“Why?” Jack asked, drawing a glance from the King.

   “Now,” Fiona demanded, teeth clenched so hard she thought her jaw might fuse together.

   “It is my pleasure to announce the engagement--”

   The candle-lit view of the dining hall was replaced by a dark and hayfever-enducing stable loft.

Fiona released Jack's hand and swore in relief.

   “Ye gods, Fi,” Jack said. “Did you have to break my hand?”

   “We're getting betrothed,” Fiona screeched. “Do you really think I wanted to stick around for that? Demons and deities, Jack!”

   “We're betrothed?”

   “Did I stutter? My father was about to announce it before everybody. Do you know what that would have meant?”

   “When did we get betrothed?” Jack asked in a particularly stultifying fashion.

   “Does it matter? I have been on edge for weeks now, worrying about it. I can only imagine they left you out of the loop so that you'd have no choice but to do the noble thing and agree to marry me in front of everybody.” Fiona paced the loft in the dark, kicking at the hay.

   “Who says I wouldn't want to marry you anyway?”

   “What does that matter?” Fiona barked. “There will be no marriage. No way. Not happening.”

   “Why not?” Jack's expressions were invisible in the dark, but he sounded amused.

   “Because do I look like the wifey type? And furthermore, you're my best friend, Jack. And I just can't picture you like that. No way.” Fiona paused, thought some, and then asked, slightly timidly, “Are you the marrying type? The marrying-me type?”

    “I wasn't even thinking about it until you brought the subject up,” Jack vowed.

    Fiona blew out a long breath. “Good. That's a relief. We need to tell them that.”

   “From the sound of it, they're a little past listening,” Jack said. “If their plan was to trick me into marrying you, then I don't think they'll change their minds easily.”

   “We could just say no in the ceremony.”

   “They might find a way around that.”

   Fiona cussed and punched the side of the loft. “Ow. Stupid splinter.”

   “Would you feel better if you beat me in a duel?” Jack asked.

   “No,” Fiona said sourly. “It's dark in here. You'd just use the shadows to jump all over and win.”

   “I might let you beat me.”

   “I hate when you do that. Would a dragon do that? Would a giant do that? No. I don't know why more princesses don't study swordplay. It would save a lot of kidnappings. I really don't see any benefits to being locked in a tower waiting for prince charming to come along. What a waste of time.” Fiona kicked at the straw.

   Then she froze, eyes alight. “I've got it!”

   “Oh, no,” Jack said.

   “No, really, this is brilliant.”

   “I've heard that before.”

   “Hear me out, Jack.” Fiona turned to face him, even though she could barely see him. “We're in an arranged marriage. How do we get out? We rescue you a princess, that's how! I mean, you're practically expected to marry the princess you rescue, so we'll just go find one you like, wave our swords around, and come home triumphant and no longer engaged to each other.”

   “I'm not sure I want to get married at all,” Jack said.

   “You can put it off,” Fiona argued. “I'm sure our parents won't be too happy at first. They'll probably dig their heels in for a while. You're a prince. You're expected to continue the family line.”

   “You're expected to continue the family line too,” Jack pointed out crossly.

   “I'm also expected to fall under an evil witch's spell, and that sure isn't going to happen,” Fiona said. “Tell me this isn't a great idea. The longer we stay on the quest, the more they'll have to search for us, and even if we don't find someone else for you to marry, maybe by the time we get home our families will be so fed up they'll call the wedding off. Haven't you ever wanted to travel outside our borders? Test your skills alone and unencumbered by servants and bodyguards and stuffy people?”

   Jack chuckled. “I think that's more your dream.”

   Fiona rolled her eyes. “Fine. Then haven't you always wanted to see lots of taverns and play lots of cards where your parents can't send someone to drag you home right before you're about to win big?”

   “You got me there.”

   “Then let's do that. Let's get out of here while we still have a chance. What do you think ruling a kingdom's going to be like, Jack? Dead boring. I want to kill a few dragons before I'm too old to swing a sword. I want to be the kind of hero people sing about.”

