cover!
And thanks to the readers who keep me scribbling.
The Kiss
Chapter One-The Kiss
I don’t get what the big deal is about Prince Charming. They’re a dime a dozen. I mean, I think there was a nest of them in my attic, all anvil-jawed, blond, blue-eyed princes of various realms douche bro-ing it up, playing Call of Wolfenstein or Asscraft or something while drinking beers they brewed in one of my cauldrons.
What do I really want with that? I don’t. You know just from looking at them that they’re the sort to text you a dick pic and no one wants that. Not even if it’s a royal curse-breaking dick pic.
No, that was a lie. If a picture of some magical purple-headed womb ferret would break my curse, I’d pet that thing, put a leash on it, and call it Marvin.
Everyone knows that standard curse-breaking operating procedure is True Love’s Kiss.
Obvious, right? I should’ve been able to find someone to kiss me, but I have a bigger problem.
My curse is of the pestilent variety. Anyone I touch is infected. That’s why they call me Snow Blight. I’m deadly.
So, I either get princes who are afraid of me, or those who aren’t afraid but should be. They don’t listen. I tell them. I warned all of them before they tried to kiss me that my lips are poison, but Prince Charmings 1-5 said, “Hey babe, why don’t you just trust me? You’ll like it.”
I had no doubt I would like kissing. From what I saw in the movies, it looked pretty fun.
Except I am sure that PC1 got it all wrong.
He shoved his tongue in my mouth, and it was like a giant, bald caterpillar had squirmed into my mouth. Not sexy. Not romantic.
And definitely not curse-breaking.
In fact, he gasped, turned green, and then died. I was going to spare you the details, but he basically turned into split pea soup. Now that I think about it, yeah. That’s pretty apt. With ham.
In short, it was gnarly.
I guess I should’ve felt worse that I killed him, but I warned him. His own fault for not listening when a princess said no.
Part of me doesn’t want to break my curse. I could go find all the douchebros in the world that don’t listen to women, and really, all I’d have to do is sit there while they get their just desserts.
But I have a secret. I still believe in True Love with the capital letters. The curse breaking kind. And, if he’s out there, I want to find him.
I was supposed to be the kind of princess who could sing pretty songs and get birds to sew for me. Mice to clean my castle. And flowers to burst to vibrant life if I hit just the right note.
Instead, birds will shit on my picnics with a military-style sort of precision, the mice hiss at me like cats, and if I sing, everything near me dies. Just like when I touch it.
That’s why they call me Snow Blight.
And why I bet this date ends terribly for Prince Charming #6.
I probably shouldn’t have said yes, but maybe I’ve been too picky. My friend, Poppy, said I needed to look under every rock.
Believe me, I have.
At least I cleared out that nest of Charmings in the attic. They really bring down the real estate value.
When the bell rang, I was nervous to answer it.
The sad thing was it wasn’t because I was afraid he was The One. It’s because I was sure he wasn’t.
There were plenty more rocks to turn over.
But I opened the door anyway.
And there stood Prince Charming #6.
He was handsome, like all Prince Charmings. Tall like all Prince Charmings. But when he presented me with a bouquet of my favorite flower, purple hydrangeas, I realized that he might actually be charming.
That was when it occurred to me that I didn’t even know his name, aside from Prince Charming #6.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember what your name was from the curse-breaking dating service.”
He smiled easily. “Edward.”
It was a pretty common name for a Charming.
“I guess you know, but I’m Snow.” I accepted the flowers, careful not to touch him.
“May I kiss your hand?” he asked.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“I’m prepared. I’m wearing magical lip balm, but I’m a prince. When a prince picks up a lady for a date, he kisses her hand.”
I offered my hand hesitantly. After all, he knew what he was signing up for. And he was wearing protection.
That hadn’t saved Charmings 1-5, but it was his funeral if he was wrong.
He brushed his lips across my knuckles in the lightest of touches. It was so proper. Exactly the right amount of contact to display his interest, but no weird frog slobbering or some wet euphemism for sex.
It made my stomach tingle.
I felt my face flush, but every receptor had gone on high alert. Just because he was able to touch my hand didn’t mean anything. If he dove straight in for the kiss…
But he didn’t. He released my hand. “If you’d like to put those in water, I’ll wait. Then I’ll escort you to the carriage.”
My heart fluttered like a butterfly still drying its new wings. That’s what it was, that strange wiggling sensation in my chest. Those wings were newborn hope and they both terrified and excited me.
I put the hydrangeas in water. They didn’t die, either. There was some kind of enchantment on them. Magic was such a wonderful thing.
He led me to what was indeed a carriage. No horses. No footman, but it seemed to be enchanted.
“I thought we’d go to dinner at Le Fey’s, if that’s acceptable?”
