The Faire (Harrow Faire #5) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,64

sword in challenge to the dragon.

The beast didn’t take kindly to the presence of the hero and opened its maw in a toothy roar.

“And so, our valiant hero battled the mighty dragon to save the poor, helpless princess.” Simon sighed dramatically. “How dull.”

Just as the knight charged the dragon, the scene froze. Simon folded his hands behind his back. “Why is it always this way? Why is it always so simple? That good and evil are easy to understand? That their motives are always either pure or vile? I’ll tell you the answer. It’s because we want things to be cut and dry. It gives us comfort to not know the details. To not know the context.”

The scene resumed, and the knight drove his sword through the dragon’s front claw. The dragon tilted its head back and wailed in pain.

“But things that are so straightforward on the surface are always a lie.” Simon gestured to the princess, who now had a bow and arrow raised in her hands. She took aim and fired. The arrow flew through the air in slow motion.

For a second, it was unclear where the arrow was going to go. It froze in space as the scene once more hesitated.

“And here we stand on a precipice. Do we accept the humdrum lie because it consoles us? Because we can hold on to it like a blanket on a cold, dark night? Or do we look beneath, and see more of the story, even if it troubles us?”

The scene resumed in slow motion. The arrow flew through the air…and passed the dragon. It skated by its head by an inch and continued its travel.

Straight into the neck of the knight.

Simon continued to narrate as the little wooden puppet gushed fake blood from between the plates of polished steel armor and collapsed to the ground. “Was the dragon her captor, or her savior? Was the knight her lover, or her pursuer? Was the princess virtuous, or a murderer?”

The princess disappeared into the tower only to reemerge from a door at the base. The dragon lowered its head to the doll of the woman. Not to threaten her, but to nuzzle her. “All it takes is one person in the story to change the narrative. One choice on their part could have made this story like any other. The hero saves the day and defeats the monster. Perhaps that summary is still true in this case. But which is which? Who is the hero? The dragon, the princess, or the knight? And who is the monster?”

The princess pulled the sword out of the dragon’s claw and reached up to stroke the its cheek. The dragon let out a contented noise and lay down on the stage, curling its tail protectively around the princess.

“There are no heroes in this story or any other. There are no monsters. There are no pretty, helpless princesses who would love whoever rescued them from the jaws of defeat.” Simon looked pointedly down at the bloody puppet of the knight. “We are only the choices we make.”

He flashed a broad grin and dramatically bowed with one arm folded in front of him. “The end. And that concludes my performance for the evening. Thank you all for coming.”

The crowd applauded. They all looked rather impressed, but also more than a little confused. Cora joined them in the applause, even if she did roll her eyes.

Simon straightened from his bow, grinned again, and turned from the stage as the curtains swung shut on the stage, hiding the scene from view.

Melodramatic bastard. She knew why he had told that story. He must have seen her in the audience. She walked down the aisle, weaving through people as they gathered up their things and began to leave. Jumping up onto the stage, she wandered off to the left. No one questioned her, even though she looked like anyone else.

Nobody questioned anybody who walked with enough purpose. Sometimes all a person had to do was pretend they belonged there, and that was enough. She had snuck into a few concerts that way when she was in college.

Ducking around the left side of the curtain, she went backstage. “Simon?”

He was mopping up the small puddle of fake blood on the center of the stage. “Oh, hello, Cora dear. I didn’t know you were in the audience.”

“Mmhm. Sure you didn’t.” She walked up to him and poked him in the ribs. “Liar.”

“Me? Never.” He huffed in false indignancy. “I can’t see into