FABLE

Chapter Forty Six

By the time I reach the boys' hideout, it's already past 9am.

Someone's gonna be sooo pissed.

A mental image of Felix impatiently sitting on the steps outside the front door with a scowl plastered on his face pops into my mind, and I find it oddly satisfying.

Let him wait. I'm not his slave.

But as I leave the forest and walk across the clearing towards the cabin, I can see that the steps are empty. He's not waiting.

Maybe he forgot.

I'm glad to finally be finished the long walk - I bought my guitar along in its case today, and it gets surprisingly heavy after almost an hour of carrying it.

I pause at the foot of the steps, looking up at the carpet of brilliant red roses clinging to the front of the cabin.

As the princess lay slumbering, around the castle there began to grow a hedge of thorns, which every year became higher, and at last grew close-up round the castle and all over it, so that there was nothing of it to be seen.

My gran's bedtime story voice echoes through memories made long ago.

Bea said that gran helped her with the cabin. The stained glass windows, the paintings on the walls, the carved wooden furniture - it's all her. Could she have planted this rose too? Is that why I feel so connected to this place?

I climb the steps, and stop before the front door. I'm about to knock when I hear voices through the stained glass. Voices coming from inside.

"What are you waiting for? Just ask her, you dolt," Alastaire says. Or at least, I think it's Alastaire. The sound is muffled, but the poshly accented British drawl sounds like his.

"Easy for yer ter say," Lyall says. "She'll think... yer know..."

"So what?" Ben says, his Canadian accent instantly recognizable. "C'mon, just be a man, ask her. She'll be here soon."

"She's going ter say no," Lyall says. "It'll be right embarrassin'."

OMG. It can't be what I'm thinking. No freaking way. That's impossible. Calm down Ashling. Calm the hell down. I should wait outside for a few minutes. I'll wait for them to stop speaking or something. Then I'll just knock, and they'll let me in, and they'll never know I heard.

"Thank god," a voice rings out behind me, causing me to jump about a foot into the air in shock. "Finally."

Kitty is struggling up the steps to the cabin with about ten grocery bags in each hand. Each bag looks stuffed to the brim. It's a miracle she made it this far. Once she reaches the porch, she lowers the bags down, grimacing in pain as she flexes her fingers and then flops onto the floor.

"Dammit that's painful," she says, clenching her hands into fists.

She looks me up and down, as if noticing me for the first time since arriving. "Why are you hanging around outside the door?" She asks.

"Umm, that's sort of..." I stumble over my words, not wanting to admit that I was eavesdropping. "It just sort of... happened."

"Okay," Kitty says, sounding unconvinced. "Well, do you mind calling the boys out for me? My arms are about to break off, and some of this stuff needs to get in the freezer before it melts."

Kitty stretches her long legs, sprawling out along the wooden porch like a lazy sunbathing cat, knocking over a bottle in one of the grocery bags.

She yawns and closes her eyes, muttering about having to play housemaid because the boys can't be seen in public.