Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

I stared at my wardrobe, mind whirling like a carriage wheel stuck in the air as I realized I had nothing to wear to my own fucking wedding.

An Honor Attendant’s job was to look nice and blend into the background. Months ago, I’d chosen a simple black and white color scheme, classic, elegant, unremarkable. Everyone’s focus would have been on Franny anyway, who had purchased a custom pink wedding dress.

Except with our roles reversed, everyone’s eyes would be on me. Hundreds of guests would watch me walk down the aisle. With the sudden change in program, they would scrutinize and question every detail. There would be no escaping their judgment.

I climbed into the wardrobe, sat in the corner, and firmly closed the double doors.

“Fred?” Franny called out, voice muffled by distance and wood.

I hid my face against my knees, making myself as small as possible.

“Fr-Rick, are you in there?”

If I stay here long enough, maybe all of the guests will leave. Brendon and I can just have a private ceremony. The kingdom will be fine, nothing in the spell says anyone has to witness the union.

“I know you haven’t left your room. Mother posted guards everywhere, even at the bottom of the window.”

A crash startled me, and I thumped my head against the back of the wardrobe.

Light flooded the small space, half-blinding me, when Franny opened the doors. She stood with one hand on her hip, wearing an exasperated expression. “Is this normal wedding jitters or something else?” she asked as she held out a hand to me.

I shrunk back from it, but the wardrobe was too small to escape her. “Just give me a minute,” I mumbled.

She dropped her hand and sat down on the floor, scooting aside a piece of the door. She must have accidentally broken it the rest of the way off its hinges when she’d entered, which explained the crash. “Do you not want to marry Brendon? I know you said you would, but you’ve only known each other for a week.”

“It’s not about Brendon.”

“Then is it about Mattias?” she asked, her voice gentle.

I didn’t answer because I didn’t know the answer. It wasn’t specifically about him, even though so many people kept bringing him up. It was about what had happened after.

“Do you know why I always shop at Madame Trousers?” The clothes currently surrounding me were all her creations.

Franny hesitated before suggesting, “Because everything she makes is high quality?”

“Because after Mattias, every other shop owner turned me away. When I entered her shop for the first time, she greeted me with a smile and a cup of tea. Some other patrons were there, and one of them pulled her aside. I didn’t hear the whole conversation, but I did hear them say ‘serve someone like him.’ Do you know what she said?”

Franny shook her head no.

“She said ‘why wouldn’t I want such a fine young man as my customer?’ Even though she must have heard all the rumors by then.”

Franny’s brief amusement at Madame’s response quickly faded into concern. “Freddy,” she murmured, voice soft like it used to be when she soothed me as a child. She cleared her throat and corrected, “Rick. What … What really happened with Mattias? I don’t believe for a second you abused him, but why did you lock him away?”

I rested my cheek on my knees and stared at a random spot on the wardrobe wall, following the swirl of the wood grain. “Did you know his mother ran away when he was only two years old?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did you know there are spells for sleepwalkers?”

Her brow furrowed as she struggled to relate the two questions. “No.”

“If you cast them on a person, whenever they fall asleep, they always find their way back to the caster. Most magic isn’t inherently good or evil. Like fairy dust. It’s an important ingredient in enchantments but it can also control people when it falls into the wrong hands. The sleepwalking spell was designed to keep people safe. Mattias’ father used it to make sure that every time Mattias fell asleep, he would return to him.”

“You had to lock the tower from the inside,” Franny whispered, “so he wouldn’t return home against his own will.”

I nodded miserably. “It was only a temporary solution. Back then, I couldn’t break the enchantment on him. He left to find someone who could.”

“But …” Franny began, her eyes wide. “But you were crying when he left!”

I grimaced, remembering the extremely bad timing my family had when they’d burst into the tower. “I’d rather not explain that bit, if you don’t mind.”

She scanned my face, then nodded. “Alright, if that’s what you want. Thank you for telling me as much as you have. I’m sorry I never asked during all these years.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” she said firmly, “or you wouldn’t be hiding in a wardrobe.”

Pursing my lips, I tried to put my fear into words. “I fuck up all the time, Franny. If I’d made better choices with Mattias, I could have avoided all those rumors. I almost fucked up the whole wedding by kidnapping the goddamn groom!”

Franny’s hand settled over mine and squeezed tightly. “Sometimes things need to be a little fucked up in order to set them right. If you hadn’t stepped in, who knows what would have happened to Mattias? Who knows what would have happened to Brendon and me? I’m not saying you always make the right choice, but you took the initiative to try to change things for the better. That’s more than I’ve ever done.”

