Gretchen's (Mis)Adventures Boxed Set 1-3: Gretchen's (Mis)Adventures Boxed Sets, #1

By P.A. Mason

The first three instalments in this hilarious high fantasy witch series all wrapped up in a neat bundle.

 

The Damsel Gauntlet

 

Gretchen is down on her luck, until she gets a commission from the King himself. A damsel is in distress. A prince is on his way. All is not as it seems. To skid to the finish line, he must face a wraith, goblins and a mighty dragon. But to get the gold, Gretchen must ensure he looks the part. Fairy tales are written by the victorious, after all.

 

Of Hair and No Hair

 

Gretchen will do anything to win the pumpkin growing competition at the county fair, but things get hairy when Rapunzel turns up at the eleventh hour. Two potions. One mixup. A calamity of tall proportions. But that won't stop Gretchen from getting to that fair, even if she has to drag Rapunzel with her. 

 

A Royal Froggy Problem

 

It started with toads, but a much froggier prince problem was on its way. Gretchen is swept into a diplomatic debacle when her best pal is falsely accused of hexing the Prince of Sharen. With a name as notorious as Nora's, it's no wonder the finger is pointed straight at her.

 

If you like fairy tale retellings with a good dose of humor, wit, and sometimes crazy witchy fun you'll enjoy this boxed set.

• Language: English
• Publisher: P.A. Mason
• Release date: Nov 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393691594

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Copyright © 2020 P.A Mason

First Edition

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact [e-mail]

Cover design by P.A. Mason

Editing Services from CJ Skye

pamasonauthor.com

GRETCHEN’S

(MIS)ADVENTURES

1-3 BOXED SET

The Damsel Gauntlet

Of Hair and No Hair

A Royal Froggy Problem

P.A. MASON

For everyone who ever wondered why the hero never got crap on his boots or a bad case of the sniffles.

Chapter 1

Gretchen stumbled into The Salt and Bog plucking leaves from her braid while mumbling under her breath. When she turned her attention to the crowd, her eyes widened at the regulars who’d turned to smirk at her.

Broom problems? Jurgen snickered from behind the bar as he poured ale from a barrel.

Gretchen clicked her teeth shut and cleared her throat. Need to get that darn thing back to the shop. Can’t get good service these days. And I’ll hear no guff from you lot, or I swear I’ll curse your trousers to itch for months.

The crowd broke out in laughter, only too aware of Gretchen’s lack of prowess in the curse department. She spotted Nora sitting at their usual table. Heaving a deep breath, she trod over and sank to the stool beside her.

Tough day? Nora had the decency to hide her smirk behind her hand, and Gretchen closed her eyes with a sigh.

That alchemist stiffed me on most of the supplies I ordered, a customer changed her mind on the vermin poison, and Mulligan got into the pickled livers again. She curled her lip. Filthy feline has been farting all afternoon.

Nora let out an almighty cackle as Jurgen ambled over with a mug. Gretchen narrowed her eyes. How’s the itch?

Coming up with the right potion to treat a troll for eczema had been tedious. He reached for his neck, and Gretchen snatched her mug before he riddled it with whatever was crawling around under his plush fur.

Better, but still a pain in my rear end. He groaned as he scratched.

Well, it might help some if you had a bath once in a while. The soap I made is part of the treatment. Gretchen took a sip and arched her eyebrow.

"Doesn’t bother me that much." Jurgen turned before Gretchen could reply.

There’s just no appreciation, is there? Nora waved her mug in the air. Slaving away over a cauldron all day, and people can’t even follow simple directions.

It was easy for her to say. At least she was on a retainer with a wealthy baron, which meant she spent most of her afternoons languishing away in a dump like the Salt and Bog. There were only so many hexes the Baron could dream up in one day.

I’m not in a position to turn down paying customers. No matter how unappreciative. Gretchen’s shoulders slumped, and she smacked her lips.

"This is what comes of free trade, you know? All of us undercutting each other and living in squalor because of it. If we could just organize…"

Gretchen rubbed her forehead and zoned out. It usually took longer for Nora to get on her soapbox about that kind of thing, and once she started, there was no stopping her. Seeking distraction, she surveyed the room’s inhabitants.

The Salt and Bog was known as the hangout for society’s undesirables. The ones normal folks had a use for but wouldn’t be seen in public with. A ghostly crew was in their normal spot emphasizing their points with ethereal mugs, and a merry band of gnomes looked like they’d knocked off early from the mines. The pungent smell of ogres flavored the air, but they were mostly harmless unless they got into the brandy.

…and that’s the point, really. Without us, they’d be lancing their own boils and—

Gretchen frowned and followed Nora’s gaze to the door. A squad of guardsmen sauntered in looking down their noses. The guy with the feathers in his helmet puffed himself up and cleared his throat.

We’re looking for the witch who calls herself Gretchen.

