Moody And The Beast (Shadowvale #4) - Kristen Painter
Chapter One
Theodora Middlebright glared at the enormous rusty gate blocking her path. She tucked the braid at her left temple behind her pointed ear. She was knee-deep in weeds on an overgrown dirt road that clearly hadn’t been used for as long as this gate hadn’t been opened. She let out a long sigh that did nothing to make her feel better.
Stupid gate. Stupid town. Stupid exiled king. “Anytime you want to open up, go right ahead.”
Nothing happened. Of course it didn’t, because this wasn’t Limbo, and you couldn’t give commands to certain inanimate objects and expect them to obey like you could at home.
But then, if she were home, she’d be getting up right about now to go work at the bakery. Then in a few hours, she’d leave that job, rush home with whatever day-old goods she’d bought for breakfast, make sure her father was all right, then dash off to her second job of cleaning.
It was a hard life. Made harder by living under the rule of Queen Vesta. As monarchs went, she was probably pretty typical. She was as capricious as she was beautiful. She was occasionally kind, and she was occasionally cruel. Perhaps more than occasionally.
Theo believed that was the way rulers were, because that random cruelty kept their subjects from getting too comfortable. Her father always said there were two kinds of rulers. Those who wanted their subjects to love and respect them. And those who wanted their subjects to fear them.
Queen Vesta seemed torn between those choices, although in Theo’s estimation, Her Royal Highness leaned more toward fear with each passing year.
But everyone gave Her Grace some leeway because they knew Queen Vesta had been tormented by the exiled king. How the incredible anguish he’d put her through had left her scarred and fragile. How she’d risked everything to save the citizens of Limbo and Livion, their sister kingdom, from being enslaved to the orcs. For that, Queen Vesta’s cruelty was grudgingly tolerated.
It wasn’t like the citizens of Limbo had a choice.
Regardless, Theo would still rather have been home. Well, mostly. At least then she would have been with her father instead of standing in the middle of nowhere trying to get a worthless gate to open and let her in.
“Open, gate.” Nothing. She growled. Maybe she could pick the lock with her dagger, but with her luck she’d end up damaging the blade.
Her hands clenched. She knew this was a chance for a year away from her problematic life, but she still did not want to be here. She shouldn’t be here. But here she was. Dang it. All because of her father’s bad choices, her unrelenting sense of duty, and her stubborn unwillingness to see her foolish father die in prison.
Why did she have to be such a good daughter? Why did she have to be single? If she were married, this wouldn’t be happening. But to be married, she’d have to find a man willing to put up with her and everything that came with her. And she generally found that being around most people only added to her crankiness. She didn’t care if she had a reputation for being moody. Who wouldn’t be with her life?
And, of course, if she were married, her father would probably be the one standing at this gate.
That couldn’t happen. There was no way he’d survive what she was about to take on.
This was all because she loved him. That much was obvious. Perhaps she loved him too much. She might even love him more than he loved his wagering. Because that was something he loved dearly. Did he love betting more than he loved her? His inability to stop gambling away all their money and family possessions certainly made her wonder.
Her hand went to the little emerald-and-starstone pendant around her neck, one of the few things she had left of her mother’s. Certainly the most precious. Theo had managed to keep it from her father’s clutches by never taking it off.
She also locked her bedroom door at night.
She wasn’t sure he would have actually snuck into her room and tried to take it, but a locked door seemed like the best possible solution. Just in case.
Enough of this. She put her hands on her hips and glowered at the offending hunk of vine-covered metal. “Seriously. Just standing here. Waiting.”
The gate didn’t seem impressed. Not enough to move, anyway.
She sighed again, this time the kind of long-suffering, out-of-the-diaphragm, heaving sigh that seemed to clear out