“We don’t want any trouble, we just need to get going. Thank you for your kind offer. Goodbye.”

  Ambrose started to walk away, but Imelda held her ground.

  “Excuse me. Would you give us a moment?”

  The badger rolled its eyes. “Sure, why not. Is this what passes for common decency around humans these days? I might as well just forgeddaboutit.”

  Imelda tugged on Ambrose’s sleeve, drawing him into the shadow of a nearby elm.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, scowling. “He could help us!”

  “He’s a badger.”

  A honey badger, the horse cloak corrected him.

  Ambrose shrugged off his cloak and bundled it under his arm, despite its loud protestations.

  “So why does that mean he can’t help us?” Imelda asked.

  “It doesn’t. But I know how these talking-­animal types get. They say they’ll help you, but they always want something in return—­”

  “I don’t think reciprocity is that damning.”

  “Sure, but what they want can be ridiculous. Like, go get them a castle. Or find a dragon egg or something like that.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. What if he wants some food? Or he’s just being nice?”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous. Everything has a cost, Imelda. Everything. Just do as I say and we’ll get out of this.”

  Well, that does it, thought Imelda.

  “Honey badger!” she called loudly. “What do you want in return for showing us the way to the road?”

  Charming scuttled a little closer, tenting his paws.

  “Well, I wasn’t about to ask for anything, you see. But now that you, uh, mention it…”

  Imelda’s stomach sank a bit. In the same second, Ambrose shot her a look that defiantly stated I told you so.

  “I’m really hungry,” Charming said pathetically. “It’s hard to get food around here… I was hoping you could just get an apple for me? I know a tree not too far off. If it’s not too much trouble, you see.”

  Now Imelda turned triumphantly to Ambrose.

  “It’s no trouble at all.”

  ***

  The badger led them to a courtyard hidden deep in a thicket of trees. A circle of stones veined all over with moss stood in the ruins of an ancient palace. Just beyond the courtyard stood a copse of autumn-­gold trees. Perhaps once it had been a royal orchard, but now it grew utterly wild in the absence of humans.

  Imelda spread her arms wide and inhaled deeply.

  There was the scent of fallen pears in the air—­round and sweet. Dusky plums the color of nighttime peered at them through the branches. The apple tree was far off and framed by a high, unbroken wall of stones. Even from here, Imelda could see that the branches were thick with golden fruit. Their peel was pockmarked from birds, and yet when the wind brushed past them, Imelda imagined that she could hear them softly chime.

  Charming rose up on his hind legs, rubbing his paws mournfully. “One, uh, them, please.”

  Seemed easy enough.

  But Ambrose frowned. “Why that tree?”

  Imelda elbowed him in the ribs.

  Charming looked abashed. “It’s not for me. It’s for my wife, you see. She’s been having some serious cravings for that golden apple. I gotta bring it back to her. Will you help me or not?”

  Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. “What about the road?”

  “It’s just past the orchard, down the hill. I promise! Would I lie to you?”

  He smiled, revealing his needle teeth.

  I don’t like him, whispered the horse cloak.

  Imelda rolled her eyes.

  “For goodness’ sake, I’ll go and get it.”

  Charming darted in front of her.

  “My lady! I couldn’t possibly ask you to do such a thing. What with your fair princess complexion and all that. Besides, you vouched for me! I would’ve taken you to the road no matter what. But I gotta sense of honor, ya know? I can’t take that clown to the same road unless he does something for me. It’s just simply reciprocity. Quid pro quo, you know how it is.”

  Imelda turned back to Ambrose, and he met her gaze stonily.

  “Fine. Come with me, beast.”

  Imelda looked around the beautiful ruins of the palace, wanting to make her way slowly, but there was no time. Biting back a sigh, she made as if to go with them, when Charming shook his head.

  “There’s no need for that, fair princess.”

