Accidentally Ever After (Accidentally Paranormal Novel Book 11)

by Dakota Cassidy

  “My stockings are not stupid! Arrest her for—for—I don’t know for what!” the prince shouted in a bluster of red cheeks and spittle flying from his mouth. “Just arrest her for insulting me!”

  The king turned with a sharp pivot of his foot just as the prince issued the order, stopping the procession toward his throne. The crowd all turned to stare in Jon’s vicinity, their eyes wide.

  This was the very reason Jon had been avoiding this Christmas Eve. He’d hoped to do this quietly, privately. Alas, nothing was going quite the way he’d planned.

  Wanda jammed a finger under his nose, her ivory wings feverishly flapping her ire. “I knew it! I knew there was something just a little off about you, Hot Pants. Not something bad, but something off, and I’m never wrong,” she yelled, yanking him to his feet. “What gives, Flawless?”

  Marty crossed her arms over her chest and nodded her head vehemently. “’Rucy, you got some splainin’ to do.”

  “Who are you? Remove your cloak’s hood and reveal yourself!” the king shouted, barging through the crowd to stand before Jon as the queen and the prince followed behind, their eyes peering over his shoulder.

  Jon instantly bowed, sweeping his arm across his midsection. “My apologies for disturbing your festivities, Sire.”

  “Rise!” the king thundered as his guards surrounded him on the chance Jon was a threat.

  Jon did as he was bade, standing to face the king, his jaw clenched, his determination in place for what was about to come. He pushed the hood from his head.

  And then the king gasped, as did the queen.

  Aka, Mom and Dad.

  His mother clutched the glittering jewelry at her long neck with a gloved hand, her eyes wide, her ageless face full of horror. “Who are you?” she hissed.

  Well, if he was ever going to, as Marty said, shoot his wad, it would be now. “I am Prince Iver Daring, firstborn of King Dick and Queen Jane of the beloved Shamalot.”

  Chapter 16

  You could have heard a pin drop, but only for seconds before the crowd burst into a ripple of gasps.

  Toni’s mouth fell open as she hung over the balcony, watching Jon’s confession unfold. And as it did, everything made sense. His chivalry, his immaculate manners, the slip Muriel had made with his name, how sad he’d been about missing his family, those obligations he’d talked about.

  All of it.

  She was going to kill him. Gut him with his stupid sword of wrath. Because what Queen Angria had said was true—she really was the love of the real prince’s life, and her life had been in imminent danger because he was off playing Robin Hood, Prince of Stealing Other People’s Identities.

  “You lie!” the fake prince yelled, pointing to his ruffled chest. “I am Prince Iver Daring!”

  Jon shook his head, his expression full of sorrow as he clapped the fake prince on the shoulder. “Nay, Jon. There is no reason to play the part any longer. You had us locked in a cell to keep us from the inevitable happening. I know it was your fear that made you respond as such. You somehow found out about our arrival, and you did not want to risk being exposed. Was that not the way?”

  The prince waffled, his face, so identical to Jon’s going red, but he remained silent.

  “’Tis as I thought. But now we must tell the truth, Jon Doe. Would you lose Resplendant, the love of your life for all time by pretending you are something you are not? Do riches mean more to your heart than true love? Do you wish to be wed to someone you do not love? Isn’t that how this whole adventure started? Because I did not wish to be wed to someone I did not love.”

  The prince waffled, his eyes straying to the king and queen in guilt, but he didn’t appear to be backing down. He was staying in character to the bitter end. “He lies, I say! Guards, arrest him!”

  The slice of steel in the air as the guards drew their swords made Toni scream, “No!”

  An old woman from the far corner of the room, wearing a magnificent coat in red crushed velvet lined with white fur and a hood shadowing her face, pointed upward, her wrinkled finger aimed at Toni. “It’s her! Price Iver’s one true love!”

  The crowd gasped again, followed by murmurs and whispers behind their gloved hands.

  She watched as Jon’s eyes flew upward to meet hers, his face a mixture of relief and guilt and more relief.

  But she wasn’t having any of it. He’d lied to her. Boy, had he lied, big time.

