Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales Book 2)

by Aya Ling

  “Hey.” I pretend to look offended. “That is not a compliment a man gives to a lady.”

  “For a lady as remarkable as you, I would say the comparison is apt.”

  “That’s why you need me to edit your drafts, if that’s the best comparison you can come up with.”

  “A mouse, then.” His eyes twinkle. “When you sniffed the air, you resembled a mouse twitching its nose.”

  His analogy is so atrocious that I have no idea whether to laugh, cry, or karate punch him on his chest. Lucky for him, Edward is saved from public humiliation when the waitress comes bustling over to us.

  “Table for two?” Her eyes practically sparkle as she gazes at Edward.

  “Yes.” Edward instantly switches to poker-face-mode. “We would appreciate a table out of the way.”

  “Of course!” she chirps, showing a dimpled smile. “Come along this way, sir.”

  The restaurant is small, cozy, and crowded. It reminds me of a cute little Thai place near Jason’s college campus. Lively folk music blares from a trio strumming on instruments that look like banjos. As Edward says, without expensive clothes and jewelry, we mingle easily in the crowd, although when we are led to our table, quite a few women are stealing glances at Edward. Even with the glasses, he’s hot in a nerdy way—like a young professor. Combined with a distinct noble air, from the way he helped me off the carriage to the cultured accent he uses when talking to the waitress, I can’t help feeling privileged to be out on a date with him.

  We’re shown to a tiny booth in a corner. It’s so small that it can’t seat more than two. When I sit down, the chair creaks and the table wobbles a little. The napkins are rough, and the red-checkered tablecloth is old and worn, but I don’t mind. The less-than-perfect conditions of the restaurant make me more at ease than the fancy dinners at some of the aristocrats’ places. I don’t have to worry about the various eating utensils or keeping modern me at bay when conversing with those lords and ladies.

  “What would you like to have?” the waitress asks, pulling a lead pencil from her apron pocket. She directs her full attention on Edward (no surprise there), who merely indicates his chin at me.

  “Whatever she wants.”

  My cheeks heat up, and I know it has nothing to do with the coal stove burning in the back of the room. I glance at the menu, which is written in chalk on a blackboard. In Athelia, the closest thing I had gotten to reading a menu was at this dinner party, in which the hostess took the trouble of having each course written up in an elaborately folded card, though it’s useless for me—the names of the food sound more like French than English.

  Here, the food is a kind of Indian/Mexican comfort food with some non-spicy options for customers like Edward. After a moment’s consideration, I order a hearty chicken soup flavored with spicy peppers, potatoes fried in cumin and sprinkled with lemon juice, chickpeas dipped in a spicy tomato sauce, boiled white rice, and a watercress-and-bacon sandwich for Edward.

  After the waitress leaves, I take the jug on the table and pour two glasses of water. It feels a bit strange; at those aristocrats’ houses, I’m used to fluttering my fingers at a liveried servant and asking if I could have my glass filled. Then I notice Edward staring at the condiment holder, which contains a row of petite glass jars and wooden spoons. They’re quaint, really, and much better than the ugly plastic containers I usually get in chain diners.

  “There is no price tag,” he says gravely, examining a jar of dark red sauce.

  “It’s provided gratis. You use whatever amount you prefer on your food.”

  He uncorks the jar and gazes at the contents, his expression so serious that I have to stifle a grin.

  “Edward,” I say, unable to hide the amusement in my voice. “You look like the condiment is going to bite your nose. Can’t you tell what it is?”

  He sniffs obligingly, and the next second he sneezes. I guess the spicy fumes were too much for his delicate olfactory senses. I can’t hold it any longer. I collapse against the back of my chair, dissolving in a fit of giggles.

  “Oh my God. I wish I could snap your picture, Edward. That expression you had was priceless.”

  He sends me a peeved look, but I mollify him by leaning across the table and giving him a quick peck on the lips. We’re so far back in the corner and I was so quick that I doubt anyone noticed. Edward is surprised but pleased, and that's all that matters.

