by Amy Boyles
“How angry?”
“Oh, it’ll generally kill you.”
That sucked the air from the room. “Note to self—don’t make the demon mad.”
She leaned back and patted her stomach like she’d just finished a huge meal. “Well. What’d you find?” I thrust the pot toward her. “Interesting.” Her fingers slid over the metal braiding that ringed the top. Slowly and carefully she coaxed the lid off.
She dragged her nose across the opening. “Interesting.”
I rose and pressed my nose close. “What is it?”
“Look for yourself.”
I peered into the pot that was only about the size of a child’s fist. Swirling inside was a clear liquid that smelled like citrus.
“What is it? Is it the Never Forget?” I chomped down on my fingernails, anxious to hear the news.
Grandma stoppered the lid back in place and said, “That, my dear, is Persuasion.”
The citrus had tickled a spot on my nose. I rubbed it clean. “What’s that?”
“A potion that does exactly that—it persuades.”
I cocked a brow. “Do you think it could have persuaded Damon Devlin to let Cobblestone into the contest?”
Grandma nodded. “It could have been.”
“Is it legal?”
“That depends on how you look at it,” Grandma said.
A shuffling sound came from behind us. “The way I see it, it’s legal.”
I felt like an ice pick had been thrown into my back. I slowly pivoted around.
Taylor stood in the open doorway, arms crossed and a fierce glower on his face. Danger flickered in his eyes. My stomach twisted, and I knew that this time he might do worse to me than just hiss in my direction.
“Oops, Grandma. Looks like we entered the wrong room again.” I smacked my palm to my forehead. “All these darn rooms look the same.” I took Grandma’s arm and led her toward the door. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll just be going,” I said. We picked our way back over the clothes.
“So you found my Persuasion, have you?”
Darn it, the guy just wouldn’t let stuff go.
“Oh yes,” Grandma said, which absolutely mortified me. “We found it in this nice little pot here. Took me a second to remember the smell, but I’ve got it now. Could it be that you used it to persuade someone to let you have Never Forget?”
I rolled my eyes. Right. Like he was going to tell us that.
Taylor shook his head. “I only used it to get into the contest.”
Grandma fluffed the strands of her hair sticking straight up into the heavens. “Seems to me it could be used for more than that.”
Taylor shook his head. “I didn’t take Never Forget, but I can tell you who did.”
Holy crap. How did this happen? This kid was just giving us information.
“Tell me,” Grandma said. “Who stole the potion?”
Taylor knitted his lips into a razor-thin line. He dropped one arm to his side, and his eyes fell to the ground. When he glanced back at us, they were full of sorrow.
“My father stole Never Forget.”
“Your father?” I said. “You mean the judge, Frederick Cobblestone?”
Taylor nodded. “The one and the same.”
ELEVEN
“How do you know your father took Never Forget?” I said.
We were outside in the gardens. The stench of dirty man clothes had been too much for me, so Grandma and I talked Taylor into going outside where we could breathe.
Taylor drummed his fingers over the top of the white wrought-iron table. “I saw him the night before it was revealed that the potion was missing. He was acting weird. My father never acts weird. Everything’s always together in his life, right down to what time he goes to bed. My father is nothing if not meticulous.”
I glanced at Grandma. Her chin rested in her palm. She gazed off dreamily. I didn’t know if she was even listening.
“What do you think, Grandma?” I said.
She smacked her lips and said, “Just because someone’s acting strange doesn’t mean they stole Never Forget.”
Taylor rubbed his fingertips over his eyes. A pained look flared on his face. “I saw him holding it. He had the potion.”
I tapped my palms to the table. “Well, that’s it then. There you have it.” I rose. “Come on, Grandma, let’s go tell Roman so we can get this straightened out.”
Taylor’s hand shot out. He took hold of my wrist. “You can’t tell anyone. He’ll be ruined.”
I shook my head. “Then why did you tell us?”
“So you wouldn’t blame this on me.”
Grandma rose. “My boy, if a crime was committed, the perpetrator must be punished. That is how life is.” She brushed her hands together. “Kindly release my granddaughter so that we can get out of here. I expect you to be ready to compete tomorrow morning.”
Taylor didn’t move.
Grandma leaned down close to him and said, “If you don’t let go of Dylan right this minute, I will tell everyone that you stole Never Forget.”
Taylor smirked. “But I don’t have it.”
Grandma smiled wickedly. “That’s not what they’ll find when they inspect your room. I suspect under a damp pile of clothing the investigators will discover something that looks, tastes and acts exactly like Never Forget.”
Taylor’s jaw dropped. He released me and didn’t say one more word to us as we left.
I rubbed my arm where Taylor had held it. “Wow, Grandma. I didn’t know you had it in you to blackmail someone.”
Grandma shrugged. “Never underestimate an old lady with nothing to lose.”
“So what do we do now?” I said. “Are we going to find Cobblestone or search his room?”
“Neither,” she said. “There’s something else I need to do right now.”
“What’s that?”
Grandma yawned. “I need a nap before dinner.”
