Where was he?
He tried to pull at the bonds that held him, but they held tight. He peeked up at his ankles, feeling the ties holding him up. But he saw nothing. No rope. No chains. Just air. He hung a few feet above the ground, far from any tree, with nothing to hold him up that he could see.
Phillip instinctively seized. Flinching still, he stopped struggling, afraid that the slightest movement could cause him to crash. He had no idea how he was remaining aloft, much less what would cause him to fall.
How had he gotten here?
He blinked several times, trying to piece the flashes of memory swimming in his blood-rushed mind. He remembered the river bull. The fight in the stream. And on the shore of the cove. He remembered Pix, that fairy he’d only met once before—years before—but never forgot. Never let himself forget.
Suddenly, a large, black bird flew up next to him, its beady eyes peering at him as it flapped its feathered wings in front of his face.
“Shoo,” he scolded before puffing air at it and trying to swing his head—to whip his hair—at it. “Shoo.”
“Shoo?” the crow said, its voice shrill and disbelieving. “How rude?”
Phillip’s jaw dropped. A talking bird? How—
“Lethe, he’s royalty;” insisted another voice, “they’re never rude.” Phillip followed the voice to the brilliant green snake crawling toward him on the forest ground. “They’re,” the snake hissed with snide humor, “discerning.”
Phillip shook his head. What was going on?
That fairy!
Whatever this was—however he’d gotten here—he knew that she was behind it. Gnomes’ toes, if he ever got his hands on her again, she was going to regret it.
He turned his head, first one way and then the other. He saw her, a little ways off, kneeling by the river to drink. She raised her cupped hand to her lips and took a sip. Without looking at him, she said, “You’re awake.” She sipped again before splashing the rest over her face. “Sorry about the headache;” she sighed, “don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
“What did you do to me?” he asked as he thrashed, trying to fight—to wrest, to will—himself free.
“Less than I’d like to,” she said, standing up to walk toward him. “So be grateful. And silent, if you please,” she added with a shrug.
“Let me go,” Prince Phillip demanded with as much dignity as he could muster considering.
Pix tilted her head and faced him—well, as best she could with someone hanging upside down. “Listen up, princeling,” she said, gesturing around herself. “This is what is generally referred to as a kidnapping. That would be why you’re tied up and hanging by your toes, in case you were wondering.” She shrugged as she tapped his cheek and tweaked his nose. “Now—not always, but in most situations—that would mean your demands don’t mean a whole lot, so you should stop making them because they’re really annoying.” She shrugged and sighed as she brushed her hair back off her sharp featured face. “And the more you annoy me, the more likely it is that I’m going to gag you. So be a good little royal and shut it.”
“You wouldn’t—”
But that was as far as he got before a bright pink ribbon wrapped itself around his face, tying itself into a big, floppy bow shoved between his lips, effectively silencing him.
Phillip growled from behind the satin, making her laugh, the sound tinkling as it shot silvered and sharp through him.
She touched the looping bow fondly.“Now, I’m not the biggest fan of pink,” she remarked with a mocking frown, “but I gotta say, it suits you very nicely.” And, with that, she turned and began to walk, leaving him to bob upside down behind her, her magic or whatever holding him up and holding him to her like a tethered boat buoyant on the waves.
“She’s always had a filthy temper,” the raven told him with an apologetic tsk as it flew next to him almost as if it wanted to comfort him.
He muttered something unflattering against his bonds.
“I wouldn’t say that too loudly,” the snake who slithered below him hissed, obviously amused as it quirked its head up at him. “If you think she’s ill-tempered now, you should see her really mad.”
READ CHAPTER FOUR HERE
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