  “We should do this more often,” he remarks, replacing the cork on the bottle. I wonder which he is referring to—going to a restaurant or my lightning-fast kiss. “Since Parliament is now closed, we have more leisure time.”

  I frown when he mentions Parliament. The Minimum Wage Act is rejected, which means I still need to figure out an alternative if I want to help Molly, but I haven’t had time since I was busy organizing the palace outing. Tomorrow, I think. Tonight I want to celebrate my first restaurant date with Edward.

  “How come there is a restaurant like this in Athelia? And how did you learn of a restaurant like this?”

  Edward folds his napkin onto his lap. “Recently, there has been an uptick in the number of immigrants. Many of them have chosen to open restaurants here. As for how I received the information—I heard it from Bertram. He was trying to find a restaurant that might impress Amelie, so he asked around and drew up a list. However, Amelie is less tolerant of spicy food, so in the end he chose another one.”

  I smile, imagining Bertram asking Amelie on a date. “I hope he is progressing with Amelie. She is always so serious, but it seems that she is still reluctant to enter a relationship.”

  “Bertram had asked me for advice.” Edward gives me a pointed look. “Like him, I was unable to win the affections of my lady for a long time. However, there is little that I can offer him, since your case is very different from Amelie’s.” He pauses, his expression hesitant. “When did you fall in love with me? You were so concerned about getting back to your own world that I do not recall any obvious emotion until I confessed my feelings to you.”

  I blush. To tell the truth, I can’t remember when I first fell in love with him either. “It’s . . . it’s a gradual process,” I say lamely. “By the time I realized that I’m in love with you, I was in too deep.” And also dreadfully miserable, because at that time I still wanted to go home to my family.

  Our orders arrive—big, hearty portions, freshly cooked and prepared, served in plain tableware that need no rules for their usage. I ladle a bowl of spicy chicken soup, and the multitude of flavors seems to explode in my mouth. It’s almost as if the chef knew my preferences. God, how long has it been since I had a taste of something like home?

  “This is so good.” I let out a moan, and Edward glances up abruptly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he quickly says. “Can I try some of that soup?”

  Having witnessed his reaction to the condiment, I warn him to take a small helping, but still he ends up coughing into his napkin and I have to ask for some yogurt to dilute the heat.

  “This is a better cure than water.” I scoop up the yogurt in a large wooden spoon and hold it out to him. “Trust me.”

  He does what I say, and soon he stops coughing. “Now I know why you’re from another world. Your tastebuds are formed of steel.”

  I have to laugh. “It’s just an acquired taste, Edward. If you grew up eating spicy food like me, you’ll be accustomed to it too. Shall we ask for some more food? You can’t be satisfied with that sandwich alone. When we get back to the palace, I’ll ask Amelie to send up a food tray.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” he says, draining a glass of wine. He looks up at me with half-lidded eyes. “I can think of other ways to compensate a hungry stomach.”

  The heat in his eyes suggests that he wants to take our relationship to the next level. I blush hotly, but I can’t deny that I want him as well.

  There’s still some champagne left in the bottle. Edward fills up our glasses and indicates that I take
a toast with him.

  “To our future,” he says, our glasses clinking gently. “To the rest of our lives—together.”

  “Together,” I echo.

  After the meal, we make our way slowly back to the carriage. Since it is downtown, Bertram had to park the carriage a long distance from the restaurant. As we walk together, hand in hand, enjoying this freedom to be together without the scrutiny of servants and guards, a girl’s scream reaches our ears above the noise of the people around us.

  “Let me go!”

  Near a building, there is a young girl struggling with a man who is trying to grab her arm.

  It’s Molly.

  “Behave yourself, girl. You should have been home long ago.”

  “You’re not my . . .” The man slaps her face so hard that she stumbles, and her hand goes to her cheek. Tears spill from her eyes.