We returned to my room, where I grilled Reid and Sera about Cobblestone. “What happened with keeping him busy?” I said, standing at the foot of the bed and glaring down at Reid.
“I don’t know; suddenly I felt like I wanted to come back here.”
Sera yawned. “Yeah, me too.”
My gaze flickered to Grandma, who had snuggled down into the recliner. Apparently she was going to nap in my room. As if on cue, one of Grandma’s eyelids flew open.
“He must’ve used a bit of Persuasion on the two of you,” she said.
“What?” Sera said. “Persuasion?”
“It’s a potion he has,” I said. “It persuades people to do what he says and wants. It seems very handy.”
“That doesn’t sound legal,” Reid said. “Is it legal?”
I shrugged. “I think it’s borderline.”
Grandma pulled something from her pocket. “Oh, Dylan, I forgot to give this back to you.” She held out the pact ring for me to take.
“What’s that?” Reid said.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to share the ring’s secrets with everyone, seeing as it was highly sensitive information and all that, so I said, “Just an heirloom ring.”
“Can I see it?”
Against my better judgment, I handed it to her. Reid immediately started spinning it in the air with the fingers of one hand. She wiggled the other. From out of nowhere, gold started twisting and curling. I peered closer. It was taking the shape of the ring.
“What are you doing?”
Reid glanced at me over her work. “I’m mimicking the ring. You know, honing my skills.”
“Why are you doing it?”
She pushed up to a sitting position. “To see if I can.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t you just sometimes do things to see if you can?” she said.
“Yeah, Dylan,” Sera chimed. “Don’t you?”
I shook my head. “Not really.” I paused. “Maybe sometimes, but not most of the time. No. I guess I don’t.”
“Well, that was a
long, awkward explanation for nothing,” Reid said.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re welcome.”
I watched as Reid continued to construct an exact replica of the ring. “Don’t get them confused,” I said.
“I won’t,” Reid said, frowning.
“I’m serious, Reid. Don’t get those two mixed up.”
She curled a strand of gold up around the crystal. “Why not?”
“Because it’s important. Will there be any way to tell the difference between them?”
“Here, I’ll inscribe something in the band. Like people do when it’s important.”
I released the breath I was holding. “Great. What will you put on there?”
“I’ll come up with something.”
I toed off my shoes and peeled off my shirt. The glob of sweat that had formed from when I’d been sneaking around Taylor’s room had dried the fabric to my skin.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I said. “I’ve got plans with Roman tonight. Are y’all going down for the big dinner for contestants?”
They nodded. “Might as well,” Sera said. “Brock’s got some king stuff to attend to, so I don’t think he’s going to show up until tomorrow.”
“What about you, Reid?”
She finished up the ring and clutched both of them in her palms. “I’m thinking I’m going to turn this ring into a gauge that can tell if a guy is interested in me.”
My eyebrows lifted to the ceiling at that. “Seriously? Why don’t you turn it into something more useful? Like make it turn black if the wearer is in mortal danger. That’s more consistent with us, I think.”
Reid squealed. “Oh, I like that. Grandma, can you help?”
Grandma’s eyelids fluttered open. “Of course. We’ll do it while Dylan’s in the shower. It’ll only take a second.”
I left them to get cleaned up. The hot water and suds felt great against my skin. The water showered down, beating the stress from my tired muscles, and the raspberry-scented shower gel made me feel like a girl. I finished up and put on a pair of white capri pants and a sleeveless pink shirt. I wrung the water from my hair, pulled it into a high ponytail, performed a quick makeup job and felt right as rain.
Or as right as I was going to feel, which was still only about okay, but I would somehow make it work.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, the rest of my family was dressed for dinner. Apparently they weren’t as disgusting as I was.
Roman arrived right on time. Seven o’clock. He wore a short-sleeved button-down and jeans. He’d pulled his blond hair back into a ponytail, and I will clarify here that it was not a man bun. Thank goodness. I am not into the whole man-bun craze. I know plenty of girls like it, but unless that man is a samurai warrior, I don’t think the man-bun thing works.
I’m just saying.
His fingers slid over my bare arm, leaving a burning trail in their wake. A shiver raced down my spine. “Hi, gorgeous,” he said, brushing his lips across my forehead.
“Hey, stud,” I said.
One side of his mouth curled into a smile. We said good-bye to my family and headed out of the castle.
“So where are we going?” I said.
“I know this great little place in Fairyland.”
I stopped walking. “Fairyland? A restaurant in Fairyland? I didn’t know there were restaurants in Fairyland.”
He nodded. “It’s a pizzeria.”
“Are you kidding?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Oh, thank goodness. Seriously. Where are we going?”
He nodded toward the village. “There’s a little place in the village that serves great food. Come on.”
He led me past the castle to the storybook village just outside the gates. Seriously, thatched roofs capped the houses, windows were framed out in natural wood, and the doors were vibrant reds, turquoises and yellows. It was so cute I could just pinch its little cheeks.
Oh, and Roman had a house there.
A house that his father, Boo Bane, was currently living in. Roman was keeping Boo hidden from the outside world, particularly from Jonathan Pearbottom, who would haul him in for questions about the deaths of Roman’s mother and three sisters. Eliza, Jonathan’s new wife and Roman’s aunt, had promised to keep Boo’s whereabouts a secret from her husband.
