Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

I woke up sprawled across four surfaces, twisted like a pretzel. One leg was still on the couch, the other was on the floor along with half my body. One arm was on the coffee table, the other was somehow stretched across Brendon. He didn’t look any more comfortable, his legs hanging off one end of the chair, his head hanging off the other. He held onto my arm with both of his, less like he was snuggling it and more like he was holding me up from completely falling over the edge.

Well, he was going to have to let go, or I wouldn’t be able to get up. “Brendon, wake up.”

No response.

I struggled to untwist myself, but with one hand occupied, I just ended up flopping the rest of the way down. Face pressed into the floor, I groaned, “Brendon! Seriously, I need my arm.”

“Are you alright, Your Highness?”

I stiffened and lifted my head as best I could to see the wizard standing in the kitchen’s doorway. Last night’s events returned to me in a series of embarrassing flashbacks. While the Good Wizard had patched up my tongue, he’d lectured me on the dangers of magical towers—how they attracted all sorts of creatures and led people down the wrong path. “You are perilously close to a life of evil, young prince. You must choose more wisely going forward.”

At least he didn’t know about the kidnapping. That would probably push me from ‘perilously close’ into ‘a lost cause.’

“Do you need assistance?”

I pursed my lips and said, “No, I’ve got this.” Mentally apologizing to Brendon, I yanked my arm out of his grip. Of course, the movement woke him up, and he slid off the chair in his surprise. We ended up on the floor together, staring at each other with wide eyes. I remembered the much better events from yesterday—his hands caressing me, his lips on mine. I wanted to pull Brendon back into my arms and continue from where we left off. The only thing holding me back was the damn wizard still hovering nearby.

Brendon gazed at me with the same aching desire. In a blink, his expression shuttered. He pushed himself to his feet and walked away without a word, leaving me baffled, sprawled on the floor, wondering what the hell I’d done wrong.

Aside from kidnapping him.

And locking him in a tower.

Where he almost got eaten by that thing outside …

Maybe I should be wondering if I’d ever done anything right.

Breakfast was the first time I ever saw Kit outside of the armor. Technically, they didn’t have the helmet on last night, but I’d been too distracted to really look at their face. As they stood beside Brendon, I tried to subtly compare them.

Brendon was slightly taller—not by much, only an inch or so—but Kit was more muscular. They looked like they could bench press an overstuffed bookshelf. No wonder they’d gone for full armor instead of simply a mask. Binding their chest would help them pass as a man, but the rest of their physique screamed ‘guard’ instead of ‘prince.’

I’d already noticed the differences in the shade of their dyed red hair and their brown eyes, but now I could also see their slanted dark eyebrows, fuller lips, and crooked nose. Brendon was definitely the prettier of the two, with cleaner lines and softer cheeks, though he had dark circles under his eyes and a light dusting of morning stubble.

“How you feeling, Rick?” they asked, clapping me on the shoulder in a friendly gesture I didn’t really deserve.

That was the oddest thing about them—they showed no surprise at finding Brendon here, and no animosity toward me for keeping him locked up. Unless Brendon hadn’t explained the whole story? From the letters and the way Brendon talked about them, they seemed close. Maybe Kit had known about his escape fantasies and had come to their own conclusions.

“Fine,” I said, rubbing the tender spot where she’d hit me. “The wizard patched me up.”

“Knew he could,” they replied cheerfully. Oh god, were they a morning person? They certainly looked more energetic than anyone else in the room as they overloaded a bowl of oatmeal with apple slices, blueberries, cinnamon, and cloves.

“I wanted to ask you something,” I said to them as I prepared my own breakfast.

“What about?”

“How should I refer to you?”

“Hmm, let’s see.” Kit straightened to their full height and planted their hands on their hips in a power pose. “How about Sir Kit the Brave? No, no, wait! Sir Kit the Magnificent!”

That didn’t really answer my question, so I decided to be more direct. “Okay, you like ‘sir,’ so do you prefer masculine pronouns and address?”