   “Your goals are a lot bigger than mine,” Jack said.

   “If we can find you a better bride-to-be than me, that's a pretty big goal,” Fiona said.

   Below them, someone shoved the stable door open and said, “Search everywhere.”

   “Also,” Fiona said, “if we're leaving, we need to go now.”

    She regretted her choice almost as soon as she entered the dining hall, when she remembered with a flush of embarrassment that flattered her hair color that Jack, being a man, made a habit of staring at women's chests, and he made a particular habit of staring at hers whenever she wore a low neckline, purely to annoy her. In the past, Fiona had always brushed it off as teasing, but now with a marriage looming in deadly Damocles fashion above her head, she couldn't help gnawing on her lip as she wondered what such behavior would look like to the rest of the court, who'd surely notice.

    “Fiona,” Jack said suddenly from her side, and Fiona jumped a mile. He laughed. He took even more pleasure from appearing at her side from the shadows and scaring the wits out of her. Normally, Fiona only pretended to be frightened (most of the time), but tonight, well.

    She needed something to cover her cleavage with. Blue velvet curtains hung from the windows that flanked the royal table. Fiona lunged, tore one down, and threw it over her shoulders before Jack could give more than a passing glance to her chest.

    “Brr, isn't it cold in here?” she said, rubbing her arms.

    “It's summer,” Jack said, nonplussed.

    “It's also evening,” Fiona said, and hurried to sit in her seat before Jack could say anything more or, even worse, act gallant and pull out her chair for her. She tucked the velvet drape in as best as she could, ignoring the stares from the court and from her bewildered parents on her left. It was a little too warm in the curtain, but all the above was easier to deal with than juicy rumors that only fed the gossipy fire of a kingdom-uniting wedding.

    “Are you getting sick?” Jack asked as he took his seat on her right. “You're kind of acting weird, Fi.”

    “I'm fine,” Fiona said, a little too breezily. Hastily, she amended, “Well, I don't know, maybe I am getting sick? Or maybe it's the fumes from the hair dye?”

    “They are a little stronger than usual,” Jack said. “I wasn't going to mention it, but...”

    “Oh, quit complaining,” Fiona said. “It smells better than your alcohol breath after a night of cards.”

    “Which is better than your morning breath any day,” Jack retorted.

    Fiona stiffened as she realized her mother was staring at them and smiling fondly. “Which you only smelled once,” she added desperately, “when you caught me--”

    She clammed up. She couldn't finish that sentence, not in front of her mother, and especially not when it involved the baron's gorgeous son, a garden gnome, and some precarious balancing high in the tallest tree in the ornamental gardens. When Jack had heard the full story, he hadn't been able to stop laughing, but he had helped Fiona sneak back into her room as the sun was rising. The corners of Fiona's mouth twitched. There was the mark of a true friend.

    How could her parents expect her to marry him?

    “All right,” Jack said. “I'm dying here. Why were you avoiding me earlier?”

    “I had to dye my hair,” Fiona said automatically.

    “Your hair was already dyed when I arrived,” Jack said, amused.

    “I mean I had to finish,” Fiona said. “You know, wash out the excess dye so it doesn't stain my pillowcases at night, and it's not very proper for a man to see a lady in such a state.”

    “Like I haven't,” Jack said, “you contortionist fool. Don't you remember that first time when you couldn't figure out--”

    “I was just fourteen,” Fiona interrupted when she noticed her mother beaming. “That awkward girl stage, you know. Now I'm a lady, and I have certain, um...” She paused. She couldn't remember what it was a proper lady was supposed to have. Standards? Images? Too much makeup? Normal hair? Correct posture? Her mother had lectured her on all of them at one time or another, to Fiona's eternal dismay.

