Standing Up For Grace

by Kristine Grayson

  Copyright Information

  Standing Up for Grace

  Copyright © 2015 by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  First published in 2011 by WMG Publishing

  Published by WMG Publishing

  Cover and layout copyright © 2015 by WMG Publishing

  Cover design by Allyson Longueira/WMG Publishing

  Cover art copyright © Christasvengel/Dreamstime

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

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  ONE

  Here, in the Greater World, the kids think that fairy tales are all hearts and flowers and unicorns and pink ponies. Everything has gold glitter and with the wave of a wand, every wish comes true. The Greater World includes LaLa Land, a place that prides itself on making up all these lies.

  Until she actually moved here, Imperia Encanto thought LaLa Land—Los Angeles—was this wonderful mecca. But now that she lives here, she’s been discovering the truth. Los Angeles isn’t a mecca—at least not the mecca she imagined from the books she read back in the Kingdom.

  Los Angeles is hot. It’s in the desert. It does have some lovely flowering plants, but the sunlight is harsh. And the people have really, really rough edges.

  No wonder they want to believe in fairy tales.

  Too bad the fairy tales are all lies.

  Imperia Encanto wants to tell those kids about all the lies, but her dad won’t let her. Her dad is one of the Princes Charming. Out here, they call him Cinderella’s Prince Charming, but he calls himself Dave Encanto. That last name thing took a while to get used to, but not as much as the way people think about Imperia’s other life, calling it a fairy tale, like that’s a good thing.

  In a sideways way that fairy tale thing is how Imperia ended up in the principal’s office. Imperia is nursing a sore hand, and hoping her dad won’t be upset at her when she gets home. Dad doesn’t scream or yell. He frowns.

  And when a man whose greatest magical ability is charm frowns, you know you’ve done something bad.

  Imperia does not have the ability to charm. Or, at least, she doesn’t have much of it. If she had it, she wouldn’t have had to punch Skylar Kennedy Campbell to get her to leave Imperia’s little sister Grace alone. But Imperia couldn’t stop Skylar with talk, so Imperia had to resort to violence.

  And Daddy is going to hate that, especially since he thinks Imperia has charm and just refuses to use it.

  Everyone in her father’s side of the family is supposed to have some charm. That’s just the way things work in the Kingdoms.

  There are many Kingdoms, and they overlap with the Greater World which, Daddy says, is the real world, although Imperia isn’t so sure. Imperia was born in the Kingdom—the Third Kingdom, to be precise—and it always seemed pretty real to her, especially when Mom took her and Grace and dumped them on the castle steps like so much flour.

  Your granddad will know what to do with you, Mom said, with that flat look in her eyes. Mom had that flat look for weeks before she dumped the girls. It was like Mom didn’t care about anything except this toothy guy she met in a pub. But that was weird, even for Mom. Because Mom did care about stuff. It was just usually stuff that no one else in the family cared about.

  Fortunately, Mom didn’t say any of this stuff to Grace. Just to Imperia. Because Grace wouldn’t’ve been able to deal with it.

  Grace is four years younger than Imperia, but Grace at eight is a lot younger than Imperia ever was at eight. Maybe that’s because Imperia had to deal not just with Mom, but with Grandmother as well—not Grandmama Lavinia (she loves Grandmama Lavinia, Mom’s stepmom) but Dad’s mother, the Queen, who is Very Proper. But it must be said in Grandmother’s favor that she did cry when she found out that Daddy was bringing the girls to the Greater World, because Grandmother cannot easily come here. Grandfather hates it here, even though he’s never left the Kingdom.

  He thinks that Daddy is running away from his responsibilities. Daddy says he has no responsibilities except waiting for Grandfather to die.

  Imperia wasn’t supposed to hear that conversation—although it wasn’t a conversation, it was a fight, and they had it just outside the throne room, which she had been exploring because there was nothing better to do, and besides, one day All This Would Be Hers, or so her grandmother told her in a whisper, as if that excited Grandmother a lot more than it excited anyone else.

  The problem with the Kingdom, according to both her grandmothers, is that women get no respect there. In fact, Grandfather wouldn’t let Daddy fight the divorce with Mom even though Daddy wanted to, because Grandfather didn’t believe in fighting over girls (Imperia wasn’t supposed to have heard that either, but she did, and she didn’t tell anybody, not even Grace. Especially not Grace. Grace would’ve cried. Imperia never ever ever cries. Crying is for babies). So Daddy had to do what Grandfather said because, even though there are courts in the Kingdom, Grandfather is the Ultimate Authority, and he can overrule anyone.

  Daddy says giving up the girls broke his heart. He said that in the fight Imperia wasn’t supposed to hear. Then Daddy said, You make it sound like I shouldn’t even love my daughters to Grandfather, and Grandfather said, You can love whomever you want, but you still have to follow the rules, and the rules say that the Kingdom goes to the male heir. And Daddy said, Unless there is no male heir, and after me, there isn’t. My daughters deserve to rule. And Grandfather said, That Greater World has corrupted you more than you know.

  Which is why Imperia thought the Greater World would be better. She thought it would be hearts and flowers and unicorns and pink ponies and wands with gold glitter. But it isn’t.

