Everything is happening very quickly, and Charming keeps apologizing for it. I hug Cherie before we are split up to go our own ways.
I keep praying he will not lead me into a drug-infested sex trade operation. That doesn’t happen.
Pierce glances back at me. “How are you doing?”
“I’m excited,” I deadpan. I think I would be more enthused if I didn’t draw being a slave. It might be a very long three months.
He smiles back at me. “You are going to a new world, and that right there is worth it. Delorith, though infested with evil, is very beautiful.”
I can’t say anything to that.
Room after room and long white hallways in between… How big is this spaceship?!
When we arrive, our destination is a large room with a very bizarre contraption sitting in the middle of it. It reminds me of an alien space pod ready to beam me down to this crazy planet.
“Viola, this is your briefing room.” He pauses and opens another door on the opposite wall. It sounds like a pressurized space door. An agent walks through, and it’s the one who looks like Sailor Moon.
“This is Mort, your guide to everything you need.” He continues, “It’s time for your preparation. Have a seat, please.”
He is carrying a huge stack of papers a foot thick. He slams the stack on the little metal desk in the corner of the room.
“This is everything you need to know about Delorith and its people. It also contains relevant information about Apollo.” He waves his hand in the air.
“You know—his likes and dislikes, that type of thing. Blond, redhead, brunette…
“Is he a happy drunk or aggressive one? Does he like his mother? How many people has he killed, if any? Boxers or briefs? Does he have any fetishes?”
I can’t tell if he is serious, but I think he is. “That’s a lot of information.”
“Isn’t it, though,” he smiles at me. His mood seems borderline unstable.
Charming laughs, dusting something off his perfect white sleeve.
“We don’t have time for anything. That is all the information you do not get to read before we thrust you into a very dangerous place. You must rely heavily on Mort as your sole lifeline.”
I glance at my agent, knowing I must confirm this, in case I misheard. “Your name is Mort?”
Her big eyes narrow. “Where I’m from, it’s a lovely name.” She raises her small chin. “Ignorant human.”
I nod and glance back at Charming’s amused face, finding my composure. “So you’re saying I’m screwed.”
His face brightens. “Yes.”
I stare at him.
“Moving on, we have thirty minutes to get you dressed and ready.” He claps his hands, and the machine in the middle of the room comes to life with glowing pink and blue lights.
“You will automatically speak their language, so no worries there. But you can die in this world, so you have to be very careful.”
He walks up to me and leans in very close to my face. He smells like Old Spice. I could almost hear the Old Spice jingle.
“This is important, so pay attention. You have three lifelines. Let’s say you’re about to be killed by a wild animal, for example. You may use your lifeline, and you will immediately transport out of harm’s way.
“If you forget to use it, you will be mauled and die. If you use all three of your lifelines, on the fourth, you will be ejected from the world entirely. No ifs, ands, or buts. You’re too much of a liability.”
He held up his hand. “Not my rules.”
I swallow and nod. “How do I use a lifeline?” I should probably know that.
“Very easy. You say, ‘Lifeline activate!’” His gaze holds mirth.
“That’s it?”
“It has to be simple, does it not?”
I thought about that. “Okay, let’s say they capture me, and I say the lifeline, and I disappear. Won’t that mess with sensibilities? Like, what the hell? She just disappeared.”
“Yes.”
I stare at him, waiting for him to respond. Really though, I’m about to punch him.
“Leave that to us. This is not our first rodeo, and you only use it if you’re going to die. It is not permitted to use a lifeline in less-than-desirable situations.”
He winks at me, then walks over to the machine, or alien-fairy-pod. He bends down like he is getting the thing to start with elaborate waves of his hand.
“You are to be a slave, congratulations.”
“That’s horrible,” I say, wondering what I’m missing. “What kind of slave? I am not going to do sexual stuff against my will.” That is a deal-breaker.
Pierce glances at me and nods.
“Pierce?” I bite out.
“Yes.”
“Elaborate.”
