Free Charming, Volume 2 by Jack Heckel Page A

to bed? Then a sudden panic seized him, and he sat up with a start. “The slipper! Where’s the slipper?”
    Charming looked about frantically, but his clothes were nowhere to be seen. He threw back the covers and pawed at the linen nightclothes he was wearing. The slipper was gone. There was no trace of it. A sense of dread came over him, gnawing softly at his insides.
    Where am I? There are no noblemen in this forest, so who is this lordly host? Is he friend or foe, honorable man or thief?
    As if in response to his unvoiced thoughts, the door opened and a tall scarecrow of a man dressed in subdued finery stepped inside. He put a hand to his chest, cleared his throat, looked down at Charming along his long nose, and sniffed disdainfully. “Good, you are awake. If you have recovered sufficiently to return to whatever passes for your life, then my lord has instructed me to provide you with some clothing so that you may go.”
    â€œI . . .” Charming started hesitantly, but then realized that this man must have taken the slipper or knew who did. He rose from the bed and, squaring his shoulders, put all the command of his former self in his voice. “You, whatever your name is . . . where are my possessions?”
    The man took a step back, momentarily stunned by his outburst, but recovering said, “You will not use that tone in this residence, and certainly not with me, or I shall send you packing with the dogs on your heels.”
    â€œAre you my host? If so, then either return my possessions, or, despite this fine manor, I deem you nothing but a common thief!” Charming snapped, making his way around the bed and toward the man.
    The thin man reddened at the accusation and then seemed to swell with indignation. “How dare you question me? My name is Giles, and I am my lord’s butler. As for the slipper, my lord wishes to question you about that. Specifically, he wishes to know who you stole it from.”
    â€œWhat?” Charming stuttered, “I—­I would never steal . . .”
    Despite this denial, the memory of his recent treachery drained him. He lost the anger that had given him strength and sat back down on the edge of the bed. What manner of man am I? Have not my actions been the definition of villainy?
    Giles grunted derisively. “I warn you, the dogs will be ready.”
    At that moment, there was the sound of movement beyond the door. Giles looked into the hall at something Charming could not see. A deep resonant voice that was somehow familiar came from outside the room. “Giles, help our guest find suitable clothing. I wish to have an audience with him.”
    â€œBut, my lord,” said Giles, not turning his eyes from Charming, “I must say this fellow seems mad, and his denial rings of insincerity.”
    Charming wanted to shout, “I am Prince Charming!” But, he wasn’t anymore. The whole world had gone mad. He put his hands to his head and mumbled something indistinct and incoherent.
    There was a long silence, and it was perhaps for the best that Charming never saw the look of disdain on Giles’s face. “You see what I mean, my lord? Are you certain about the audience? The dogs could see to him without trouble.”
    â€œI am, Giles. Now, help this poor man, and I will consider another matter while I wait. I think I should revisit the incident involving the hounds’—­how did you call it? . . . ‘fortuitous escape’ when the dwarves last visited?”
    Giles fiddled with his collar, keeping his eyes on Charming. “I’ll help him straightaway, my lord.”
    The door shut gently.
    Deaf to the exchange between master and servant, Charming muttered on. “ . . . never had the courage to reach the unreachable . . .”
    Giles rolled his eyes as he crossed the room to a large wardrobe. He rummaged in it for a few seconds and emerged with a drab and