Chasing Down Her Highness by Fiona West

Author:Fiona West
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tempest and Kite
Published: 2021-01-26T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

IT WOULD’VE BEEN BAD enough if the music had been good. She was sure she could’ve heard it through her dreams—that is, if she’d actually been able to drop off to sleep with that ungodly noise happening. But it was all the same. The same beat. The same chord progressions. The same fake-sounding, auto-tuned mixing. And then, just when she thought this was the most infuriating music she’d ever encountered and ever would encounter...they started over. Now it was even the same songs just played over and over. If she arrived in Brevspor with any hair left at all, it would be a miracle. Abbie beat her fists into the pillow to blow off steam, but she didn’t feel any better. After a long day of travel, she was going to spend another frustrating, sleepless night in northern Imahara in a ramshackle guest house, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She heard Rutha roll over and sigh...she couldn’t be asleep. The laws of physics denied the possibility. Abbie peeked over the edge of the bunk bed. She had headphones on. Noise-cancelling, no doubt, she thought with dismay. Abbie was putting on her robe before her feet hit the floor. Even that didn’t rouse Rutha. How she envied her. Abbie stole down the hallway, feeling like she was back in boarding school and sneaking back from watching sitcoms all night in Fran Tukklen’s room.

Abbie knocked softly on Rube and Parker’s door. It occurred to her that Rube might not be the one to answer the door, especially if he also had headphones—but it was too late. Parker opened the door, rubbing his face.

“Abbie,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

He wore a pair of blue plaid boxer shorts. That was all he wore.

“Nothing, I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, trying not to stare at his bare chest. “I was just trying to get my headphones from Rube.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, stepping aside. Rube was out cold, drooling. A skeeter was biting his face, and she waved it away. Those blessed headphones were blocking it all out. Abbie stood there, listening to that stupid music and contemplating her next move as Parker climbed back onto the top bunk. They were doing the song about how “her body is so fantastic, fantastic, fantastic” again; it was song number three of a ten-song set that she, to her dismay, knew by heart at this point. Quietly, she unzipped his pack and began to rifle through it. There were a disturbing number of knives in it. Abbie heard Parker clear his throat and she looked up.

“Do you want to borrow my phone’s flashlight?”

“Sure,” she whispered. “Thanks.”

He handed her the phone. “I don’t think you need to whisper. He seems pretty out of it.”

“I know,” she whispered, “but he has a lot of knives in here, and I’m afraid there’s more under his pillow. And if he thinks I’m in here to be with you before we’re married...”

Parker nodded. “Say no more,” he whispered. With the help of his phone, Abbie located the box for the phone Rube had been trying to give her.

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