Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

“Frederick, can you come here for a moment?”

Heart pounding, I wondered if I could feasibly pretend that I hadn’t heard my mother speak. I eyed the next corner, at least ten steps away. Forcing a smile, I turned on my heel and headed to her favorite sitting room. “Yes, Mother?”

Inside, the imposter sat on one of Mother’s plush couches, their heavy armor sinking into the soft cushions. Because no one wanted to be speared by a metal elbow, they had the whole space to themselves. The visor had been lifted again to expose only their mouth and the tiniest glimpse of a strand of red hair slipping out from the helmet, plastered to their sweaty face. Keeping up the act must be exhausting and uncomfortable.

“Headed out again so soon?”

“I needed something at the market.” I couldn’t exactly ask the imposter to give me clothes from Brandon’s luggage. I had considered sneaking into their suite, but when I’d scouted the hallway, I saw one of the attendants guarding it and I didn’t have a good explanation if I got caught.

“Why don’t you take Brendon with you?” she suggested, turning to the imposter with a kind smile they couldn’t even see. “Show him around the town.”

A protest stopped halfway to my lips. That would get them away from Franny for a little while. She’d been stuck with the imposter for the past few days, she definitely deserved a break. I glanced at her to gauge her reaction just as she took a sip of tea, masking her emotions with the delicate gesture.

“If he wants to?”

“What do you say, Brendon?” Mother asked.

Busy munching on a cookie, it took them a second to realize Mother had addressed them. Mouth still full, they gave a small, “Hm?”

Mother raised her voice to be heard through the metal. “Would you like to go to the market with my son Frederick?”

“Uh, shopping might be a little …” The imposter gestured to themselves with an awkward clank.

“Surely you can remove the armor if Francesca isn’t around,” I said, seeing an opportunity to needle them. “Or can no one see your face until the wedding? You’re very committed to your customs.” Which no one has ever mentioned or heard of before.

“I am,” the imposter replied solemnly. Then they pushed themselves up, knocking over the couch in the process. They took a wobbling step forward and almost fell over.

I instinctively grabbed their arm, holding them upright.

“Thank you,” they muttered, righting their askew helmet.

Even if I was annoyed with them for throwing a curveball in my plans, I didn’t want them to get injured while they tried to protect Brendon’s reputation. “Does it have to be armor?”

After a long moment, they asked, “What?”

“We can’t see the groom before the wedding, but does it have to be a full suit of armor?” I glanced at Franny, who had stood up and inched closer to us, her brow creased in worry. “Don’t we have some masks left over from the last few New Year’s balls?” We celebrated the changing of the years with an annual masquerade ball to represent giving everyone a fresh, anonymous start.

“Oh! Yes, I have a few!” she exclaimed, picking up her skirts and running from the room. “I’ll meet you in the foyer!”

I kept hold of the imposter’s arm and guided them out of the room, ignoring Mother’s annoyingly pleased expression.

“Have fun, boys!”

I rolled my eyes and dragged the imposter along. Their steps were so slow and heavy that by the time we reached the foyer, Franny had beat us there, holding a mask in her hands as she bounced on her toes. “Here,” she said, thrusting it at me, her eyes locked on the imposter’s helmet.

She certainly didn’t look miserable, except that wasn’t her real fiancé. I had no idea how I was going to explain the situation to her when it was all over.

The imposter waited for a long moment before asking, “Is she gone?”

“No, she’s still standing here.”

“My lady, I must ask you to give me some privacy. Our future happiness depends on it.”

Franny’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, of course, my apologies.” Looking dejected, she left us alone in the hallway.

“You’re a bit of an ass, you know that?” I said, irritated with them for upsetting her.

“It’s for her own good,” the imposter replied, then turned their back on me while they removed the helmet. Their hair was red, like Brendon’s, but a darker shade—closer to auburn than burning flames. It was cut just a little bit shorter, probably to disguise the slight curl that peeked out even at that length.

Standing close to them, I realized they were also the same height as him. No wonder Kit was his stand-in if they looked this much alike. I was dying to see their face, to compare it to his, but they kept their back to me.

They turned around, wearing a full fox face, only their soft brown eyes visible.

“Are you related?” I asked.

“To who?”

Shit, fuck. I forgot that they wouldn’t know that I knew that they were an imposter. “Uh, the, uh…” Fuck fuck fuck. I opened the door and led them outside to stall for time as I scrambled for a person, any person, that fit the bill. “Queen of Gloom.” Why did I say that? The Queen of Gloom was a petite platinum blond with blue eyes.

“Through marriage, technically,” they replied, and though the mask completely hid their expression, I could hear the smile in their voice.

Because of course all of us were, thanks to the spell, related by marriage. “Which marriages were those again?”

The question stumped them, and we walked in silence for a while. It would have been a great time to prove that they were an imposter, except I honestly couldn’t remember either. “I think … cousin’s mother-in-law?” they finally said.

“All of our kids are going to be screwed,” I muttered.

“The marriage condition is a bit weird,” Kit agreed to my surprise. “Since Br—I am an only child, it causes extra complications. It means Francesca is forced to adopt Bane as her home country for us to have anyone in the next generation to keep the spell going, otherwise our children would technically belong to Woe.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Worse, I hadn’t realized that it would mean both Franny and I had to have children. I’d been so focused on our generation I hadn’t even considered how we would get to the next one. Even if Franny escaped this marriage, she would still have to marry unless the Good Wizard had another solution for us. Maybe that’s why she’d never bothered to protest—she’d known it would be her duty either way.

“Rick?”

Fuck, was there absolutely no way for Franny to be happy and free of marital obligations? Why couldn’t my parents have had a few more kids to make it easier on all of us?

“Rick?”

It took me a moment to realize Kit was talking to me, since they hadn’t called me ‘Fred’ or ‘Freddy.’ Despite my constant reminders, very few people actually called me Rick. “What?”

“Are you alright?” they asked, their gauntleted hand gently grasping my arm.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. “We’re almost there. Is there anything you’re interested in seeing or are you just joining because my mother pressured you into it?”

“I wanted to learn more about you—and for you to learn about me.” Their brown eyes locked with mine. “I’m not trying to ruin your family, Rick. I’m trying to help.”

“I know,” I said, because I did. But I also knew that, no matter how much they wanted to, they couldn’t help me. “C’mon, it’s just up ahead.” I grabbed their arm and dragged them into the colorful, boisterous depths of the market.