Gretchen sat a little straighter as the crowd turned to her. Swallowing, she stood, her mug still in hand.

Listen, if this is about that alchemist, I can assure you—

You are Gretchen, from the classified?

Gretchen blinked. A guard handed a newspaper to the guy in front and he cleared his throat again.

Services for hire, Gretchen the Witch. I can be anything you want me to be, your greatest desires—

Whoa there, buddy. Listen, I was having a hard month and bills need to be paid—

The king requires your services.

The tavern went dead quiet and Gretchen’s cheeks burned red.

Well, I mean, I’m a royalist as much as the next person. But truth be told, I’d had a few too many witches’ brews that night and got a little carried away…

It was all too much for the patrons whose smothered snickers turned into giggles.

The guard sighed. It is not a request. You can either come with us or we can cuff you and tie you to a horse.

Gretchen glanced at Nora to implore for help but found her gawking with glazed eyes at the guys with spears.

I see. Well, I hope he doesn’t expect a freebie. Gretchen thumped her mug on the table and glared at the entranced audience as she followed the guards to the cobbled street. She wasn’t sure what was more humiliating. That her barfly buddies found out about the listing, or that the guards knew that the less-than-savory tavern was the best place to find her.

Will you be flying? The guard nodded to the broom rack where her sorry excuse for a vehicle still had a tree branch tangled around it. Gretchen considered taking Nora’s but decided against it. She’d never hear the end of it if she crash landed and broke something. It wasn’t like anyone would take her broom, the darn thing was a health hazard.

I’ll roll with you fellas, if you don’t mind. Gretchen straightened her hat and picked out another leaf.

The guard shrugged and mounted holding out a hand to help her up. Gretchen clambered on the beast who snorted at her clumsy horsemanship.

So, the king, huh? Over at the palace, or maybe a quiet little hunting lodge in the mountains? They say the queen can have a wicked temper—

The queen insisted. The guard frowned over his shoulder. She said there’s no better way to be sure he’s worthy.

Gretchen frowned and scratched her head. Whatever games the king and queen played amongst themselves was none of her concern. If it meant a healthy dose of the king’s coin, she would leave her dignity at the door. It didn’t sound like the guard was up for a discussion on the merits of the situation, and she wasn't about to ask him for pointers. She did her best to hold steady atop the beast and stared at the scenery passing by.

The cobbled road led steadily toward the city proper where buildings crowded around the stone wall of the palace. Her eyes drifted toward the mountains in the background, where the outlines of towers stood sentinel against the setting sun. With peace throughout the countryside, the amount of industry in the past few years was mind boggling. She preferred the peace and quiet of her ramshackle cottage nestled off the beaten track.

Gretchen snapped out of her reverie hours later when the guard gave her a sharp nudge with his elbow. They were in the castle courtyard, surrounded by the comings and goings of servants in livery, and Gretchen slid from the horse with barely a stumble.

Through the servant’s entrance. He thrust his chin toward a small door away from the main gate.

Gretchen tapped her nose and winked. You can count on me to be discreet.

The guard rolled his eyes and led his horse toward the stables. Gretchen hitched up her knitted hose and marched to the door, where a footman lingered on the step.

The witch, I presume? He eyed her askance.

Gretchen at your service. She proffered a hand, and he cleared his throat.

Come along, best get you out of the way before the dinner service finishes.

Gretchen followed him along narrow corridors and sidled past maids hauling sheets and buckets of water. The footman kept up a fast pace, and Gretchen kept her mouth shut. When he opened the next door, the hallway became wider with plush carpets underfoot. She gawked at paintings and rich textiles on the walls and bumped into her guide who’d stopped in front of a lacquered oak doorway.

The king will come directly after his meal. This is his private reception quarters as I’m sure you’ll understand. He waved her in and ushered her toward a pair of velvet sofas. Now, I don’t have time to watch over you, but know this. We keep meticulous records of the valuables in the castle. If anything were to go missing, we know where to find you.

Gretchen dropped onto the sofa with a sigh. Gotcha. You’ll find the place just as you left it. More or less.

The footman curled his lip before flouncing out and closing the door behind him. Gretchen wriggled further into the soft cushions and leaned her head back relishing the comfort after spending hours bouncing up and down on a horse’s rump. After a few minutes, her thoughts wandered.

Frowning, she stood to inspect the room looking for clues about the man who summoned her. Tapestries, which looked as old as the hills, dressed the walls, and the furniture, though opulent, was sparse. A small desk with writing implements stood by the window, and Gretchen rifled through the drawers to look for something insightful. Finding only blank paper, she sighed and crossed to the mantelpiece where knickknacks took pride of place, mostly delicate porcelain figures aside from a crudely carved soldier. As she picked it up, she caught sight of herself in the mirror hanging behind it and startled.

Holy smokes. This is bad—even for me.