“Of course, do you think I would send you without informing you details of your position?” He has the gall to look offended. “I read over your file, and it is fascinating.”
Mort steps forward. “I have read and confirmed a plan of action.”
“Perfect, Mort. You can get into details once arrived.” He turns toward me. “Your position is simple, except for the fact that you harbor a secret. The secret is that you are the long-lost princess of Galleon.
“Now, here’s the kicker. Laura is the current princess of Galleon and an impostor, not the true birthright princess—you are. I love it when Fate creates drama!” He claps his hands.
“Now, this does not mean Laura is evil. She is not to blame for this mix-up. It’s Laura’s deceitful mother. You were lost as a baby, and the title has passed to your cousin, Laura.
“This is a competition. No one will know of this deceit unless you bring it to light. Which will be a task because Laura must stop you from exposing her. It can get rather cutthroat out there.”
“Oh, perfect,” I say, looking at them both in awe. “I’m not only a slave, but I have to expose my birthright in three months and make Apollo fall in love with me?” I’m breathing hard, about to lose my mind.
“Yes,” he says, and moves his hands around. “It’s not just you with obstacles. Each player will have them and must overcome them. It makes for a much better journey.
“Laura’s obstacle? She is not the birthright princess. April? She is an outlaw. Destiny? Is a Galleon spy.
“Ivy? Must save her brother, who the Queen of Garthorn wants to kill. Cherie? Is promised to another prince from Mont Gallow.”
My mouth hangs open. “I see.”
“Enjoy this. It can get hard, but it will be an experience you will not forget.” He studies me with a serious expression.
I nod.
“All right, you can pick three things to change about yourself. Look over this book, and I will be back in thirty minutes. I must see to the other ladies.” He leaves.
I start flipping through all the different traits I could gain or change.
Mort sits down on the metal chair across the room and examines her pointy nails. The silence is painful as I stare at her, and I realize she is pretending to ignore me.
I clear my throat. “Any pointers?”
She looks at me like she is put out. “Get a nose job.”
“Really?”
This Mort character is delightful.
She glances at me for real this time and seems to assess me. “I get a bonus if we win,” she says matter-of-factly, and without emotion.
“Number one: a master at riding a horse, which always comes in handy. Two: being in the best physical shape, which gives you a killer body. For a human, that is.
“Three: being a master at archery—you need a defense. It looks like your face is okay, and you have decent-sized breasts, so no need to change any of that.”
“You are very blunt.”
“I will confirm that,” she says without smiling.
“Is he a breast man or butt man?” I must ask.
“Very hard to say. I am unsure of that at this point.” She stares at me.
Right.
Pierce finally returns and relieves us of our awkward conversation about how not to eat anything blue in this world. Especially if it has spots—severe intestinal issues, gas for weeks.
A deal-breaker, according to Mort. I want to add that it might be a deal-breaker for anyone.
Charming claps his hands and stops in front of the alien pod, hands on his hips. “Okay! Not all of the ladies took the details of their position as well as you, but that is to be expected.”
I can only imagine how Laura reacted to the news that she is not the true princess. “I’m ready. Mort shared her expertise and some other…interesting facts.”
“Perfect. Come over here and step into the converter,” he orders, smiling at me.
The pod shuts around me, and I feel a wave of nerves. I hear a loud pressurized sound, and I can see electronic writing on the screen in front of me.
I hear Pierce’s voice come through the speaker. “All right, which is the first trait?”
I falter for a second. “Master horseback rider.”
“Nice choice, and the second?”
“To be in perfect physical shape.”
“Always a favorite,” he says. “Lastly?”
“Master at archery.”
“Very smart. Okay, just give me a second, and if I can have you close your eyes and take a deep breath…”
I don’t even have time to ask if it is going to hurt! Bright lights flash before my eyes and my body feels hot and cold at the same time. I think I scream, but I can’t be sure.
I let out a loud gasp when I hear loud ringing and pink lights blinking and flashing. Right before I panic, everything starts to power down, leaving me breathless. I feel dizzy. My skin is tingly and weirdly hot.