Le Fey’s was my favorite restaurant.
He’d actually read my profile on Curse Breaker Cupid.
This was surreal. It had to be some kind of dream that was about to turn into a nightmare. That was it. I’d caught the sleeping sickness, like many Snows before me, and I was asleep.
In a glass coffin.
And there were seven dwarves doing bad things to my sleeping body.
“Would you rather go somewhere else?” he asked me.
I realized I’d been so lost in my own head, I hadn’t answered him. “I’m sorry, Edward. Le Fey’s is perfect.” I bit my lip. “I have to be honest, I was a little scattered. You’re the most polite Charming I’ve met.”
He arched a brow. “Princess, this is the bare minimum. Those other Charmings should be ashamed. They’re boils on the name Charming.”
I agreed with that, but I didn’t say anything else until we got to the restaurant and were seated at one of the best tables. We had an amazing view of the dragon aerial games over candlelight while Cymaru fairies brought us dish after dish of deliciousness braised in C
ymaru honey.
The gold mead was a particular delicacy. It was brewed by the fairies with stardust, gold, and that magic honey. It went straight to my head—mostly because it was one of the only fermented drinks that didn’t turn straight to vinegar in my presence.
“So, tell me, what do you do when you’re not slaying the unworthy?” Edward asked me.
I choked on my mead. “Listen, I didn’t mean to—”
“It was a joke. Perhaps an ill-advised one.”
“Oh.” I put my glass down. “You know, I don’t like being cursed.”
“Who does?” He shrugged. “We know what we’ve signed up for. So, at the risk of being indelicate, can I ask you a question?”
My stomach flipped. If he was about to get gross… That’s how it always started, wasn’t it? They had good game at first and then it was grossness and gross-osity.
Yes, for our purposes here, gross-osity is totally a word.
“Will you tell me what happened to other Charmings? I mean, I’ve heard stories, but you know how that goes. It’s always made out to be much worse than it really was.”
My stomach flipped again, but not because he was getting gross. Because when I told him it was indeed as bad all that, he was going to run screaming for the hills. I couldn’t blame him. It’s what I’d do.
There was nothing to it but to do it, I supposed. “Well, it really is as bad as all that.”
“He actually liquefied?”
I nodded. “I told him not to kiss me. He did anyway.”
“Have you ever wondered if maybe this isn’t a curse?”
“What do you mean?”
“The most beautiful flowers have thorns.”
“I’m not a flower, and a thorn isn’t going to kill you.”
“On the poisonous plants, it will.” He smiled. “Maybe you just need the right man. Has anyone tried to kiss you that you actually wanted to have kiss you?”
I paused to think. “Yes. The first Charming. He was so handsome. I was fifteen, and I wanted my first kiss. He was convinced that it would be fine.”
“Maybe it has something to do with intentions. Magic is a weird thing.”
The conversation died and I realized I needed to ask him more about himself, so I flipped his question back to him. “When you’re not saving damsels, what do you like to do?”
He grinned. “It’s kind of my passion.”
“Damsel rescuing? What about afterward, when they don’t need rescuing?”
“Well, let me just ask…are you open-minded?”
I hated that question, too. When I went on these dates and these Charmings asked me if I was open minded, usually it meant they wanted me to dress up like a sexy Bo Peep, and they wanted to be the sheep that got pegged with my staff. Or if I wanted to be another princess in their harem of unicorns.
“Look, that’s a dangerous question to ask me. Do you know how many times I get asked that? I used to think I was open minded but after trying this Curse Breaking Cupid site, I’ve realized that I’m totally not open to being the spider to your Miss Muffet.”
He laughed. “That’s fair. I don’t think what I like is that out of the norm.”
He’d been nice so far. Decent. Polite. He’d actually read my profile. So, I decided to go ahead and let him open that door.
“Okay, fair warning, if it does flip my no switch, I’m going to be on the defensive. Trying that hand kiss thing again isn’t going to be a good idea. I’ll just be waiting for you to text me a pic of your royal scepter, if you know what I mean.”
“Not unless you asked for it. We’re all adults here. We should act like it and, not only am I a gentleman, but my mother would turn over in her glass coffin and make me a zombie if I texted a princess a picture of my royal scepter, as you put it.”
That was exceptionally specific, so I was almost afraid to ask.
“Hit me with it. What’s your thing?”
“To keep the romance alive, you mean?” He poured me another glass of mead.
I nodded, but didn’t reach for my drink. Instead, I sat with my hands primly in my lap.
“Just a little roleplay. No Miss Muffet, but I have pet dragons.” He shrugged. “And a tower. You just pretend to be in distress, and I get my pets exercise. We play fight a little, and I rescue you. Then we have headboard-breaking sex.”
“Is that like… every time?”
“No. Not every time.”