Kit’s posturing deflated slightly. “Oh, was that all you meant? If I’m posing as Brendon, you should use ‘he’ or you’ll give the game away. Other times, I usually default to ‘she,’ but ‘they’ is fine too, whatever’s easiest.”

The Good Wizard perked up and suggested, “What about xe?”

Kit shrugged. “Sure, if you like.”

The Good Wizard nodded, seeming pleased with her answer. “I always love a good X.”

Brendon settled at the table next to me and suggested, “If that’s all sorted, why don’t you explain what happened last night.”

Kit’s face broke out in a wide smile as she launched into a grand retelling of her adventure through the deadly forest and her defeat of the shadow dragon. She waved her arms around, slashing her spoon through the air like a sword—which the wizard had taken back, since apparently, it’d only been on loan—and recited the dragon’s wicked speech with a low, growling voice.

But the dragon was—obviously—no match for Kit, and her recitation took a dramatic turn as she cowered near the table, hands raised in surrender. “No, no, please, spare me!”

She quickly switched positions, wielding her spoon again, and exclaimed, “Back to the shadows with you, foul beast!” Then slew the air with a powerful thrust.

Flipping herself over, she clutched her chest and wheezed, “You have … defeated me … great and powerful knight.” Then she collapsed onto the table, eyes closed and tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.

She stayed that way until Brendon said, “Your oatmeal is getting gloopy.”

Something about her recitation niggled at the back of my brain. Frowning, I asked, “Isn’t ‘back to the shadows’ a line from—”

Brendon’s hand squeezed my knee and I stopped mid-sentence. He shook his head, lips quirked in an amused smile, and whispered, “Don’t ruin her fun.”

I swallowed nervously and returned to my breakfast. After a minute, his hand slid away from my knee, his face annoyingly neutral as he ate.

After breakfast, Kit and Brendon disappeared upstairs for a while. I did the dishes while the wizard remained at the table. He seemed content to sit and twiddle his thumbs in silence, and I didn’t really need another lecture on my potential for evil, so I didn’t bother to start a conversation.

As I finished up the last dish, I heard clanking coming down the stairs. I turned to see Kit leading Brendon, who probably couldn’t see any better than she’d been able to with the visor down. Seeing them switched back to their rightful places confirmed that it was the end. Brendon was going back to the castle to marry … someone, I just wasn’t sure who yet.

“Ready to go?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

“Lead on,” Brendon said, his familiar voice made tinny and indistinct by the helmet.

Kit gestured me over and placed Brendon’s hand on my arm. “You’ll need to guide him,” she explained. “I’m going to the village to intercept the king and queen, who should arrive today.”

Right, because she hadn’t officially been introduced to anyone yet. How would she explain things to Brendon’s parents?

“I think I’ll join you in town,” the Good Wizard said. “I have a few things I’d like to check on.”

Realizing that would leave me alone with Brendon for the first time since we’d kissed, I started to protest. Before the first syllable passed my lips, they left the tower, chatting happily and loudly like they were trying to drown me out.

I looked nervously at Brendon, who couldn’t see me, my expression, or much of anything, then sighed. “Maybe you should take the helmet off while we’re in the forest?” I suggested, worried that he’d trip and drag me down with him. Getting pinned under that armor did not sound like a fun way to spend my morning.

“I can’t, someone might see me.”

“But Bane doesn’t actually have a custom of not seeing the groom before the wedding, right? What are your parents going to say when they see you in that armor?”

He didn’t reply right away. His movements were stiff and uncertain, his steps coming down too hard sometimes, and light as a feather—but slower than molasses—others as he tried to acclimate himself. Kit had been awkward at first too, but the last few days she’d moved more fluidly. I hoped no one noticed the change and started asking questions.

“Kit will think of something,” he finally said, which wasn’t really an answer at all.

