Stupid Girl: A Fantasy Adventure Based in French Folklore (Faite Falling Book 4)

by Mary E. Twomey

  I nodded. “How… How… How could Madigan d-do that? Clipped off Roland’s fingers, Drape! Tore out his eye!”

  Draper was unperturbed by the violence. His only concern seemed to be my upset over it all. “He shouldn’t have let you see that. It’s alright.”

  “It’s not alright! I’m living in the s-same house as that! This is our kingdom, right? We shouldn’t allow crap like that to go on. Is this the kind of ruler you want to be?”

  Draper shifted against the pillows and brought my head to his chest, so I had a safe place to rest while I sobbed. “You forget that I don’t want to rule at all. I’m here because you and Lane are in Province 9. When we go, I’ll leave all of it behind.”

  “We’re leaving this world broken if stuff like this is going on. We’re supposed to be the good guys. Where is Lane, anyway? Shouldn’t she be here?”

  “She, Reyn, Remy and Damond left for Province 5 to see if Lot’s people wanted to align themselves with us. Keep their land and independence and whatnot, but come when we need reinforcements, and the other way around. We need all the allies we can get if Morgan attacks again. And frankly, we have more resources than they do, since we have more jewels. We can offer them aid.”

  “Lane would flip out if she knew what Mad was up to. Can’t you order him to stop or something?”

  “I could try, but I won’t. Roland stabbed my sister three times. Do you really think I’ll spare his life or his comfort after that?” He scoffed. “I’m just sorry I don’t have the stomach for it. I’d heard of Madigan’s methods, but man. Seeing him at work is a whole other story.” He kissed my forehead while Abraham Lincoln burrowed his muzzle under my chin. “But Link shouldn’t have taken you down there. You didn’t need to see that.”

  “Mommy,” Abraham Lincoln cooed. “I don’t like it when Mommy’s sad.”

  “I can’t believe you’re okay with this!”

  Draper was unapologetic. “More than okay. He snowed Bastien for a while, but I’m glad your guy came around. I never trusted Roland after the first time he tried to kill you. Why do you think I’m always hovering?” He hugged me tighter. “Let it all out with me, but maybe don’t bother Bastien with this stuff. He’s not doing so hot.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was just at the pub with him, making sure he didn’t drink himself into the grave. He loved Roland like a brother. To have your brother stab the woman you love? To have your brother threaten to have men do unthinkable things to the woman you swore to protect? Cry to me, pumpkin. Bastien might be broken for a while after this.”

  I wanted to yell at him, but I was too distraught. I sobbed in Draper’s arms for I don’t know how long, hoping he’d find a way to undo all the wrong that had been done under our roof.

  Heart to Heart

  I wanted to cry myself to sleep, but I was too haunted to rest. “We need a plan,” I said quietly to Draper. “Whenever I got stuck, Lane would always stop the madness, and we’d sit down and make a plan. She’s gone now, and so is Damond. With Dad still down and out, and Roland… indisposed, it’s you and me, right?”

  “I suppose it is. I’ve been out on the wall as much as I can, but soon I’ll need to go downstairs and hold court.”

  “What can I help with?”

  “Nothing. You can rest. You were just stabbed, Rosie.”

  “I wasn’t just stabbed. I’ve been patched up, and I’m fine. I need something to distract me, actually. How can I be helpful? I don’t want Lane to come back to her province and find me lounging around, eating macarons all day.” I stared at the ceiling wistfully. “Actually, that’s exactly what I’d like to be doing right now.”

  Draper smirked at me. “I’ll send down to the kitchen for more macarons. The three sisters love your reactions. I swear, sometimes I think they come up with new cookie flavors just to hear you gush about how creative and cool they are.”

  “Well, they are creative and cool. Hazelnut and coconut? Blew my mind.” I swung my legs off the bed and tested my feet on the floor, grateful the numbing medicine had worn off. Everything was just a dull pain now, but I could deal with that. What I couldn’t tolerate was being useless. “Morgan locked me in my bedroom for days on end. I’m not going to be the useless princess here, Draper.”

