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“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that man interested in more than his asshole,” Perry says as I strap on the backpack Mr. Knightly gave me for today’s plan. I just smile at her because I believe that. I wouldn’t have worded it that way, but it makes sense to me.
Mr. Knightly said it would be less suspicious if I wore the backpack since I have the twins with me. However, they would immediately confiscate it if he had it, and I don’t want that. I asked him if he was using me to smuggle something in, and he said yes. He gave me a little speech about taking advantage of the situation, and quite frankly, I didn’t find any flaws in his logic. I gave myself a very similar pep talk before leaving the house.
-Between you and me, Midnight. I want whatever it is he’s plotting to happen for him, even if it kinda pisses Knight off. Unless it hurts him somehow. Then may this shenanigan not come to pass.-
-I agree. I haven’t sensed any malice from him. It seems to be genuine, or perhaps he is the expert manipulator, and we are very naive.- She answers me immediately. So, Perry was right. She can hear everything, I think. That’s unfortunate for her.
-One hundred percent naive.- I agree.
This entire mission is seriously going to stress me the hell out with both guilt and my insane need to have some stable footing for the twins to be as normal as they can be with what we are.
“If you’re going anywhere now would be the time to sneak away,” Jonas says. He’s standing in front of me. I barely heard him, but he was obviously talking to Arnold.
Before I can thank him, Mr. Knightly grabs me by my elbow and leads me away from the crowd. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose to secure them a little better as I stumble alongside him.
“There is a balcony coming up. I am going to toss you up, and in that room, you will
find what you are looking for. You can’t burn the palace down, but you can cause some damage,” he stops me and expertly unclips my backpack. He opens the big pouch to retrieve a welding torch. “Are you familiar with this?”
“I am,” I take it from him. “You’re going to toss me?”
“Use those new alpha instincts, Dear,” is all he says, and he grabs my elbow again. “You got lost trying to find the restroom. Remember that,”
We round a corner, and the balcony comes into view. I choke my scream back as he turns me around and lifts me up as if I weigh nothing. Just as advertised, he tosses me up, and on pure instinct, I reach out, grabbing onto the concrete veranda. I quickly wiggle over and drop to the ground with the torch flat to my chest. I look over to see that Mr. Knightly is gone. Nowhere in sight.
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Okay, I am on my own. I am weirdly grateful he helped me get this far. I inspect the torch and realize I am about to commit arson, and I have to commit to it now because of whatever the fuck Arnold Knightly is doing. I sit up in a crouch and move toward the double glass door that leads inside. I test the knob and very slowly turn it until the latch clicks and the door springs free.
The door pops open, and a mix of different scents flood out. I shrink away from it because it’s a lot mixed in with several fragrances. Midnight floods my ears with sounds and then shuts it out.
-Go in.- she instructs, and I wobble in in a crouch.
On the one hand, is the devious little ass I’ve had to be growing up one hundred percent committed to this dumb ass plan. Then there’s new and improved Phoebe, who’s a mom and would never do anything to compromise me and the twins or myself because in compromising myself, I compromise them.
As I scan the room looking for the gowns, second–guessing my stupidity, I find them on a pair of luxury display mannequins. I pause for a moment. They’re gorgeous. They‘ re not made of the material I chose and were slightly altered, but they’re still very pretty. The queen and her sister would have looked amazing in these.
A queen and a princess want to wear my designs to a fúcking royal ball, and I am about to destroy that from ever happening? Is that really what I want? That’s like my dream. That’s next–level success for someone like me.
I squeeze the torch, thinking of what to say to Mr. Knightly about chickening out, when I spot the green bolt I stitch into my clothing as a signature on the seam. I reach for it as rage comes over me. This bitch forged my stamp on my design. I take out my phone and snap a couple of live pictures. I then snap a picture of the torch.
It’s an easy one. I turn the valve until the end starts to hiss and press down on the trigger to start the flame. I must have turned the valve too much because a huge flame bursts out, and the fabric on the dress immediately catches on fire.
“Okay,” I squeak. “No going back now,”
I help the flame along, turn to the second one, and fumble with my phone to take a picture. Glitter and plastic flare out with the smoke as the material burns away. I turn the torch off and run out to the balcony to throw it as hard as I can. Just as I toss my leg over the banister to jump, I scream when a hand lands on my shoulder.
“We have an intruder. She started a fire in the display room,” the big, burly man shouts while pulling me away from the banister.
“Wrong, I didn’t start a fire,” I shout as he pulls me away from my only escape route.
My heart is beating a million miles a second, and then I remember what Mr. Knightly said–all of it, from sneaking in the backpack to remembering you got lost trying to find a rest room. I’m the distraction. I am hauled out of the smokey room and instantly surrounded by guards with tasers.
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“I surrender. Please, don’t taze me. I didn’t find the bathroom, and I will pee,” I cross my
legs, trying to do Ayrie’s pee–pee dance. “I’m barely hanging on here, guys. Please,”
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