Chapter Three

Chapter Three

If Mother hadn’t explicitly forbidden me from meeting with the prince, my whole plan would have been easier. I could have gone to welcome him early, pulled him aside, and talked to him directly about sisters, cousins, or other potential replacements. And if he didn’t want to talk to me, well … there was always Plan B.

But I didn’t know if Mother had told anyone else about her decision. That made leaving the castle harder since I might be under scrutiny by the guards and staff. So, I had to get creative.

Thank the gods no one found me raiding Franny’s closest or there would have been a lot of uncomfortable questions. Like: what are you doing in here? Why are you trying on your sister’s clothes? Do you really think you can pull off that dress?

Where my wardrobe was mostly blacks, grays, and reds, three-quarters of Franny’s was various shades of pink, everything from delicate cotton candy to a vibrant, eye-searing monstrosity. Since I didn’t want to stand out too much, I chose a subtle blush shade. Though we had similar slender frames, I lacked certain assets, causing the bodice to droop. I used the velvet pouch I always carried on me and some of her rolled-up stockings to fill it out. Unfortunately, that made it pull tight across my broader shoulders, which meant I had to keep my arms close to my sides or risk ripping a seam.

The skirts were nice though. They created a swishing breeze and provided some breathing room. I twirled in front of her mirror, practiced curtseying, and danced with a fake partner.

At the top of her wardrobe, Franny had stashed a wig she’d worn years ago when she’d lost a bet and had to shave her hair. It sat on a fake head, a perfect replica of her dark, almost black curls, styled in a simple updo. My own dark hair was short enough that I didn’t have to worry about it slipping out from under the wig’s edges.

Everything else in place, I settled down at her vanity and eyed the tools available. I didn’t know how to use most of the makeup, but I at least needed a thick layer of foundation to hide any traces of stubble. I also lined my eyes in black and painted my lips with a pink slightly darker than the dress.

Looking in the mirror, I had to admit that it wasn’t too bad. I didn’t necessarily look like Franny—her eyes were bigger, her nose was smaller, and I had a squarer face and jaw—but I could be mistaken for her from afar.

I grabbed a fan and hid the lower half of my face with it, fluttering my eyelashes coquettishly. No one would ever know.

I considered wearing a pair of her heels but nixed the idea. First, I had no idea how to walk in them. Tripping down every stair would definitely draw attention. Second, none of them would fit anyway. Besides, Franny was a few inches shorter than me, so without the heels we were about the same height. As long as I didn’t move too much, the skirts would hide the edges of my boots.

I opened the door to see if the bustle in the hallways had calmed down at all. When no one scurried past me, I sighed in relief. They’d probably all shifted focus from wedding preparations to afternoon chores. I still had to be careful as I slipped through the halls. I didn’t completely escape unseen, but the few servants who glimpsed me either assumed I was Franny, were too busy to ask questions, or decided the prince cross-dressing was above their pay grade.

A guard did stop me on the way out the front door, and I held my fan up in defense mode.

He bowed his head respectfully. “Would you like an escort, Your Highness?”

I’d left the castle at all hours of the day without anyone asking me that before. In my surprise, I promptly replied, “No need.”

It wasn’t until the guard’s eyebrows rose that I realized I hadn’t bothered to disguise my voice. “Very well, Your Highness.” Although he’d used the same title, his tone had shifted slightly. He didn’t say out loud ‘oh shit, you’re actually the prince,’ but I could read it in his eyes.

Blushing, I gathered up my skirts and strode away. If I was lucky, he would chalk this up to royal dumbassery and wouldn’t spread any rumors. Even if he did spread rumors … Well, I’d had worse said about me.

Thankfully, the stable hands were less attentive than the guards. No one batted an eye as they helped me saddle and prepare Franny’s horse. One even helped me mount, which was good because I’d never ridden side-saddle before. I only realized after sitting on the horse that I’d selected an evening dress, not a riding habit, but no one voluntarily took on the role of fashion critic.

I made it off the castle grounds without anyone else questioning me and headed off to intercept my sister’s future ex-fiancé.

The quickest path between the capitals of Bane and Woe was the main trade road. It connected all five kingdoms and boasted marketplaces, award-winning restaurants, and the best inns each country had to offer. There was no reason for the prince and his people to take any other road, so all I had to do was follow it until I found them. They were scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning, so they couldn’t be too far away.

The ride was aggravatingly slow. Primrose was a fussy mare who liked to prance and didn’t appreciate it when I urged her to go faster. I wanted to take my own noble steed, Chester, but that would have drawn more attention, so I was stuck with Franny’s mount.

The sun was setting by the time I spotted signs of the prince and his party at The Tipped Over Cup. Staff ran around an ostentatious golden carriage, trying to figure out how to fit the oversized conveyance into the undersized stable.

