Chapter 8

“Wake up, girl,” Prince Trustram says loud enough to jar Penelope from her sleep.

She opens her eyes to see him fully dressed with what looks like a collar and chain dangling from his hands. “What’s going on?” she asks.

“We’re going to go see my father,” he informs her.

“What is that for?”

“I have to convince my father to let me keep you,” he says, stepping forward to place the collar around her neck.

“But I don’t want to leave you,” she says. “I’m perfectly happy to stay here and please you, Master.”

“Yes, I know you are,” he concedes. “But once we leave this room, you may have a different opinion.”

“Why, Master?” she asks, sliding up against him, purring.

“Just trust me,” he says, pulling away from her and then yanking on the chain.

“Should I get dressed first?” she asks. “Or would your father prefer me naked?”

“Naked is the better option,” he says. “Otherwise my father may have other ideas.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will,” he says, pulling open the door and stepping out into the hall.

As soon as Penelope crawls out into the hall, Hazel’s voice comes barging into her head. “Slow down, slow down...” she murmurs.

“Yes, there might be some confusion,” the prince warns. “It will of be over soon enough. Come on.”

The witch feels the tug of the chain but she doesn’t move. Where the hell have you been?

“I’ve been ... I don’t know what’s going on...”

“What’s going on is you’ve been under my spell,” Trustram sneers. “My room has a spell cast over it to make you docile. Unfortunately my father found out about you. He always finds out about you.”

Clearly the prince is a manic.

“Clearly...” she agrees looking up at the man. “Let me go.”

“No can do,” he says, tugging on the chain.

In that instant, Penelope feels a shock rip through her. “What the fuck was that?” she asks, trying to stand. Another shock hits her, dropping her back to all fours.

“That is my insurance policy,” Trustram says. “It’s my way of having you obey me. You don’t obey, you get shocked.”

The witch glares up at him, sneering. The moment she does, another shock slams into her, this one worse than the first two, dropping her completely to the floor.

“No dirty looks either,” the prince informs her. “You will be on your best behavior for father. When we get back to the room, you will have forgotten the unfortunate set of events.”

How kind of him.

“How kind of you,” the girl mutters between clenched teeth.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” he says. “You keep it up father will surely let me keep you this time.”

I think this guy is off his rocker a bit. He seems to think we’ve been here before.

Penelope doesn’t know how to answer that. Instead, she hopes that the king will have sense and let her go and maybe help her on her quest. She crawls back onto her hands and knees and waits for the prince to pull her along.

I have to give you some credit. I figured you would be stupid enough to fight him more. Thank the gods you gave up. It was starting to get really uncomfortable.

“Thanks...”

“Oh, you’re very welcome,” Prince Trustram says, looking back over his shoulder at her. “Once we get back to the room, you can show your appreciation better.”

Penelope is lead through several twists and turns, through many halls until finally they come to large room with a large set of doors. Two guards are posted at either side. When they see the prince, they both nod to him and step over to grab a handle each. Effortlessly they haul the doors open just enough to allow the prince and his new pet entry. Beyond the door, the room is even bigger. It’s empty save for the double row of pillars and red carpet leading away toward a single throne with a bearded man sitting on it.

“Come on,” the prince says, yanking the chain. Penelope is lead down the carpet to the foot of the dais where the throne, and presumably the king, is sitting. “Hello, Father.”

“I suppose you know why you’re here,” the king says, ignoring his son’s pleasantries.

“Yes. Father,” the prince says, sounding hopeful.

“Why do you insist on keeping these animals?”

“She is not an animal. She will be my wife,” the prince argues.

“You cannot marry an animal,” the king counters. “If you are to rule this country, you have to marry a princess.”

“She is a princess,” he lies. “She came all the war from the far north. She came for me, to marry her.”

“You cannot lie to me, boy!” The king’s anger flares bright and then just as quickly it burns out. “There is no kingdom with animals for princesses. And I will certainly not be the first to have one.”

“But I love her, Father,” Trustram argues.

“Love? You don’t know the first thing about love,” the king chuckles. “How will you produce an heir with this ... this creature?”

“Then she will be my pet,” the prince says quickly, his face lighting up. “She will be my plaything. I will marry whoever you want, Father. I will have heirs, but I will also keep a pet.”

The king puts his palm to his face and shakes his head. “Let her go, boy. Go back to your room before I cast you away as I did your brother.”

“But, Father, please...”

“I have spoken,” the king says, glaring at his son. “I have had enough of your eccentric behavior. You do what I tell you now or I will send you down into the dungeons to share a cell with your brother. I did not send you away to learn magic just to keep pets.”

Prince Trustram kicks at the carpet. “Fine...” Nimbly he undoes the collar, freeing the witch. “Are...”

“Go,” his father says, abruptly cutting him off.

Wow. Even his father thinks he’s a cuckoo.

As soon as the doors to the great hall are closed, the king speaks again. “Rise creature.”

Penelope had remained on the floor, not sure what to do next. Once she hears his command to stand, she quickly does and blurts out the first thing that comes into her head. “I didn’t come here for him, I came here for you.”

Oh, good going. Sound like a raving maniac like the prince.

“I am not at all like my son,” the king says.

Quick, tell him who we are.

“Right,” she mumbles. Then looking up at the king, she says, “And I am not a catgirl. I am a witch.”

“Strange, because witches are all human.”

“It’s a long story,” Penelope says.

“Then make it short.”

“Well...”

Come on, it ain’t hard. You cast a spell and turned yourself into this and you need to find the book.

The witch nods. “Well, I cast a spell that turned me like this and now I need the second half to my book to undo it.”

“And where are your clothes, this book?” the king demands.

“In your son’s room,” she explains.

“I shall have them gathered for you then,” he says. “What is it I can do for you?”

“I was told that you know your land well and that you could direct me to where the book might be.”

“Hmm, I do know my kingdom well, but I cannot tell you where to find such a book,” he says.

The girl drops her head. Well that was a bust.

“I do know of someone that may know,” the man suddenly blurts out, raising the witch’s spirits and head. “My son—my other son—may know of its location.”

“May I ask him?” she asks.

“Well, it all depends...”

Oh boy, here we go... again...

“What will it take?”

“A simple request,” the king says. “I wish to know what it is my son sees in one of you.”