Page 122 of The Mage and His Stolen Prince
Falling and breaking my neck would be the most embarrassing way to end my story, so I passed on that route, and continued to the main staircase. As I neared it, I saw one of the guards who had stayed behind.
An orc stood directly in front of the staircase, arms crossed over his halberd. He gazed wistfully down the stairs, toward the commotion, like he resented being left out.
Go on,I urged silently,join in on the fun.
His head started to turn in my direction, and I scrambled out of view, hiding in the less-ideal staircase.
A few minutes passed and he didn’t pursue me.
When I checked the hallway again, he remained dutifully standing at his post.
Since when have you hired competent minions, Old Man?
I sighed, and slowly crept my way up the flora-littered stairs. At least there was a rail. It wasn’t the most dignified ascent. I had to lift my feet high over certain plants and shake off the tangling roots of others. By the time I reached the top, I was more annoyed with the damned curse than I’d been during the entire trek through the forest.
At the landing, I found another guard.
He blinked at me, then his eyes widened. “What the fuck are you doing over there?”
Startled, I backed up and stepped wrong, my foot slipping on the edge of the stairs.Shit!I reached for a rail, a wall, something to stop me from falling.
And grabbed a calloused hand.
The minion hauled me back to my feet and into the hallway, panting from fear as much as exertion. “You’re not supposed to be on the stairs.” Then he remembered I was an intruder. He straightened to his full height and announced, “You’ll have to come with me to face the Lord of Grimnight, Champion.”
“I’m not a champion,” I blurted out. “I uh, was here last night and … forgot my underwear.”
“Oh.Oh.” A flush darkened his green face. “That was you?” He coughed and stepped to the side. “Right, yes, of course. Go on ahead.”
“Thank you.” I walked around him and saw two doors. One was plain, unadorned. The other was covered with “Keep Out” signs. I started toward that one, but the orc called, “The other one is his bedroom.”
I paused, hand on the knob. “We fucked in the study too.”
“Right, sorry, of course.” And then a quieter, “Wow.”
I slipped inside before he could question my story.
The study was stark black, from the floor to the walls to the furniture. Someone had even painted the ceiling. Dozens of books were scattered haphazardly through the room in bright spots of color. The space was half-office, half-bedroom, with a massive desk directly in the middle and a large bed shoved into one corner.
A cloaked figure stood near the window. Shadows clung to them despite the bright sunlight streaming through the glass. As I slowly approached, they tilted their head to look over their shoulder. “Ah, Treasure. You’ve come at last.”
It wasn’t Wilde.
My heart pounded as I stared at the man. Long seconds passed before I choked out the word, “Father.”
“What? No, I’m—” The figure heaved a sigh and tugged the hood down, revealing a man in his sixties. “My name is Cyril Bowers, and I’ve been waiting here to speak with you about the Lord of Grimnight.”
Before he could say more, a familiar figure, dressed in unrelenting pink, popped up from behind the bed. “Trey!”
“Aunt Franny?”
“We’ve been so worried about you!” she rushed toward me, arms open for a hug.
Time reset before she reached me.
One Hour Earlier
Standing Below an Unstable Balcony
