0.5 One Wilde Night

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Authors: Jenn Stark
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helpfully shoved me to my knees, putting me eye level with my frog prince.
    As the amulet and I exchanged a meaningful glance, a shuffling to my right betrayed the arrival of another set of feet. A moment later, Nigel crashed to his knees beside me.
    “Oh good,” I muttered. “I was getting lonely.”
    He snorted. “That’s not going to be a problem from here on out, love. There are about a dozen blokes ready for action in the next room. More on the way.”
    Nailed that one, so to speak. “When’d you lose the amulet?”
    “About thirty seconds after you did. The Princesa is nothing if not resourceful. They figured you’d be back, though, which is why they kept me around.”
    Before I could puzzle through that one, Fernanda stalked toward me. With one sharp command, she directed Chief Thug to take off my jacket. I wanted to put up a fight, I really did, but the closer the woman got to me, the worse I felt. She was like Princesa Kryptonite.
    Taking advantage of my passivity, the guard pulled my jacket off me, shoving me hard enough to make me sway as he balled up it and all my supplies, then unceremoniously dumped the whole mess into the fire. I sagged, watching numbly as the pleather curled up and blackened in the flames. The move gave a whole new meaning to the term “burner phone.”
    Then I remembered the card reading from my hotel room. The Tower… meant boom.
    Uh-oh.
    Distracting me from my sudden realization, Fernanda positioned herself in front of me and took my right hand, speaking with urgency.
    “Um, she does know I have no idea what she’s saying, right?”
    Nigel cleared his throat. “That’s why I’m still here—I’m supposed to translate for you. And by the way, she’s preparing you for sacrifice.”
    “I’m not scheduled for sacrifice today.”
    “You’ll have to take that up with the headmistress.”
    Continuing to mutter in Portuguese, Fernanda placed one of her jeweled cuffs on my right wrist, then one on the left. I wasn’t completely unhappy about my new accessories. Those hunks of metal would go for quite a lot on the open market. Assuming I made it out of here with both my wrists intact.
    Fernanda’s sudden, sharp words brought my gaze back to her. Her eyes blazed with intensity, and she barked another command that ended with “Princesa.”
    “She needs to quit doing that.”
    Nigel’s snort was cut off as Fernanda finished her rant with something firm and absolute-sounding. Thug One hauled me up off my toes, and I hung like a ragdoll in his arms. The odd pose let my feet dangle against Nigel’s ass. I twitched my foot twice, and the Brit’s breath hitched. His fingers brushed my ankle and the weight of the knife I’d holstered there vanished. Then the second guard lumbered over and yanked Nigel to his feet. Both of us waited unmoving, locked into cave-troll-fisted grips.
    I eyed the fire nervously as Fernanda began some weird and creepy chant. We didn’t have much time now.
    “How’d you get down here, anyway?” I murmured to Nigel beneath her wails. “Because I have to tell you, the route I used wasn’t exactly handicap accessible.”
    “Door directly behind us, to the left of where you came in.” He tipped his head toward it. “Narrow passageway, but easy to navigate.”
    “Guards?”
    “Every twenty feet or so.”
    “Crap.”
    “I thought you’d like that.”
    “Despeer-se,” Fernanda demanded, waving at my shirt. Obligingly, Thug One let me go.
    My shoulders slumped. “Do not tell me she just ordered me to strip.”
    “You are getting the hang of this, aren’t you.”
    “No,” I said, turning to him. I needed to hurry this along. “Tell them I will not begin the ritual or whatever the hell they’re talking about until I have the amulet around my neck. Tell them it calls to me.”
    “But—”
    “Make something up, Nigel. And make it good. I’m not the only liability here, and that loincloth of yours isn’t going to help you save your

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