Then she’d dragged him into some kind of shop—flowers or perfume or some such girlish things, by the smell of it—before unceremoniously dumping him in some corner in the basement of the store.
He looked around at the stacks of boxes revealed in the small circle of light from the lamp hanging from the ceiling above him. Storage. He was in storage. Left on the floor like so much unpacked stock. The place reeked of a million different flowers and herbs, the scent annoyingly—overwhelmingly and nauseatingly—sweet. It was making his already throbbing, blood-rushed head ache even more.
When she got back here—and when he got loose—that little fairy was going to figging get it!
Phillip growled as he thrashed.
“Do you mind keeping it down?” the snake yawned as it curled into a tighter coil on top of one of the boxes above his head. “Some of us didn’t bob like a boat all the way here and would like to get some well-deserved sleep.”
Phillip just grumbled as he thumped the boxes next to him with his shoulder, throwing his weight into it so the crates shook.
The snake stuck its long, forked tongue out at him and hissed as it scrambled back. “You’re a royal creep, you know that?” it snipped as it turned its head away.
“Stop it, the both of you,” the crow chirped as it flew down the stairs and back into the room. “Acting like a pair of hatchlings. You just wait until Pix gets back down here; she’ll gag you both.”
“He started it,” the snake sniffed before settling back down again.
The bird flew down and fluttered in front of Phillip. “Pix is still making arrangements upstairs. She said that she’ll let me take off the gag, if you promise—her words, not mine—‘to be a good, little princeling.’ ” The bird gave a feathery shrug. “Not for nothing, but I’d take the deal. Pix isn’t exactly known for random acts of kindness so, when she makes them, they’re worth taking advantage of.”
He huffed and stared at the bird before giving a curt nod.
The bird pulled at one of the bow’s obnoxiously brilliant tails with its sharp but careful beak, unraveling the whole thing. Phillip shook his head and swiveled his jaw, spitting the cloth from his mouth. “Thank you,” he said as he nodded to the crow. “What about the rest?” he asked, tugging at the invisible bonds still holding his limbs tight.
The bird shrugged helplessly. “I can’t help you there,” she said. “The deal was for the gag and I already had to give up crickets for a month.” Its head turned almost poutingly. “And there's this one proselytizing busybody who hangs out with some wooden-looking boy that I’ve had my eye on for a while too.” It sighed and shook its head. “Take it and be grateful, kid.”
He nodded as he used one of the box’s edges to scratch the back of his head. Fair enough. “Where are we?” he asked.
“Fairy in a Bottle Beauty Boutique,” the snake answered with a shake of its head. “Where, for a bag full of gold, you too can become the belle of the ball.”
“Lucinda,” the crow said as she settled down on one of the crates, “one of Cinderella’s...unconventionally attractive sisters, owns the place. Pix and she are old friends and do a bunch of business together.”
“She’s letting us crash here for the night,” Pix said as she came down the stairs, “in exchange for some magic.” He watched her duck and weave her way through the stacks as she carried a small lantern to light her way.
“Fairy in a Bottle,” Phillip repeated as she came close, setting her lamp on the box with her serpent so it could curl closer to the lantern’s warmth. “You give her a bunch of enchanted goop that she can sell to the poor, hopeless women who come here just trying to catch their dreams, never knowing where their salvation came from.” Or at what cost.
Pix scoffed as she sat down on a crate and stretched. “Don’t be such a gob,” she yawned. “I wouldn’t waste my magic on trollish, vain royals trying to buy a new face.” She laid down and rolled over on her side. “Besides, Luci doesn’t need me to. She can sell the same supply as all the other shops and charge twice as much. All she needs to hock her so-called goop is one magical beauty transformation. Her own.” She shut her eyes and shrugged. “Then spread the tale of how she changed her life. Presto!” She waved her arm dismissively. “Instant sales. You royals just eat it up.”
“That’s,” Phillip started with a cringe. Sick. Cruel. Kind of ingenious. “Cheating,” he settled on. “Preying on people’s insecurities like that. Promising them wonders and handing over fakes.”
“Hey,” Pix scoffed, “all Luce said is that magic changed her life—which is true—and gave her shop a compelling name, like any other businesswoman would. What other people infer from there isn’t her fault.” She smiled while she curled her arms around herself. “It’s not lying, if you just don’t tell them what they don’t want to hear.”
Phillip scoffed as he tried to roll over as well, trying to find some kind of comfort among the hard, wooden walls. “That’s the difference with your type,” he said disdainfully. “You’re all the same. Liars. Tricksters. Cheats.” He shook his head, the only part of his body he could really move. “You think that you can win the game by breaking all the rules. It’s not winning; you’re just messing it all up for the rest of us.”
READ PART TWO HERE
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