  “No one thinks you’re useless. What I do think is that you’re new. I’m not sure what you can help with, because you’re unfamiliar with the customs and laws.”

  “Then can I shadow you? While you hold court, can I listen in and learn?”

  Draper’s small smile touched his eyes and made him look like the kind of boy who got his kicks raking leaves for the elderly neighbors. “I’m constantly amazed at how much like Lane you are. Of course, Ro. You can be my shadow. I’d love nothing more.” He moved to my wardrobe and fished out a dress, laying it out on the bed for me. “Change into this, and I’ll wait in the hall to help you down the stairs.”

  I touched the light green material. It had white embellishments and swirls on the bodice, and a skirt that wasn’t too intimidating. I dressed quickly behind the partition, and joined my brother standing as straight as I could, so he didn’t send me back to my room to rest.

  Draper offered me his elbow, but Abraham Lincoln had other plans. “Let me carry you. I can be a good horse,” he promised.

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” Draper commented as I carefully straddled my huge bear. On two legs, he was as tall as my brother. On four, he was a perfect mount to ride down the stairs.

  “Thanks, baby. That actually is very helpful.”

  We moseyed down to the main floor and into a long, narrow room, where a late-fifties man in green uniform stood with a piece of parchment. He gasped when he saw me, more shocked at my appearance than the bear, whom everyone had pretty much gotten used to. “Your majesty! I didn’t expect to be seeing you in the court room. It’s my greatest honor to serve you.”

  “Aw. Thanks, man. What’s your name?” I winced when Abraham Lincoln stopped in front of Lane’s throne (it had her name on it), and ungracefully plopped myself into the chair.

  “Herald,” he replied, his blond head of hair still bowed to me.

  “Nice to meet you. I’ve never done this before. Any tips?”

  Herald gaped at me, as if confused to be asked his opinion. “I’m not sure I understand. You want my advice on how to hold court?”

  “Um, yes?” I shrugged, wondering if I wasn’t supposed to ask that. “I’m guessing you’ve got the front row seat to the hoopla. Any suggestions?”

  He spluttered a few times, caught by surprise. “Well, I’m from Province 3 originally. I serve the Ninth Province now, and Duchess Lane runs things quite different. Less formal than I’m used to. If I may be so bold as to suggest limiting court sessions to only one hour per day? That might make the people more succinct with their complaints, and would make them think twice to see if they can’t sort out their problems without involving the throne. The way it was done in Province 3 under Duchess Gliten and Ferdinand the Grave’s rule was that court lasted four hours. It was most difficult for the duke and duchess to remain objective after the third hour.”

  I nodded. “That’s great advice. Thank you, Herald.” I turned my chin to Draper, who was petting Abraham Lincoln. “Would that work here? Limiting it all to one hour?”

  “I say it’s worth a try. We have so many other things to take care of. It would be a relief to only hold court for one hour each night.”

  “Done.” I extended my hand to Herald, smiling when he broke through his upright demeanor and handed me a high-five. “Anything else you think of, I don’t want you to be afraid to tell me. You’ve got more experience, and I appreciate any help I can get.”

  I didn’t expect Herald to drop to his knees and kiss the toe of my slipper. “You are most fair, my Princess. Thank you.”

  I grimaced, and then affixed a patient smile on my face when he rose. “It’s nothing, dude. I appreciate you being good at your job
.”

  Herald’s chest puffed as he rose. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for the Lost Duchess, or the Avalon Rose.”

  Draper took the seat next to me, grinning at the sight of me fidgeting on the throne. “That will do, Herald. My sister and I are ready. Do open the doors and let the first citizen in.”

  I jumped when Herald shouted, “Jean Franco of Province 4!” He wasn’t calling the man to attention, but announcing his name and affiliation to us, so we were prepped.

  The first man came in, bald and thin, balking at the sight of me in Lane’s seat. He was so stunned that he forgot his complaint and spent the entire three minutes bowing and singing the throne of Province 9’s praises.

