Page 53 of Not Another Happily Ever After

My gaze snaps back to his. And right there, sitting in the center of his blood shot blue eyes, is what I feared I’d see.

Suspicion.

Looking around at the men’s expectant faces over the rim of my cup, I’m starting to think Rhidland’s not the only one to doubt Frog’s little story.

Right.I might as well dive in with both feet.

Not like I haven’t already.

I gulp down a large swig of the tart tasting liquor, wincing as it burns my nose.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I did.” I cough, slamming the cup down on the tree.

“Wicked,” the drunk knight slurs.

I shake my head, recounting the experience as anything but when my mind loops back to something Merrek said earlier. Something that, drunk or not, doesn’t make sense.

“Merrek, earlier you called it theScreechingfalls? Did you meanSinging?”

Merrek’s brows furrow and for a moment I think he might be too far gone to answer. His mouth opens then shuts. Once. Twice. His tongue catches on something. On?—

“Oh!”I gag, choking on the strong, syrupy burp that’s just erupted from his stomach. Straight into my face.

“You dankish-drunk buffoon!” Myrrdin seethes. But it appears I’m the only one with enough sense to flinch at his warning, as Merrek still blissfully sways from side to side in his seat, eyes fixed on the branches above, their twisted limbs bending beneath the weight of the Evil Queen’s roses.

“They used to sing,” he murmurs. It takes me a moment to realize what it is he’s saying.

“The Sirens?” I ask, fanning away the lingering fumes.

He turns to me and I swear, if not only for a moment, he’s sober as he says, “Then they turned against the fairy godmother.”

My hand falls in time with my face. “What?—”

“Now, they just eeeeeeeaaaaaaahhhhhh.”

I wince, covering my ears along with the rest of the group as Merrek proceeds to demonstrate the unnervingly high pitch of the Siren’s new song.

With one hand still pressed firmly to his ear, Wolfe reaches around me and socks Merrek square in the shoulder with enough force to have the poor drunken knight toppling off the tree trunk and onto his back in the dirt.

The pity barely forms in my chest when his pained groans turn to a ravenous symphony of chortled snores.Well then. I stare, blinking at his disheveled form.

“He’s a daft drunkard. But he’s not wrong.” Wolfe speaks up beside me.

“Aye.” Myrrdin chimes in, staring down at something small and blue crawling across the forest floor toward the warmth of the fire. “A lot changed after what they did to the fairy godmother.”

There it is again. That name.

I shake my head, not understanding. “Who is the fairy godmother?”

I wait for Myrrdin to answer, but once more, my curiosity is greeted byhisvoice.

“She was Lucius’s first wife. She was the first Queen of Riches.” Frog speaks behind his mask, his head tilted toward the sky. “And he betrayed her for granting wishes to the poor.”

My neck bends as I lean forward, as if seeing him from a different angle would make the words coming from his mouth any more clear. It does not.

“You’re telling me that the Evil Queen was granting wishes? To the poor?”

Frog shifts, pulling his knees to his chest. “She’s not evil.”