I didn’t like not knowing what Kit would tell them. I wished we’d discussed it more before we separated. “How much does Kit know?”

“Apparently more than I do,” he muttered, his tone as sour as an unripe cherry.

I had no idea what he meant or what had suddenly annoyed him.

“Brendon—” I began, then stopped and blinked. One moment we’d been walking through the forest, the trees thinning as we reached the edge. The next, giant green hedgerows towered over us. “What the fuck?”

Brendon’s hand tightened on my arm. “What is it? Another shadow beast?” He swiveled his head around a few times, trying to make up for his lack of peripheral vision.

Maybe we’d taken a wrong turn while I was distracted. I checked behind me and came nose-to-leaf with more foliage.

Choosing clear vision over discretion, Brendon lifted the helmet off. He blinked a few times before taking in the scenery. “What the fuck?”

“Exactly.”

Three paths lay before us—one to the right, one to the left, and one straight ahead. A statue stood to the side of each path. The one to the left was the bust of a beautiful young maiden, eyes demurely downcast, hair flowing over her shoulder and covering her scantily clad stone breasts. The one to the right was the bust of a gruff, older man, with a furrowed brow and an oversized nose. The last one was a gargoyle crouched on a stone pedestal, wings closed on its back.

“Did you lead us into some other tourist attraction?” Brendon asked, tucking his helmet under his arm.

“I’ve taken this route a hundred times and never seen this,” I replied. “Also, don’t you think I would have noticed if I’d walked us deep enough into a maze to end up stuck here, with no exit in sight?”

His brow furrowed. “Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to get out of here. The trick to a maze is just to choose a direction, put your hand on the wall, and follow it out.” He did just that, placing his right hand on the wall and walking to the right.

The maiden statue opened her eyes and shifted to look up at us through stone lashes. I yelped and jumped back, knocking straight into the gargoyle who hissed and waved its wings in agitation.

“One at a time!” it snarled and lashed at me with its claws until I stumbled back to Brendon’s side.

“If you would like to proceed down this path,” the maiden said, her voice sweet with an echo like the chime of bells, “you must answer one question.”

“What about the other paths?” Brendon asked, calm and collected, like he didn’t even care that he was conversing with a talking statue.

The maiden said nothing, which actually helped me relax. After taking a few measured breaths, I said, “They probably aren’t sentient. They’re designed to recite a script, and then respond in a certain way based on your answer. Here, back up.” I gestured for him to stand back in the center, then approached the gargoyle.

It straightened and flared its wings again. “If you would like to proceed down this path,” it hissed, “you must perform one task.”

I moved away and stepped in front of the old man. He hemmed and hawed before grumbling, “If you would like to proceed down this path, you must confess one secret.”

“So, we just choose one?” Brendon asked, looking between them. “What if it’s the wrong path?”

The statues answered in unison, a cacophony of voices. “All paths lead to the heart of the maze.”

“Can we hear more details before choosing a path?” I asked.

No answer.

“Guess not.”

“People actually paid money for this?” Brendon muttered. “Well, what do you want to do?”

I looked back and forth between the statues, wondering which would be the safest choice. The tasks couldn’t be anything that would require us to leave the maze, so they couldn’t be too dangerous. The questions and secrets on the other hand … “Let’s try this one,” I said, pointing to the gargoyle.

Brendon shrugged and we approached it together.

The gargoyle repeated the same introduction, posturing and all: “If you would like to proceed down this path, you must complete one task.”

“What is your task?” I asked.

“Hold your partner’s hand until the next crossroads.”

I stared at it, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Hold your partner’s hand—”

“Yes, I heard you.”

“—until the next crossroads.”

“I just don’t understand how—”

“Hold your—”

Brendon snatched my hand and clasped it tightly. The gargoyle’s mouth snapped shut. “Come on,” he said, pulling me along. I watched the gargoyle apprehensively, remembering those sharp claws. It didn’t move as we passed and continued down the path.

Well, at least the maze should be easy to get through.