Not-So-Prince-Charming

Chapter One

 "Bartender!" I shouted as I entered the tavern. "White lightning, in your tallest glass. You know what? Just bring me a whole bottle."

I swung myself onto an armchair, strategically positioned between the door and the window. No one would be able to see me unless they actually came inside. Content, I propped my legs up on one armrest and propped my arms up behind my head on the other.

The bartender took way too long to get to me. Disrespectful peasant. "You can pay for this, can't you?"

I peeked one eye open at the skinny, middle-aged man with his amusing concern and stupid ignorance. "Are you challenging me?" I flashed open my coat at him.

"Oh." He paled and averted his eyes, holding the bottle out for me. Smart man. As soon as I took it he strutted away on those long chicken legs.

It had been far too long. With a smirk, I popped the cork out of the bottle and took a long, satisfying swig.

I went through almost half the bottle before the next visitors arrived. In my drunken state, it took me a minute to realize how suspiciously quiet they were as they walked in. So not a good sign. Not only that, but the few pathetic farmers spending their lunch hour here were quiet, now, too. I swung my legs down and peered over my shoulder as two men marched to the bar.

They wore the uniforms of royal guards, and their hats signified that they were of one of the higher ranks.

I swore under my breath. Blast it all. They hadn't wasted any time in getting here.

My head spun as I stood up. I think I dropped the bottle on the armchair. Oh well, let it spill everywhere. That cursed Chicken Legs was about to sell me out to law enforcement.

I stumbled as fast I could out the door, looking for my horse. Had I brought a horse? Heck, who cares. There were a few tied up at the hitching post. I picked the prettiest one and fumbled with the knot. Nothing happened. Instead I pulled out a dagger and sawed at the rope, scraping off some of the skin on my knuckles as I finished.

"You're with me, now, Mr. Horse," I slurred, flashing my coat at him. "Let's go. Giddyup." I led the tall brown horse to the road and tried to mount him. My foot kept slipping out of the stirrup. It took me one, two, seven, how many attempts is it now? Finally I made it into the saddle. "Onward, ho!" As the horse began walking I started to lose my balance. Klutzy brute. With so many legs, you'd think the horse would offer a smoother ride than this. I fell forward and wrapped my arms around the beast's neck.

"Wait! Stop!" yelled a man's voice behind me.

I grinned, imagining the two guards standing outside the tavern watching me escape once more. "Faster, Mr. Horse!"

Far away--how far, I couldn't tell--the farmland melted into a forest. The guards wouldn't be far behind me once they mounted their horses. My only chance to lose them was to go off the trail in the woods.

Did I mention how brilliant I am? Especially when I'm a drunk. I don't know which direction that stupid horse took me once we took off into the woods--which, I might add, were almost as dense as me at the time. By the time we found civilization again, I was starting to feel the effects of a hangover. I don't like hangovers.

As it turned out, the forest bordered a massive, shiny lake. It hurt my eyes. I don't like that lake.

By the lake was a small city.

I like that city.

I forgot to mention I don't like hangovers.

The best thing I could think of to combat the headache and other oncoming symptoms was, of course, more alcohol.