The pod opens, and I walk out on shaky knees. Pierce grabs my arm for support.
“I forgot to tell you that this process can cause dizziness and hot flashes.” He grins at me and looks me over. “Very nice indeed. Here’s a mirror.”
As I try to get my muddled thoughts together, I wonder, did Pierce just check me out? I look down at my body, and I notice I am toned in all the right places, and my skin is smooth and unblemished.
I glance in a mirror that is placed in front of me and—Holy Mother of Mary! I look amazing. No need for foundation. My skin is gorgeous and flawless. “My skin?!”
Pierce nods and beams at me. “Airbrushed is a Fairy Godmother given, a freebie. It’s in your contract, didn’t you read it?” He laughs. “Here at FGI, we mean business.”
I stare at him. This guy. He’s teasing me.
“I feel like this is cheating. No one looks this good in real life,” I say breathlessly.
“Excuse me?” he says, and tilts his head. “Honey, this is the Fairy Godmother Inc. We go big, or we go home. We can do whatever the hell we want because we can. Enjoy it.
“You look stunning,” he says, and leans a hip on the desk. “Men are defenseless against our agents. We only need three months to complete FGI missions. And that is not arrogance, it’s just fact.”
Mort snorts. “Yes. You look way better than before.”
I shoot her a look.
I think she just insulted me.
“Ok, now spin, we are five minutes out!”
“Five minutes?!”
“You both are slaves that were recently on a merchant ship carrying silks that sank. The ship was overtaken and destroyed by pirates.
“You are traveling to the Kingdom of Garthorn, where you are employed. You both obviously survived. Apollo’s ship will intersect with your raft, saving you,” he says quickly.
“Raft?”
“Mort will give you more details when you’re there. Don’t worry. You will be just fine. Now spin.” He places his hand on my shoulder.
“Spin?” I sound panicky even to my ears. I’m not sure if I’m ready for this—it’s happening too fast!
“Yes, my favorite part, your dress!” He motions me to spin.
“Where do you think Cinderella got her dress? Fairy Godmother? No, it was my design. I design all the clothing here at Fairy Godmother Inc.” He beams. “Now spin.”
I start to spin, wondering how cute a slave’s outfit could be. My body starts to tingle, and I inhale as a flash of white light blinds me.
I look up into the mirror, and I am wearing a provocative, ship-wrecked, deep purple gown. A ragged slit exposes my thigh, and my bustline is ripped, exposing my corset. Scandalous, to say the least.
The corset seems to push my breasts high, making them very tantalizing, if I must comment on them. “A slave wears this?” I ask, my heart pounding.
“No, but a shipwrecked one does. The actual slave gown is very modest and covers everything, including the face. So this is your chance to catch his attention, which is why I placed you in this particular situation.”
He turns to Mort. “You will be a very plain-looking slave, nothing to draw attention. Ms. Pipper.”
“You got it.”
In one second, Mort is this cute little Sailor Moon creature, and the next moment, she is a very non-descriptive woman. Mousy brown hair and plain features. Clothes ripped in all the wrong places.
“Whoa,” I say.
Pierce touches his earpiece. “Yes, we are a minute out. Yes, I’m aware, you idiot!” He nods and looks at me.
“Your name is Ms. Viola Luna Stark under the Kingdom of Garthorn. You will be Ms. Stark, a sector 5 slave, which is high up, like a lady’s maid or housekeeper.
“Here is your proof that you are a citizen and of your employ.”
He hands me a bronze necklace with a falcon on it and shows me a tattoo on my wrist that I didn’t see before. It’s a strange symbol that I can’t identify—a G with weird inscriptions.
“That is the mark of your employment at the Garthorn Castle.”
“Okay,” I say meekly.
“Ready, and FIVE, FOUR—”
“I am not ready!” I panic.
OH NO.
“—TWO, ONE!”
Blackness overcomes me.