  Some things are better here. There’s no Grandfather for one thing, and Daddy’s around all the time, and he loves being a Daddy, even if he’s scared he’s doing it wrong. And the weather isn’t bad, it’s just different, all that sunshine and no forests and lots and lots of buildings.

  Imperia loves Daddy’s new house, which isn’t a castle at all, but something called a Tudor, and you can walk from one side of it to the other in less than five minutes, and she loves the bookstore that Daddy is building, and she thought she’d love school.

  She really thought she’d love school.

  But she was wrong.

  TWO

  School is Warren Excellence Academy of Beverly Hills. Warren Excellence Academy of Beverly Hills is the place to send your children to school, or, at least, that’s what its website says. The website doesn’t give an address or even list staff, although it does mention the school’s founder, Ansible Warren, of the Los Angeles Warrens—an old, old LA family (that goes back more than 100 years, which is younger than Daddy is, but is old for the non-magical, at least that’s what Imperia has learned). Ansible Warren believed in Education, and more importantly, apparently, Education Without RiffRaff—at least that’s what the spoof website says.

  The spoof website also has a tab for tuition, which the real website does not. The spoof website’s tuition page says simply, If You Need to Ask About Tuition, You Cannot Afford Excellence.

  Which makes Imperia a little uncomfortable. She has learned in the short time she’s been visiting the Greater World that royalty here isn’t hereditary (although she hears there are a few places in the Greater World where it i
s), but is based on how much money someone has.

  Fortunately, Daddy has lots and lots of money because gold is really valuable here, and the one thing the Kingdom has a lot of is gold. So Imperia is royalty in both places, and she thought that would get her an advantage in school, but she was wrong.

  Seems she’s missing one other thing that makes for royalty in Southern California. Fame.

  Everyone has heard of Prince Charming. No one, it seems, has heard of his oldest daughter Imperia. Apparently, no one has heard of any part of the so-called Cinderella story after the “And They Shall Live Happily Ever After” was recited at her parents’ wedding. Apparently, no one here knows that happily ever after doesn’t always work for the folk who inspired fairy tales or that her parents were the biggest mismatch of their generation or that her parents finally had no other choice except to get divorced.

  Anyway, Imperia couldn’t wait to go to Warren Academy, and then she did, and it was awful because on the first day, the very first day, the girls there made Grace cry.

  And because Grace has cried every day since, Imperia is in the principal’s office, with her hand bandaged, because she had to visit the school nurse before ending up here, and she has discovered that Greater World nurses don’t have magic wands, they have antibiotics and bandages and they say things like “It’ll take some time to heal” and “You’re lucky you didn’t break anything” like they can’t fix anything at all.

  The principal’s office has wood paneling and a fireplace even though Imperia’s pretty sure that’s for show, since they’re in Los Angeles (pardon: they’re in Beverly Hills. Los Angeles is a different town—a poorer town) and Los Angeles (Beverly Hills) is really hot and Imperia can’t imagine ever using the fireplace.

  There’s a receptionist in this front room, and a beautiful carved door leading to the actual principal’s office, and another door—not as beautiful—with a sign on it for the assistant principal. But Imperia will have to deal with the real principal because Daddy’s been dealing with the real principal.

  Daddy’s come in here a couple of times to complain about the way that Grace is being treated, and he’s done everything, including threatening to take the girls elsewhere, although no one really knows where elsewhere is. Finally, he talked to a friend of his who has a lot of kids and that friend said that maybe the girls were picking on Grace because they were too scared to pick on Imperia and Imperia should just stop them the next time they picked on Grace.

  Imperia and Grace were both raised to fight their own battles, so Imperia standing up for Grace was a pretty revolutionary idea. Or at least, to Daddy it seems revolutionary because he doesn’t know about all the things that Imperia does behind the scenes for Grace, how Imperia protects her and makes sure she doesn’t hear anything, and makes sure she has a good book to read and a quiet place to be. Imperia always stands up for Grace, but usually not against bullies, because in the Kingdom, no one bullies the Prince’s daughters, even if they don’t like the Prince.

  Here, though, here is different, and no one seems to care who they all are, not that Imperia can tell them, because everyone here thinks fairy tales are make-believe. So Imperia can’t say, I’m next in line to the throne, and expect it to mean anything, and she can’t threaten them with her grandfather’s Ultimate Authority, and her glares don’t seem to be working either.

  She has no real tricks any more and she tried to tell Daddy that, but he didn’t understand. Daddy’s a pacifist, and he’s probably not going to like the way that Imperia defended Grace—Daddy’s going to hate the idea of fists—and Imperia doesn’t want the principal to say anything. Imperia’s been sitting on the expensive leather chair next to the reception desk, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her face against her knees, wondering how she’s going to manipulate this conversation.

  After all, Imperia doesn’t have charm and she’s too young to have magic (Girls don’t come into their magic until they’re too old to have children), and so she’s just going to have to wing it. And time has proven that Imperia isn’t good at winging things.

  “Miss Encanto,” the receptionist says, putting a hand on the little thing that looks like an earbud jutting out of her ear. “Principal Daley will see you now.”

