Ugly Girl Page 24

  Reyn moved forward to address the ragtag group of prairie-run misfits, his voice more regal than I could make people believe I could be. It was clear he was the son of a public figure. “Thank you for meeting on such short notice. I trust our vow of secrecy will hold even after I introduce you to the newcomers Bastien and I have brought to you today. Allow me to introduce you to Elaine of Avalon, the Lost Duchess of the fallen Ninth Province.”

  There were several murmurs and gasps. It didn’t take more than five seconds for everyone to get down on one knee, their heads bowed after getting a good eyeful of Lane. It was surreal to see Lane with her chin high and shoulders back, taking in the reverence with a “Yes, this is what you should do when I enter your presence” kind of noble and imperious air to her. Reyn left her side and moved back to stand between me and Remy, offering his arm to me, so I had Bastien and him to lean on.

  “My Lady,” began one of the four men, who was one of the hairiest dudes I’d ever seen. I mean, not quite Chewbacca level, but almost. His arms, legs, neck and chest were covered in dark brown hair that billowed out of his capri-length burlap pants and tunic shirt sleeves. “We’ve waited so long for you to come home. Your emerald. Is it safe? Did it survive with you, or does Morgan le Fae have it?”

  “Wildman, what is your name?”

  “Bayard, Duchess. Bayard of Province 3.”

  Lane nodded once in greeting. I’d never seen her look so regal. “And how is Province 3? Tell me what’s come of your duchess since I’ve been gone.”

  Bayard was easily six feet tall, but he kept his head bowed respectfully. “Your sister, Duchess Gliten, was killed seven years ago in a battle between our land and Morgan le Fae’s. Gliten’s husband, Duke Ferdinand the Grave, rules what’s left of our land in her place.”

  I knew Reyn had caught her up on which of her family members were alive still, but I could tell Bayard’s phrasing hit her afresh. “Very well, Bayard. And to whom is your loyalty?”

  I don’t think I’d ever heard Lane say “whom” before. My palms began to sweat when I tried to picture myself being so proper. In my imagination, I said “who” when I was supposed to say “whom”, and then went to go shake hands and slipped on a banana peel, throwing the hem of my dress over my head.

  My imagination didn’t like me so much.

  Bayard looked up at Lane with steely resolve in his brown eyes. “My loyalty is to the people in Province 3. We’ve done whatever we can to survive, but it’s not enough. If you could bring hope back to our land, I would serve you as my queen until my last breath.”

  Lane nodded once, looking every bit the ruler I knew she had in her when a teacher tried to fail me yet again. “Very well. I’ll see what I can do about locating my hidden gemstone. If your people will have me, I’ll travel to Province 3 with it, staying there for a time until enough prosperity can be restored to your land. Then I’ll move to the next province until we’ve all had a chance to heal a little.”

  “Thank you, your grace,” Bayard said with a bow. “Avalon’s been needing you.”

  Her eyes glinted dangerously as her tone sharpened. “I’ve heard rumors that neighboring provinces have been attacking the people in Morgan le Fae’s land.” I watched the mix of hairy men, and I’m guessing royals, exchange wary glances. “Her people are not to be targeted anymore. She doesn’t care about them, only herself. Hurting them only brings death and destruction on innocent women and children. It doesn’t do a thing to take her down. It doesn’t unite Avalon against her. All it does is oppress her people, and trust me, they’ve suffered enough at her hands.” She paused to look at each of them. “If you want my gemstone to visit your land, you’ll see to it that the provinces stop attacking each other. Those who attack will see nothing but more death that they’ll bring down on their own heads. They won’t get a peek at my emerald.” Her finality was inspiring. She was so in control, so regal. If only they could see her bumming around in her sweats with me, sticking fruit roll-ups to our noses to see whose would stay stuck the longest (mine).

  Bayard took his time standing so he could tower over her, giving her the full scope of his broad, hairy shoulders and thick neck. He looked stern when you got past the initial willingness to play ball. His chest puffed, as if he’d been built to tear down aristocracies that didn’t work. “You have no right to come in here after twenty-one years of knowing nothing about our struggles and tell us to lay down our swords. Province 1 is no victim. They eat well, their women get pregnant easily, and their land is booming. If they would give back the jewel they stole from us, we would have no reason to fight. Until then, we’ll take from them what we can to feed our own.”

