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beast tossed its head. Tabitha wouldn’t have been surprised to see a golden horn sprout from its milky brow.
    The horse’s master was no less a creature of myth. A honeyed mantle of hair brushed his shoulders, framing a face that might have been considered effeminate in itselfin beauty were it not for the determined jut of his clean-shaven chin. He wore a forest-green cloak trimmed in cloth-of-gold draped over his cream-colored tunic and leggings. Despite the grueling ride, he looked as fresh as if he’d just stepped from a hot shower. Tart lemon perfumed the air around him.
    The man’s green eyes glittered beneath arched brows a shade darker than his hair. “I’ve never known you to let a woman wield your precious blade, Ravenshaw.” Tabitha’s arms had began to droop with exhaustion; all it took was a nudge of his booted foot to drop the sword another six inches. “Perhaps you’re growing soft in defeat.”
    The men burst into raucous laughter.
    “Go to hell, Brisbane,” her companion said, his voice soft, yet sharp enough to slice through their mockery.
    Following Tabitha’s gaze to the fallen knight, Prince Charming smiled. “And what were you going to do if this fair maiden failed to behead me? Sic your pussycat on me?”
    In his effort to rise, the knight had made it only as far as his knees. Frightened by the smell of the dogs, Lucy was clinging to his brawny shoulder. A sudden thought struck her. If the man on the white horse was Prince Charming, then who the hell was he? Prince Surly? What if she’d inadvertently been aiding and abetting the villain of the piece?
    She decided to test her theory. Wishing she’d paid more attention to the dialogue in those Disney movies, she tilted her head back and offered Prince Charming her sweetest smile. “Forsooth, kind sir, methinks it most fortuitous thou hast stumbled upon this damsel in distress.”
    One of his men nudged the other. “What’d she say?”
    “Hell if I know. She’s got good teeth though.” Thesquat man grinned, revealing a mouthful of cracked and blackened stumps.
    The knight was staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. But his opinion was not the one that mattered.
    Prince Charming favored her with such a loving smile that she dared to lower the sword and lightly touch his knee. “I beseech you, my lord, should we not retire posthaste to your castle?”
    She could not help but be slightly dazzled when he brought her grubby hand to his lips and gazed deep into her eyes. “Aye, my lady. Your wish is my command.”
    Your wish …
    His words gave her a chill, even in this enchanted setting. But not nearly as much of a chill as his next words did.
    “Take Ravenshaw and his whore back to the castle,” he commanded, his smile curling into a sneer. “Cast them into the deepest, darkest dungeon. They can rot there just as well as they can in hell.”
    Tabitha snatched back her hand, but the sword was torn from her grasp before she could hoist it. Prince Charming wheeled his charger in a circle, abandoning her to the fate he had decreed. As the tinkle of bells faded in the distance, his men dropped from their mounts.
    They wrenched her arms behind her and bound her wrists before swarming over Ravenshaw. He only got one lick in, but it was a good one. One of Prince Charming’s minions stumbled backward, blood gushing from his broken nose.
    Tabitha cringed at the thud of fists against flesh.
    “Raven’s naught but a craven!” someone bellowed.
    “Ravenshaw’s a boor!” another man shouted. “Defended by a whore!”
    As they forced him to his feet and dragged himtoward a packhorse, the others took up the singsong chant, repeating it until Tabitha’s head rang. If her hands hadn’t been bound, she would have covered her ears. She remembered only too well how it felt to be mocked and taunted.
    She looked helplessly at the knight, but he turned his face away from her, his mouth tightened in a contemptuous line. She didn’t know why it