"Especially when you have the skill to make them for yourself."
"True."
They were still laughing together when a ruckus erupted at the other end of the warehouse. Children cried out in alarm. Merrigan lost her breath at the jolt of fury that shot through her. There were plenty of older boys and foster fathers to defend them, and guardsmen nearby to come at the first call, and alarm horns to sound, thanks to Aubrey. Only a fool would break into an orphanage, and risk being buried under a wave of shrieking, kicking, punching little bodies.
Despite hearing the blat of a horn to summon the guardsmen, Merrigan headed for the front of the warehouse. Her travels had taught her that the most vicious brutes and bullies shared a weakness: terror of little old ladies who reminded them of their grandmothers.
"I know she's here," a nasally tenor voice shouted, as stomping, booted feet approached the dividing wall between the dining and study tables and the kitchen. "Just see all the magic swirling around that huge pot of pea soup. It's a sure sign."
"Sure sign of what?" Merrigan demanded, calling up the chill, sharp-edged mannerisms she had once used to get her way. She stopped on the far side of the kitchen and tipped her head back, straightened her shoulders and held her hands down straight at her side. These obnoxious third-class princes were about to learn what it meant to be in a battle royal.
She barely restrained herself from reacting. The prince in the lead of the hunting party had been all too right. Swirls of pea-green sparkles spun in the air over the cauldron of leftover pea soup, like a particularly thick cloud of insane horseflies.
"The enchantress said if there was interference, then she found a majjian to help her." Another prince pushed to the front of the group. He looked enough like the first prince to be a brother or cousin, with long ferret noses and stringy hair that had probably been fashionably curled before they went out into the damp and wind. They both wore shades of muddy crimson. "Does she look like a witch to you?"
"Has to be a witch," the first prince said. The others in the group muttered agreement. None of them moved any closer. "Where is the princess? Hand her over, and you won't get hurt."
"Hand her over?" Merrigan nearly laughed. Her voice flung icicles in the air. "Who are you to give orders to me? Do you fancy yourselves to be princes?"
A few of the idiots actually nodded, some with wobbly grins, like puppies praised for doing the right trick entirely by accident.
"Do you fancy yourselves worthy of a princess?"
Merrigan heard the stomping of feet and the familiar bass tones of the captain of the guardsmen on the day shift. She forced a scowl when she actually felt a little wobbly in the knees from relief. For this deception to succeed, they needed to get rid of the princes as soon as she had convinced them they were hugely mistaken. They had to leave before they had time to think, to try to look around the warehouse. Belinda's enchanted sleep helped enormously, but the guardsmen would clinch the deal. She hoped.
"But we've—we've been hunting a long time," the second prince said, his head turning back and forth between his leader and Merrigan. "We've earned her."
"All of you? Marry one princess? Is that what the enchanter who gave you that spell—" She flicked her fingers in disdain at the magic sparkles, spinning frantically over the cooling soup. "Is that what he told you?"
"She, actually," another prince said. The others glared at him and he retreated out of sight behind their slightly broader shoulders.
"Oh, I see now. An enchantress decided to help you bumblers find a princess?" Merrigan jammed her fists into her hips and stomped forward. She nearly lost her scowl in laughter when the knot of them backed up.
All hail the undeniable power of little old ladies, Bib said with a vicious chuckle that bounced around in her mind and nearly shattered her façade.
"I have some sad news for you, little boys." Merrigan glanced past them, to dozens of children with eyes wide and mouths falling open in astonishment. Five guardsmen stood among them, grinning with malicious delight. She knew then, these princes had made a nuisance of themselves while they hunted for "their princess."
She took one step forward. They took one step back, tripping over each other. Giggles arose from the children, seen and unseen.
"The enchantress was playing games with your teeny tiny minds. She wasn't helping you, if this princess was ever yours to begin with. Any enchantress worth her salt wouldn't help you buffoons trap a princess. She's helping the princess escape, by distracting you."
No, more likely the enchantress has a grudge against Belinda, Bib countered. That might be helpful in figuring out who was helping them.
"But—she promised—the spell was woven just for our princess," the first prince said, his voice as wobbly as his chin.
"She lied." Merrigan's icy chuckle echoed off the high ceiling. "How do I know she lied?" She reached up and lifted off her cap. A satisfactory cloud of sighs and a long ripple of ooohs and aahhs erupted from the children. Multi-colored shimmers reflected off the pots and pans and brass surfaces of the kitchen, coming from the crown. "Because I am a princess, you buffoons. The spell brought you to the nearest princess, and that is all it did."
"But—but—" The lead prince looked like he might burst into tears. His brother, or cousin or whoever he was, did burst into tears.
"Are these intruders bothering you, Highness?" the captain of the guardsmen said, shouldering his way through the knot of stunned, pouting princes.
"Yes, they are. Thank you, Captain Watkins. I know I have no authority, and no right to ask, but
