Page 26 of This Prince Is Not Charming

“Yes, I was speaking with Miss Margaret of the paintings, and she mentioned something about Sir Arthur’s squire.”

I held back my groan. I was going to have a strong word with Margaret. Records indicated there once was a real Sir Arthur, and this armor belonged to him. But he’d died a long time ago. So maybe he’d had a squire, but this suit of armor certainly did not.

“Your squire is gone,” I said.

Sir Arthur stumbled back. “My word. Another missing person?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. Good fucking godwitches. “No one has gone missing, and I don’t want you going on a search for anybody. Arthur, you are our most esteemed knight, and we can’t afford to lose you. If you went searching for them and something happened to you, our castle would fall apart.”

“I suppose you’re right. I have been gone from my post for far too long. I must return and guard the castle.”

“Yes, yes, you must,” I said, watching the knight turn and clunk away, his movements cumbersome and awkward.

Right as Arthur disappeared through the doors, Morton finally reappeared with a pop, perched on the armchair of my golden throne.

“The first trial has begun,” he announced.

“Morton! The first trial—what? Is that where everyone went? How can you be so calm about this?” I asked, mind spinning. Now that Arthur was gone, I could finally focus on the most important matter at hand.

What if Castle didn’t bring them back? I’d never see any of them again.

I’d never see Ceri again. My stomach tightened into a knot that I suspected wouldn’t loosen until I saw my best friend and knew she was safe.

Morton had claimed these trials weren’t dangerous, but I didn’t trust Castle. I hadn’t trusted it since the moment it had chosen me as High Prince of Fairwitch Isle. Since its magic had started failing, which had also happened a few days after my coronation.

That had been a fun day. Getting crowned and then discovering we’d lost our armory, our access to our best weapons.

Then the day got even better as Wolfe informed me there were cracks in the magical barrier that had always kept Fairwitch Isle safe, invisible to the outside world and free from invaders like the Brotherhood of Magic.

“That’s odd,” Morton said.

“What is?” I snapped.

“You’ve got a wrinkle between your brows.”

“What?” I stopped pacing, staring at the pink bookwyrm. “No I do not have a wrinkle. You take that back.”

Morton blinked. “I don’t know why you’re so afraid of wrinkles. It’s a natural sign of aging. It means you’re alive another year, gaining wisdom.”

“I can be alive another year and gain wisdom without getting tiny creases in my flawless skin.”

“Except you already have a crease.” Morton pointed his tail at my forehead.

My hand went to the spot, and I rubbed it, then shoved my hand into my pocket, feeling for the empty tonic bottle. I wouldn’t have a crease if I’d been able to get my fucking tonic yesterday.

“Are you all right?” he asked, stretching his long neck forward to peer at me.

“Stop that,” I said.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me.”

He blinked. “All these years with you humans, and I still don’t understand any of you.” He snorted, smoke puffing from his nostrils. “I have a mind to fetch Enid right this moment to give you a checkup.”

I whirled to face him. “Why would you do that?”

“You’re sweating, your eyes are red, and you look pale.”