  She narrowed her gaze in his direction and jabbed a finger in the air. “Oh, Jon Doe or whoever you are, are you in for a rash of shit from me! All this time you had me believing you were some simple reindeer farmer and you’re a prince? What was it you asked me just yesterday? If I could stay here with you, would living with a poor farmer make me happy? Yep! That’s what you asked me, Reindeer Whisperer. Was it some kind of test to see if you could get someone to fall in love with you if you were poor? You lied to me, buddy, and you owe me an explanation!” she called from the balcony as she raced toward the first few steps of the staircase, only to have the guards stop her.

  Nina pushed her way from the edge of the throng of people and ran up the steps. “You hurt one little hair on her red head, I eat you!” She leered in the face of a guard, who shrank back from the flash of her fangs.

  Jon moved from the crowd, but the guards grabbed his arms, too. “You know ’tis not true, Toni. I have been gone from the castle for nigh on a year now. This plan was set in motion long before I knew you. Just ask him,” he said sarcastically, thumbing his hand at the prince—who wasn’t really the prince.

  Oy.

  “Silence!” the king roared upward, shaking his gold scepter, his jewel-encrusted crown rocking on his dark head as guards grabbed Toni’s arms, thwarting her descent. “You will all be silent until I command that you speak!”

  Jon stopped straining against the guards, as did Toni, but the second she got the chance to give him a good tongue lashing, he’d better take cover.

  “Now, I would ask that you offer me an explanation,” King Dick said, peering at Jon. “Who are you and how dare you use this sacred night for such deceit?”

  Yeah. How dare ye!

  Jon looked to the king, remorse in his sapphire eyes, but he lifted his jaw high with clear pride. “I did not plan it this way, Father. I ask that you hear my story before you judge, and then you may do with me as you see fit. But in the process, I ask that you spare the real Jon Doe your wrath. He is not guilty of this caper. ’Twas I who convinced him.”

  The king crossed his arms over his gold-and-white jacket, his lips, so like Jon’s, thinning. He rolled his hand. “Carry on,” he ordered curtly.

  Jon shrugged the guards off to stand before his parents. “I did not wish to marry Resplendant, Father. We are all wrong for each other. Still, I knew the merger you made with her mother was important to you. So one day, whilst in the woods pondering thus, I met Jon Doe. Neither of us could believe how uncanny ’twas that we looked so much alike. As we talked, I came to discover he and Resplendant were deeply in love. Yet, Queen Angria would not hear of a peasant marrying her royal daughter. They hid their love, and I saw the pain in his eyes. The timing was, as one would say, exceptional and uncanny. So we struck a deal to switch places…”

  “And?” asked the queen, beautifully regal and blonde.

  “And I knew this was what I must do. I would rather be a poor farmer than marry a woman I do not love. Surely you understand that, Mother? My heart does not twist in my chest when I see Resplendant’s face, beautiful as she is. My wish to share a moment of wonder or a happy tale is not one I wish to share with her. ‘Twas that not what you claimed was true love? Did you not feel that way about Father? ’Tis unfair to allow Resplendant to marry a man who will never love her the way she so deserves. Do you not remember the story you told me of true love’s kiss?”

  Queen Jane gave him a guarded glance as she circled him. “All this time…” she murmured, and then her eyes, the exact color of Jon’s, opened wide. “I could not
place my finger on it, for you are identical.” She turned to the fake prince then. “Yet, my heart did not know yours. This—this explains it all.”

  Jon gripped his mother’s hands and pulled them to his lips. “Do you understand what I speak, Mother? I did not wish for this life you and Father settled upon with the queen before I was even born. And I did not wish to deceive you, but I was left no choice, and Jon would have been a fair ruler. I would have seen to it myself. Yet, I am no good as future ruler of Shamalot if I am unhappy in the most important relationship of my life. Father preaches of balance between ruling the kingdom and his life with you. And finally,” he paused, his eyes finding Toni’s across the room. “Though I have missed you both, I cannot—will not marry Resplendant when I love another.”

  Toni’s heart melted just a little. Not a lot, because he was still a lying jerk, and he’d kept it from her even when they’d finally gotten to the castle and then made her worry herself sick when she couldn’t find him. But if anyone understood not wanting a life thrust upon you by someone else’s hand, it was her.

