by M. A. Larson
“Maggie, are you quite finished glowing over meeting Cinderella? We could really use your thoughts.”
“You’re right, Evie,” said Demetra. “There are too many people in here to trust them all. At least if Cinderella’s out there, she isn’t cornered.”
“And if she’s not actually at the Academy,” said Basil, “perhaps she could let the Vertreiben know so they’ll leave us alone and go after her out there.” He glanced out the window into the darkness. “I’m sorry to break this up, but I think it’s just about lights-out. I just heard Lance squawking in the barracks.”
“Let him send me home,” said Maggie. “I’ve just met Cinderella!”
“We’ve got to keep calling her Hazelbranch,” said Evie. “Can we all agree to that? No matter what happens, no one can know who she really is.”
Evie left her torch burning long after the others had been snuffed. She lay on her back and watched the smoke flutter up and disappear into the beams of the ceiling. She was convinced that sneaking Cinderella out was the only way to save her, and possibly to save the Academy itself. But there was one piece of the plan that she just couldn’t crack.
How?
Javelle had told them that Vertreiben were lurking everywhere. Strolling past them with Cinderella would be impossible. If only there were a way to frighten them off, even temporarily. To create a path through them where Cinderella could escape. But the Vertreiben weren’t afraid of anything. Not even princesses.
She glanced over at Maggie, who was sound asleep with a smile on her face, no doubt dreaming of her meeting with her idol. Evie smiled, too. It was nice to see her friends happy again. It finally felt like it used to when—
An idea hit her like a tree falling on a cottage.
She bolted up in bed. Perhaps there was something that could frighten the Vertreiben . . .
She climbed off her bed and looked underneath. It was chockablock with some of the parchments she’d received. She began pulling them aside in piles until she found some that had been there since earlier in the term. She wrested a small stack free and picked up the parchment on top. A layer of feathery dust fell from the page, and the stripes of black ink with it. The parchment had molted and was now blank. She brushed away the last bits, then grabbed the quill and inkpot off of Maggie’s windowsill.
Still on the floor, she began to write. She scribbled frantically and feverishly, then blew the ink until it was dry. Her torch was flickering, having nearly burned down to the nub. That was all right. She was finished.
She hurried to the barracks door and eased it open. The cold night air slithered in just as she slithered out. Standing on the patch of grass just outside the door, she hastily folded her parchment and held it in front of her. She jerked her arm up and let go, but the parchment just floated back to the ground.
“Come on, come on.”
She picked it up. The wrist, Basil had said. The wrist was the key. She flicked her wrist and snapped the parchment into the air. It floated back down, but before it touched the ground, wings began to sprout from the top. The letter struggled to stay aloft, halfway between parchment and hawk, but with each flap of the wings it became more and more bird.
She smiled as she watched it flap away into the darkness. But as the bird disappeared, her smile did, too. Cold dread began to creep over her. The letter was gone and there was no getting it back.
What have I just done?
“The end of the year approaches like a horde of moaning witches,” said Princess Ziegenbart, leaping atop a straw bale. “I shall begin accepting applications for the various branches of the princess service in one week’s time. If you haven’t already, finish reading the chapter on the Cursebreakers this evening. Princess Mansfield will be joining us tomorrow to answer any and all. She is one of the finest Cursebreakers of the last twenty years, so it should be plenty interesting indeed. And remember, she’s the one who developed the Waking Sleep.”
The cadets were already busy packing up their things, rolling parchments and capping inkpots and heading out into the foggy gray afternoon.
“Well? Shall we pop by Ironbone barracks and see if Princess Hazelbranch has heard from Lankester?” said Demetra.
“I need to speak to Princess Ziegenbart quickly,” said Maggie, and she walked to the head of the class and began chatting with the goat.
Evie’s heart was racing. The plan she’d put into action the previous night, the plan about which she was now so uncertain, needed one more element. And this was the perfect chance to finish it.
“Go on,” she said to Demetra. “I’ll wait for Maggie and we’ll catch you up in a minute.”
Demetra and Basil followed the rest of the class outside. Evie glanced to the front of the room and saw Maggie and Ziegenbart deep in conversation.
“It says on page seventy that some princesses prefer the Western Kingdoms because of the climate, but I’m from Sevigny, so cold weather doesn’t particularly bother me. How important is that, really?”
Ziegenbart was only too happy to explain the particulars of life in various climates for the Towersitters. Evie saw her chance. She eased over to the table near the wall where the witch artifacts were housed. They were strewn across it like farm implements in a stable. She made sure she wasn’t being watched, then picked up a spindle and the small vial next to it. This was the Waking Sleep potion that Ziegenbart had just mentioned. It would surely be missed when Princess Mansfield turned up tomorrow, but by then it would all be done. Her heart was thumping as she slipped the spindle and the vial up her sleeve and hurried to the door.
Outside, she dropped them into her pocket and waited in the cold for Maggie to finish, which took another fifteen minutes. Finally she came out.
“Oh, sorry, Evie, I didn’t realize you were waiting.”
“It’s all right.” They began to walk through the fog toward the Dining Hall.