I stared at her for a long moment, thinking about every mistake I’d made in the past week that had somehow led me to Brendon. The only mistake I would truly regret would be staying here, cowering, when I could be meeting him at the altar. “I don’t know what to wear,” I muttered.

Franny grinned and tugged on my hand, pulling me out of the wardrobe and to my feet. “Now that is a problem I can help you with.”

Thirty minutes later, dressed in black and white as originally planned, with a statement piece red jacket with black embroidery, Franny continued to fuss with the smallest details. “Fran, I’m going to be late,” I complained, shifting back and forth on my feet impatiently as she styled my dark hair, putting every strand in its place.

She arched her eyebrows at me but refrained from pointing out that I was the one who’d wasted time first. “So, what if we are? The wedding isn’t going to start without you, and Brendon isn’t about to leave you at the altar. You’ve already done the hard part. You don’t have to race against the clock to stop Brendon and I from marrying, or fight any monsters, all you have to do now is walk down the aisle.”

“Yes, but what if Cyril and Lucinda grow impatient and change their mind about attacking the kingdom?”

Her hands stilled and she pursed her lips. “You’re right, best not to make them wait.” She looped her arm through mine and together we made our way to the converted ballroom.

Guests trickled into the ballroom through the main door to take their seats. Franny and I slipped around them to the far left entrance. Somewhere on the other side, Brendon would be waiting for our cue. Without him in view, my heart began to pound in fear and anticipation. What if something has happened? What if he isn’t standing over there?

“Breathe, Fr—Rick. Everything will be fine.”

A few guests looked our way, eyebrows arched. Had anyone told them of the change of plan? Since Franny and I both stood there in formal wear, they could still think she was the bride. They had no way to know that she was only wearing her second-best pink dress.

A purple flash drew my attention to the front of the room, where the Good Wizard appeared in all his glory. He fluffed out his sleeves, then nodded grandly to the string quartet. The first notes of a happy, hopeful wedding march sang through the ballroom.

With one last bracing breath, I walked toward the aisle.

Brendon met me in the middle, and I sighed in relief. His red hair burned like embers and his freckled skin had a cheerful, excited flush. He wore greens and browns that played with his coloring wonderfully. Most important, his blue eyes were locked on me, little crinkles on the edges hinting at a smile even as his lips remained stoic. I only caught a brief glimpse before we faced the front, walking toward our future side by side. Maybe it was a good thing I had to turn away, or I’d have pounced on him, audience be damned.

We weren’t supposed to hold hands yet, but the back of his fingers grazed mine, assuring me he was there.

As we took our places at the altar, Franny and Kit fell into line behind us. Kit wore an outfit similar to Brendon’s, but where his was green, hers was brown, and vice versa. She winked at me before her gaze fell on Franny, smoldering and appreciative.

The Good Wizard called everyone’s attention to him. Dark circles were under his eyes, like he’d been awake for days. He somehow looked younger—the hair closer to dark gray than white—and older at the same time, with wrinkles of exhaustion crowding his face. How many weddings had this version of him already officiated? Where did we fall on the line?

“We are gathered here today—”

An earsplitting shriek interrupted the Good Wizard’s speech. Brendon and I both turned to look to the center of the room where a new cloud of sparkling black smoke billowed up from the red carpet lining the aisle. It rose higher, morphing into a hooded figure over six feet tall.

“Soul Stealer,” Cyril hissed from the front row.

You have got to be fucking kidding me. After everything we’d been through, I refused to let our book be dragged into a sequel by some twist-ending villain.

“Foolish mortals,” whispered a voice as deep as the abyss.

Beside Brendon, Kit had already rolled up her sleeves. “Do you still have that sword?” she asked the Good Wizard, holding out her hand.

“You think you can—”

The Good Wizard rustled around in his enormous sleeves. “Sword, sword, sword,” he chanted frantically.

“—defend your kingdoms—”

I couldn’t wait for the sword. A few of the guests had jumped to their feet and scrambled as far away from the cloaked figure as possible, leaving their chairs empty. I grabbed the nearest one and snapped it closed to wield it better, then stormed toward the figure with the chair raised like a weapon.

“—with forced unions?”

The words didn’t fully register until after I slammed the chair down on their shoulder.

“Ow!” they cried out and stumbled back a step. They reached up with a perfectly normal hand to rub their black clad shoulder. Then their shadowed face turned to me and they exclaimed, “Rick?” They lowered the hood from their head, revealing familiar golden blond hair and tawny eyes.

“Mattias?!”