Page 80 of Not Another Happily Ever After

How I wish this were all a dream.

Knock.Knock.

The rap of knuckles on the door stirs me from my sleep.

“That’d be the bath you requested,” Rhidland says, fetching the door with an oddly placed smile.

“Wait, the bath?”How long have I been asleep?

I lean out of the carriage window opposite the door and my jaw all but falls from its hinges.

The fog-choked forest and its endless growl of thunder have fallen far behind us. And in its place, we perch upon the edge of an impossibly high cliff, where the sea below hurls herself against the rocks with such fury that it swallows the crackle of fire whole.

Yet it isn’t the undeniable beauty of the ocean that’s stolen my breath.

It’s the sky.

Thesun-litsky.

Above the dark waters, delicate ribbons of pink and orange are woven through white clouds. After a lifetime in the dark, the colors feel almost enchanted, as though I’ve stepped into the first page of a fairytale instead of the last.

“I think I should like to sleep outside tonight, with you and the rest of the men. Do you think the commander would mind?” I ask, before spotting the old guard up ahead.

He’s laying out his armor and making up his bed—everythingexceptcasting the unnaturally large shadow over where I sit.

Slowly I turn, but before I even see him, my heart knows who I’ll find.

“Frog.”

“Yes, Miss Sunday.” He lowers his voice until it’s barely more than a whisper, his autumn green gaze never leaving mine as he pushes the door closed. “I would mind.”

Act III

Chapter

28

My courage has always arrived when summoned.

Until her.

If a stare were able to set a soul aflame, I’d be little more than ash and ribbon beneath the dark knight’s gaze. Like a hungry man he stands before me, at a table he’d sooner tend to than sit.

Why, of all the men to be tasked with delivering my heart, did it have to be the one who’s captivated it so?

I swallow my longing—and a healthy dose of shame—as I rise to my feet.

Frog sucks in a breath before turning away.

“Your bath, Miss Sunday.” His voice is rougher than before, like it’s caged behind iron and monastic restraint.

I watch with bated breath as he slowly bends at the waist and sets a steaming pail of water between us. He may as well have gotten down on one knee, so reverent is the way he looks up at me.

“The rags are clean,” he says. “And the water should remain warm for some time. But should you need more?—”

“I need only askyouand you’ll give it to me. Unless of course my request is to sleep with you.” I tuck a loose curl behind my ear, no longer hiding the warmth in my cheeks from the rebellion raging beneath my ribs.

“That is what you were going to say, is it not?” I whisper, stepping closer to the knight.