Strike at Midnight(48)

“I told the whelp that he needed to start earning his money, or he would be at the other end of the noose before he reached fifteen. How does that make me likable?”

“Because you helped him. Whether he chose to act upon your help doesn’t matter. You offered it and you didn’t make it seem like charity. You made it more likely that he would take the offer, and a kid’s life probably changed because of you.”

The young kid was called Delano and he had recently been upgraded from poop shoveler to running one of the farmer’s stalls, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.

“What’s your point?” I snapped, and she picked her pace a bit more to match mine. It wasn’t good for my rep to be exposed this way.

“My point is that you worry about people who matter. The people who others don’t have time to worry over, or who can’t even be bothered. You care about people who need help, and you care about the prince.”

“The prince has plenty of people who worry about him so that theory is a bit bullshit,” I said, very thankful we were only about another ten minutes away from the inn.

“It’s not bullshit because you didn’t worry about him because he was a prince. From the sound of it, you were worried about him way before that.”

“Because he was a man of the nobility,” I said, getting sick of this damn debate.

“And you hate the nobility. You make that quite clear. So if you didn’t like him so much, you would have told him to go jump into the river before you kicked his ass back to the castle. And he would have gone because people tend to listen to you when you start waving your weapons at them with scary eyes. Only you haven’t done that. You’ve worried about him as a person, as someone who deep down you don’t want to push away. You like him for who he is. Not because he is a member of the nobility, and certainly not because he is a prince. I wonder how refreshing that is for him?”

She jumped back slightly when I stopped and rounded on her. “Will you stop psychoanalyzing me and acting like I have to admit to the world that I like someone who I can’t have? Will that shut you up if I do? He is a man who is used to frivolity and balls and two-faced words that skewer his reality, and he doesn’t need to be shown the world in which we live.” My arms were flailing all over the place, but I was on a roll. “And he certainly doesn’t need to risk anything for a woman who is so far beneath him that he could shit on me from a great height if he so chose. It’s ridiculous, it’s pathetic, and you, Melody, and Prince ‘fucking’ Charming need to realize that.”

My hair swung high as I turned away from her, and I could see the pink strands whipping in the wind as I let my pride carry me the rest of the way. She was silent beside me as we walked to the inn, and I hated the fact that guilt gnawed in my stomach for shouting at her. She didn’t deserve it. But when I dared to look her way, she had a quirk to the corners of her lips that made it evident that she was trying to stop herself from smiling.

“What the hell is so funny now?” I snapped, and she glanced at me before directing her eyes forward once more.

“You’re so cute when you’re in love,” she said, and my mouth flapped open and shut like a fish as exasperation took my words away. “I give it a week,” she added, and then she raced off ahead of me.

“A week?” I managed to say as my mouth finally found something to blurt out. Then it registered what the hell she meant.

Oh, I was so going to kick her skinny ass back to that tower of hers. Curse be damned.





*



My glares were having no impact on Rapunzel whatsoever.

Every time I tried to throw one her way, she just gave me an innocent smile in return. It was really starting to piss me off.

“Can I help you?” a serving wench asked us when we sat by one of the windows. It was a nice view if you considered a dusty lane and a stretch of field nice.

“I’ll have the steak and potatoes, please. Large,” I said, feeling extremely hungry all of a sudden. “And I’ll take a tankard of ale too.”

“I’ll just have the chicken broth with crusted bread and a drink of water, thanks,” Rapunzel said, and I looked at her like she had just lost the plot. “I’m not that hungry,” she said in defense, and I shook my head in disapproval.

“Anything else?” the serving wench asked.

“Is Briar Rose in today?” I asked her, and she gave me a look of surprise.

“I believe so. She usually works out back.”

“Would you mind telling her that Rella Rosewood is here?” I asked. “I would like a private word with her after our meal if that’s suitable.”

“I’ll tell her,” she said with a dubious look on her face. “But I can’t guarantee it will be a yes.”

“That’s fine,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders. Briar and I had never met, but my reputation usually preceded me. Hopefully, it would be enough to spark her interest. “Just ask for me.”

“I will do,” she said, moving away.

“Have you met Briar Rose before?” Rapunzel asked, and I shook my head.

“She’s a private person by the looks of it. I’ve never seen her when I’ve visited previously.”

“Then how do you know she knows about witches?” she asked as if doubting my capabilities.