Frenzied motion erupted as the townspeople suddenly spun into another choreographed dance, this one simulating life in a small town. They waved and bowed in coordinated steps, lifted baskets brimming with flowers or dirty laundry in time with a fast-paced melody, which seemed to come from every direction. Men leaped over cracks in the cobblestones, women landed gracefully in curved arcs. Couples flapped their arms like wings while children twirled and twirled as a crescendo rose in the air.
Even those stuck at home participated from their balconies and windows.
Risa watched the nightmare unfold, rooted in place.
What thecurseswas going on?
She needed to grab the prince and go. Explanation be damned. He could flirt with someone else later; he could even flirt with the cat if he wanted. Whatever was happening in this town had to be worse than assassins crawling through the Bosque.
She stalked up to Prince Javi, planted her hands on her waist, and met his eyes over the man’s hand. Prince Javi straightened, all smug, and flashed her a wink that only infuriated her more. No concept of self-preservation!
“Time to go,” she barked, jerking her chin back toward the tunnel of trees that had taken them to the square.
“But I’m having so much fun,” he whined. He turned to give his new suitor and his growing gang of eager castoffs a cheeky grin.
“Look around,” Risa muttered darkly, hoping Prince Javi’s group of admirers couldn’t hear her. The townspeople were clapping in unison. “Something is obviously wrong here.”
Brunie the cat sat on a patch of stone unclaimed by the myriad flowers scattered over the town, and swatted the air in agreement.
Prince Javi was untroubled as he looked around. “I love singing.” Then, with a pout, he complained, “And I’m starving. Aren’t you?”
The words worked like a mating call. A face appeared behind Prince Javi’s shoulder. It belonged to a delicate girl, dainty white flowers sprinkled in her crown of braided blond hair. Freckles dotted her olive skin. “We have food,” the girl sang.
“They have food,” he repeated.
“I heard,” Risa muttered.
“Maybe there’s a healer who can prescribe allergy medicine, since it’s clear you want to see me succumb to my ailment. Or a vet who likes taking in particularly hideous creatures and turning them into mountable art?”
“We have a doctor,” sang another voice, this one belonging to a very pretty boy with startling blue eyes who stood two heads shorter than the prince.
“And food!” the first girl reminded them.
Risa shook her head, unwilling to entertain the half-hearted attempts at distraction. “Ireallythink we should go,” she said to Prince Javi, voice pitched low. “We’ll find an apple or something on the road.”
“The road that those assassins from last night are probably, definitely on?”
He had a point, but she couldn’t shake the terrible feeling settling in her bones. It nagged at her much like the singing did, telling her to go and never turn back. There was something Bad in the air, and she and Prince Javi were the prey it was trying to catch in its web.
“Just trust me,” she said.
It was clear that the prince would not just trust her.
He rolled his eyes and faced his group of admirers. “Let’s stay a while,” he decided, his tone suggesting he didn’t want to continue their argument. “Get something to eat. Find you something to wear that isn’t borderline offensive to people who can see—”
“That’s rich, when you look like someone about to be murdered in a very convoluted political plot,” she spat.
He beamed. “Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
Another girl leaped out from Prince Javi’s throng of fans. Her skin was the shade of warm honey, and her brown hair was streaked with gold. She and the first admirer each claimed one of the prince’s arms and pointed across the square at a wooden sign painted withCAIRN RIVER TAILORSin elaborate script.
“The River puts the rest to shame when it comes to clothing fame,” she trilled.
“They’ll dress you up and dress you out, and you’ll never be the same!” the first admirer added, fluttering his brown eyes.
Prince Javi was practically radiating. “Wonderful, excellent, lovely,” he sang in perfect harmony.
