“Doomed? Aren’t you being a tad melodramatic? Marrying me isn’t the worst thing in the world.” The black plague still existed, right? If not, Fairyland’s Ugliest Stepsister was just picked up for a fourth season. That show had to be worse than a wedding night with me.
“Doomed!” he repeated, tapping his tiny walking stick against the hardwood floor. “If Sleeping Beauty marries you, she will suffer a fate far worse than death.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Marriage to a moron.”
“Hey, let’s not bring religion into this.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Besides, I’m agnostic.”
“Idiot.” With that insult hanging in the air between us, Jimmy Cockroach spun on his tiny heel, and slipped through the crack under the front door.
“Wait,” I called after him, but he had vanished. A feeling of dread washed over me. Was the roach right? Would marrying me literally ruin my bride? I rubbed the B-shaped birthmark over my heart and shook my head. Nonsense. She was my One. That was all that mattered.
What was taking Marvin so long? I glanced at my watch. I’d been waiting in the hallway for five minutes now. Time was money, or so poor people often said. To me, time was just time, but maybe that would change now that I was on my own. Or not. I yawned and checked my watch again.
“Jean-Michel!” Sleeping Beauty’s stepfather materialized in front of me. “No use standing by the door. Come in, son. Come in.”
Son? Really? Hell, my own father rarely called me by name, let alone used the term “son.” Of course, he’d just disowned me, but that was a moot point. “Thanks, but I’m waiting for your daughter.”
“Pretty?”
“No. Princess Beauty. We have . . . something to discuss.” Something like the little matter of wanting me dead, I thought.
“Yes, well,” he said, “don’t be too hasty, son. Beauty meant well.”
Yeah, I’m sure she had my well-being utmost in mind when she tried to kill me. “So you know what she did?” I asked, my blood heating. What was wrong with this family? They discussed outright murder like others did the weather.
The king nodded. “Don’t get too upset. Her dear mother did the same thing to me a couple of days before our wedding.”
“And you still married her?”
“Let’s have a drink and I’ll tell you all about it.” The king grabbed my arm and pulled me inside his “library,” which consisted of a collection of unread literary classics and dog-eared fairy-on-fairy pornography. “Have a seat, son. Have a seat.” He motioned to an empty recliner on the far side of a faux fireplace.
“Nice room,” I said, glancing around. Every surface spoke of wealth and privilege, like a commercial for Viagra and overcompensation. The rug alone must’ve cost a hundred thousand, not to mention the ivory fireplace and diamond-covered lampshade. Ali Baba and his forty light-fingered friends would’ve loved to spend five minutes alone in this palace. Hell, even I was tempted to pocket the ruby paperweight the size of an oversized little lamb on the coffee table. All this extravagance explained the king’s current financial woes. I wondered if Beauty knew the king was selling her to anyone willing to pay for her hand in marriage. It gave her one hell of a motive for murder.
“Can I get you a drink?” the king asked. “I have a fine eighty-year-old scotch from my private stock with your name on it.”
Private stock. If he hadn’t stuck me with the dinner check, his words would’ve told me all that I needed to know about Sleeping Beauty’s stepfather. The greedy bastard. “Why not,” I said.
The king beamed as he poured two fingers of scotch into a crystal glass. “This bottle,” he held the liquor bottle to the light, “cost me ten thousand dollars at auction last year. But what’s a few dollars when it comes to family.” He handed me the drink and poured three fingers for himself. “To the great institution of marriage,” he said in salute.
I hoisted my glass and then downed the smooth amber liquid in one gulp. Wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve, I bowed to the king, enjoying the flash of anger that crossed his face. “Hit me again,” I said, hoisting my glass.
Had his stepdaughter not been about to marry me, I’m pretty sure the king would’ve done just that. Instead, he smiled tightly and poured a half inch of scotch from his “private stock” into my highball glass.
Taking pity on the poor guy, I took a small sip first before knocking back the rest. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he paused, sneering the word, “son.”
He wanted something badly. Badly enough to share his ten-thousand-dollar bottle of scotch with a guy he’d only days ago wanted to boil in oil. I wondered if his newfound friendliness had something to do with Sleeping Beauty’s recent attempt on my life.
