Page 47 of Not Another Happily Ever After

Merrek sucks in a breath, scratching the back of his neck as he, for once, defers to his brother. But it isn’t Myrrdin who answers.

“I’ll take you.”

I pull back from the window, certain I imagined the deep, muffled voice. But there he is standing at the foot of the carriage, his eyes unable to meet mine.Frog.

Merrek claps his hands together, pulling me from my stupor. “Perfect! It’s a date, then.”

The sound of Myrrdin’s palm meeting Merrek’s cheek snaps through the stagnant air, shocking everyone except Merrek, whose laugh only gets louder.

“Don’t mind him. His brain is too small to comprehend things like engagements and loyalty.” Myrrdin shakes his hand out, clearly more affected by the sting of his slap than his brother. “Just—ah—enjoy your walk.” He offers a pained smile, nodding at his commander as he all but drags his twin out of the carriage with him.

I watch their bickering forms recede into the direction of the horses, where Rhidland and Wolfe are working them out of their harnesses for the night.

“Miss Sunday?” Frog’s head tilts so that the shadow from his hood hides his eyes and, again, I’m overcome with that uncanny feeling we’ve met before.

Not even a night in and I’m losing my mind already.

“Miss Sunday?” Frog steps forward, his foot now on the carriage step. “Are you alright?”

“I—” I’m stalling. That must be it.

I’ve worked myself into such a tizzy that now my brain is scrambling to make sense of the nonsensical.

Air.“I just need a little air,” I blow out.

“Of course.” He steps back, allowing me room to slowly climb out of the carriage and into a world unlike any I’ve ever seen.

Above me, silver beams from the pale moonlight break through the tangles of bright blue branches, revealing faded reminders of the Enchanted Forest’s beauty everywhere I turn. Like babbling brooks that no longer babble, but whisper of atrocities left unseen. Once tall flower beds, now bowed beneath the weight of the curse’s crimson petals.

It’s haunting, yet…

“Beautiful,” I whisper in wonder.

“Yes,” Frog breathes, but it isn’t the forest that’s caught his eye. I find him looking at me.

Quickly, he turns away, pulling his hood down to hide the heat coloring the tops of his cheeks.

Odd. I’ve seen fear on men’s faces many times before, but I’ve never seen it come in the shade of pink.

How curious.

I have half a mind to settle this conundrum when he cuts into my train of thought. “This way.” He gestures, his head hung low. “There’s something I want to show you.”

I follow his gaze down a long forgotten path and am reminded of a story I read not long ago. One about a princess and a huntsman, and skin white as snow.

“This thing you hope to show me. It wouldn’t happen to be my heart in your hands, would it?” I half-jest. And the other half, well, she’s far too keen on finding what the masked knight is hiding.

It’s certainly not his surprise. His body goes ram-rod straight, the whites of his eyes now on full display. He looks well and truly mortified. That or, he’s having a heart attack.

My smile falters. “Goodness, I was only teasing.”

His eyes shudder, but his shoulders remain tensed.Not a fan of dark humor then.Noted.

“Shall we?” I ask, already walking ahead, though I have no idea where I’m going. I’m just eager to move past the obvious gap in my social etiquette, and hope he’ll hurry up and fill the space between us.

“Miss Sunday?” Frog calls after me.

“Mm-hmm?” I slow, counting each step the knight takes to catch up with me.