I rolled my eyes at the unnecessary extravagance and guided Primrose closer, hitching her to a post outside of a nearby dress shop. Stepping into the shadows between two buildings, I watched the inn from afar. I didn’t want to go inside yet where it’d be too bright and crowded, risking the chance that I would be identified as an imposter. If I waited just a little longer, I might find the perfect time to pounce.

It was the prince’s last night of freedom. Once he met Franny, the engagement would transform from a concept into a fact. If the rumors about him were true, he wouldn’t settle for a quiet night in.

Not five minutes passed before a man exited the inn. The last rays of the setting sun set his red hair ablaze and illuminated an easy smile. He was dressed casually in a white shirt tucked into brown pants, with the shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows to expose toned forearms.

The nearest stable hand stopped struggling with the carriage logistics long enough to bow deeply and confirm the man’s identity. “Your Highness.”

A voice called out from the inn, asking him to wait, but the prince waved them off. “I’m just going down the street, Kit.” He had a pleasant voice, smooth and cheerful, with a lilt that sounded like he spent a lot of time laughing. “I’ll remain in view and perfectly safe. Nothing will happen.”

I watched the prince to see which direction he would walk in, planning to follow at a slight distance. The fates were truly with me, because his long, graceful stride carried him straight to me. As he passed, I stepped out of the shadows, fan fluttering coyly in front of my face. “Prince Brandon?” I called out, pitching my voice an octave higher.

He hesitated and narrowed clear, blue eyes at me. A little too clear—this whole thing would be easier if he was slightly drunk. “Brendon, actually,” he corrected, his tone chilly politeness, like a breeze warning of oncoming winter.

Not the best start, but I could salvage this. “My sincerest apologies!” I curtsied deeply and my fluttering fan picked up speed. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Princess Francesca Cecilia Bernadette Rosalie Woeful, the second.”

One pale red eyebrow quirked. “There are two of you with such a mouthful name?”

“Sixteen, technically, but the family name changed with the kingdom. You know how it is.”

“Yes, I do.” Remembering his manners, he bowed deeply to me. “Prince Brendon Banes, at your service.” He straightened, his freckled brow furrowed. “Forgive me, Princess, I wasn’t expecting to meet you on the road. Is all well at the castle?”

“Everything is fine!” My voice cracked and I coughed to recover myself. “I couldn’t stand waiting until tomorrow, I was simply too eager to meet you.”

“You were?” he asked, taken aback by the statement.

I frowned at his shock and said through gritted teeth, “Yes, of course.” If we stood out here talking for too long, that Kit person was bound to realize something was the matter and investigate. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just, you never answered my letters. I assumed this marriage was simply an obligation to you.”

He’d written Franny letters? And she’d ignored them? Fran wasn’t the best correspondent, but that didn’t sound like a one and done issue where she’d simply forgotten them amongst all her other daily tasks. Maybe they’d gotten lost in the mail? Or maybe she’d been hiding how much she hated the arranged marriage for years, and I’d simply never recognized how much she’d dreaded it. Guilt soured my stomach and I swallowed roughly. Since Brendon was still looking at me in confusion, I scrambled to find some excuse. “I have terrible handwriting.” Fuck, of all the things to say.

“Oh, well…” he trailed off. He looked like he wanted to believe me, which only added to my guilt. Then he smiled, and his face transformed from uncertainty to a sweet, quiet joy. “Then it is my true pleasure to finally meet you.” He took my free hand and brushed his thumb over my knuckles before bringing it to his lips in a soft kiss.

I stared at him, eyes wide and a little short of breath. Gods damn,he was good. In one move, I’d completely lost my train of thought. If he stood there holding my hand all night, that’d be fine with me.

“Perhaps we could go inside?” Brendon suggested, his voice low and intimate. “Talk about the wedding and our future.” He started to lead me toward the tavern, and I followed him in a half-daze. “I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time, Francesca.”

Francesca. Right.He wasn’t flirting with me, he was flirting with my sister, and he was obviously way happier about the impending nuptials than she was. I dug my heels into the ground and forced us both to a stop. Fluttering the fan furiously in front of my face, I pitched my voice even higher out of desperation. “No!”

He looked at me in bewilderment and released my hand, stepping away and putting some space between us. “No?”

“I uh, don’t want an audience. I’m painfully shy.”

“You are?” he asked, sounding skeptical.

“Yes! Which is why I came to meet you alone.”

“Alone,” he repeated, looking around us for the first time. “Didn’t you at least bring some guards? That doesn’t seem safe.” Though really, he had no room to criticize me, since he’d just ditched his own guard.

“I did, they’re just, you know—” I waved my fan vaguely behind me, then realized I’d almost exposed myself and quickly covered my face again. “Actually, would you be so kind as to escort me back to them? They’re not far, half an hour’s walk at most.”

“Of course. Let me just—” He turned, probably to ask for his own guard to join us.

