Page 79 of Not Another Happily Ever After

“What exactly is it you should like to know?” he questions.

And shoot if I haven’t forgotten every single question I had.There’s truly one person whose presence is a cause for curiosity. And that’s?—

“Frog,” I start, ignoring the knowing grin working its way up to Merrek’s eyes. “He mentioned that his nickname was given to him by his friends. May I ask why?”

Merrek’s guard snaps back into place, though his shoulders have relaxed. Almost as if he’s hiding something about the painfully shy knight, a secret within a secret.

How curious indeed.

“When Frog was found he couldn’t pronounce his name. When he tried, it sounded likeRibbit.” Merrek croaks, mimicking the sound a frog would make and I can’t help butsmile at his puffed up cheeks. “Anyway, Ribbit was hardly a name they’d deign to call him. So instead, they called him Frog.”

I slump in my seat, having thought for certain there was more to his nickname than a cute backstory. But I suppose that does make sense. A frog-like sound isn’t a lot to go off—Wait.

I replay the sound over and over in my head, when finally, I find it. The secret he’s trying to hide within the story.

“Merrek…what’s Frog’s real name?”

“Briar snare down!”Wolfe warns from somewhere in the distance.

“Briar snare down,” the twins call back, slowing their horses.

‘Twould appear our visitors from earlier left quite the mess, the fallen briars the least of the men’s worries. But I wouldn’t be privy to any of those.

I don’t know what stings more, not being trusted with the truth of something as small as a name, or being pacified with an even bigger lie.And an outrageous one to boot.

“A silver tongued swan stole his name, and once she has, it’s gone. Poof. Bye bye memory.”

Please.I roll my eyes.

“Still pouting, are we?” Rhidland asks, not bothering to look up from where he’s just shined his boot.

“A princess does not pout,” I huff.

“True,” he nods. “So what does that make you?”

“Oh, you little…” I bite my tongue to hide my smile, and return my focus to smoothing out the creases in my old nightgown. There’s nothing I can do about the blood stains lining the arm and the collar, but the dress will be wrinkle free bythe time I’m done with it.God willing.Especially if it’s all I have to wear.

After Myrrdin came by to collect his small friend, he was adamant my new gown be washed. But I’m not convinced it wasn’t in part to keep me in the carriage for the rest of the day. Though I suppose both could be true…

Even still.

“If I can’t have answers, could I at least have a bath?” I plead, pulling my dark greasy locks out in front of me. “Even my ribbon is starting to feel a bit stale.”

The old man wrinkles his nose, pretending to smell something foul and I nearly keel over from embarrassment.

“Hurtful!” I laugh.

“Truthful.” He smiles.

“Fair.”

We both agree.

“Let me see what I can do about acquiring a bucket and some rags,” he sighs. “We should have plenty of water to get us to Castle Riches by the end of the week.”

My smile fades as I close my eyes, pulled down by the weight of what’s ahead.

In all the wonder of our travels, and the quiet moments shared between, I had all but forgotten this chapter of my life is nearing its final page.