Page 27 of Every Eligible Man

"Too far!"

DONG.

Murder and Violence are now the size of cats, still somehow galloping, their tiny legs a blur of increasingly rodent-like determination.

I respect their commitment. I respect it so much.

The velvet interior has reverted to rotting wood and hay. We’re sitting on manure-hauling equipment, half-naked, covered in scratches and hickeys and evidence of the night's activities.

"Best night ever," Slade says.

"We lost Gerald," Ash points out.

"Second best night ever." I clutch Susan to my chest. She's trembling. I'm trembling. We're both thinking about Gerald.

“Gerald would want us to enjoy this,” Slade says.

"Gerald would want us to go back for him," I say.

"Gerald would want us to not be arrested for defiling the lady!” Ash says.

DONG.

The seventh chime, and the carriage gives up entirely.

It collapses mid-roll, dumping all three of us into a ditch on the side of the road. Murder and Violence, now fully mice again, squeak indignantly and scurry off into the underbrush.

I land hard. Susan somehow ends up on my head. I don't move for a second, staring up at the stars, thinking about my ferret.

My sweet, violent, klepto ferret. Alone in a castle full of strangers. Surrounded by shiny things he's not allowed to steal.

Actually, knowing Gerald, he's probably already stolen half the crown jewels and is building a nest somewhere. He'll be fine. He's resourceful.

But Susan won't stop making sad noises, and I can't stop thinking about his stupid face and his stupid war dances and the way he always tried to steal my breakfast.

One-Eye lands on a fencepost, surveying the wreckage with grim satisfaction.

"Well. You're alive. Mostly clothed. And only one of you lost a pet." His good eye fixes on me. "I'm calling this a qualified success."

"We lost Gerald," I say, and my voice cracks a little.

"Gerald is a menace to society. The lady will probably be grateful."

"Gerald is a treasure."

Ash hauls himself upright. He's wearing one mud-caked boot, torn peasant breeches, and nothing else. His chest is covered in scratches that definitely look like fingernail trails. "We need to get back to the farm before Grimwald realizes we were gone."

Slade stands, somehow still elegant despite being shirtless, one-gloved, and covered in hay. "If we cut through the north field, we can make it in twenty minutes."

I remain lying in the ditch, staring at the stars.

"Gerald is in that castle. Alone. Afraid. Probably stealing jewelry from the lady right now, but emotionally alone."

"Gerald is a menace who will be fine," Ash says firmly. "And when she comes looking for us…"

"If she comes looking for us."

"When." Ash's voice carries absolute certainty. "Did you see her face? She'll tear the kingdom apart."