“I’m quite excited to see Princess Mansfield tomorrow. The Cursebreakers sound fascinating.”
“I thought you’d decided on the Towersitters.”
“I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. I’m all over the shop.”
Evie’s stomach was in knots. She had things to tell Maggie—immense things that loomed over her like thunderheads—but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. They walked all the way to the Dining Hall, and she hadn’t said a thing she’d wanted to. Third-class cadets continued to look at Evie with adulation, but she’d stopped noticing long ago. She and Maggie joined Demetra and Basil, who were already finished with their lunch. The Dining Hall was filled with the aroma of smoked meat and fish. There was also the usual assortment of fresh fruits and small pots of honey yogurt and toasted bread. Evie sat and began nibbling on an apple.
“Spoke to Hazelbranch,” said Basil. “No word from Lankester.”
Evie twisted in her seat, unable to sit still.
“You look as though you’ve sat on an anthill, Evie,” said Demetra. “Are you all right?”
“Not really!” she said with a nervous smile, her foot tapping the floor.
“What’s wrong?” said Maggie.
“I’ve done something and I probably shouldn’t have, but by the time I’d thought it through, it was too late and that’s just how it is and I’m sorry but it’s done.”
“What did you do?” said Maggie, her cheerful expression fading.
“I was trying to think of a way to get Cinderella past the Vertreiben, and it occurred to me that if we could just scare them a bit, they might back off enough for us to sneak her through.”
“And?”
“And I thought of something that might work. That might put some fear into them.”
The three of them stared at her with grave expressions. “Evie,” said Maggie, finally. “What?”
She took a deep breath. “Witches.”
Maggie, Demetra, and Basi
l all looked at one another.
“Witches?” said Basil.
“The Vertreiben aren’t afraid of princesses because our skills aren’t designed to work against them. But they have to be afraid of witches, because their magic works against everyone.”
“Evie,” said Maggie. “What did you do?”
“As I lay in bed thinking it through, it occurred to me that it’s got to be Malora who’s been sending me the warnings.”
“Evie? What did you do?”
“Hear me out. She’s still my sister. Yes, she’s a witch, but she sent those letters because she wanted to protect me—”
“Evie! What did you do?”
“I asked Malora to take Cinderella prisoner.”
Maggie’s head thumped on the table.
“You did what?” said Demetra.
Basil picked his teeth with a bone. “Well . . . wasn’t expecting that.”
Maggie groaned.
“Have you lost your mind?” said Demetra.
“The only way to safely get Cinderella out of the Academy is if she’s with someone the Vertreiben are afraid of. That certainly isn’t any of us. But it is a witch. A witch we can trust.”
“I don’t mind it, actually,” said Basil.
“So let me get this straight. You want us to hand over the greatest princess ever to live to Malora?” spat Maggie.
“I know it sounds mad, but I’m sure she’s the one who’s been sending the letters! I know she’ll help us!”
“Evie, this was not a good idea,” said Demetra.
“Not a good idea? This is a disaster!” said Maggie. “Malora will tell Calivigne, and soon we’ll have witches at our doorstep alongside the Vertreiben!”
“On the other hand,” said Basil, “they couldn’t possibly expect that a witch would be voluntarily helping the princesses.”
“Please tell me you didn’t reveal her real identity,” said Maggie.
Evie said nothing.
“What happened to ‘no one must know’? That was you who said that! Oh, Evie, what have you done?”
“I don’t know,” said Evie. “But I’ve done it.”
They went through the rest of the day’s training without really talking to one another. During the Fairy Drillsergeant’s drills, during their off-hour, during a lecture on high teas with Princess Elmstein, they all stayed close, though none of them spoke. It was as if they were waiting for Beatrice to come storming down from the Crown Castle to personally chuck them over the wall and watch the witches haul them away.
The worst of it was at supper. They sat at their normal places at the Leatherwolf table, which had a clear view of Princess Hazelbranch’s throne. She gave them compassionate glances throughout the meal, as if to thank them for helping keep her secret. And each time Evie’s eyes met hers, she felt just a little bit queasier inside.
As night fell once more and Princess Copperpot arrived with the mail, Evie found herself wishing desperately for word from Princess Lankester. If she had somehow managed to thwart Javotte, then Evie’s plan to work with Malora wouldn’t be necessary. Yes, Hazelbranch’s true identity would be exposed. But that would still be a far better outcome than a bloody confrontation with the Vertreiben.
Lance strutted down the aisle. Everything was silent except for his soft clucking and the thunk thunk of Copperpot’s wooden leg on the stone. As usual, she carried a small burlap sack.
“As we are closing in on the end of our time together,” said Copperpot, “I feel I must acknowledge something that, to my mind, is rather extraordinary.” She slowly hobbled down the aisle, glancing sideways at each cadet she passed. “Each year, there is one cadet who puts an intolerably bad taste in my mouth on the first day of term. This year was, as expected, true to form.”
Evie could see Maggie starting to sway next to her. She decided to risk a scolding from Copperpot to look over. Maggie’s skin had gone gray, and she seemed as though she might collapse. “Are you all right?” She didn’t answer.