  Imperia takes a deep breath but through her nose, a trick she learned a long time ago. If she takes it through her nose, no one knows she’s trying to calm nerves. Grandmother taught her that and a few other tricks, all designed to show how strong she is even when she’s not feeling strong at all.

  Then Imperia puts her feet down decisively and stands up straight, raising her chin just like Grandmother taught her to do. It makes her look regal, or so Grandmother says, and right now, Imperia needs regal.

  She doesn’t have anything else to help her. She can’t even rely on clothes to help her (which is Mom’s best way of coping) because she has to wear the stupid school uniform, all black and gray with a white shirt that inevitably get covered with food stains, and a coat over it all that’s really hot, especially at moments like this. She also has to wear knee socks and the most uncomfortable black shoes ever invented.

  No one looks good in this outfit which, Daddy says, is the point.

  But Imperia is trying. She walks to that ornate door, pulls it open, and steps inside.

  The principal’s office smells of lavender and old wood. Normally, Imperia would like those smells, but this moment isn’t normal. She stands with her hands behind her back because she knows better than to sit uninvited. Not that the chairs in here are comfortable. They’re wooden chairs with red leather seats, designed as miniature torture chambers (as Daddy said after he sat in one), but they do match the couch off to one side.

  Principal Daley sits behind her desk. She’s a tiny woman with a pile of black hair. She gets to wear whatever she wants, which is usually something silk and expensive. Even her glasses are expensive. Right now, they’re perched on the edge of her nose, a chain hanging from the earpieces on either side of her face. The chain glitters in the overhead light. Principal Daley is reading a piece of paper and doesn’t even look up as Imperia stands there.

  “Don’t hover, child,” Principal Daley says, immediately putting Imperia on the defensive.

  She’s not hovering. She’s standing, waiting like she was trained to do. But she forgets: No one in the Greater World knows the finer points of etiquette. (If they knew the finer points of etiquette—and they knew who she was—they would all bow their heads as she passed.)

  Imperia moves toward the chair slowly because, after all, Principal Daley didn’t tell her to sit, just told her to stop hovering. Imperia’s beginning to figure out how elliptically conversation works in the Greater World, and assumes that a command to stop hovering is also a command to sit down.

  So she does. Gingerly.

  Principal Daley sets her paper down, takes off her glasses, and lets them fall against her chest. “How is your sister?”

  I don’t know, Imperia wants to say. Your goons dragged me off before I could check.

  But she knows better. Daddy said to treat Principal Daley the way Imperia would treat Grandfather because Warren Excellence Academy is Principal Daley’s little kingdom. So Imperia knows better than to mouth off.

  But she isn’t quite sure how to answer the question, so she falls back on the cliché about honesty and the best policy.

  “The last time I saw her, she was standing with her hand over her mouth,” Imperia says.

  “Hmm.” Principal Daley’s lips twitch. Imperia wonders if she’s hiding a smile, then decides that’s not possible. Principals and kings don’t smile, at least not involuntarily. “I see you took the matter into your own hands.”

  Imperia doesn’t answer that. It’s an incriminating—if true—statement that’s better left alone.

  “Your father has been quite angry with us about the way Grace has been treated,” Principal Daley says.

  “He’s not the only one,” Imperia blurts, then bites her lower
lip.

  “He calls it bullying,” Principal Daley says.

  “It is bullying,” Imperia says. “They’re calling her names. She cries every day, and you’re not doing anything.”

  So much for watching her tongue.

  “That’s why you decided to do something on your own.”

  Imperia sits tall in the chair, keeps her shoulders back and meets Principal Daley’s gaze. Imperia is not going to admit she’s wrong, because she’s not wrong, no matter what the rules are, no matter what Daddy says about violence. Skylar Kennedy Campbell wasn’t listening to reason. Skylar Kennedy Campbell wasn’t listening at all.

  And besides, nothing can compare to the feeling that Imperia had when Skylar Kennedy Campbell toppled backwards, her nose gushing blood all over her white shirt, and her eyes filling with tears.

  “You do realize that Skylar’s parents are going to want an apology,” Principal Daley says.

  “They’re not going to get one.” Imperia crosses her arms.

  “No, I suppose not.” Principal Daley sighs. “So I’ll give you a choice. You can apologize or I can talk with your father.”

  “Talk to him,” Imperia says. “He’s the one who told me that I should stand up for Grace. Someone has to and it’s clear this school is not going to.”

  Principal Daley’s mouth thins, just like Grandmother’s when she’s trying not to speak her mind. “I can also write you up. In this school you have three warnings before you get expelled. If you get expelled, you will be part of a list sent to other exclusive schools in the area notifying them about problem children.”

  “Is a write-up a warning?” Imperia asks.

  “Yes,” Principal Daley says.

  “Then give me a damn warning,” Imperia says, hearing an echo of her grandfather’s voice in her own. “And if swearing gets me another warning so be it. I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done. I think you people play favorites here, and because my family is unknown and Skylar’s isn’t, you’re favoring her. My father will understand and he and Grace are the only people I care about.”