  He moved through the crowd, taking the steps two at a time until he reached her, and the guards backed away. “I do not know what will happen this night when you return the shoes. I do not know if Jersey is where your true happiness lies. I only know my true happiness lies with you. Always you.”

  In that moment, that beautiful, perfect, harps-playing-in-the-background moment, Toni knew, too. She knew, no matter what it took, she wanted to be with this man forever.

  For always.

  She lunged for him, throwing her arms around his neck, latching on to his lips as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, kissing her soundly.

  The people of Shamalot cheered as Nina slapped Jon on the back, and Marty, Wanda, Dannan, and Carl rushed up the stairs to hug them.

  “My shoes!” the king cried from the foot of the staircase, racing toward them, losing his crown along the way.

  Toni slid from Jon’s embrace, dropping to the step. “Yes. Your shoes. Brenda the Good Witch of the South sends her love.” She curtsied, rather awkwardly, but the good intention was there.

  The king assessed her with critical eyes, strutting along the step in all his gold-and-white embroidered finery, the ruffles on his shirtfront billowing. He stopped to stare down at her, his face a more mature version of his son’s.

  “Who is this woman who has been called your one true love, son?” King Dick asked, one eyebrow raised.

  Jon smiled, his arm firmly about Toni’s waist as he introduced her to his father. “This is Lady Anonia Vitali, Father. From the land of Jersey.”

  A rumble of thunder interrupted their introductions, shaking the urns filled with flowers.

  Oh shit.

  In all the excitement of finding out who Jon really was, she’d totally forgotten about Angria.

  “Save the introductions for later—we have trouble!” she yelled, just as a screeching fireball sailed across the ballroom.

  King Dick looked surprised, but he immediately grabbed a sword from one of his guards. “Who dares bring chaos to this night?” he asked his son as the stairs began to buckle and moan.

  Toni grabbed the king’s hand and began to drag him from the staircase as they started to crumble in angry shifts, cracking, collapsing, sputtering.

  “Angria is here and boy, is she pissed at you!” she yelled to him.

  They raced down the steps, Toni pulling the king as Jon called her name and threw the knife he kept in his boot to her before running for his mother and the fake prince, bundling them off with the guards in order to protect them.

  “Where-oh-where are you, true love of Prince Iver?” a voice bellowed, echoing throughout the room. “Show me your face, so that I might remove it from your head for hurting my precious baby girl!”

  As people began to scream and scatter in hordes, Toni pinpointed the source of all her trouble since she’d come to Shamalot.

  Angria rose from the far shadowy corner, a dark, beautiful figure with crimson lips, dressed in deep purple and black, her arms outstretched, her hands clenched in tight fists. She changed, grew in size just like Pricilla had, twisting her body until she was a massive version of herself.

  She swept her arm in a graceful arc, bringing with it a wave of fire. Setting the curtains ablaze, zigzagging across the room, illuminating the walls with its hot ire.

  Marty screeched in anger as flying embers zapped her wings and caught fire while she ran toward Angria, attempting to shift into her werewolf form.

  She half-morphed, the thrust of her skull and muzzle thwarting as though stuck; yet her hindquarters appeared, strong and lean as they ate up the floor. Marty howled, a long, frustrated, feral sound ripping from her throat.

  God, they were getting weaker by the second.

  “Marty! Stop! Drop! Roll!!” Wanda cried, grabbing glasses of thistleberry wine and launching the contents at Marty’s wings, shoving her to the ground and rolling her until the fire was out.

  King Dick flashed his sword, the steel glinting under the torches as he went on attack, rushing Queen Angria, slicing the air, his movements quick. But they weren’t quick enough. The queen scooped him up in her hand, curling him into her palm and throwing him against the wall.

  “Father!” Jon yelled, dodging a piece of the ceiling.

  Carl, smack in the center of the room, leaned back on his reindeer haunches and shot forward, aiming straight for the queen’s legs. She raised her free arm, spreading her fingers and flicking them at Carl. Icicles with sharp, pointy tips pinged through the air like frosty knives, aimed right at him.

