64. Fable

Chapter 64

Fable

One Month Later

" I 'll love you until the cows come home," Rhett proudly proclaims. "Fable Everhart, my queen! This is my proclamation!"

I giggle, watching Rhett strut around in his newly made leather armor. I have to say, he looks really good as a fae knight, like he was meant to be one all along. Of the four of them, he's the one who's taken most to cosplay. I like to think it's because he's a peacock, preening in all his glory. The fake pointed ears somehow make him look more masculine. The eyeliner even more so. Rhett was made for this.

"Funny enough, Gunnar said the cows came home this morning," I remind him. "So that's not very long."

Rhett scowls. "It was meant to be romantic. You can't bring logic into romance, Wild West Barbie."

I giggle again and glance over at Colt where he stands in his own armor. I'd worked tirelessly over the last month to make them all their own, even making some for the animals we call friends.

"Romance isn't logical," Colt agrees with a nod. Dolly sits beside him, her leather armor on her back making her look like she's ready for battle. She boofs when I look at her and wags her tail.

"Sir Colt," I reply. "Romance is nothing but logical. Perhaps you should focus on the battle instead of agreeing with the evil fairy prince."

"Oh, I'm evil now, am I?" Rhett grins. "That means I can claim the spoils of your virtue when I win."

Gunnar snorts. "Ew, dude. You're way too into this."

Gunnar is dressed in his own armor, the hide stained red and intricate. He'd forgone a helmet and instead still wears his cowboy hat, making him look almost silly. On his shoulder, Mr. Frizzle sits on a special plate I'd added for him. He wears a tiny piece of armor on his back and a little helmet I'd crafted for him. Every time I look at him, he makes me laugh. Time was well spent making his armor.

"I gotta be into it," Rhett fires back. "After all, one of us has to make up for Trent's grumpiness."

I glance over at the man in question, laughing when he stands with his arms crossed in the middle of the yard. He has his fake wooden sword sticking from his elbow, his face pinched in displeasure. Of the four, Trent's armor was the most difficult. He's got such large shoulders, I'd had to go back for more leather, but I'm pleased with the way it fits him. He'd nixed a helmet, so he mostly just wears a chest plate and some other small pieces. I'd tried to make armor for Sly, but the raccoon just kept taking it off. He sits on Trent's shoulder reaching for the wooden sword.

"This is ridiculous," Trent grumbles, but he'd still worn the armor and came out here, so I know he's not really that grumpy.

"If the knight thinks this is preposterous, might I suggest substance abuse, my liege?" Rhett declares, his voice big and booming.

I snort just as Gunnar leaps toward Trent, hitting his arm with the wooden sword. "Ahah! I got you!" Gunnar shouts. "You gotta put your arm behind your back."

Trent scowls. "No."

Colt leaps in, trying to bash Gunnar over the head and he runs away laughing. "Hold still!"

Colt taps Trent on the leg when Gunnar dances out of reach. "You're supposed to not use your limbs when you get hit."

Trent curls his lips up and unfolds his arms. He lifts his sword. "Here. Let me chop off your limbs!"

"That's against the rules!" Rhett says, laughing. "You can't use limbs chopped off."

"Oh, look. I took a healing potion and regrew my limbs," he deadpans, and swings his sword, catching Colt across the back.

"Ow, you bastard!" Colt shouts, laughing. "This is bullshit! Where did you get a potion from?"

"Your ass," Trent growls, rushing after Colt despite his initial avoidance.

I laugh, dancing after them, my own armor moving fluidly. The Crocodile leather had been perfect, and I'd enjoyed making it. I look every inch the fairy princess warrior of my dreams. In the center of my chest, the misshapen piece of metal Trent had me hammer is sewn in, a part of it forever.

"You don't have to hit him so hard," I shout after them as they spring across the yard.

"Yeah, but I want to," Trent grunts.

Gunnar and Colt run from him, laughing. When Rhett gets caught in the crosshairs, he takes off too.

"Hey! This is no way to treat a fairy prince! Halt! I besiege you! Halt, bastard knights!"

I stumble to a stop, panting from trying to keep up, a goofy grin on my face. I watch as they run around the yard, laughter on all their faces, the animals barking and making a ruckus as they run. Jethro, Prince of Barkness, sits beside me, his own armor matching mine. The wooden sword in his mouth looks silly, but when Rhett swings his sword at him, Jethro swings his own back and forth, fighting him just like we'd practiced. He's mine, just as this place is, just as these men are.

I pet his head, laughing. "This is it, Jethro. This is what home feels like."

When Rhett comes running after me and I get tackled to the ground, I open my heart completely.

"Hey there, fairy knight princess," he laughs as he hovers over me. "Are you busy for the next fifty years? I'd like to sit on the porch with you and watch the sunsets."

I giggle and press a kiss against his lips. "As long as you're fine with my knights joining us, Your Majesty."

He presses his nose against mine and smiles. "A burden I can handle, honeybee."

Gunnar appears and bops him on the arm with his sword. "Got you!"

"Hey! That's cheating!" Rhett growls, leaping to his feet. "I was busy romancing the fairy knight."

"You've lost. Accept it. No need to live in a state of denial," Colt teases.

Rhett's face twists. "No, you live in a state of denial. I live in Margaritaville!"

He runs after them, leaving me on the ground to watch them run. My chest tightens as I realize just how much I love the four of them, just how important they are to me. This is what I've been looking for. This is what I've always been missing.

"Come on, fairy knight. . . princess. . . whatever you are!" Rhett calls. "Let's hand these peasants their asses!"

Grinning, I pat Jethro as I stand. "Come on, Prince of Barkness. Let's go kick some ass."

He follows, barking around his sword, and we rush into war with a battle cry fit for any Valkyrie. After all, I gotta make sure I get into Valhalla.

Someone's waiting for me there. . .