“So?” I began when silence descended over the room.
“So,” he repeated as his eyes misted. “Beauty is very special.” So I’d heard, numerous times. But the king wasn’t finished. “She’s been like a daughter to me since her father, rest his soul, was killed in a freak climbing accident.”
“Rock climbing?”
The king’s eyes grew damp, almost amphibian-like. “Scaling Rapunzel’s palace wall. The rope he was using just gave way mid-climb. The coroner declared it an accidental death by split ends.” He stopped, tilting his head to one side as he stared at me. I grew increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze until he finally spoke again. “You remind me of Beauty’s father in a lot of ways.”
“Really? How so?”
“He loved his family. Wanted the best for them and would do anything to reach his goals. A prince among men. That he was.” The king’s eyes grew moist with unshed tears. “Sadly, he left little in the way of support for his wife and young daughter. Just this dinky, run-down palace in the middle of nowhere and a small dowry, pennies really.”
Run-down? Dinky? Mind you, my collection of shoes had a palace twice this size, but this castle was far from being either dinky or rundown. The bastard king had likely squandered away Beauty’s dowry on his hundred-thousand-dollar rugs, three-thousand-dollar shoes, and ten-thousand-dollar bottles of scotch.
I could see it now. He’d homed in on a grief-stricken queen and her semi-orphaned and sleepy child and set himself up in the lap of luxury. But I’d be damned if he’d continue to pick Sleeping Beauty’s bones clean. Once Goldie came through with Beauty’s financial picture, I’d devise a plan to rid her of the greedy king for life. Neither the king nor his offspring would ever touch another dime of Sleeping Beauty’s money.
It was time for King Vaniteuse to pay the piper, by which I meant Phil, the piper the king had hired for the wedding ceremony. The guy cost a fortune.
The king was saying, “So you can see why this day means so much to me,” he jabbed his finger into his chest, “her dear stepdaddy.”
“Oh, I see.” I patted his shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. “I see everything.”
Not that any of this mattered. I wasn’t here to chitchat with the king. I’d come to see my future bride. Not that I had a clue as to what I’d say to her when she honored me with her presence. ‘What the fuck?’ held a certain dignified appeal. I glanced at my watch. “Listen, sir,” I said. “I really do need to speak with Sleeping Beauty, so if you’ll exc—”
“Don’t break up with Beauty.” The king grabbed my hand. “Please.” He paused, increasing his grip. “She didn’t mean anything by it. I promise. It was a test. Nothing more.”
“Whoa,” I said, peeling each of his fingers off of my sleeve. “A test, you say? Trying to kill me was a test?”
“What?!” He bolted upright, spilling his scotch all over the hundred-thousand-dollar rug beneath our feet. I winced. That would leave a stain. The king frowned and then broke into a fit of giggles. “Good one, son. You had me going for a minute there.”
“I’m not joking.”
“While I’ll admit Beauty is a wee bit annoying,” he said, “she would never hurt anyone,
let alone attempt to murder the man she’s come to adore.”
“Who’s that?”
The king’s brow wrinkled. “Why, you, son.”
“Of course.” Because nothing says “I love you” like a speeding car. I started to say as much, but the king cut me off. “Please, son. You must believe me.” He leaned forward, his eyes intent. “Under the bitchiness, Beauty’s as sweet as they come.”
“Sweet” wasn’t the term I’d apply to my pajama-wearing princess, but then again, I wasn’t her stepfather, a man intent on selling his ward to the highest bidder. I scratched my chin, taking a moment to study the king. “If Beauty had nothing to do with the attempt on my life, what was all that about her testing me?”
His sigh filled the room. “The colors.”
“What colors?”
“The wedding colors.” The king swallowed. “Beauty changed the color scheme for the wedding. She wants everything to be green. Frog green.”
Ten minutes and a half a bottle of private-stock scotch later, I patted the king’s arm and assured him, for the tenth time, that Beauty and I would marry in less than seven days, her poor color choice, and possible homicidal tendencies, aside. What marriage didn’t have its ups and downs?
