Happily Ever Awkward (The H.E.A. Files, #1)(7)
“I need to mail this,” she said wearily, laying Princess Luscious’ parchment on the counter.
The clerk was human, but her blank-faced stare made her appear to be something less. She took the parchment with a mechanical motion and tapped it with a wand. A bang of golden energy seared a magic symbol onto the parchment and caused Laura to jump, snapping her out of her daze.
“What was that?!” she asked.
“Enchanted seal,” the clerk said. She spoke in the monotone voice of someone who has repeated the same thing so many times that the words have lost all of their meaning, much like her life. “Poxies can sniff out magic from miles away. It’s a Flitterling thing. That’s how we track the mail. Thank you so much for your interest in Poxie Post. Next.”
The clerk lifted the parchment. A nearby Poxie snatched it away and darted into one of the many pipes protruding from the ceiling.
“Thank y—” Laura started to say.
“Next!”
5
CROSSING PATHS
The lights of the Poxie Post flickered faintly in the distance as Paul and King Hofnar trotted along a deserted stretch of bridge.
“Quit thy moping, Paul!” King Hofnar barked. “Today thou finally becomest a man! Try to act like one!”
“I don’t belong there,” Paul said quietly, his head hanging low.
“Thou wilt not say that,” King Hofnar said.
“You know I don’t belong there,” Paul said. Then he added more pointedly, “You know why—”
“Thou wilt say no more! I trained thee for eighteen years. Thou art ready for the Lottery, and thou shalt defeat thy curse, once and for all.”
When Paul did not reply, King Hofnar tried a different tactic. “What if Sir Whitethorne had carried on like you, boy? Who wouldst have ended the Plague of Dragons? Or fought against organized piracy? Or kept the kings from civil war?”
“Yes, but Sir Whitethorne was the greatest knight who ever lived—”
Hofnar clapped his son on the back, nearly knocking him from his horse. “And now is thy chance to becomest a hero just like him!”
Paul readjusted himself in the saddle, his head bowed in defeat. “Do you think… do you think I’ll have to rescue a princess?”
His father snorted. “I shouldst hope so! They always be in jeopardy of one sort or another.”
A little farther ahead on her way home from the Poxie Post, Laura paused along the bridge to skim rocks across the water. Unbeknown to her, a ragged figure crept up quietly behind her.
Paul stared over the water and noticed a rock go skipping past. It had come from somewhere beyond a rise in the bridge.
“What princess would want me to rescue her?” he said. He thought he had said it quietly enough that no one else could hear. He was wrong.
“By all the gods, boy, dost thou think it matters what a woman wants?!” King Hofnar cried. “Dost thou think I worried about that when I rode in and seized the hand of thy mother, Berba the Frigid — though, in retrospect, mayhaps I shouldst have given that a bit more thought — but it matters not! Thou art a prince! Thou takest whomsoever pleases thee!”
“I’m not like that,” Paul said. “I’m not like you.”
King Hofnar shook his head. “Thou hast the same barbarian blood pumping through thy veins. Embrace it!”
“Embracing it is one thing. Gushing it while a Dragon eats me is another.” Paul’s voice became desperate. “Please, Father, I’m not ready. Don’t take me to the Lottery—”
“Boy, if thou stoppest not thy whining, the blood-gushing mightest commence right here!”
Finished with her rock throwing for the day, Laura strolled onward and entered a deserted triangular intersection serving as a junction for three different bridges. The bridge behind her led back to the Poxie Post, the one to her right led to some worthless island she could never remember the name of, and the one to her left would take her back to Theandrea and her life of servitude.
“So many great choices,” she thought.
The ragged bandit creeping along behind her thought it was time to make a choice of his own, so he pounced and pressed a knife to Laura’s throat.
Rubbing his scruffy cheek against her ear, he whispered, “No noise, pretty pretty. Your purse.” Not only was he robbing her, but to make matters worse, his breath smelled of onions.
Before Laura could make a move, Paul and King Hofnar abruptly crested a rise and entered the intersection, riding in from the bridge that led to the worthless island Laura could never remember the name of.
Everyone froze.
“He’s got a knife! What do we do?” Paul whispered to his father.
“Thou savest her, of course!” King Hofnar said.
“Me?” Paul’s eyes opened wide, as if his fear demanded a better view of the situation. “No, you — you should do it!”
“Thou learned all this in Charm School — a Class Three Confrontation. Remember?”
Paul nodded faintly, obviously scared.
“Then sayest thy lines!” King Hofnar commanded.
Paul cast a terrified glance at the bandit, but all he could see was the knife. “Un-unhand her, knave.”