“Of course he was getting jealous. You weren’t responding to his feeble attempts at flirtation, and Cress’s appetite for women is legendary. Not only that, but technically, it could be her that you bond with, so Donovan has been doubting everything he knows. He was starting to think that maybe the prophecy meant that you would bond with Cress, and both of you would defeat Connor and rule all the Worlds. She’s a twin star of the Crystal Castle, you see, just like Donovan and Connor. Her twin died in the womb, though. Cress probably killed her,” he added unnecessarily. “And, because she’s third in line to the throne, she could be the heir. She keeps rubbing it in his face because that’s what little sisters do.”
It was all too much. Allll too much. I groaned. “I thought she was trying to make Donovan jealous.”
“She was!”
“To make him pay attention to her,” I clarified.
“Oh. Nope.” He grinned. “She was demonstrating that if he misses his chance with you, she is happy to take it from him.”
“So, uh, she was really hitting on me?”
He threw his head back and howled with laughter. “Oh my stars, you’re a blithering idiot. Yes, of course.”
“I thought she was just trying to annoy Donovan.”
“She was. She was worried that if she doesn’t provoke him into making a move, then Connor will step in and seduce you, and all the realms will burn.” He shrugged. “But she was also trying to cop a feel. Cress is, as they say in this realm, a gold-standard rug muncher.”
“Cecil.” Three suspected centaurs were right behind us, a couple with a long-faced little girl with her straw-colored hair in a bow in between them.
“Well, she is. She’s a vag-itarian. Her favorite game is rock paper scissors. If she were a dinosaur, she'd be a lickalotapus.”
“Please stop.” Behind the centaurs, who strolled with their noses in the air, ignoring us completely, I spotted Donovan shoving Cress through the door roughly. He had a cut on his lip. Her hair was messed up and her shirt torn.
It was obvious. Cress, the bratty little sister. Donovan, the stoic, world-weary older brother. Good gravy, I really had been wrong about everything.
Cecil trotted happily down the hallway beside me. A shower of golden sparks rained down, and he returned to his duocorn mode. Shifting onto his back two feet, he smoothed back his pure-white mane, and lit a cigarette, shimmying along beside me on two hooves. “That’s better. Now, where was I? Oh, right. And now that the Prince has fallen for you, he’s worried that the prophecy really does refer to her as the heir and the giver. The giver of good head,” he clarified. “He’s very upset. At the prophecy and at himself.”
I barely heard the last thing he said. “He’s… he’s fallen for me?” No. That couldn’t be right.
“Of course. He swore he would never love again, and he had zero interest in a silly prophecy which said that he might be forced to bond. And when we came here, and you started being all amazing, fighting the sea witch and wrangling the Elonn stone and resisting Connor’s charms and beating the berserkers without him having to lift a finger…” Cecil paused and shrugged. “Well, he fell hard, and it messed him up a little. If Cress is the one you’re supposed to bond with, Donovan, who prides duty and honor above everything, is seriously considering stealing you away and running for the hills.”
No, my brain whispered. Of course not. He hadn’t fallen for me; this was just Donovan, doing his duty, again. The prophecy said that I would bond with one of them, and he’d decided that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be stuck with me after all.
Come on, Susan, another part of my brain hissed back. Is it that hard to believe?
Yes. Yes, it is.
Vincent chose you. He was the most eligible bachelor in the whole of San Francisco, and he married you.
A wave of pure frustration boiled in my gut, threatening to overwhelm me. My hands shook, and I clenched them into fists. Vincent fucked his intern and lied about it, and I ended up in prison. You were wrong about him, you were wrong about Seraphina, you were wrong about Cress. You’ve been wrong about everything. You’re a confused, dried-up old bag.
“No!”
A loud ripping sound echoed through the hallway. An older man up ahead turned around and frowned at me.
“Whoa.” Cecil peered up at me. “Are you quite alright, Chosen?”
I inhaled through my nose, breathing deeply and trying to relax my face. Everything felt tense, tight, coiled, and ready to explode. Punch something, my brain whispered.
What the hell was happening to me?
Throw a log through a window. Climb a building.
“No!”
“Obviously. You’ve torn your dress,” Cecil howled mournfully. “It’s not supposed to have a slit, Chosen! Good grief, woman, when did you get such enormous quads? Now is not the time to grow an ass like a dump truck.” He bounced around me, waving his hooves to repair the damage. “I guess this is the berserker magic finally rearing its ugly head. Let me fix it. Now, pull yourself together,” he hissed. “We’ve got work to do.”
Yeah. Not everything is about you, Susan. Audrina is probably being horribly tortured—
“Okay, that’s enough,” I spoke to myself firmly.
“I’m not done! Let me switch the silk for something with some give, so your ass doesn’t hang out again.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.” At the thought of Audrina, the mean voice in my head retreated completely. It was right. About everything. I’d been a fool, a complete idiot.
But that was no reason to go to pieces. It was okay to be wrong, but it was no excuse to lose your shit and get everyone horribly killed.
That’s right, I told myself firmly. No matter what happened, I was Susan fucking Moore. I didn’t have to be right about everything. I spent so much time trying to manage everyone so carefully, to cater to their needs, to reassure them when they did something wrong… I forgot to be kind to myself.
I exhaled shakily; some of the unbearable tension eased out of my body.
“Oh, shit. Now the dress is hanging all baggy around your butt. Chosen, hang on, I need to bring it in a little.”
“It’s okay, Cecil. Leave it, I might need it later.” I glanced down. “I’m sorry for ruining the dress. And you’re right; I need to pull myself together. I was having a little internal tantrum, but I’m okay now.”
“Wow.” Cecil’s eyes bulged. “Maybe it wasn’t berserker magic after all. I’ve never heard of a berserker being able to calm themselves down when they get all worked up. You have exceptional control, Chosen.”
“Thank you.” I took his unexpected compliment and held onto it with both hands. See? You’re a strong, capable, woman. You’re in control. “If it’s okay with you Cecil, let’s table this subject for a later date. I might have more questions.” There was nothing wrong with being wrong, as long as you worked to fix it. I’d made some stupid assumptions because I hadn’t asked enough questions. It was never too late to fix it, though. “I’m guessing that since you’re back in duocorn mode, that all these people are centaurs?” Some of them didn’t look particularly horsey, just a little odd.