Speaking of ups, a flash of color in the window caught my eye. I squinted, making out the well-endowed breasts of Ms. Lollie Bliss squished against the glass. What the hell was she doing? I stood, excusing myself from the king’s company to investigate what now appeared to be Lollie’s ankle slithering upward.
I headed out the front door and around the side of the palace, nearly tripping over a worker who sat in a corner, eating a pie with his fingers. I nodded as I passed. He gave me a sticky purple thumbs-up. “What a good boy am I,” he said before again losing himself in his afternoon treat.
“Um, sure,” I said, quickening my pace. I rounded another corner, this one thankfully empty with the exception of an ink-sleeved woman tangled in a rose trellis about six feet off the ground. Leaves and rose petals mixed with long, jet-black strands of hair as Lollie Bliss fought to escape her flowery prison, unaware of my presence or the fact that her leather pants had slipped dangerously close to revealing her bliss.
My blood suddenly flowed south, and my body hardened. Turned on by a chick stuck in a tree, what a sick frog prince I was. Scratch that. Since the Frog King had disowned me, I was merely some pervy guy with a fly fetish.
“Achoo.” Lollie sneezed, sending a shower of rose petals raining down on me. I brushed off a few leaves, and stared up at the beautiful woman above me.
“Gesundheit,” I said.
“Ahhh,” she screamed, twisting on the trellis until her body faced mine. Her eyes shot daggers at me. “Well, don’t just stand there. Help me down.”
I scratched my chin. “How about we start with ‘Hi, Jean-Michel, good to see you again’?” My eyes roamed over her tangled limbs with both appreciation and concern. The damn trellis was covered in thorns. “And then maybe you could explain why you’re climbing my fianc ée’s rose trellis?”
“You bas . . . achoo . . . ta—”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Fine,” she spat. “Hi, Jean-Michel. Now help me down before I sneeze and impale myself on a thorn.” To emphasize her point, she let out a string of sneezes. I ducked a particularly wet one. A loud crack echoed from the trellis, followed by a waterfall of splintered wood. Frog! If I didn’t help Lollie down soon, she’d surely break a leg. How would I explain that to my future bride?
I reached for Lollie’s waist. The leather of her pants scorched my fingertips, but I held tight, hefting her body from the tangle of rose vines. Beads of sweat dribbled down my forehead and into my eyes. I blinked away the sting, completely focused on the task at hand, not to mention the feel of Lollie’s skin against my hands.
Once she’d cleared the thorniest of the branches, Lollie used my body like a slide and slithered down until her feet hit the ground. We stood inches apart. The warmth of her body enveloped me, warming parts of me left frozen in the wake of my soon-to-be-married state. My hands curled around her bottom, cupping the softness underneath, dragging her naughty parts closer to mine.
Lollie lowered her gaze to my sudden, semi-erect appendage pressing against her. “Please tell me that’s a gun in your pocket,” she said, her voice growing husky.
“Best I can do is a roll of Fairy Savers breath mints.” A grin broke across my face. “A really big roll.”
Taking a ragged breath, Lollie stepped back. “Well . . . I . . .”
“What was that about?” I motioned to the trellis, ignoring the ache in my groin. Sadly, within the last two hours, I’d gone from a frog prince without a care in the world (Beauty’s probable assassination aside) to little boy blue balls. Who knew what nightfall might bring? A case of the clap? I shook off that thought and instead tried to focus on Lollie’s explanation. It promised to be entertaining, if nothing else. “What are you even doing here? If Beauty catches you . . .” I swallowed hard, my mind racing with scenario after scenario. About half of them ended with me sporting a brand-new pair of frog legs. And those were the happy endings.
“I was in the neighborhood.”
My eyebrow rose.
“Fine. I’m here,” she sneered, “to stop you from doing something stupid.”
Stupid? Me? I snickered. “So what, you decided to break into my bride’s palace? How’s that for stupid?”
“Would you rather I rang the doorbell?” Her hands fisted on her hips. “Maybe invite your sweet fiancée out to lunch for a little chat?”
My eyes lowered, giving her body a slow, leering once-over. “You’re not her type.”