Right. Probably not good to start off a marriage with a secret. But it wasn’t my marriage, so who was I to judge?
The reason she was keeping the information hush-hush was because Boo’s memory was shaky and the man himself was fragile. Roman feared that if the police started prodding and poking at Boo, he would crack open, and not in a good way.
Roman guided me into a quaint tavern. Ceiling fans swayed slowly above us. Dark wood crisscrossed the interior. Lots of chocolate-brown booths and chairs were stamped against vanilla-cream walls. The sun was setting, and a swirl of orange and purple splashed across the inside. There were a few patrons, and the place looked cozy, welcoming.
The hostess showed us to a booth, and we slid in. We were not, I repeat, not one of those couples who had to sit on the same side of a booth. I loved Roman and was close enough to him that I didn’t need him invading my personal space when I ate. If I had spinach in my teeth, I expected him to tell me without his thigh touching mine.
Not that I didn’t want his thigh touching mine, but you know, I liked my side of the booth to be all mine.
“I didn’t know this place existed,” I said.
“I don’t come here a lot, but it’s great,” Roman said, handing me a menu.
I glanced at it and decided on a salad. We ordered our food and quickly guided the conversation back to important stuff like, you know, Roman not getting arrested for a crime he didn’t commit.
“Any leads on who stole Never Forget?” I said.
“Pearbottom and I checked all the rooms. We haven’t found anything.” He thumbed a line of sweat off the water glass in front of him. “But we’re dealing with magic. The potion could be long gone, hidden anywhere.”
“I’ve got a lead,” I said.
Roman tapped his muscular fingers against the oak table. “Did you come by this knowledge legally?”
“Sort of. Anyway…” I leaned over, pressing my stomach into the lip of the table. “Taylor Cobblestone swears his father stole it.”
Roman really did not even try to hide his eye roll. Like not at all. “And you believe him?”
“Yeah, I kinda do. I mean, I didn’t do a truth serum spell on him or anything—”
“Good. We don’t need you going to jail.”
I scoffed. “Listen, it’s not my fault it happens to be illegal if someone tells on you. Of course, the one time I worked it, it was my luck I performed the spell on a person who ratted me out.”
All of that was true. The details of a truth serum spell can be a little hazy, but the spell itself is only illegal if someone invokes the old law. It’s confusing, but I learned my lesson. I don’t work that spell on people anymore.
“Anyway,” I said. “I do believe Taylor. At least, I think it’s plausible.”
The tavern door swung open. A hot blast of air surged through the restaurant. I glanced over Roman’s shoulder and saw none other than Frederick Cobblestone. He didn’t see me as he seated himself at a table. He chose a chair facing the door, which kept his back to us.
He wore a flowing black wizard’s style robe—even though it was about a thousand degrees outside. Not really. But it was still hot. One of his pockets drooped open, and I noticed a glint of gold peeking out from inside.
I whacked my hand against Roman’s arm.
“What is it?”
I motioned toward Frederick. Roman glanced back. “Don’t even tell me you’ve got some crazy plan.”
I nodded. “I have a crazy plan.”
He threaded his fingers together, hoisted them behind his head and leaned back. “Go for it. I want to see this.”
I straightened my spine in surprise. “R
eally? You want me to put said crazy plan into place?”
Roman nodded. “I do. I can’t wait.”
I snapped my fingers and said, “Well, we’re about to find out if Cobblestone stole Never Forget or not.”
“I’ll bet,” Roman said.
I cleared my throat and patted down my hair. I cleared my throat again.
“Nervous?” Roman said.
“Nope. Not one bit. I am great.”
“You look nervous.”
I shook my head. “I’m not nervous.” It came out a bit testy, to be honest.
Roman grinned. “You don’t have to be nervous.”
“I said I’m not.”
“Because at the end of the day, I still love you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know that.”
“It’s kinda like loving an ongoing train wreck, but that’s just how these things go sometimes.”
I scoffed. “You know, you are a train wreck sometimes.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
“You’re right,” I grumbled. “But it sounded really good.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Why do you always have to be right?”
He clicked his tongue. “I’m not always right. Just most of the time.”
I twisted a finger around the end of my ponytail. “It’s annoying.”
He shrugged as if to say not my fault. “Before I let you get yourself arrested, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”
I flashed him a bright smile. “You love me?”
He nodded. “Something else, too.”
“What’s that?”
“We should get married.”
The world stopped. It could’ve shifted, making the floor the ceiling and vice versa. Pretty sure I wouldn’t have noticed it because everything turned to slow motion. My jaw fell and my eyes enlarged to saucers. I felt like someone had wrapped me in a velour blanket so tightly I couldn’t feel my toes. Or my fingers. Or even my mouth.
I blinked. “What did you say?”
Roman nudged my shoulder. “Good luck.”
I slid out from the seat. My head swam; my thoughts raced; I couldn’t focus on anything. I cleared my throat and threw back my shoulders. I had a task at hand. A serious, serious task.