  Lane turned her head, as if she was finished discussing the matter. “Do what you like, but my rule won’t change. The children of Province 1 didn’t steal the jewel, nor can they give it back to you, but you’re punishing them for Morgan’s crimes. I won’t bless lands who continue on like that.” She stood back and addressed the group as a whole, no doubt sensing she couldn’t keep reasoning with Bayard if he was stuck in his stubbornness. “Our plan is to get back my emerald to buy the provinces some time. Then I plan on finding Morgan’s stolen jewels and giving them back to the kingdoms they came from.”

  Bayard scoffed, and I hated him a little bit. No one treated Lane like that. “You’re promising something you can’t deliver, Lost Duchess. Oh, how very lost you are. You don’t think we’ve tried to find the jewels? You don’t think we’ve searched and sacrificed with everything we have to get them? It’s no use. She’s hidden them so well, no one could find them if we tried for a hundred lifetimes. Your promises are pretty, but we’ve lost the use for pretty a long time ago.”

  There were three other men I didn’t know. One was older, maybe mid-fifties, and graying at the temples. Another was maybe thirty years old, dressed in a mix between royal and military garb, and looked like he’d stepped off a runway with his lean and muscular body. He had perfect blond Ken-dolled hair and shiny teeth, but his blue eyes held a touch of kindness and sincerity.

  The fourth dude in the circle had too much hair, like Bayard, but it was red instead of brown. The red fur guy had a pinched nose, looked about two inches shorter than me, and had a surly snarl on standby that he invoked when Bayard turned on Lane, happy to gang up on her. “I’ve got plenty of uses for pretty, but none of them’s bossing me, I’ll tell you that much.” He sidled up next to Bayard and hitched up his burlap britches, spitting on the grass between himself and Lane.

  I couldn’t take it. Crossing the best woman in two worlds deserved a reckoning. I couldn’t remember my introverted tendencies when I gripped the guys’ arms to hobble forward. “Look, you arrogant jackfishes, if Lane says she can find the jewels, then you’d best believe she’ll deliver. She’s not a pretty little prom queen you can pat on the head and ignore. This is the best offer you’ve gotten in decades. I suggest you take your heads out of your hairy buttholes long enough to see the miracle standing right in front of you.”

  Crap, I said butthole already.

  The group was quiet, but I heard Remy worrying they’d retaliate with physical violence for my mouth. Reyn closed his eyes and took a deep breath that told me I’d said the very wrong thing the first time I’d opened my mouth.

  Bastien wasn’t nervous. His mouth curved slowly into a knowing smile, as if he enjoyed watching me invite the throwdown. “I’d listen to her, guys.”

  Bayard postured, snarling at me in a way that should’ve made me cower. “Handmaidens don’t get a vote here. Don’t make me shut your mouth, little one.”

  Instead of backing down, I dropped the guys’ arms, leaned on my good leg and motioned to Bayard to come and friggin’ get it. “Bring it, you belligerent prick. Lane’s too nice to take you down, but I’m not.” Then I jabbed my finger to the shorter furry guy with red hair. “And you! Insult Lane again, and you don’t want to know what!”

  Bayard narrowed his eyes at me, deciding whether to fight me or laugh
me off. Dude didn’t understand that I was no joke. He threw out his hands. “Duchess, control your lady’s maid. I appreciate her loyalty to you, but her mouth would be better appreciated if she were on her knees.” He let out a crass laugh at the pervy joke. The redhead joined in while Bayard let loose a few pelvic thrusts to illustrate his filthy point. It was then I realized that both the Wildmen had horse tails that matched their respective fur color. Like, actual horse tails that swished out when they did pornographic pelvic thrusts.

  The other two men did not laugh. I mean, Bayard had to have been like, forty-five. You’d think after a certain amount of time that people grow up out of the frat house.

  “Rousseau, I think I’ve found someone feisty enough to warm your bed, old friend,” Bayard teased, elbowing the redhead.

  Rousseau hiked his burlap britches up again, and waved his arm to dismiss me. “Nah. You know I don’t like the ones who talk back.”

  “Sex jokes? Really? Really?!” I made to take a step forward, my fists up to show him what I thought of his off-brand of humor, but Bastien whooshed past me in a breath.