I couldn’t let him call for anyone else, so I pounced, grabbing his hand and clutching it tightly with my free one. “Thank you so much! We’ll go right now, and they won’t even notice I’ve gone.” I tugged him around the back of the building, out of view of the inn.

“What about your horse?”

“I’ll get her in a moment,” I said, keeping my back to him as I rifled through my bodice. The damned velvet pouch had fallen under one of my fake boobs and it took a moment to fish it out.

“Francesca?”

“Just a second!” My hand finally closed around the small bag and I yanked it out. I poured a generous portion of dust into my hand and turned around. I hadn’t heard him move, but he stood right behind me. Close up, I could see that he was taller than me, and now he looked down his straight nose at me with strict disapproval.

He opened his mouth to speak again, giving me the perfect opportunity. I blew hard on the dust and a sparkling purple cloud wafted into his face, up his nose and into his mouth. And into his eyes, if the startled cry of pain was anything to go by.

“Fucking hells, that hurts!” he exclaimed as he stumbled back, covering his face with his hands. “What the fuck did you—” His words abruptly cut off and he suddenly stilled.

I waited a little longer to make sure the fairy dust had kicked in, then approached him slowly. “Your Highness?”

He straightened and looked at me, his expression blank and his pupils huge in his bright blue eyes.

I nodded, satisfied, and then took his hand. His hung limply in mine as I led him back to Primrose. “Get on the horse.”

He did, staring straight ahead.

Without anyone to help me up, it took a few tries for me to climb on behind him. I couldn’t sit side-saddle like this, so my borrowed skirts bunched up around my thighs, exposing my calves. I should have worn pants underneath. Too late to worry about it now. I wrapped my arms around Brendon and urged Primrose into motion.

She wasn’t too jazzed about having two riders on her back, but after some nudging, cursing, and wheedling, she finally began a slow walk. Hopefully the prince’s bodyguards wouldn’t chase after us anytime soon or they’d find us before we reached our destination.

Two hours later, I finally saw my tower in the distance, its cone-shaped roof peeking cheerfully from the tree line. Just in time, because my captive had begun to come out of his daze. He wasn’t fighting me yet, but he wasn’t as pliant and obedient as he had been when we first set out.

Deciding it would be faster to get him there without waiting on Primrose’s snail pace, I pulled her to a stop, then dismounted. “Get down.”

His movements were slow and jerky, his jaw clenched in annoyance, but he hadn’t shaken off the fairy dust yet. I took his hand and pulled him through the forest until we reached the tower.

It was one of my favorite places in the kingdom. It used to be a tourist attraction, but when the evil mages stopped kidnapping princesses and putting them in towers, the stories based on their exploits lost popularity. On my sixteenth birthday, I found it abandoned and begged my parents to let me renovate it. Now it was my personal tower, and I had kidnapped a prince to put at the very top.

I unlocked the door and turned on the lights, revealing a cozy front room with a couch and cozy chairs surrounding a coffee table and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Beyond an open archway were glimpses of the kitchen—fully stocked—and a bathroom. Upstairs had a second bathroom, because no one wanted to climb down one hundred and fifty steps every time they had to piss in the middle of the night.

As I climbed those stairs now, dragging Branden behind me, I started to second-guess my disguise. Skirts were not good for climbing stairs. Since my hands were full of prince, I couldn’t hitch them up, so every time I lifted my foot, I stepped on the edge. Franny would kill me if I ruined the hem.

Panting and sweating, I finally made it to the top. Behind me, the prince looked as fresh as a rose, damn his good stamina. I settled him on the bed and surveyed the room. “You’ll be staying here for the next”—fuck, I hadn’t planned that far ahead—“few days.”

He glared at me and tried to pry his jaw apart. His hands slowly rose from his side, a warning that I only had a few minutes before the dust wore off completely and he’d be free.

“It’s a magical tower and only I have the key, so you won’t be getting out of here without my permission. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy this little vacation. There’s food in the kitchen and I’ll stop by to check on you tomorrow.”

He started to stand up and I backed nervously toward the stairs. “You—” he began, the rough word wrenched from his throat.

I held my hands up to ward him off. “I’m sorry, I am, and I promise to explain later.” Then I ran for the door, escaping before he could act on the killing intent in his eyes.

Running down the stairs was faster than climbing up them, especially when I fell on my ass and slid on the last twelve steps to the bottom. That would definitely leave a bruise. The door behind me opened and I knew I didn’t have time to nurse my wounds. The prince stomped down the stairs behind me and I barely managed to run out the front door and slam it shut as he reached the last step.

Once that door closed, the tower was locked up tight. I stood panting on the other side, clutching a stitch in my side, while he pounded on the door, yelling obscenities and threats. Even though he couldn’t see me, I flipped him off, then limped away to find Primrose.

I’d successfully kidnapped the groom, buying myself at least a few days. Now onto step two. Whatever that was …