  Imelda opened her mouth to correct him that she wasn’t actually a princess, but she didn’t feel like explaining the whole thing right now. The moment they left, she took to climbing over the ruins, plucking plums, and tracing the letters etched into stone. Alone, she perched atop a boulder and touched her ankle… It was bare. Free of any silver chain.

  She could run if she wanted…

  So she did.

  And it was only when she returned, breathless and grinning, that she saw Ambrose making his way back to her from the orchard. Imelda paused, waiting for her breath to slow down in her lungs.

  Ambrose walked toward her with that same regal purpose that made him look like a king no matter what he wore. The sunlight caught on his dark hair, and his gray eyes snapped to hers. Imelda felt something leap deep inside her chest.

  Ambrose moved closer. Now he was less than five feet away, and yet he still hadn’t said anything to her. When she looked at him, a sly grin curved his mouth. It made him look handsome, but somewhat cruel. It didn’t suit him.

  “What happened to Charming?”

  “Forgettaboutit.”

  Only then did she notice that his horse cloak was gone too.

  “You left your cloak behind! You know how sensitive it gets—­”

  Ambrose moved closer. Something around his neck caught the light. A strange amulet that she could’ve sworn he hadn’t been wearing earlier. His voice, thought Imelda. It sounded different.

  “Are you well?” she asked.

  He smiled with all his teeth. He was standing close. Close enough that she could count his eyelashes. Her pulse stammered a bit when his eyes lowered to her lips.

  “I will be.”

  His hand slipped quickly behind her neck, dragging her to him as he kissed her hard on the mouth.

  Chapter 9

  AMBROSE

  Ambrose had never been brought so low in his life.

  Literally.

  The thought kept occurring to him as he scampered across the forest floor, his new black-­furred belly beneath him.

  One moment, he had been standing in the orchard, plucking an apple for that sharp-­toothed Charming, who kept rubbing his paws together. The next moment, he had found himself bowled over, a piece of golden fruit shoved behind his teeth while Charming clamped his jaws together and forced him to swallow. Charming had stamped his clawed foot on a vaguely depressed piece of dirt, and traps had sprung up around Ambrose’s arms and legs, clamping him into place.

  Charming shouted triumphantly, “That’s it! There’s the ticket! Just one little bite, and I’ll be you and you’ll be me and everything will be such glee!”

  Ambrose struggled against him, but Charming was almost preternaturally strong. Flung off from his arm, his horse cloak struggled to move closer, declaring:

  Have a care for my master!

  “Oh, no.” Charming laughed. “Honey Badger don’t care at all! I’ve been stuck in this miserable form for too long!”

  I’ll—­I’ll fight you! the horse cloak declared.

  Ambrose’s lungs strained. He had no choice. He swallowed the fruit whole.

  Heat wound down from his throat and spread through his ribs. His hands seized up, fingers curling tightly toward his palm. Ambrose started to thrash wildly. In front of him, Charming started to grow and transform. His narrow snout pulled downward, his black eyes took on a gray hue, and thick spurts of dark hair tufted out from his ears.

  “Yes!” Charming yelled. “YES! Finally!”

  Light burst around him. Ambrose was free. Free in the sense that he was no longer restricted by the traps.

  “Sorry about all that, pal.” Charming-­Turned-­Ambrose straightened his sleeves. “You know how it is. And I’m sorry about this next part, too, but I really can’t have you trying to reverse the spell on me. It’s gotta hold until I kiss my fair bride.”

  Charming winked at him with Ambrose’s eye. Gold glinted about his neck, and Ambrose realized he was wearing a necklace with a heavy pendant shaped like an apple.

  Charming snapped his now-­human fingers, and a trail of flame burst up around the apple tree.

  “See ya!” Charming strolled forward without a backward glance.

  The flames gathered, swirling around Ambrose and trapping him on all sides. As a badger, his pulse felt erratically quick, as if he were being hunted. He scuttled backward, paws skidding on the slick leaves beneath him. And then—­

  There was a swooshing sound as the horse cloak came to the rescue.

