Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Voices pulled me out of the depths of unconsciousness. A wave of pain throbbed from the back of my head and all of my limbs felt numb and a little tingly. I peeled one eye open and immediately closed it to shut out the bright light. I didn’t even realize I’d groaned in protest until a voice whispered, “Shh, he’s waking up.”

With a bracing breath, I forced my head up and my eyes open, though everything was still a bit out of focus. “Where am I?” I tried to ask, but it came out more like, “Wrmy.”

Someone snapped their fingers and in an imperious voice called, “Imp, the potion.”

Thinking of the other damn potions I’d suffered through, I sealed my lips tight and struggled to hide my face against my shoulder as a small, clawed hand grabbed my chin.

“Master,” a high-pitched voice whined, “he’s not cooperating!”

The other person sighed, and the small hand left my chin, replaced by a larger, stronger one. I looked up into a hooded face before a thumb shoved into my mouth and forcefully pulled my jaw down. The familiar, cinnamon taste of a health potion filled my mouth, which would have been pleasant if I could swallow properly. Half of it spilled out before the hooded figure released me.

I swallowed and focused on my breathing as the pain receded from the back of my head. The lights became easier to handle but the numbness remained. When I looked down, I realized it was because they’d tied my arms and legs to a chair with familiar red rope. Either they weren’t professionals, or they didn’t care if I kept my limbs after this, because they’d tied me tight enough to cut off circulation.

“Pestilence,” I whispered, watching the ropes hopefully. Nothing happened. “Pestilence,” I said more forcefully. Still nothing.

“Ah, is that the counter command?” the hooded figure asked. “I’m afraid I had to remove the enchantment.” The voice was charming and polite, which really fucking annoyed me.

“Who are you?” I demanded.

The room darkened, the shadows thickening, stretching toward me like grasping hands. The figure before me grew taller, their voice deepening it filled the room. “I am the Lord of Darkness, Prince of Shadows, Bringer of Terrible Evil, The Great and Powerful Cyril.”

I stared up into the shadowed hood, admittedly impressed and a little scared. But the more the ropes bit into my wrists, the more my annoyance overpowered everything else. “Great introduction, Cereal. But what the fuck is going on?”

After a long moment, the shadows faded, and the figure returned to their original size. “Cyril,” they repeated in clear annoyance.

“Sure, whatever. Why did you kidnap me just to bring me to my own fucking tower?”

The figure removed their hood to glare at me properly, revealing a handsome, fifties-ish man with salt and pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard that framed his fierce scowl. Not how I expected an evil mage to look. Honestly, I thought there’d be scars or horns or something as a mark of evil, but he wouldn’t even stand out in a crowd.

“I am here,” Cereal announced, flinging the folds of the cape behind him in a billowing, dramatic fashion that freed up his arms so he could grab another chair. He sat in it and arranged himself before finishing his sentence, “To discuss the wedding. The one you just ran away from.”

How did he even know about that? “Technically, it was the rehearsal,” I muttered.

He gave me a look that said ‘does it actually matter?’ and also answered his own question ‘no, it doesn’t, so I’m going to continue lecturing you.’ “Do you plan to go through with it?”

I stared at him blankly, trying to understand the question. Did he know I was trying to take Franny’s place? Why would he care? Was there something else going on here that I didn’t know about? If I said the wrong thing, I could fuck this all up, and it was really hard to think with part of my brain screaming at me about the dangers of remaining tied up for too long. “Since you went through the trouble of tying me up, I don’t think you intend to kill me. Can you loosen the ropes before they cause permanent damage?”

The mage blinked and looked at my hands, which were red-verging-on-purple, then down at my feet, which were still in my boots so he couldn’t see anything anyway. “If you attempt to run, I have other methods of subduing you,” he warned, then snapped his fingers and ordered his little imp minion to untie me.

I watched the creature warily. Since there was only one in the room, I was pretty sure it was the same one who bit me, and I didn’t need to experience that again. The imp grumbled unhappily as it worked. The binding went from dangerously tight to loose enough that, if I wiggled right, I could pull my arm through. I withheld all wiggling, waiting for a more advantageous time.

“Now, where were we?” Cereal asked, crossing one leg over his knee.

“The wedding,” I said, still not sure what he wanted. “I assume you’re here to ruin it?”