  “Say it again,” Bastien dared, his retractable knife drawn and pressed to the coarse curly brown hairs at Bayard’s neck. “Tell the Lost Daughter of Avalon just how you like it.”

  Beneath his inch-long beard, Bayard paled as his mouth fell open. “The what? That’s not… Bastien, explain yourself!”

  Reyn postured beside me. “Allow me to introduce you to Princess Rosalie – the Lost Princess of Avalon.” The two men I hadn’t spoken to yet gasped and went down on their knees, bowing to me like I’d done something impressive.

  Bastien spoke through gritted teeth. “Only you all know that Reyn and I left Avalon to find the Compass last year. Well, we did. We found her. Now if you’ll keep your manners, I’ll let you keep your life.” It was clear Bastien was the most feared of the group. Bayard held up his hands, but Bastien wasn’t satisfied. “On your knees. Isn’t that how you wanted her?” He shoved Bayard to the ground with a sneer.

  Reyn helped me hobble forward next to Lane. The men were in a row before us, each one on his knee in fear at what they’d just been caught laughing at, or doing nothing to stop.

  “Bastien!” Reyn barked. “Put down your knife. The rule that we don’t draw swords against each other still holds true, no matter how much one might deserve a good neck shave.” His eyes glinted dangerously at Bayard, whose head was bowed.

  Bastien tucked his knife away into his belt, but crossed his arms over his broad chest to remain firm that I would not be the joke in this group. His anger was clear as he set down the new law. “We didn’t have to show you the Compass. We didn’t have to bring her here and tell you a single thing. We could’ve gone hunting for the Jewels of Good Fortune on our own and brought them back with none of you the wiser. We brought her to you to see if you wanted to help, to see if you wanted in on the biggest heist in our history. I bring you two women, and this is how you are?” His hand flew out in aggravation. “Rosie’s a maiden! You don’t joke like that in front of the Lost Princess.”

  I harrumphed, embarrassed. “Would you knock it off? My virginity isn’t a marketing point. It’s private,” I scolded Bastien.

  He huffed at me. “Well, do you want me to let them make jokes like that about you? You want me to just sit back and do nothing while he acts out a full-on…” He stopped short, lips sealed to keep from letting the fight escalate. His caramel eyes looked down at me with a steely desire to protect all that I was. Though he didn’t get it perfect, the loyalty was there.

  I placed my hand on Bastien’s arm and bumped my cheekbone to his shoulder. “Thanks. I get it.” I watched him nod, losing none of the fire in him that held us in the unspeakable moment where he declared that he was on my team, and I didn’t kick him to the benches.

  Lane cleared her throat, bringing me back to the problem at hand. “Right. So yeah, I’m Rosie Avalon, or the Lost Daughter of Avalon or the Compass or whatever. I only just learned about this world and Morgan and all of it like, a week ago. So if I get something wrong, be cool about it.”

  Lane stepped in, sensing I was going down too casual a road to be respected by them. She probably wasn’t wrong. “On King Urien’s orders before he got too sick to speak for himself, he begged me to take Rosie to Common, where Morgan wouldn’t look for her. I raised her as my daughter for the last twenty-one years, and only came back because Morgan sent spies who tried to abduct Rosie. Apparently, Morgan’s desperate for the last stones, and she needs the Compass to find them. Now, Rosie doesn’t have a firm handle on her abilities, but she’s willing to work on them to help us find Morgan le Fae’s jewels and return them to their rightful owners.”

  “Forgive me, Duchess,” Bayard begged, his head bowed to address Lane’s shoes. “If you spare my head, I’ll give you my sword. I’ll follow wherever the Compass leads and help make her footsteps safe.”

  Several similar promises popped up among the ranks. Lane drew out the tension in the group until I saw sweat running down Bayard’s nose. Finally she reached forward and tilted up his chin, meeting his wide eyes with a glare that made me flinch. “I raised Rosie. She’s my daughter, and you’ll treat her with respect due to the new throne. When we take Morgan down, you’ll remember this day that you spoke to your duchess like I was a Commoner. You’ll remember the day you were a scoundrel to your princess. You’ll remember, and so will I.” She released his chin, and I saw that even though he could overpower her, he submitted. He knew his life was in her hands – hands that had spent many a night sewing my game jerseys after I’d torn them. Hands that had braided my hair, washed dishes, taken out the trash, and done so much that a duchess should never have to do. “For now, you can serve your princess with your sword. We need all the help we can get.”