  Like, dude actually sang. Rhymed my name with “cozy”.

  Abraham Lincoln eventually dozed off, snoring next to me and providing a barrier between myself and the strangers as they came in with problems, and went out with hopefully less to burden them. My bear’s fur was warm and soft, reminding me that I used to be both of those things, as well.

  “The home we were assigned isn’t the one we had when we left Province 9 years ago. We’d like permission to ask the people living there now to leave, so we can have it back,” a round-faced, harried woman pleaded with me.

  Draper had been handling the complaints for a solid half hour, but this time, he turned his chin, deferring to me. “What do you think, Rosie?”

  My mouth went dry at having to make an actual decision that affected where people lived. It seemed too much responsibility for me to shoulder, but if Draper thought I was ready, then I decided I should give it a try. “I’m so sorry, but when you left Province 9 years ago, you forfeited your land. This isn’t the same province as when you left. You’re not the same person, either. We’ve all changed since then. I think your new home will be a good start for the new you. Who do you want to be in your new life in the new Province 9?”

  The woman deflated, but then pursed her lips in actual thought. “I want to be a butcher. My husband and I had a small shop in Province 1, but we were taxed so high, eventually we had to close it. Might we petition for space to open a butcher shop here?”

  “I don’t see why not. Lane’s set the taxes at a reasonable rate. Speak to the Homeland Planner – that’s Girard. He’ll let you start paying for the storefront one month after you open, to give everyone a chance to start fresh.” I smiled at her. “See what you’re doing? By being one of the few people who can look forward to what your life might look like, instead of wishing for the good old days, you’ll be the first butcher in your area. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you, Princess!”

  The hour passed much like that, with a few actual complaints and requests that Draper fielded so I could learn more about what resources were available to us, and how to handle the troubles of the people. The others were given tickets by Herald, guaranteeing them first spot tomorrow night. It was actually a pretty great system, for which Herald earned himself another high five.

  When we finished, Abraham Lincoln escorted Draper and me to the kitchen, where we ate our fill of a goat cheese and shallots quiche. I was sort of in love with the three sisters who kept me in good quiche.

  Bastien didn’t come home, even as twilight crept off into the black of night. While Kerdik and Jean-Luc worked on my dad, Draper and Abraham Lincoln tried to distract me with conversation and plans for the future while we sipped tea like royals, and devoured multicolored macarons like children.

  “Draper, you can’t keep this up all night.”

  “Keep what up? I’m just talking to my sister.”

  “Yeah, but you’re also trying to distract me from figuring out that it’s late, and Bastien hasn’t come home yet.”

  Draper rubbed the nape of his neck and looked sheepishly over at me. “Was I that obvious?”

  “Can you take me to the pub he was at?”

  “I can’t imagine he’s still there now. Probably just out with friends, or helping the men build the wall.”

  “In the dark?”

  Draper grimaced. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d buy that. I can send Link out to bring him back.”

  I patted my gut. “I can find Bastien with my Compass easy enough.” I was careful as I put a small amount of weight on my legs. I hadn’t used my thigh muscles much since I’d been stabbed. I’ve been stabbed, I repeated to myself, wondering when life had gone so far south that it was barely recognizable as mine anymore. When I let go of the table I was bracing myself on, my thighs groaned, and I felt the slices afresh.

  “You should go lie down. Jean-Luc would want you in bed, kiddo.” Draper’s hand came under my elbow to steady me. I hated that I actually needed the help.

  “I’m fine. Just a little sore. I’m sure this is good for me. I need to stretch my legs a little bit.”

  “That’s the exact opposite of what Jean-Luc told you to do, and you know it. You’re not supposed to use your legs at all for another day or two. You might tear the muscles more or rip your stitches.”

  “Crap. I hate that he wrote it down for you.”