  Toni’s stomach clenched, knowing she’d never make it to him in time. In her frustration, she set her sights on instead attempting to melt the icicles with her flames, inhaling and letting out the biggest stream of fire she could summon.

  “Carl, my lad! Duck!” Jon ordered as he charged from out of nowhere at Carl, managing to knock him out of the way just as the icicles hit the wall, embedding themselves in a brocade tapestry.

  Dannan appeared at the balcony’s railing, now crumbling and cracked, his helium-filled voice full of anguish when he shouted a warning to Jon. “Behind you, lad!” he belted out as the balcony shuddered and he crashed to the ground, cracking the marble floor.

  Toni’s eyes flew to Jon just as the crystal chandelier above them let go, dropping from the ceiling, swinging wildly to and fro and headed straight for the man she loved.

  She ran toward him, tripping over chunks of wall and slipping on the water from the melting ice sculptures, sliding and cracking her head against a heavy toppled chair.

  Just as she was about to push her way up from the floor, Jon roared a triumphant cry, as he ran and leapt for the chandelier, grabbing the weighty chains that once mounted it to the ceiling, directing them and riding them straight toward Angria.

  Using his feet, he rammed the bottom of his boots up under her chin, knocking her backward momentarily, but that didn’t slow her down for long.

  As the queen recovered from the blow, she rose up bigger, higher, filling the ballroom with her presence until it seemed there was nothing but her in the room. Her howl of fury filling the space, forcing pictures to fly from walls and candelabras to crash to the ground.

  And then it happened.

  Okay, so it wasn’t flying monkeys, but close enough.

  Hundreds of black bats with almost human-like heads, their wings humming in a racquet of sound, swirled in circles, diving, plucking at the air until they began to dive-bomb like an ebony swarm of aerialists.

  “Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!” Angria screamed.

  A batch of them zeroed in on Nina, snatching a bluebird from her hair and lobbing it almost across the room.

  “You motherfuckerrrrrrs! I’ll drain you bastards dry!” she screamed, racing after the bluebird, scooping it up and shoving it down the front of her dress.

  But Toni noted with panic, through the haze of black-as-night wings flapping furiou
sly, Nina was just a little slower than she had been even earlier today. Her gait was sluggish even though she jumped into the fray, balls to the wall, as the bats attacked.

  They began scratching at her flesh with their claws, tearing, ripping small holes in her skin while she howled her anger.

  Wanda screamed, too, as the bats soared around her, tearing at her wings. She opened her mouth wide and roared, her fangs flashing, her face distorting as tufts of hair sprung from her face and arms.

  But she couldn’t shift fully any more than Marty could; it was as though the longer they stayed in Shamalot, the weaker they grew.

  “Wanda, get out of the way!” Toni screeched just before inhaling again and spraying the bats with a stream of molten fire.

  “Her heart, milady!” Dannan bellowed over the noise of the squealing bats, using the king’s dropped scepter to swat at them. “You must get Angria’s heart to stop her!”

  Toni stopped then, right in the middle of the madness, as the bats and the women screamed in unison, as the walls fell about her and the room turned from magical to a nightmare.

  Her heart? How the hell was she going to get her heart?

  Seriously?

  But Toni’s body said, Hello in there, Sissy-Pants. You killed a GD dragon while riding on his back. And let’s not forget, you whacked the head off a sea bitch. Surely you can figure out a way to get your hands on an organ.

  Now her mind? Well, it had other ideas. Are you fucking nuts? Did you lose every last brain cell you ever had back in that damn forest? The queen’s ten times the size of you and she’s got a bag o’ tricks that even David Copperfield would envy. She’ll jack you up so hard you’ll feel it in the afterlife. Like Wanda said. Stop, drop and roll right on outta here, kid!

  No. This time she would not run away. No matter what happened, she would not let someone else have control over her life.

  Not. This. Time.

  Angria rose again, like some demented Thanksgiving Day parade float, wavering back and forth, swiping her arms above her, directing the bats in a bizarre dance just before a bitter wind began to rip through the room and chunks of glacial ice crashed to what was left of the ballroom floor.