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WHEN LYRIC RETURNED from his task, he found Aurora sitting at the same table where they left her. She hadn’t moved an inch. He pulled up a chair and plopped down beside her, determined to make a nuisance of himself.
“Hello,” he greeted her.
“Hi.” As soon as she returned the greeting, Aurora lowered her eyes and heaved a tremendous sigh.
“Well, don’t you sound happy!” Lyric teased her. “Did you wake up on the grumpy side of the bed this morning? I bet Rachelle put you in a bad mood.”
“I’m not grumpy, Lyric. I’m just... thinking.”
“About what?”
“About... things.” She shrugged.
“Things. Ah, yes. That says a lot.”
“I’m just nervous. I’m nervous about going home. I’m nervous about facing Medea. I’m just nervous about everything. And if all goes well and I actually rescue Meg and Mary, I want to go to the castle and meet my real mother.” She sighed again. “I’m nervous about that, too.”
“Well, that’s understandable.”
“And the king probably hates me. I don’t know... maybe it’s not worth it. Maybe I shouldn’t go. I never wanted to be a princess.”
Lyric leaned forward and gave her a platonic pat on the shoulder. “No, I think you should go. You’ll never know if you don’t try, right? Maybe your mother wants to meet you?”
Aurora smiled at his attempt at kindness.
“Once this is all said and done, you can come visit me at the palace,” Lyric suggested. “I’d be happy to have you as a guest. And should you wind up in my bedchamber again, I promise I won’t raise a fuss.”
Her smile was gone in an instant, and she could feel her face getting warm. Lyric, having realized how suggestive his words were, started to stutter.
“Th-that’s not to say... I-I’m not saying you should wind up in my bedchamber for any reason.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “I’m just poking fun at how much of an idiot I was.”
“Oh... right.”
“And I won’t put you in a stockade!”
Aurora chuckled. “I should hope not!”
“I’m sorry for being such a jerk.”
Before he could elaborate on his apology, Noxor and Rachelle returned; Noxor drew his usual stares as he drifted into the pub.
“I have information.” Noxor wasted no time before sharing his knowledge. “Meg and Mary are being held at Bollswane Castle, which isn’t far from here. And it’s not far from your old cottage, Aurora. Even though your aunts’ magic made it impossible for her to approach you, Medea always monitored you from Bollswane Castle.”
“So, what should we do?”
For the moment, Noxor ignored Aurora’s question; he turned his attention to Lyric. “When will the carriages be ready?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Rachelle, who hated to be ignored, decided to interject, “Um... excuse me! You said something about Greta and I getting to go back home. Is that still part of the plan?”
“Yes,” Lyric assured her. “The second carriage is scheduled to depart for your castle, Rachelle.”
Rachelle let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good! I mean, as much as I’d like to see this through to the end, I’m really looking forward to going home and getting a nice, warm bath.”
“The first carriage, of course, will head toward Bollswane Castle,” Noxor continued. “And Aurora... we should pass your cottage along the way. If you’d like to stop and pay your respects, feel free to do so, but we shouldn’t waste too much time. I’d like to arrive at the castle no later than five o’clock.”
“And what happens at five o’clock?” Lyric asked with a nervous chuckle. “We storm the castle? Just the three of us?”
“No. Not just the three of us. I’ve arranged for some... eager companions.”
One of Aurora’s eyebrows leapt to her forehead. “Companions?!”
Noxor answered with a nod. “Yes. We’ll have back-up. And since I’m familiar with the castle’s defenses, I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble getting inside. Medea wields powerful magic, but she has very few allies.”
“That’s unbelievable. You make it sound so easy!” Aurora shook her head with disbelief. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Noxor!”
Noxor cast a glance in Rachelle’s direction, but she didn’t look like she was paying attention. “Please, Aurora, don’t thank me. It’s the least I can do.”
Though it was midday, Greta finally wandered down from the bedroom. When she sat down at the table with the rest of them, they saw Charmaine sticking his head out of her pocket.
