Chapter 7 20 Coins

• Runa had stolen the gown with all the grace and subtlety of a cat burglar in a flower shop. Meaning: not much grace and an entire lot of noise. Twelve flower vases were broken, and a bouquet got run over.
• “How do I look?” She asked proudly, twirling in a flowing, overly frilly lilac gown that still had the tailor’s measuring ribbons hanging from one sleeve. “Elegant? Feminine? Slightly criminal?”
• “You look like a chandelier gave up halfway,” Kayne said flatly, tugging at the bodice of his own disguise with visible discomfort. Runa had shoved him into a long olive-green gown with puffy sleeves and a rigid corset, tightening it with the glee of someone repressing trauma. Over that, she dropped a massive straw hat to obscure the upper half of his face.
• “It’s for your own good,” she had said with a wink. “Mystery makes people fall in love. And you need all the mystery you can get.”
• Kayne groaned. “Why are the sleeves whispering insults to me?”
• “They’re ruffles, Kayne. They do that.”
• Virgil had, of course, refused to wear anything except a travel cloak and a scowl. “I’m not dressing up,” he said. “I’m already dying inside.”
• ---
• Back at the scene of the unfortunate proposal, the trio found themselves once more in the presence of the servant… Prince. Prince Wendell of Tesmere. A small land that just claimed independence from the South Kingdom.
• “—and so I said,” Wendell beamed, still kneeling, “if love is a battlefield, then consider me unarmed and hopeless!”
• “Oh my god, he's still going,” Kayne muttered behind the brim of his ridiculous hat.
• “A perfect body type to be my wife!” Wendell gestured excitedly to Kayne’s stomach.
• Come on, the baby bump hardly shows.
• “And your hips, I might add, are wonderfully shaped for bearing royal offspring—”
• Virgil cleared his throat loudly.
• “Ah, pardon,” Wendell said. “Let me offer you a royal escort to Tesmere! My carriage awaits, bedecked in rosewood and subtle gold filigree.”
• The trio all stared at one another. Tesmere was just a mile's walk to the forbidden forest.
• And with the carriage, they'll get there faster! That's comfort for Kayne!
• —and Virgil…Runa.
• They don't have to walk for miles to the forbidden forest. So they accepted.
• With Kayne as the payment, of course.
• He was sitting right next to the gutter prince.
• The wooden carriage was dainty. Square-shaped but old-fashioned. The real servant mounted on the horse, ready to start the carriage in motion.
• “I’m going to puke,” Kayne muttered, and indeed, once the carriage began to roll through the country road, rattling with every stone and accompanied by Wendell’s nonstop chatter, he felt it.
• First, nausea.
• Then a hiccup.
• Then—*poof!*
• A cloud of smoke erupted from Kayne’s mouth as he leaned out the window and vomited over the countryside.
• The horse screamed.
• Runa screamed.
• Virgil held his laugh.
• The prince gasped in wonder.
• “Was…was that a dragon’s fiery breath?” Wendell asked, starry-eyed.
• “No, it's just me. I, uh, I have a cough.” Kayne wheezed, clutching his stomach. Stupid baby.” he muttered.
• Runa fanned him dramatically. “You might be overheating. Let's get you out of that loose corset.”
• “Loose??” Kayne growled.
• “It does bring out your shoulders, though,” Runa added.
• “Oh yes,” the prince agreed, inching closer on the velvet seat. “I must say, your aura is intoxicating. Like cinnamon and baby powder. What did you say your name was, my darling rose of monkey dew?”
• Gross.
• Kayne was so done with him. He stared at him, pale and blinking. “I’m a man.”
• The carriage jerked slightly.
• “Oh,” said Prince Wendell. He blinked twice. “Well. Twenty coins is twenty coins.”
• Mother of Light Kingdom—What the—!
• “What—WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!” Kayne shouted, half rising from the seat.
• Runa dropped her face into her hands.
• Virgil, arms crossed, looked out the window and muttered, “I told you this would happen.”
• “You didn't tell shit.”
• “I need to get off this ride. It's killing me.” Kayne groaned, covering his mouth as if to stop the gagging reflex.
• “You’re the one who said yes to the corset,” Runa offered.
• “I said nothing. I was forced to…remember?”
• ---
• Several chaotic, smoke-scented miles later, they found an inn on the road and convinced the prince to ride ahead, claiming they would ‘catch up’ once Kayne stopped birthing thunderclouds through his throat.
• As the prince vanished in a cloud of heavy smell of cologne, Kayne collapsed onto a wooden bench with his hat still half-shielding his face.
• “I feel like a cursed pastry,” he said.
• “A sexy pastry,” Runa added.
• Virgil simply passed him a waterskin and grunted. “You’ve looked worse.”
• “Thanks,” Kayne muttered. “That means nothing.”
• “I know.”
• “You look cute, though,” Virgil teased.
• “Cut it out.”
• ---
• Back in the palace, all hell had broken loose.
• Queen Elsinora stood before the high council, fists clenched, teeth bared.
• “I am your queen,” she snarled, “not your assistant. I did not inherit a position just to be dismissed like a painted doll in a library!”
• The council members murmured among themselves, shifting in their robes.
• “You’re forgetting yourselves,” she hissed.
• “You question every order. Delay every motion. Gave out decrees behind my back. Do you think my bloodline is made of roses and ribbon? I'm the Queen of the Light Kingdom. I demand the respect that I am owed. And you—” Her voice cracked with fury.
• “You failed to give us an heir and failed to keep the Mage too!” One member spoke out. He was fat and chubby with a messy-cut mustache. Elsinora’s eyes twitched.
• “How dare you—” but then she fell silent. Her stomach panged.
• It was all the Mage's fault.
• And those two traitors!
• She had to catch them before anyone did.
• She'll kill them.
• She swears it.
• “You are the one that distributed bounty requests under my name, aren't you?” She retorted.
• No one met her gaze.
• “You all! Traitors!”
• Disgusted, Elsinora turned sharply, her long train sweeping behind her, and stormed out of the chamber.
• Down the echoing corridor, past startled guards and the scent of lemon oil and old spellbooks, she turned into a quiet room tucked beneath the west wing.
• Inside stood a tall figure cloaked in silver, a porcelain mask covering his face. His blonde hair, unkempt, overgrown, and untouched.
• Her voice dropped into something raw. Cracked. Laced with splinters.
• “You were supposed to help me,” she said.
• The man in the mask did not speak.
• “You gave me this throne,” she said. “You left me to rule. You made me queen—but I was never meant to rule alone.”
• Silence stretched.
• “You left me,” she whispered.
• The man turned slightly. “I’m cursed,” he said. “I couldn’t stay. I'll ruin everything…again.”
• Elsinora’s fists trembled.
• “I thought I could handle it,” she said. “I tried. But every day, I lose another piece of control. They don’t fear me.
• They called me a barren queen to my face! And you stand there doing nothing!”
• The masked man stepped forward, his voice barely audible.
• “I’m sorry.”
• She looked up, eyes burning. “You made me fight your war. Your court. And now they mock me to my face while you sit in the shadows apologizing?”
• “I didn’t know,” he said again.
• “You’re the king,” she spat. “And you ran.”
• “I’m cursed,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I’m… sorry.”
• The silence that followed cracked like ice underweight.
• Elsinora turned away. Her heart ached.
• “You're a coward, you should know that.”
• And then she left. Broken and left with a fallen king.