“I have never once, in all my years at Pennyroyal Academy, seen that cadet survive the year. And this year is no exception.”
“Please, Princess Copperpot!” wailed Maggie. “Please don’t send me home! I’ll do whatever—”
“Yet.”
The barracks were silent except for Maggie’s sniffling.
“You have not finished the year yet, Cadet,” said Copperpot, stopping in front of Maggie. “But I see no reason why you shouldn’t. Lance has been particularly impressed with your engagement and attention to detail over the course of the year. As have I. You are quite an impressive young lady, Cadet Magdalena. For the first time in my career, I am starting to think I may have misjudged someone.”
Maggie stared up at her, bewildered. “What?”
“I am simply offering you a mea culpa in front of your comrades. And a word of encouragement. Barring some sort of collapse with your final exams, I see no reason why you shouldn’t be here next year as a first-class princess cadet.”
Maggie blinked. “What?”
“The rest of you, when tomorrow comes, you must be more a princess than today.”
“Yes, Princess!”
Evie grunted as Copperpot thrust the sack into her stomach. “Your letters, Cadet.”
“Thank you, Princess,” said Evie, rubbing her middle.
Copperpot and Lance ambled back down the aisle and disappeared into their quarters. Evie began leafing through her letters. As the rest of the company got ready for bed, Maggie remained standing at the end of her bunk.
“All right, Maggie?” said Evie.
Maggie didn’t speak. Her shoulders bobbed, just a little. She was crying. Demetra walked over to her and put her hands on her arms.
“I’m proud of you, too, Maggie. Everything she said and more is true. You’re going to be an excellent princess when this is all over.”
Maggie collapsed into her arms. Demetra held her tight as a year’s worth of fear and frustration came rushing out.
“You’re all right,” said Demetra. “You’re still here.”
Evie smiled and left them to it. They had all kept swimming and found one another once again. With her heart warmed, Evie glanced down at the pile of letters in her hands. Her blood ran cold.
“Girls,” she said. “Malora’s written back.”
The owls called to one another in the dark forest beneath the hilltop Academy. A pack of wolves began howling in the distance, a chorus of voices that existed only to warn others to be afraid. Evie, Maggie, and Demetra stepped out from the barracks and hurried around to Basil’s storehouse. They let themselves inside and woke him with a rough shake.
“You lot are lucky I don’t sleep with my blade,” he said, rubbing his eyes.
Evie lit a candle, then another, until the storehouse glowed in the night. “Malora’s sent a bird.”
“Has she?”
Evie sat on a stump the woodcutters used to split logs and picked the crude wax seal away from the parchment with her fingernail. Then she unfolded it and began to read:
“I’m quite impressed you worked it out, sister. I never intended to write you at all, but when I saw what the Vertreiben were up to, I figured you at least deserved some sort of warning. I’d heard the rumblings that someone inside was not who they seemed, but I’d no idea it was Princess Hazelbranch, and even less idea who she really was. I told you when last we spoke that I would never lift a finger to help you again, but I think this situation calls for a reevaluation of that policy. I’ve no love for the princesses, nor the Vertreiben, nor the witches, but for some strange reason Cinderella does still mean something to me. I suppose I was indoctrinated deeply enough as a child that she will always be something of a hero to me. In short, I’ve no interest in seeing her captured. By anyone.”
“Fantastic!” said Basil.
Evie continued: “I know it must’ve been awfully difficult for you to write me, but it’s good that you did. The Vertreiben are already in the Dortchen Wild, and there is very little time left. As luck would have it, I, too, am in the Dortchen Wild. If you’d like to see Cinderella make it out of there alive, bring her to me tonight. I’ll ensure she gets to safety.”
“Tonight?” said Maggie. “This is madness! Cinderella’s going to kill us when she hears what we’ve done!”
“Is that all it says?” asked Demetra.
Evie read on: “I’ve written detailed instructions on how to find me, so when you turn this back into a bird, it’ll lead you to my location. Hurry. They’re coming. And it won’t be days. It’ll be hours.”
The four of them sat in silence. The muted hoot-hoo-hoot of an owl sounded from the trees.
“We’ve got to tell Princess Beatrice,” said Maggie as she stood. “This has gone too far.”
“No, Maggie,” said Demetra. “This is our best chance.”
“So now you agree with this as well?”
“I don’t believe Princess Cinderella is safe here,” she said. “They’re coming, Maggie. We’ve got to do something.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” Maggie looked from Evie to Basil to Demetra. “What happens if Javotte finds Malora with Cinderella? Or worse, if Calivigne does?”
“Nothing happens,” said Evie. “Malora’s a hero for capturing Princess Hazelbranch.”
“How would they not know that Malora’s betrayed them?”
“Because of this,” said Evie. She reached into the pocket of her nightdress and took out the spindle and vial she’d stolen from Ziegenbart’s classroom.
Maggie looked at them for a moment, piecing together what Evie had in mind. “You’re going to put Cinderella to sleep? Am I the only one with any sense round here?”