  I’ve got you, master!

  The horse cloak squirmed and writhed on top of him, and smoke filled Ambrose’s lungs as the cloak’s sudden embrace snuffed out the fire. Ambrose rolled away, now neatly sidestepping the traps that Charming had set. He coughed, gasping for air.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  But it came out as a high-­pitched squeak.

  It didn’t seem to make a difference to the horse cloak, though, for its hem gathered like a loop and then folded down, like a head bent in acknowledgment.

  As a trusty steed, I am always by your side.

  “We have to get back to Imelda!”

  Most assuredly! Hop up on my back!

  “Um—­”

  The horse cloak dove beneath him, and Ambrose-­the-­Badger fell onto his back as they careened through the woods.

  On the one hand, being turned into a creature was a bit of a revelation. He had no idea how many smells actually existed in the world, but his finely honed badger senses meant that he could parse out everything. He could taste the sunlight spreading across a fallen leaf, hear the exhale of an uncurling root deep beneath him, and even see a dewdrop clinging to an apple blossom in all its glorious, prismatic detail.

  All of which meant there was no way in the world that he could miss Imelda screeching on the other side of the orchard.

  Ambrose and the horse cloak had zoomed back toward the ruined courtyard just in time to see Imelda kissing him. Wait. No. Kissing Charming. For a moment, the visual was just too…strange. Is that what it would look like to kiss her? Would her eyes flutter shut like that? Why did that badger get to wear his form and suddenly know what it felt like to sink his fingers through her hair? Heat clenched in his belly.

  Ambrose growled.

  “I think the hell not.”

  Unfortunately, in badger form, it just sounded like more squeaking.

  ***

  Imelda shoved Charming-­Turned-­Ambrose away. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Charming patted his shirtsleeves and plucked at his pants.

  He muttered to himself. “Huh, this ain’t working quite like I imagined. But I did all the right stuff. I ate the fruit. I made the guy eat the fruit. I’ve kissed the princess. What am I getting wrong here?”

  Imelda slapped him (well, not him but certainly his face), and Charming winced out of instinct. “Are you out of your mind, Ambrose?”

  “I’m simply, er, caught by my affection. Overwhelmed by my sudden infatuation for you all over again, my darling—­”

  Ambrose-­the-­Badger scraped his back paws across the horse cloak and then squeaked out:

  “CHARGE!”

  The horse cloak sailed into the air, and Ambrose leapt off, catching onto Charming’s belt loops with his sharp nails and scuttling up his body. Imelda screamed. Charming flung him off. Ambrose felt a terrible weightlessness gripping his stomach as he soared over a plum tree and crashed against a half-­broken rock wall.

  Imelda stumbled backward.

  “Shall we, my love?” said Charming in an oily voice. “It doesn’t do for husbands and wives to fight. Let’s forget all about this mess.”

  Ambrose-­the-­Badger stirred weakly from his position by the rock wall. Even his near-­perfect creature vision felt stilted and sluggish. And yet his eyes clapped on the glinting golden chain around Charming’s neck.

  He tried to take a step forward, but the whole world seemed to bleed out around the edges. His body hurt, and his tail hung limply at his side. He lifted his head. Imelda loomed over him like a giantess.

  “Ambrose?”

  This close, her voice sounded like a thousand gongs ringing in his ear.

  “Yes, it’s me!”

  More irate squeaks ensued.

  “That apple he ate cured him of his need for human speech, my darling wife. Pay no mind to him, and let’s be on our way back home.”

  Imelda froze. She fixed Ambrose-­the-­Badger with a hard stare. He couldn’t be sure what she meant by that glance. Imelda turned back around slowly.

  At her feet, the horse cloak tried to roll around her ankles, as if nagging eagerly for her attention.

  “Husband, is it?”

  She stooped, reaching for a cluster of wildflowers that grew not too far from her feet.

  “Yes, dear?” Charming said triumphantly.

