“Ha!” He squawks, pointing a finger. “That’s a brilliant jest!” “I tell you the truth! I am who I say I am, and I must be taken to King Lachlan at once!”

“Oh, yes! Of course, Your highness!” The male only laughs harder. “I’ll get you to the new King in no time, but first, allow me to introduce myself.” He bows stiffly. “It is I, the ghost of King Lester! What a wonderful reunion this is! I say, just look at these fine clothes you donned this morning! You swapped lace for dirt! Only the best wool for Princess Idalia of Verdana.” He slaps his leg and snorts. “And that must make you?”

He points at me, and I shrug.

“Prince Braizen of Baelliles.”

“Brilliant, brilliant!” He howls. “The whole court is here then! Now, what will you be needing from me, Princess?”

Idalia huffs. “I need a horse I can ride to the castle. If you provide one of yours, I will gladly pay you more than what’s fair.”

“Two horses,” I cut in, glaring at her. “We can’t touch each other.”

The man whistles. “That’s right! The Lady’s curse! Spooky stuff, eh? Well, let's see… I have two horses to spare, so if you hand over the silver, I’ll gladly let you be on your way.”

Idalia lifts her arms and then slaps them against her sides in frustration.

“I don’t have any coin on me. But once we get to the castle, once Lachlan sees me—”

A click of his tongue interrupts her. “A Princess with no coin to spare? How very unlike royalty to withhold your treasure trove from the poor! Well, that’s a shame because as much as I want to serve Your Highness, I’m afraid I can’t be doin’ no favors for free.” He scopes her lush body and shrugs. “There are other methods of payment I’m willing to accept, of course.”

“How about, if you grant us the horses, I won’t kill you for saying that,” I say softly.

Idalia’s eyes flick to mine, and a hesitant smile crosses her porcelain face.

I step closer and fold my arms across my chest, the incredibly irritating fabric scratching against my skin.

The male squints, sizes me up, and then spits.

“Is that supposed to scare me, Prince Man?” He steps closer, puffing out his chest. “Because, as I said before, I’m a musician.” His lips twist as we close the distance between us. “You don’t want to know the horrors I’ve faced.”

I give him an easy smile and shake my head. “What’s your plan, then? Are you going to sing me to death?”

The male scoffs, then strokes his chin. “Perhaps not, but my songs can make you feel so much pain, you’ll be wishing you were dead.”

“Is that so?”