  She stepped back as Bayard let out a loud gust of relief. The men all stood, shoulders back and a readiness painting their features. Bayard was eager to redeem himself. “How can I serve you, Duchess?”

  30

  Legit Lancelot

  The men stood like they were readying for battle, each one with his shoulders squared and hands ghosting over their weapons out of habit. “First things first,” Lane ordered the group. “Abraham Lincoln? Come on out, love.”

  Hamish and Abraham Lincoln bounded out from their hiding place, Hamish yelling angrily while Abraham Lincoln begged me to pick him up with a pathetic whine. “I can’t pick you up, baby. I can barely stand.” I leaned heavily on Reyn and Bastien as Lane explained my whole talking to animals and the healers thing.

  Remy clicked his fingers to gain the attention of Bastien, miming that I needed to sit down before my stitches tore. “Here. You did good, Daisy. Take a load off.” Bastien lowered me to the grass, waving off the men’s concern when my bear cub climbed into my lap.

  The dashing Ken doll guy wandered off and came back a minute later with a thick stump he rolled onto its side in front of me. “Lady Rosalie, I’m Duke Lancelot of the Fifth Province. I can’t let you sit in the dirt like a peasant. Please, allow me.” He wasn’t one of the hairy ones, but had sun-kissed skin and a charming smile. I remembered he was one of the two who didn’t laugh at Bayard’s crude joke.

  I blinked up at him in confusion. “Your name is Lancelot? Like, legit Lancelot?” I handed Abraham Lincoln to Bastien, who gave the others a boastful grin at being able to hold a bear like it was nothing.

  Lancelot had a clean-shaven face and a kind smile that matched the sincerity in his eyes. “Well, I actually go by Lot, but since we’re being well-mannered with a princess and the Lost Duchess being present, I thought I’d be my most formal.”

  “Lancelot is an impressive name where I’m from.”

  “Really? It’s not all that uncommon here. Easy now.” Reyn and Lot each took one of my arms and lifted me, lowering me gently to the stump. When Reyn explained my injury, a few of the guys winced. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Lot said by way of a warning.

&nbs
p; “It’s fine,” I lied, trying not to be the kid in a dress in the middle of seasoned warriors. “Just a little sore to stand on.”

  Lot softened as he watched me muscle through the jostle when Bastien placed Abraham Lincoln back in my arms. Abraham Lincoln was such a mama’s boy, and I loved it. Lot frowned down at me. “You’re in pain. What’s your healer done to help with that?”

  Remy explained the different herbs, and I relayed the message, blowing their minds when they realized I was speaking on behalf of Remy. The men drew closer, standing as near as their fear of my teddy bear would allow them.

  Rousseau had his red hairy hand on the hilt of his sword. “Is it magic? Can you teach us how to control the beasts of the forest?”

  “She doesn’t own me!” Hamish gave Rousseau a piece of his mind, running in between us and waving his fists in the air at the notion that wild things could be controlled.

  “I don’t manipulate them,” I explained on Hamish’s behalf. “I only talk to them. Big difference. You try controlling another person, and you’ll have a revolt on your hands. Same thing with animals. They sometimes do me favors because I listen when they talk. That’s all anyone really wants most days – someone who hears them.”

  Lot was closest and knelt at my feet, only a few inches from me. His white dress shirt was fitted to showcase his lean but obvious muscles, and his beige pants didn’t have a stain or a crease on them. “Your majesty, I’ve never seen a bear so civilized. How do you keep him from tearing at you?”

  I shrugged. “His mom died when one of the provinces poisoned the Mousseuse River – I’m guessing Province 3?” I raised my eyebrow to Bayard, whose neck shrunk at the unwelcome attention. “His mom died when they tried to cross over into another province, passing by Morgan’s soldiers. He was all alone when I found him. He thinks I’m his mommy.” I addressed the group as a whole. “So whoever’s poisoning Province 1? Knock it off. You’re killing the unicorn-deer babies, and you murdered Abraham Lincoln’s mother.”