    “In any case,” Jack said, “we need to have our inaugural sword fight. The summer hasn't properly started until you've beaten me and are looking smug again. Although this time I swear--”

    King Frederick Montbriand stood, lifting his hands for silence from the court. “My friends, tonight is a special night. For years now, our kingdoms have been uniting in harmony every summer. Well, from this night hence, our kingdoms will be joined for more than one season out of the year.”

    Fiona seized Jack's hand. “Jack, get us out of here,” she hissed.

Chapter 2: Once Upon a Bad Dinner Party

    Once upon a time, there were two neighboring kingdoms who couldn't agree on the division of a beautiful lake that sat on the exact border between them. Luckily, they were both peaceful, and rather than waste time and resources fighting a puerile war, they built a cozy summer palace on the edge of the lake, and it was there that their courts adjourned each summer, to bask in the sunshine and the clear water. It was there that Queen Annelise of Highmere arrived one summer with a bulging belly, and the next year, Queen Marion followed suit. Jack and Fiona met for the first time when they were too young to remember each other. In fact, the first summer either of them recollected spending together was the summer Fiona spent beating Jack over the head with a sword, even though Jack did have a concussion by the end of it and shouldn't have remembered a thing. But he insisted he did and Fiona had long since given up arguing with him.

    Once upon a time, there was a girl and a boy. And the girl was not a proper princess, and the boy was the only living Shadowcatcher, after the death of his grandfather. And the girl played with swords, and the boy played at cards, and they each managed to make each other miserable in the endearing way that all best friends do.

    Once upon a time, there was a prince and a princess.

    Once upon a time, there was a girl and a prince.

    Once upon a time, there was a tower, or a pumpkin, or a nest of giants in the nearest mountain range.

    Once upon a time, there was a glove that didn't fit. Or a shoe. Or a bed.

    Once upon a time, there was an evil stepmother.

    Once upon a time, once upon a time, once upon a time.

    They were married, and they all lived happily ever after.

    “Dammit,” Fiona cried and flung another book at the wall.

    The maid tiptoeing timidly into the room shrieked and cowered with her arms over her head.

    “I was throwing it the opposite direction,” Fiona complained. “Grow a spine.”

    The maid squeaked, but lowered her arms. “It's time to dress for dinner,” she whispered.

    “I am perfectly capable of dressing myself,” Fiona said. Then she bellowed and leapt across the room, hands outstretched for the maid. “Don't blow out that candle!”

    The maid screamed and dropped to the parquet floor.

    Fiona rocked to a halt against an overstuffed armchair. “Why were you blowing out that candle?” she cried.

    “Because the sun hasn't even set yet,” the maid wailed, her voice muffled by the arms that were once more over her head. “It's a waste of candle wax. Your mother--”

    “My mother,” Fiona said darkly, “would probably prefer to discover Jack in my private chambers with me.”

    “Your mother, milady? Jack, milady?”

    “Please, stand up,” Fiona said, exasperated. “I'm not going to hurt you. I just didn't want you to blow that out. It's keeping the shadows back. All of them are.”

    The maid cringed to her feet, eyes darting at the candles that covered every surface in the room, above and below, in every nook and cranny. The room glowed like the interior of a storm lantern. There was barely a shadow to be found.

    “Is this because of the Shadowcatcher?” she asked Fiona.

    “I'm kind of avoiding him, yeah,” Fiona said. “And he's never going to let me hear the end of it at dinner. But the last thing I want right now is for Jack to walk out of a shadow, because gods only know what he might have to say to me, and minimum contact with the enemy has always been my favorite strategy.”

    “I thought you and Prince Jack were friends, milady.”

    “You are slow,” Fiona said. “Look, it's none of your gossipy business, anyway. I want to wear my green dress tonight.”

    “It won't match your hair,” the maid said.

    “Did it sound like that was a suggestion? Fine, I'll wear the yellow.”

    “The yellow has such a low neckline,” the maid whispered, properly scandalized like any good woman in the kingdom ought to be.

    “All the better to be seen in,” Fiona said smugly. “Yellow it is.”