Page 73 of The Princess Tied

Pain was lancing through his ribs. His chest had been lying down on the job for over a week, and he surely needed to get exercising. Tomorrow, though. No more poisons from now on.

When he saw how Po’s arm flopped limp by her side, dangling there, as she lay in Ruth’s arms, his chest hurt some more.

The blood she’d left on the floor pained him too.

Damn this day. But he was free, so were they all. He jump-shifted on his pins and needles feet. “Let’s go.”

As Shades picked him up, he spotted the white creature, Ruff, glide-hopping near the reverso door, as John had termed it. He was no longer white.

He pointed. “We need to clean the blood off that thing. Be on the alert for a bathtub.”

Ruff shot him what seemed an all-too-intelligent stare.

“You going to dunk him in water?” Shades grunted, realigned his hold on Xander. “I am not going within a yard of that event.”

“The smartest thing anyone has said all day.” Ruth grinned.

They did find a bathtub though, on the tower’s tenth floor, on their way to the airship the Storyteller had brought and left anchored. There was enough water in a nearby tank. Ruff was not happy.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

airship they found moored to the top of the tower proved a fast runner. The black balloon above was taut, though the lozenge-shaped cabin roped beneath became cold and icy if they reached too high an altitude. With the help of Shades measuring air pressure and various other necessary things, and he wasn’t sure as to precisely what those were, John managed to steer it on a good, low course toward Bitzocoin.

Pearbottom and Rocky had been left with a farmer after they’d tried loading them aboard then realized two horses and them, for days, together in this cabin was going to be hazardous, as well as too heavy. He’d have to tell Po, once she was in better health. Knowing her, she’d want to send for them. Though Ruth had her bluebirds fluttering about the cabin, they’d also left her backpack stall with the farmer.

She woke, once, long enough to be startled at the appearance of Ruff. Though clean and white, the critter had not been brushed after being washed. His hair poked out in clumps and he resembled a hairbrush that’d been ravaged by a pack of wolves. She also exchanged hugs and whispered thank yous with everyone. When Xander said he wished none of this had happened and was at a loss as to why the Storyteller even wanted him, she explained why.

Money was at the root of it, as far as she could deduce, which motivated most evil and greed. As to how the Storyteller had acquired his mastery of illusion and lies, none of them knew. They would have had to throw him through the reverso door to get the truth from him. After this, she drifted back into sleep, a somewhat deeper sleep than before.

The winds hummed and whistled but remained constant and blew in the right direction. Within two days they passed over the mountains and plains through which he and Po had so recently trekked.

It took another day to reach the palace at Grand Poncifer. When they landed in the gardens, their princess surfaced from her healing sleep to wave at the distraught palace guards and reassure them.

“No these are not an enemy. This is Xander and his brother, and so on. Hurt them and suffer the royal wrath.”

Then she went back to snoring.

She was hustled to the royal quarters. He, Xander, Ruth, and Shades were sent to the guest wing. Though guards were posted at the main entrances and exits, Ruff was allowed freedom. He spotted the creature frolicking about the green palace lawns, digging holes and annoying the gardeners, judging by how many of them shooed him away with garden rakes.

If only they knew what that critter could accomplish.

Everyone knew Xander was the royal fiancée, and so it worked out okay, as far as John could tell. Thank god. Once Po was properly awake everything should be fine.

He could no longer kill anything anymore, so he could only have fixed any holes the guards might make in them.

Even bugs weren’t swattable.

It was disgusting and wonderful.

He loved not being able to deal death.

On the airship, Po had been getting better at a good, if abnormally rapid, pace. He’d healed her but could not fix absolutely everything. There were limits to this healing ability he’d acquired by stepping through that door.

Two days passed, and he wandered into Xander’s room, knocking on the open door as he entered.

The man was difficult to find, but by the sounds of splashing and the humming, he tracked him to the bathroom and a bathtub filled with water and suds. John sat on the red-upholstered armchair and leaned forward, hands clasped.

Xander flicked the newssheet he was reading, folded it, set it aside. “You’re worried?”