  I feel like my blood is boiling as I stalk over to them. “What are you doing, trying to abduct this girl? Explain, or I’ll call the police.”

  The man gives me a toothless grin. “I’m taking my daughter home, lady. She has always been a disobedient child. It ain’t acceptable to have her running around the town at this hour.”

  Molly catches my sleeve and shakes her head. “He . . . not . . .” Her speech comes out garbled, which must be the result from that hard slap the man gave her. To my horror, her right cheek is completely swollen.

  I move in front of Molly, blocking her from the man. “You say that she’s your daughter?”

  “Told you already,” the man says with a sullen face. “Hand her back to me, you interfering wench.”

  “Excuse me,” Edward says sternly, but I place a restraining hand on his arm. What’s more important now is to protect Molly.

  “Do you even know her last name? Do you know how many siblings she has?” I fire off the questions. “As a matter of fact, I have seen her father, and you look nothing like him.” I tap my cheek. “Her father has a scar right here.”

  The man goes pale. By this time, a small crowd has surrounded us, and dozens of eager eyes are surveying us curiously.

  Before the man can run off, my body reacts faster than I expected. I take a step toward him, grab his arm, and punch him in a perfect demonstration of the crane fist. Perhaps taken by surprise, the man goes down like a sandbag. A few people nearby gasp and gape at us.

  “Ooh!”

  “Did she really do that?”

  “Did he faint away?”

  I stare at my fist, also in shock. Before I can figure out how to follow up my attack, Edward steps in front of me, shielding me and Molly from the man.

  “Get back.”

  While I’m sure that Edward can handle that crook, I don’t want him getting into a fight either. Looking around, I spot Bertram’s hulk-like figure near our carriage. Never before have I been so grateful that he’s such a large man. If he were of normal height, I might not be able to locate him in the crowd.

  “Bertram!” I shout, waving my hands wildly. “Over here!”

  Once the guard arrives, I gesture at Edward, who has twisted the man’s arm behind his back and pinned him to the ground.

  “Take this piece of scum to the police,” I say. “Ask them to check and see if he has a record of abducting innocent girls.”

  Bertram gives me a salute. Like the way he did to Mr. Tolliver, he easily picks up the man and slings him over his shoulder.

  I turn to Molly, who is crying hard by now. Edward has given her his handkerchief, but her shoulders are still shaking.

  “Let’s take her to the nearest doctor,” I say. “She has to get her cheek treated.”

  36

  It is not easy to find a doctor at night, but through Henry, Edward had made the acquaintance of several reputable doctors, and soon Molly is treated in the hands of a competent young man who graduated top in his class a few years ago. He applies a poultice to her cheek which he remarks lightly is usually meant for professional boxers. When Molly is more inclined to speak, I ask her how she came to be struggling with the man downtown.

  “He came up to me in the afternoon, Princess,” she says in a small voice. “He wanted me to deliver a bouquet to his sweetheart before the theatre started. Told me he wanted it to be a surprise. But when I got there, he started yellin’ that I was a naughty girl and had no business running around in the streets, and I must go home with him.”

  Edward’s face darkens. “I believe I’ve read of a similar event in the papers, but the abductor escaped before others could catch him.”

  I glance at Molly, who is sitting on a stool with a downcast expression. Her arm is pale and spindly as she holds the poultice. If we didn’t happen to be in the same area, or if I had never seen Molly’s father, that horrible man might have succeeded in dragging her off. Considering what had happened to her sister . . . I shiver involuntarily. That black-and-white image of Nell with a swelling belly still haunts me occasionally.

  “It’ll be all right,” Edward says. “Bertram has taken that man to the police, and they will deal with him. He won’t bother you again.”

  Still, I feel awful when we return to the palace. Our first date—a wonderful, magical dinner—is spoiled. Completely.

  * * *

  A few days later, Bertram brings us good news.

  “That man tryin’ ter abduct the young girl has been prosecuted,” he announces. “The police are now tryin’ ter round up the whole gang. Nasty business those men are in—they kidnap innocent girls and ship ‘em to brothels in Moryn. The most common method is ter get the girl drugged and ruined, then sell her off.”

