Breathe, come on, breathe...
Then Magenta's sparkling magic coiled around mine, and I could taste my freedom on every prickling stroke. If I wished, I could transform right now into a fox, cat, or hedgehog with serious attitude.
I was free, but Willoughby was still trapped by the cursed suit. It must be the reason that he often looked like he was lost, crushed beneath the curse. Perhaps, it was also why Lysander manhandled Willoughby into classes and pushed him into seats.
What if sometimes that was the only way that Willoughby could function?
Shuddering, I studied Willoughby, sadly. I was adding him to my Must Free List, which was becoming as long as my Wank Fantasy List. In fact, the two had a fair bit of crossover.
"If we're talking truth," Lysander said, "that's not all the silk does."
Willoughby's head jerked up; his eyes were wild. "Is that not enough?"
Bask slunk to him, running his hand down his side. "If you wish it."
Willoughby tilted up his chin, meeting Magenta's eye. "I swore not to be a coward. The suit also controls my powers. If I took it off..."
"True, but not what one meant." Lysander hugged his knees to his chest. "Do you not disturb my sleep with your nightmares? Is it not my noble self who suffers to keep you safe from the monstrosity that they force you to wear?"
"It's his truth." Magenta leaned forward, catching Lysander's chin and turning him to face her. His startled gaze met hers. "He only needs to share what he chooses. Perhaps, a fae finds it remarkable to believe, but I don't wish to force anyone. I'm not the same as my family."
"And neither am I," Lysander whispered.
"Darby can hurt me with this curse even from his kingdom," Willoughby's voice shook. "If I don’t play the perfect prince, then at night, it tightens." Hex my balls and call me a witch...that was brutal. "And if he truly wishes, he can execute me with a thought."
Mage's balls...
"Are you all feeling relaxed now?" Serenity's voice oozed from the walls like syrup. "How about a burst of scented candles?"
The aroma of lavender flooded the room like Mr. Fierce had decided to roll about in a field of lavender, which come to think of it, did sound relaxing. I choked, holding my sleeve over my nose.
"Just perfect,” I forced out between clenched teeth. “I’m totally calm now."
See, sarcasmese.
"You're not, see. In fact, my scans show that your pulse is too high and so is your body temperature. I can help with that, mind," Serenity purred.
Freezing water splashed magically out of the air over my face.
I spluttered in shock. Now I was a wet hedgehog in a lavender field. When I shivered, my only consolation was that Midnight licked the water from my cheeks. It almost made the cold water worth it.
Almost.
"Although you don't appear to have an ass," Magenta's magic sparked dangerously around the room, as if it was testing the walls for weaknesses, "if you attack my Rebels again, then I shall find a way through to you...spirit...and kick it."
Magenta's defense of me definitely made the cold water worth it, especially when I shook my curls and Lysander gasped as he was sprayed.
Serenity was suspiciously quiet, but new names flashed on the walclass="underline" MAGENTA in pink (so, magical AI's could be vengeful). Then LYSANDER in black.
Mentally, I rubbed my hands together. Okay, I actually rubbed my hands together, before ducking my head at Magenta's stern glance.
Great Pan, please get her to ask if he'd ever role played as Tinker Bell.
Lysander's eyes widened, but then his face became an expressionless mask. “Do as you wish with my royal self.”
Now that was a statement that rated high in the Sentences that Princes Would Live to Regret.
I rubbed my hands together again, simply because it made Lysander’s cheek twitch.
“Truth.” Magenta assessed Lysander. “Why is there a swan feather sewn into your pillow?”
Lysander became ashen. I edged my feet back, in case he hurled.
Perhaps, he had a swan shifter kink, just like I had a fae one or had he plucked the swan himself, stuffed the feathers in his pillow and it was the equivalent of a serial killer’s trophy?
On a kitten’s crooked tail, I didn’t know which was worse.
“When did you…?” I’d never seen a vein in someone’s temple literally throb with rage before. I watched Lysander, fascinated. If he self-combusted, then we’d all be covered in golden feathers. “Oh yes, when you violated the sanctity of our Princes’ Wing. You shan’t violate me any further. There’s nothing that could make me answer that. Nothing…just…nothing.”
His chest rose and fell rapidly; he was breathing too hard.
SECRET flashed like lightning through my mind, along with a burst of Little Mix’s angsty “Secret Love Song”. I’d never expected a fae prince to project a girl pop group, rather than Beethoven or at least the Beatles. More than that, “Secret Love Song” was filled with Romeo and Juliet vibes.
What was Lysander hiding? Why did his secret about the feather shake me like it was connected to a tragic love story?
I rubbed my throbbing forehead. I knew that I should’ve pushed for the title of Lie Referee.
Lysander hadn’t told us the truth.
Magenta leaned forward, concerned. Even though Sleipnir studied Lysander coolly, he couldn’t hide his true emotions because Mist trotted to the edge of the couch and nibbled worriedly at Lysander’s hair.
When Magenta held out her hand to Lysander, as if to tug him up onto the sofa between Sleipnir and her, I held my breath.
Come on, Prince Who Loves Girl Bands, just lift your hand and…
Lysander shoved himself to his feet, turning away, instead. “What’s the dare?”
“I don’t care about the dare,” Magenta burst out, leaping up. “I care about…”
Lysander turned back to her.
Wow, when silences turn bad.
Lysander arched his brow. “You shall not make me fail this game by forfeiting the dare. Give me a dare this instant.”
Magenta’s eyes sparkled, and the windows of the café frosted. I valued my balls, but Lysander clearly wanted to set his up for target practice.
“How foolish of me to imagine that you were, in fact, different to your family, when in truth you seek to command me,” Magenta’s voice was frosty. Lysander winced. “And how cruel of me to try and spare you. I shall be certain to challenge you now with something memorable.”
Lysander’s hands balled into fists. “One would have it no other way.”
Prickles and worms, now he’d just added his cock as a target too.
Magenta inclined her head.
I bounced onto my knees. “Oh, oh, I have one!” What was wrong with being helpful? “He has to crawl around the café twice, sexily.”
Lysander’s cheek twitched again.
“Too easy.” Sleipnir lounged to his feet, sweeping his arms around Magenta.
I tilted my head. “Ice down his pants…? Lap dance…? Wait, I know: he has to beg you to screw him in three different ways and…” Magenta raised her eyebrow at me. I pouted. “Don’t judge the sexually frustrated fox.”
Lysander’s whole body appeared to spasm.
Magenta crossed her arms. “Your dare, Prince, is to strip.”
I choked on my own tongue.
Lysander stilled, but he didn’t say anything. Perhaps, he hadn’t heard her.