  Draper sniggered as he steered me back to the chair. “Lying to your old brother? Such treachery. Link can bring Bastien home when he’s ready to come back. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  I slumped at the blond wood of the table, examining my bare knees as if they held all the secrets of the universe. “This is neither here nor there at this point, but I used to have actually decent legs. Now they’re all carved up. I was hoping to leave Avalon behind when we go home, but my scars are going to be a solid reminder. I wear shorts to play sports most of the time. Now everyone’s going to see what Roland did to me.”

  “That’s the thing about scars. And you can ask your boyfriend his opinion on your legs. I’m sure he won’t have anything bad to say about them.”

  I let out a humorless chuckle before I looked up and met his eyes. “Tell me it all gets better, Drape.”

  I don’t know how Draper found the strength to smile, but the slow sweep of contentment brushed over his face, coloring him with life and light. “For me, it’s already loads better. I found you and Lane. What more could a boy ask for?”

  I studied the honesty in his eyes under black lashes, the kindness in his smile and the sweetness in his expression. “Man, how did I get so lucky?”

  He chuckled at me. “You’ve been stabbed three times in the past forty-eight hours, and walked in on a torture carried out on your cousin by an Untouchable, yet you have the grace to call yourself lucky. That’s how, Ro. It’s you. If you can keep that optimism about you, then you’ll always be lucky.” He patted Abraham Lincoln on the back. “Up to bed with you.”

  “I can still help you. There’s so much I need to learn. It’s not fair of me to dump an entire kingdom on your shoulders.”

  Draper shook his head. “Help me plenty when you’re better. Let’s go.” He remained by my side as the three of us made our way up the steps, me on my trusty steed. Draper helped me to the bed and pulled the sheet up over my lap. “I’ll lock you in with Abraham Lincoln, okay? He’ll watch over you while you rest. Let me check on Uncle Urien and send Link out for Bastien. I can bring you up more tea, too. What do you want?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not thirsty. Thanks, though.”

  Draper gave me another glance over his shoulder before he left, as if to confirm that I wouldn’t be dancing jigs or something. “Goodnight, pumpkin.” We shared a smile before he turned off the lantern and left me in the dark.

  Abraham Lincoln was sleepy, and wanted nothing more than to zonk out flat in the middle of the bed, taking up most of the space. I didn’t like the dark ever since the well, but there were certain dangers in leaving an oil lantern burning all night long. I swung my legs off the bed and padded slowly to the window, ignoring my bear’s protests as I popped open the pane to let a little of the blue moonlight in. The soft color painted my skin as I rested my hands on the sill, leaning out a little to gather up a deep inhale of the fre
sh air. Though the city didn’t sleep, most of the activities were taken indoors at night. I watched people through windows in the distance as they sat at tables, several families socializing and chatting to pass the dark hours.

  I missed Judah like I missed the ability to run. I wondered if he was happy, if he’d worked things out with Jill, and if he’d returned to his regularly scheduled program of school and adorable geekdom. I wondered if he would even recognize me anymore. I barely recognized myself. While he was LARPing with his buddies, dressing up like magical creatures and playing along with well-constructed plots, I was hoping my new BFF’s accidental kiss didn’t mutate me into a dragon. I glanced down at my hands, not for the first time that night, to check for scales. I would’ve dismissed Roland’s warning entirely, if not for the fire-breathing belch.

  I didn’t want to go back down into the dungeon, but if Madigan got carried away, it would be too late to get my questions answered. I wanted to ask Kerdik about Tarasque, but when I’d asked him if he’d had parents, he’d frozen my body in a block of ice. Something told me that if his kiss really had turned a woman into a sea dragon of sorts, he wouldn’t be all that cool and collected about it.

  Roland was my best option, and I didn’t have much time, if I had time left at all.

  I brushed off Abraham Lincoln’s worrying as I padded across to the wardrobe and slid on a pair of jeans. I probably should’ve chosen a dress, so the stiff material of the pants wouldn’t rub up against my bandages, but whatever. Shoes were harder, but I managed. I opted for a simple white V-neck t-shirt that hugged my curves. I breathed anew at the clothes that fit and made me feel like a person, instead of a bedraggled mess of limbs, or dress-up Princess Barbie.