  Imelda’s fingers brushed over the crumpled horse cloak. Charming stilled. At the same moment, Ambrose willed himself to a stand.

  “I don’t have a husband.”

  Imelda seized the horse cloak and threw it over Charming. No matter how much Charming thrashed, the horse cloak clung to him. Charming let out a howl.

  “This! Is! Not! How! This! Is! Supposed! To! Go!”

  “It’s not? Do inform me,” said Imelda blithely.

  Ambrose, who kept winking in and out of consciousness, only caught the muffled offerings of “the witch’s promise” and “a human prince” and “kissing a true princess” before Charming managed to throw off the horse cloak. Imelda grabbed hold of him by the neck, then reached for the golden necklace at his throat.

  “No! Not that!” Charming wailed. “Without it I’ll—­”

  There was a snap as Imelda tore off the necklace. Golden light spread across the courtyard. Ambrose’s skull suddenly felt as though someone had managed to fit a thunderstorm inside it. He blinked a couple of times, and the world swam in and out of focus—­colors lost their depth, distant sounds dissolved from his consciousness, and the things that were once huge appeared small. His pulse slowed, no longer creature frantic, but thudding powerfully through his body.

  He looked down at his paws…

  And realized they were hands.

  He was human once more, with his clothes magically restored to his body, though slightly more torn up than they had been earlier. He winced, gingerly touching the swelling knot at the back of his head. He felt as if he’d drained an entire tankard of beer.

  Ambrose looked up and saw Imelda holding a golden chain in her hand. On the ground before her, Charming scuttled backward, fully a badger once more. Before he could scamper off, Imelda reached into her pocket, drawing out a sharp-­heeled shoe. She flung it to the ground, neatly trapping his foot to the forest floor. Charming yelped.

  “This, uh…this don’t look too great for me, does it?”

  “No,” Imelda said flatly. “It looks as if you took advantage of my kindness, tricked us, stole Ambrose’s body, stole a kiss from me, and proved that you’re every bit the weasel you look like.”

  “Honey badger, actually—­”

  Imelda turned to the horse cloak. “Watch him, will you?”

  The cloak flopped forward as if it were galloping, then fanned out its fabric around the badger, batting him every time he tried to squirm loose. Imelda turned on her heel, marching toward Ambrose.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Considering I was briefly a rodent, not particularly.”

  “Carnivorous mammal,” Charming muttered.

  The horse cloak smacked Charming with the edge of its hem.

  Ambrose forced himself to stand, then reached for his sword.

  “Oh no, wait a minute.” Charming raised his paws. “I wasn’t lying about the road! It’s right behind the hill! Trust me!”

  Imelda scowled. “Poor choice of words.”

  “Ah, c’mon, lady, you can’t blame me for trying! I was a magician, you know. Very handsome, too, or so I recall, and then I got cursed for no reason.”

  The horse cloak raised its hem threateningly.

  “Okay, fine, maybe I was courting a witch and didn’t let her know there was another witch I was sending letters to in a different country… But I never said we were exclusive…”

  Another smack from the horse cloak.

  Charming went on angrily, “My point is I don’t get my human form back unless I convince a man to eat from the Tree of Transformation and then kiss a princess! It should’ve worked. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

  Imelda stepped forward, and Charming flinched.

  “I’m not a princess. I’m a queen.”

  Then she gathered the horse cloak, flinging it over her shoulder as if it were an ornate shawl.

  “Let’s go.”

  Ambrose’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. He couldn’t stop the smile spreading slowly across his face. He fell into step beside her.

  “If the lady insists.”

  As they headed for the hills, Charming called out to them, “If there’s no hard feelings, would you mind taking a survey? Was it the honey badger form that you found most alluring? I was thinking about trying to turn myself into a fox for the next passersby. Or should I just skip all this and pretend I’m the cursed prince of this palatial dump and hope it all works out?”

  Ambrose and Imelda ignored him.

  “Hellooo? Could I at least get freed from the shoe?”

 

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