Her pointed hat had taken a battering on her flight to The Salt and Bog and a few twigs still tangled in her braid. The ride to the castle left dirt smudged on her cheeks and creases marred her dress after hitching it up to sit astride the horse. She tossed the hat aside and untied the ribbon to re-braid her hair.

She had flipped her locks over her head and was shaking out the remaining debris when she heard the door open and a deep voice barking orders. Gretchen straightened and pushed her hair out of her face, dropping into an awkward curtsy as the king’s eyes fell on her.

Your majesty. What is your pleasure?

Chapter 2

The king glanced at the woody litter at Gretchen’s feet. The lithe figure of the queen squeezed past him.

Oh, darling, she’s perfect! I told you she would do just nicely.

Gretchen’s cheeks burned, and she lowered her eyes. Well, I mean, I’ve drawn the eye of one or two over the years. Not that I’m the boastful type, but—

Mandell, what do you think? The king’s booming voice had drawn closer and Gretchen risked a glance to see another man glide in, all frilly collars and cuffs.

Absolutely hideous, sire. Disgusting. I couldn’t have done better myself.

Hideous? Gretchen puffed herself up. Now see here—

The king held up a silencing hand and sank onto the sofa. I’m sure you are wondering why I summoned you. It is a matter of absolute discretion, and we require a witch capable of putting on a good show.

Gretchen hugged her arms and frowned.

I’m not accustomed to an audience. Now, despite what wild rumors you may have heard—

Your only audience will be the prince himself and the Scribe of the Realm. We need these things documented for the history books, as I’m sure you can appreciate. A momentous occasion, the moment he rescues his damsel in distress. The king grinned.

Gretchen’s mouth worked, and she looked to the queen for confirmation. She tipped her wineglass toward her with a wink and Gretchen swallowed.

Why, your majesty, I couldn’t possibly accept this honor. You expect your son to shack up with some broad he’s never met, with such a colorful history…

What are you implying about Princess Sienna? The king’s face became mottled with rage, and Gretchen leaned back with a hand over her chest.

Princess Sienna?

Mandell took a step forward and cleared his throat. We should make ourselves plain. Young Prince Jacob must prove himself worthy to the realm by saving poor Princess Sienna who is, regrettably, locked in a tower in the lands beyond the mountains. He gave a nod to the king and carried on. With widespread peace there is a lack of suitable foes to vanquish. Our company provides the ultimate gauntlet in these kinds of situations to ensure the people remain in awe of their mighty rulers.

Gretchen drew her brows together in concentration.

Your part, madam, will be to put up a struggle for Prince Jacob before he progresses onto the dragon. Mandell’s smile didn’t meet his eyes.

Me? Gretchen scratched at her scalp absently. A foe? Did I hear the word vanquish? Because struggle and vanquish are two very different things, and if I need to calculate danger money into my fee, I should really know what I’m getting myself into.

You will be recompensed accordingly. A handsome sum should you agree to sign a confidentiality agreement. The king pressed his fingertips together, his face somber.

A handsome sum, eh? Gretchen’s hand crept down to scratch her rump. Well, if I get one thing that’s handsome tonight, may as well be coin.

Excellent. So, we’re agreed. The king reached to grasp the queen’s hand. Mandell, take her to the others. I tire of the stench.

Gretchen opened her mouth in indignation, and Mandell caught her elbow to march her out the door. When they were out of earshot of the guards, Mandell let out a pathetic moan.

No room for creative license. It’s always the same with that sort. Micromanagement in its direst form. Witches hardly make for an impressive display, most can’t even conjure so much as a dead mouse, and they always tie the bonuses to the performance. He stopped with his mouth open and clicked his teeth shut.

Well, I’m glad to be such a valuable acquisition to your… circus, is it? Gretchen snorted and yanked her elbow from his grip.

Mandell’s Mythical Ménage. An exclusive troupe, I’ll have you know, of exotic performers catering to every taste. He glared from the corner of his eye. A creature of your stature should be humbled at the opportunity to be among our ranks.

"If us witches are so lowly why would the queen ask for me then, huh?"

Pah. Whimsical notions of witches zapping people with lightning out of some bad fairy tale. I’ll bet you’d struggle to stir up so much as a breeze.

Gretchen harrumphed as she strode past Mandell down a spiral staircase bare of ornamentation. Maybe not lightning, but given enough time she could summon the energy to at least deliver a smarting sizzle. Maybe not on the intended target, but that was splitting hairs. A reinforced door sat between two torch sconces at the bottom of the stairs. Mandell unhooked a keyring from his belt and began trying each one.

Exclusive, you say? The kind of exclusive that gets locked up in a dungeon?

Helps the queen sleep easier, he muttered. The thought of playing host to a dragon was too much to bear.

The lock snapped open and Mandell waved Gretchen toward the door.

You’re not coming? She eyed the dim room askance.

"I’ll be up into the early hours catering to the fancies of your benevolent rulers. You should count your blessings