I could tell from his tone it was most definitely an every time thing.
He coughed. “Actually, let me be honest. I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie. I do need it. Or something like it every time or I need a certain blue pill. I prefer natural remedies.”
I wasn’t thrilled with that idea. I mean, part of the problem with the world today was men who needed to always be rescuing women or they couldn’t keep their boners, either metaphorically or literally.
But if this was his only flaw, I could hang out with dragons and let him rescue me. Especially if this would break my curse.
“I think I can work with that, if the rest of you is as wonderful as you seem from the marketing material.”
He laughed again. “Good. I believe that a Charming has his role to play and so does a princess. She can be independent, but someone has to sail the ship, if you get my meaning. Two people can’t steer one boat.”
They couldn’t?
A red flag waved right in front of my face, but I ignored it because everything else was just so great.
Suddenly, the idea of him rescuing me had me flushed and breathless. I looked up into his eyes and the look on his face was expectant.
As if he knew exactly what I was feeling.
This strange tingling in my hands, my toes, and my lips.
Even… between my thighs. For a moment, I thought I was going to incinerate from the heat coming from inside me.
“Isn’t that nice?”
My breath was erratic and my vision had narrowed to pinpoints. All I could see was him. All I could smell was him. All I could feel was the heat between us.
“What have you done?” I asked, horrified.
“It’s okay, baby. You agreed that I would captain the ship. This was just to relax you a little. I knew how nervous you were. Now it’s all going to be okay.”
“Is it?” A haze had settled over me. It was like trying to move through water.
I wasn’t afraid, even though he’d drugged me with some kind of lust spell. I had this sure knowledge that if he touched my skin now, he’d regret it. While I couldn’t actively feel anything over the lust coursing through my veins, the rage was there.
He reached up and curled a lock of hair around his finger and tugged my face closer to his.
I went willingly.
When his lips pressed into mine, I lost my taste for Cymaru mead because he dissolved.
Just like my hope for Happily Ever After.
Escape to Assjacket
Chapter Two-Escape to Assjacket
“It was horrible, Poppy.”
“Tell me about it, sugar.” Poppy Frogcruncher nodded at me through the magical scrying glass.
So, I spilled my guts. I’d done that literally last night after I’d gotten home. Whatever had been in that lust potion turned my stomach inside out.
“He what?” I heard a voice from the background, and I imagined it was Poppy’s friend Zelda. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. That’s terrible. I can’t believe he did that.”
“It gets worse. The Cymaru want to take me to court for damages incurred by melting my date. The carpet cleaning alone… They claim I knew what would happen and it was wanton and malicious disregard for their property. I just can’t—”
“My dear, that’s some bullshit,” Zelda said.
“That fucker,” Poppy hissed.
Zelda’s eyes lit up. “Come to us. Take a vacation. The Cymaru have no jurisdiction here.”
“If I flee, won’t I just have to face it when I come home?”
&nb
sp; “Not at all. Listen, we can have the Baba Yaga intercede on your behalf with them.” Zelda didn’t actually sound completely sure. “I mean, I need to ask her, but that’s kind of her thing. Helping people. And you’ve been done a serious wrong by this ass hair.”
I was a bit overwhelmed. “Thank you.”
“So, you’ll come?” Poppy said. “I can have Finvarra faerie your ass here.” Poppy grinned. “And he’s a prince. He can intercede, too. The Cymaru won’t want to be on the bad side of that guy.”
“It’s settled. Get packed. I’ve got the cutest little cottage where you can stay.”
“She can stay with me.” Poppy’s brows furrowed.
“You just got married. You might want… some space. And Snow might want some, too.”
“As long as it’s actually empty, and I won’t have to deal with the seven jerks.”
Zelda rolled her eyes. “Of course not. I might send some Shifters to check on you, but as long as you don’t try that singing in the woods routine, everyone should be fine. No one will touch you without your permission.” Zelda rolled her eyes again. “It’s sad that I even have to make that disclaimer. I’m so disgusted.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’ve slayed Charmings 1-6.”
“It does, actually. They were horrible,” Zelda agreed.
“I don’t think I ever want to meet another Charming.”
“At least with the warlocks, their ugly is all on their sleeve for you to see,” Poppy suggested.
“I don’t want one of those, either.” I shuddered in revulsion. “I’m fine the way I am. I’ll just be a cursed old non-cat having cat lady.” I coughed. “Plus, I hear warlocks are bad in bed.”
“That’s not just a rumor. They’re terrible. Never. Ever. Hook up with a warlock. Wait, no. Hook up if you want to. Never marry one.” Zelda nodded emphatically.
“So, you’re coming, right?” Poppy said. “I kind of want to say Fin is on his way, and we’re going to steal you away, but after everything’s that happened to you, it’s important you want to come.”
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