Chapter Four

Chapter Four

The next day—dressed in my own clothes—I stood in the courtyard with my family to await Branden’s arrival. Only I knew he’d never come. I wasn’t sure if his entourage would arrive without him and admit that the prince had disappeared in the middle of the night, or if they’d delay the journey and try to hide that he was missing. I really hoped for the latter. Things would be much easier if my parents didn’t learn he had been kidnapped for at least a few days.

Kidnapping the prince was only a stalling method. At some point we’d have to sit down and have a conversation about a long-term solution. Eventually, someone would have to get married, or the defense spell would deteriorate and expose all five kingdoms to evil. I was only trying to buy myself time to think, not invite every evil mage to our doorstep.

A horn blared from up the road and I bit back a groan. Why couldn’t you tuck your tails between your legs and leave, dammit?

The sounds of horses approached, as well as the wheels of the golden carriage clattering along the road. I shifted uneasily from foot to foot, dreading their arrival. How much information would they give about the prince’s disappearance?

“Stop fidgeting, Frederick,” Mother snapped, hiding her downturned lips behind her fan. “It’s unbecoming of a prince.”

“Sorry, Mother.” I straightened and lifted my chin, trying to look as innocent and unsuspicious as possible for a kidnapper.

Her brown eyes scanned me, checking for insufficiencies. Either she didn’t find any, or she didn’t have time to fix them, because her attention returned to the oncoming carriage.

The horses stopped a few feet in front of us and one of the attendants cried, “Presenting His Royal Highness of the Kingdom of Bane, Prince Brendon Banes.”

What the fuck?

The carriage rocked like a boat on the sea. Another attendant opened the door and a metal foot stepped out, falling heavily to the stone and dragging its armored occupant out of the vehicle. They stumbled and almost knocked over the attendant as they righted themselves.

I repeat, what the fuck?

The person was covered head to toe in suffocating silver armor. Even the visor was down, obscuring their vision. Their attendant had to grab them by the elbow and guide them forward.

Franny’s eyes widened and she hurriedly stepped backwards when they almost crashed into her.

“Sorry,” they muttered, their voice tinny. “Can’t see very well in this thing.”

What the actual fuck is happening right now?

Squinting at the covered face, I finally realized what they’d done. Those assholes had sent a fake! When they couldn’t find the prince, they sent a replacement to keep the wedding on track. Would they take the charade all the way to the altar? If Franny married a non-royal imposter, what would happen with the defense spell? In a few short minutes my problems had gone from ‘my sister would be miserable in her marriage’ to ‘my sister would unknowingly marry some rando, the kingdom would be doomed, and we’d all be miserable.’

I had to find a way to reveal the imposter and stop the domino effect without anyone suspecting I’d tipped over the first block. Clearing my throat, I asked, “Why is His Highness in a full suit of armor?”

The two attendants exchanged nervous looks, then the one on the left blurted out, “It’s bad luck to see the groom before the wedding.”

“Since when?”

A sharp elbow jabbed my side, right in one of the bruises from last night, and I choked on a gasp of pain. I jerked my head around to glare at Franny, who smiled beatifically at the person pretending to be her fiancé.

“I’m so pleased to finally meet you,” she murmured, dropping into an elegant curtsey that they couldn’t possibly see through that visor.

“Likewise,” the imposter grunted. Then they tried to bow, startling the attendants who both shrieked “No!” as they caught the heavy hunk of metal before it could crash to the ground.

I looked at my parents, trying to express with my wide eyes and arched eyebrows: Are you seeing this right now? Clearly, we need to call off the wedding.

They ignored my very reasonable silent demands and greeted the imposter with grating formality.

“And this is our son, Prince Frederick Chandler Marshall William Woeful, the second,” Father said, gesturing to me.

“A pleasure,” the imposter told their own horse. They’d somehow gotten completely turned around and I wasn’t going to help them with their damned ruse by pointing out I was behind them.

“Let’s continue inside,” Mother suggested, somehow unphased by the imposter’s bizarre behavior. She glided forward, the perfect hostess welcoming guests to her home.

Each attendant grabbed one of the imposter’s arms and dragged them in the correct direction.

Seething over the new development, I dragged my feet, trying to think of a way to reveal their trickery without exposing my own misdeeds.

Francesca also lingered behind. Once the others were far enough away, she whispered, “Why are you walking like you spent the night riding a stable boy?”

“I am not!” I hadn’t realized how badly I was limping until she said something. When I’d woken up, my whole back and the back of my thighs had huge, ugly black and purple bruises. Everything was stiff and uncomfortable, and I really needed an ice pack or a hot bath.

“You most certainly are,” she replied primly. “Whatever you do at night is your prerogative, of course, but I do hope you’re practicing safe penetration. I could lend you some—”

“Do not continue that sentence!” My face heated with humiliation. “I wasn’t fucking any stable boys. I fell down the stairs!”

Concern instantly replaced humor. “Are you alright? Should I send for a healer?”

“I’m fine,” I muttered. “I’m more concerned about you.”

“Don’t worry, everything will end up as it should,” she replied, patting my shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should try to get to know my fiancé.” Her expression grew bemused as she added, “However I’m supposed to do that when he’s wearing a suit of armor.”

I tried again to convince her of the problem. “Fran, I don’t think that’s the prince.”

“What do you mean?”

“If it was really the prince, why would he need to cover his face?”

She frowned at me in disapproval. “We shouldn’t judge other people’s customs.”

“How do we know that’s true? I’ve never heard of anywhere forbidding the bride and groom from seeing each other. Like, maybe the day of the wedding, but that’s not for a week. Is he going to wear that armor the entire time?”

“I don’t know, but it’s his right to do as he pleases. I won’t start our marriage off by questioning his choices, so long as they have no negative effects on our people.” She flounced away, leaving me to limp along in her dust.

“But that’s not even him,” I said to the empty courtyard.