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My eyes fell to the man with his arms crossed who leaned against the wall next to the only picture that hung in the room. Milo was much different without spit dripping off his growling lips. He was tall, thick with muscle, and his shaggy brown hair covered his forehead, framing his unforgiving eyes. Yet, he still felt…off. Like he clearly didn’t belong here because he didn’t. That was his real crime. This world wasn’t made for him and it didn’t matter if he was Fae or that he looked like us, nothing shook the notion that he stood out.
“It’s nice to see you not looking like an animal,” I noted aloud, walking over to an empty chair and lowering myself into it.
Milo sneered. “It’s uncontrollable.”
“Some sort of tie to your queen?”
King Windre walked between us, making his way toward the desk, silent as he went.
“A painful blood binding I’d rather not have.” Milo tilted his head toward me. “Now why have you summoned me?” he said to King Windre, shrugging off our conversation.
“I’ve got the floor plans to the Obtune castle.” A folded map slapped against the desk as King Windre tossed it out of his pocket. “Looky here.” Carefully, he smoothed it out over the desk.
I stood. My boots scuffed against the floor as I shuffled forward for a better look. Milo did the same, finally leaving his spot in the darkness.
“Looks about right,” Milo said after a quick glance.
“Time is running out for Princess Maggie. We need to send you and Jesseline tomorrow. I’ve already sent word to Ottack that you will be visiting under the pretense of extending an invitation of a potential alliance. Basically, his last chance to free the Nymphs before he dooms himself.”
“Huh,” I coughed. “Do you always just make a plan and roll with it without discussing it at length first with the parties involved?”
I’d known King Windre for a long time. Often I came to the parties he threw, but that had been the extent of it. He offered a good time while I was untapped potential for an eventual alliance. He counted on me to be the king he needed. The time had come for me to play my part, I’d just thought I’d have more say. I’m the fucking King anyway.
“I never really thought about that, but yes, I suppose that I do.” He tapped his chin.
“And does that often work out for you?” Milo said gruffly.
“Actually, yes. Call it a gift from the gods, if you will.”
Milo and I exchanged looks of mild annoyance at the overly positive king. King Windre ignored us, smoothing the map down and pointing excitedly.
“You’ll enter at the front gates, as proper as you should. ‘We send our blessings,’ blah blah blah. Guards will then escort you into his sitting room. Likely, it’ll be time for tea. Jesseline will stand outside the room with the other guards.”
“I hate tea,” I mumbled.
“Ask for an ale then,” Milo interjected.
I frowned, tilting my head from side to side pondering the idea. Ottack would be different. He wasn’t open or kind. I’m pretty sure greed was his middle name, and if I gave him an inch, he’d gladly take a mile.
“Doesn’t matter what you drink,” King Windre continued. “Once you’re happily seated and have the necessary conversation, you’ll ask to relieve yourself. Then you manipulate your travel and poof, you appear in the cells. Jesseline will already be down there and have silenced the security.”
“I don’t like that you described it as poofing.” I cross my arms, thinking over his plan. It could actually work.
“It’s a fitting description. Sometimes you just,” he smacked his lips loudly, opening his palm in imitation of an explosion. “Mist in the air.”
“Sounds manly.” Milo smiled at me.
“Why is he here, again?” I pointed at him.
“Well, he has had firsthand experience at the castle. I wanted his opinion on the guards and their schedules.”
“Hasn’t the girl, that Nymph with the dark hair and the scowl that matches her brooding face, come from that castle too?” Or had I read the room wrong?
Milo went stiff. “Red has had a hard few months. While she knows the layout of the castle, she’d know little about the guard routines.” He said it so awkwardly, I wondered where the lie in that statement was. “Can we just…” Milo rolled his shoulders, pointing back at the map.
“Yes, yes, anyway, release Princess Maggie and then escort her back to the sitting room. If you could just plop her directly by her father, that would be great.” He patted the table, satisfied.
“Then what? Maggie finds a way to talk her way out of this? Surely she’s already tried,” I said blandly.