“So it sounds like we’re free until tomorrow.” Lyric leaned back in his chair and cupped his hands behind his head. “I guess we can just relax until then, huh?”
“Not exactly,” Noxor disagreed. “I think we should work on honing our skills for tomorrow’s battle. Have you any experience in swordplay, Emperor?”
“Of course.” Lyric yawned, as if to express how trifling it was. “I’m one of the best swordsmen around.”
Rachelle snorted. “Yeah right.”
“I am!” Lyric insisted. “I am, Rachelle! When have you ever seen me with a sword?”
“Uh, never.” She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “Which is exactly my point. You can’t be one of the best swordsmen if you never have a sword.”
“I never carry my sword around a lady. It’s indecent.”
“If you’re so good, then prove it,” Rachelle challenged him. “But you better think twice about all your boasting, because I’m sure Noxor will smash you to bits!”
“Do you know what you should be doing right now, Rachelle? You should be warning Noxor about underestimating my potential.” Lyric turned to Aurora for approval. “And I got his name right this time. Aren’t you proud of me?”
Aurora gave an unenthusiastic nod.
Noxor pulled a spare sword out of his billowy robes and held it out to Lyric. “I’ll be sure not to underestimate you.”
Lyric took the sword and headed out of the pub with Noxor. Naturally, the girls followed them out. They were curious to see how quickly Lyric would have his foot in his mouth.
A slightly froggy voice rose up from Greta’s pocket. “You know, ladies, if I was in top form right now, I could best the both of them. If you kiss me, you could find out just how good I am!”
“Be quiet, Charmaine!” Rachelle scolded him. “I’m trying to watch this!”
As Aurora watched Lyric draw his sword from its sheath, she felt a tight knot in the pit of her stomach. “Do you really think he’s any good?”
“I doubt it,” Rachelle responded with a chuckle. “He’s an uncoordinated coward. There’s no way he’s—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Rachelle was putting her own foot in her own mouth. Noxor lunged at Lyric, who blocked the blow with ease. His defensive stance quickly became an offensive one, and Noxor was forced to parry. Lyric swung at him like a madman. Every assault on Noxor was aimed with astonishing accuracy, but Noxor’s blocks were equally swift. It wasn’t long before their duel attracted a crowd. In a matter of minutes, Aurora, Rachelle and Greta weren’t the only ones watching. It seemed as if the entire town had stopped to watch the battle.
The flurry of clanging swords was impressive, and Lyric was the unlikely frontrunner. Tired of being on the defensive, Noxor resorted to tactics that Lyric could not match. He flew several feet into the air and came soaring down on his opponent. Lyric dropped down and rolled across the ground, narrowly avoiding Noxor’s feral blow. As he hopped back up, he swung his sword at Noxor’s feet, catching him off-guard. A heap of black robes fell to the ground, defeated.
There was a collective gasp from the crowd.
It took Noxor a few seconds to realize that it wasn’t his defeat that left them in shock. When he fell, his hood slid off, and his face was exposed. His peeling flesh, red-rotted cheeks, and one empty socket were unveiled for everyone to see. He was sure everyone could see the shame on his face, too.
When he pulled up the hood and got to his feet, Noxor’s movements were slow and solemn. Lyric extended a hand for Noxor to shake, but Noxor couldn’t summon the will to do anything but hang his head in shame.
“Now you’ve seen me,” Noxor uttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Now you’ve seen the disgusting visage I’ve been forced to live with.”
Rachelle stepped toward him. She wanted to offer him some comforting words, but she wasn’t fast enough. Greta stepped in front of her, ran over to Noxor, and tugged on the bottom of his robe.
Noxor sheathed his sword and looked down at Greta. His face was hidden now, but he expected her to run away screaming or hide her eyes in revulsion—anything to express her horror at the sight of him.
Instead, she spoke.
Greta spoke.
“It’s not so bad.”
Her head only came to his waist, so when she tried to hug him, she ended up embracing his legs.
“It’s not so bad, Noxor,” Greta repeated. “Your face isn’t bad, so don’t be sad, okay?”