He chuckled like an indulgent teacher. “You’ve been doing that quite well on your own, haven’t you?”

Like I needed that reminder. No matter what I did, I fucked things up. I still hadn’t even had a chance to talk to Brendon. I’d had opportunities, but how the hell was I supposed to bring up ‘hey, do you want to spend the rest of our lives together’ to someone I’d known for a week? I’d always thought I’d gotten lucky by not being forced into an arranged marriage. Now the idea of someone else doing all the hard communication for me sounded perfect. Can someone else please just untangle the fucking mess I’ve made?

I craned my neck to look out the nearest window, wondering how much time had passed. It was dark outside, which didn’t tell me much. How much longer did I have until the wedding? Would the evil mage keep me locked up through the whole thing?

But that didn’t really make sense. The wedding could go on even if I wasn’t there to be Franny’s Honor Attendant. Unless my family stopped the whole thing to search for me. I doubted they would—maintaining the Kingdom Defense Spell was too important. They’d probably pretend everything was fine and wait until after the vows were said and our continued safety was secured before sending out a search party. So, why had he grabbed me?

Did he not want to ruin the wedding after all? Was he even an evil mage? The imp, the shadows, and the name—aside from the breakfast bit—all screamed ‘evil mage,’ but plenty of evil mages in the past had other side gigs. And I knew one other magic user with showmanship tendencies who had recently arrived in town. Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “You aren’t actually the Good Wizard in disguise, are you? Trying to scare me onto the right path or something.”

There was a moment of silence and then the evil mage threw his head back and laughed. The laugh was halfway between charming silver fox—sexy if you were into that kind of thing—and cheerful grandfather—I guess also sexy, if you were into that kind of thing.

He wiped tears from his eyes as the laughter settled down. “I never expected you to guess correctly!”

“Uh, master,” a voice from the shadows began, but Cereal waved them off.

“Now, now, he guessed fair and square, no reason to keep up the charade.” He snapped his fingers and the black cape changed into the same blue robe with yellow stars the wizard had arrived in. The beard grew longer and grayer, and a new twinkle entered his eyes. “Since that didn’t work, I guess we’ll try a more direct route.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You, young man, cannot run away from this wedding.”

My brow furrowed and I pursed my lips. “I’m not trying to.”

He gave me a pitying look. “Then what were you doing tonight?”

“I ran away from the rehearsal. I couldn’t watch—”

He waved away my excuses. “This wedding is important to so many people. Lives depend on it!” he said grandly, then muttered, “And happy households.”

“What?”

“Marriage,” he began sternly, ignoring my interruption, “is built on love and trust. That trust is broken if you hide other lovers behind your spouse’s back.” He arched his eyebrows significantly and gave me a disappointed look that almost made me apologize on the spot, despite my continued confusion.

“I don’t have a lover—” I snapped my mouth shut and glared at the imp—the same one who had bitten me in the marketplace. “My relationship with Griffin ended months ago. What your …” Wait, what was the imp? If he was the Good Wizard, I couldn’t call the imp a ‘minion.’ And why was the Good Wizard working with an imp? “What your helper saw was just us rehashing an old argument.”

“And the other man?” Cereal asked, still disappointed.

“What other man?”

“The one you held here in this tower?”

He couldn’t be talking about Brendon. Which meant he was referring to … “Look, that was a long time ago.”

The shadow snorted and muttered something I couldn’t hear.

“Mattias is … he’s not going to …” I didn’t really know how to explain it. Whatever love we’d had was too stained by misunderstanding and rumors to recover. Even if I’d wanted him back—even if he’d wanted me back—it would never work out. “Nothing is going to happen between Mattias and I.”

Cereal scanned my face, looking for some sort of deception, then nodded. “That’s good to hear. Your bride deserves better than—”

“My what?”

“Your bride,” he repeated. That time, when he snapped his fingers, it didn’t change anything. He was just trying to remember something. “The redhead.”

I wouldn’t exactly call Brendon a ‘bride.’ He was pretty, but I didn’t think he wanted feminine pronouns or attributes. “He’s not—”

“The Princess of Bane,” Cereal finished before I could explain.

I stared at him for a long time, realizing that I’d once again been an idiot. “You aren’t the Good Wizard, are you?”