  Edward’s face hardens. I suspect mine is the same.

  “Lucky you were close by, Princess Kat, or that man could’ve dragged the girl away. You saved her.” Bertram looks up at me with admiration. “How did yer knock him out? You ain’t tiny, but I didn’t expect you’d have the strength ter do it.”

  “I taught her a few moves,” Edward says, managing to keep a straight face. “You know how she often places herself in danger, so I had to teach her a bit of self-defense.”

  Bertram nods. No doubt he’s reminded of that day when Mr. Tolliver tried to attack me with a bottle, and if Bertram hadn’t happened to be nearby, I could have been seriously injured.

  “The police ought to award you a medal of courage, Princess Kat,” he remarks and gives me a low bow.

  I jump up, embarrassed. “Oh, come on, it was only a punch on the nose.”

  Edward catches my elbow. “Kat, there’s no need to be modest about it. It’s the first time in our history that a princess has helped crack a case in human trafficking.”

  I part my lips into an obligatory grin, but while I’m relieved that Molly is safe, the problem about the children still remains. I doubt Molly’s father will let her off the hook. She is probably back in the streets, trying to earn enough to support her sister and the baby. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

  After Bertram leaves, Edward makes me sit down at the window seat. Outside, the garden is a glorious spectacle of orange and gold, but I’m in no mood to appreciate it.

  “I know that you are still anxious about the children,” he says quietly. “Would that I were able to promise you an immediate solution. But Kat, you have already made progress, even if the current situation isn’t satisfactory. It will only get better.”

  “I know, but still.” I sigh and lean against him. “I understand that it’s going to take a long time, but oh, I can’t help seeing red when that man slapped Molly. If he could be that violent in public, then what might have happened to her if he’d succeeded? If you hadn’t suggested that we go to that restaurant, she might be lost forever.”

  He strokes my hair. “Think no more of that night, love. She’s safe now, and we are going to figure out the next step to protect her and the others from harm.”

  “But how?” I sit up and stare at him. “I can’t forbid Mr. Ripley from making his daughter hawk in the street. I can’t foresee any way to p
rohibit child labor when the parents are the ones who encourage their children to work. The Minimum Wage Act is rejected. And even if it were passed, I don’t think Mr. Ripley would change his mind and allow Molly to stop working.”

  “What about the people in your world? Surely the wealth cannot be equally distributed, and you must have some impoverished families over there. Did their children not have to work? Did their children attend school?”

  “Everyone has to go to school because they’re required to . . .” I grab his hand, excitement pumping through my veins. “Oh Edward, it’s so simple! All we have to do is establish a law that states education must be mandatory for all children! If they have to go to school, then they can’t go to work.”

  He stares at me as though I have just spoken Spanish to him. Speaking of Spanish, it’s such a long time since I’ve used it. I still miss home, no matter how much in love I am with Edward.

  “Such a notion is without precedent,” he admits. “It does seem the most likely method to do away with child labor, but I can already foresee that the difficulty will be much greater.”

  “We’ve got to try anyway. You told me that Athelia is slow in making progress, but we can’t just sit here and do nothing. Let’s submit a bill to Parliament, like you did with child labor.”

  “Parliament will not open until early next spring.”

  “Isn’t there any other way we can convince the…the Ministry of Education, for instance, to consider compulsive education?”

  Edward gazes at the view outside, his brow creased. “A few years ago, I had an idea to transform an old cemetery into a public park. Father taught me the proper way to implement my plan. I was to submit a proposal to the municipality, detailing the purpose, the preparations, and the expected results. We can do the same with this.”

  “Okay.” Back when I was working in the publishing industry, before I lost my job, I had assisted in planning for a new column for the magazine. There wasn’t much I was assigned to do, being a novice, but anyway, I have an idea of how a proposal works. “Sign me up.”