“Funny,” her smile sparkled with humor, “yet I’m sure we’d find plenty to talk about.”
“Are you threatening me?” I leaned in, her minty-fresh breath hot against my neck. “Because I don’t scare that easy. Not since my dear bride attempted to run me down this morning.”
Lollie took a step back, all the humor gone from her face. “You really think your fiancée tried to kill you? Are you insane?”
My eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who suggested it, remember? Today at your shop? I didn’t believe it when you first said it, but then I saw the car in the driveway. . . .”
“What car?”
“The black Unicorn Beauty used to try and run me down.” I gestured to the front of the palace and the long, yellow brick driveway. “How could you miss it? It’s the only vehicle in the driveway with a prince-shaped dent.”
Concern lined Lollie’s face as she waved two fingers in front of my face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Knock it off,” I said, pushing her hand down. “What’s gotten into you?”
“There’s no Unicorn in the driveway, Kermit.” She shot me a sad smile. “Are you sure you saw a black Ford Unicorn? Maybe it was a Chevy Mermaid. They can look a lot alike.”
“I know what I saw, damn it!” I started forward. I’d show her. But before I reached the driveway, Marvin stopped me, his pudgy face beet red in color.
“Beg your pardon, sir.” Marvin’s eyes darted between Lollie and me. I could only imagine how things looked, me with an unbelievable-sized bulge in my trousers, and Lollie, as hot as ever, leaves tangled in her hair.
“Did you wake my bride?” I growled, snapping Marvin’s attention from Lollie to me. The less attention Marvin paid Lollie, the better. I was already risking too much having her in the vicinity as my bride, let alone flaunting our . . . relationship to the help.
“That’s what I came to tell you, sir.” Marvin bowed low, beads of sweat dripping down his face. He mopped them away with the edge of his uniform. “Princess Beauty . . .” His eyes locked on Lollie.
I motioned for him to get on with it.
“Right,” he said. “Of course. It’s just . . . your bride . . .”
I closed my eyes. Would nothing ever be easy with Beauty? “What’s she done now? Added frog legs to the wedding f
east? Ordered a hemlock cake? What?”
“Well, sir,” Marvin straightened to his full height, “Princess Beauty has disappeared.”
Chapter 28
Damn her! Less than seven days until our wedding, and Sleeping Beauty had pulled a runaway bride. I should’ve seen it coming. She showed all the signs of a flight risk, excessive sleepiness aside. Well, that and the fact she rarely left the palace.
I ran into the palace and rushed up the stairs, taking two at a time in my haste to reach Sleeping Beauty’s bedroom. Lollie followed behind, her normally pale face as white as snow. Two guards stood at attention outside the bedroom door. The taller one nodded as I approached.
“No one saw her leave?” I asked.
“No, sir,” he said. “Me and Paul here,” he gestured to the other shorter and familiar-looking guard, “we’ve been here the whole time. Nobody came in, and nobody came out.”
My eyes narrowed on the second guard’s face. “Do I know you?”
“Um . . . no . . . sir . . . ,” he stuttered, and then suddenly cried out, “Wolf!”
I jumped back, nearly flattening Lollie, who stood behind my back. The first guard blushed. “Beg your pardon, sir. Paul . . . he suffers from Tourette’s.”
“Oh,” I muttered. “Do you remember anything unusual that might’ve happened today?” Perhaps Sleeping Beauty slithering down the storm drain?
Both guards shook their heads. “No, sir.”
“Did either of you hear anything strange?”
Paul scratched the hair on his chin. “I . . . ah . . . wolf . . . didn’t hear her . . . snores . . . like I . . . normally do.”
“Since when?”
“Maybe . . . wolf . . . nine this morning.”
Plenty of time for her to sneak away, drive into Cin City, and try to run me down. After all, it was much cheaper for a princess on a budget to murder her fiancé than pay a killer to do it.
“Thanks,” I said to the guards. “I’m going to have a look around her bedroom.” An idea occurred to me and I grinned. “Why don’t you go grab a drink and relax? In fact, the king would love to share a bottle of his finest scotch with you. It’s in the library. Go help yourself.”
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