by Aron Lewes
As Rank tilted his wand up and down, the dragon's neck was jerked back and forth. Finally, when the rope disappeared, the Shrieker took off. It abandoned its search for food and soared into the sky.
“Let...” the old woman hissed as she buried a fist in Rank's stomach, “go...” She brutally stomped on his foot. “Of me!”
When Rank finally released her, he was smiling. “Thanks, love.” He gave her a gentle pat on the head. “You were very helpful. Sorry about your husband.”
The day after his encounter with the Cedarwood Shrieker, Prince Elliot found Rose in the Winter Palace's garden. She was all by herself, sipping strawberry lemonade with a smile on her lips. Bluebirds had gathered at her feet, even though she had nothing to offer them. It was as if the little birds knew she was someone special.
“Hello, Princess,” Elliot greeted her as he hobbled to her bench. “You look lovely today.”
As she replied, Rose tossed her voluminous auburn hair over her shoulder. “Just today?”
“N-no.” Elliot was a bit taken aback by her question. “You look beautiful every day, of course.”
She returned a lukewarm compliment. “Well, you aren't so shabby yourself, Prince Elliot.” When one of the bluebirds pecked at her slipper, she kicked it away with a frustrated tut of her tongue. “Why are there so many birds?” the princess complained.
“You don't like birds, my lady?”
“Not especially. I wouldn't want one of them to poop on my shoe!” Rose's arms crossed as she watched the birds hop around her feet.
“I like their birdsong, though.”
“I don't,” the pouting princess disagreed. “After awhile, the incessant tweeting starts to hurt my ears.”
“Uh...” Elliot's eyes dropped to the seat beside her. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“No. I guess not. Maybe you'll frighten away some of the birds?” When Elliot sat down, she studied him in the corner of her eye. “By the way, why are you limping?”
“I was in town yesterday during the dragon attack,” Elliot told her. “The dragon burned my leg.”
The princess sipped her lemonade and weakly expressed her concerns. “Oh my. That's awful. Are you alright?”
“I'll live, I suppose. It was a rather bad burn, though. Look.”
When Elliot proceeded to roll up the leg of his breeches, Rose hid her eyes. “No, don't! Please! Don't show me! I don't want to see it!”
“Al... right.” Elliot sighed as he covered his leg. “I won't make you look at it.”
“You could never make me look at it, Prince Elliot. I would object until my face was blue!” Rose declared. “I don't like to look at other people's injuries. It makes me ill. Oh, I hate these stupid birds!” Rose jabbed her foot at the flock, but they weren't deterred. “Why do they cling to me? You would think I was made of seeds or something. Why don't they bother someone else?”
Elliot's brow pinched as he listened to her rant. He didn't understand her hatred of birds. He thought they were adorable. “Perhaps we should relocate?” the prince suggested. “Perhaps you'd like to join me for a stroll around the garden?”
“No.” Rose shook her head and sipped her lemonade. “Sorry, but I don't feel like walking.”
“Very well. Perhaps you would like to have supper with me instead?”
“Right now? But it's barely afternoon!”
“No! I meant later, of course,” Elliot corrected her. “Would you join me for supper in a few hours?”
“No.” Rose's answer was delivered with an exaggerated pout. “Unfortunately, I'm meeting someone else.”
Elliot's stomach clenched as he asked his next question. “Is it... Tye?”
“Tye?” Rose gasped as she repeated the name. She was so surprised to hear him say it, she almost dropped her strawberry lemonade. “You know about him?”
“I do,” confessed a sighing Prince Elliot. “I saw you with him the other day.”
“Oh dear. That's... awkward.” Rose's thumbs frantically twiddled as she planned her next words. “Perhaps this is a good thing? When we're married, there will be no deception.”
“You still want to marry me?”
“Indeed. In fact, I've already talked it over with Tye,” Rose went on. “We think it's best if I do marry you. It's better for everyone.” Under her breath, she added, “and I'll continue to see Tye in secret...”
“Your decision is... surprising. You and Tye seemed quite close.”
“We are. However, sacrifices must be made for the good of everyone, Elliot.”
Sacrifice. Elliot cringed at the word. He didn't want her to feel like she was sacrificing herself. He wanted to be appreciated.
“Well, Princess, I believe I will take a walk around the garden,” Elliot announced as he rose from the bench. “It has certainly been an enlightening conversation.”
“It has,” Rose agreed. “When you go, I hope the bluebirds go with you. They are so very annoying, after all.”
“You are annoying,” Elliot whispered as he walked away. Princess Rose was the epitome of a spoiled royal. In Rose's eyes, she was the center of the world, and the more time he spent with her, the more he detested the idea of marrying her.
Elliot wove through the hedge maze and reached the garden's center, where two guards on a stepladder were attempting to remove a silly mustache from a statue of Prince Sharman. The statue was enormous. Despite his position at the ladder's highest rung, the guard had to stretch to reach it.
“Who builds a statue of himself?” Elliot whispered as he watched the guards. “Seriously? Sharman and Rose are not the people I remember from my childhood. They've gotten... intolerable.”
All of a sudden, there was a loud thwacking noise, and it took Elliot a moment to locate the source. Not far away, a young woman was loosing arrows at a target. When he donned his spectacles, he realized she hit the bullseye.
The young lady, who was sitting in a chair, nocked another arrow and released it with ease. Once again, she struck the target's center. Elliot was intrigued, so he crept a bit closer. The dark-haired woman wasn't a beauty, but she certainly had talent. Fascinated as he was, he decided to introduce himself.
Elliot marched to her side and hovered near her chair. When he finally spoke, his greeting was timid. “H-Hello.”
The young lady lowered her bow and smiled. She didn't seem to mind the interruption. “Hello.”
“I'm... Elliot,” he shyly introduced himself. “Prince Elliot.”
“Oh my!” the woman exclaimed. “You're the prince? The one who woke Princess Rose? It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss...?”
“Terra,” she finished his sentence. “I'm Terra Silver.”
Now that he was seeing her up close, he found more to admire about her face. With her thick eyebrows and long nose, she was far from traditionally pretty. She was closer to handsome, or possibly plain. However, he liked her smile, and her lovely blue eyes were large and wise. “I confess, Miss Silver, I was admiring your skills with a bow,” Elliot told her. “You're quite good.”
“I've had a lot of practice.” Terra started to nock another arrow, but she changed her mind. Now that she was aware of her spectator, she couldn't perform. It was too much pressure.
“You fire arrows from a seated position?” Elliot observed. “Does that help?”
“I'm sitting cause I must, Your Highness.” Terra pointed at the crutches by her chair.
“Oh.” Elliot sheepishly scratched his head. “I'm sorry, Miss Silver. I had no idea.”
“Please don't apologize. When people see my crutches for the first time, they always want to tell me how sorry they are. It never makes me feel better.”
“I'm so--” Elliot stopped himself before he apologized again. “So, uh... are you a guest of Prince Sharman?”
“I am... but I'm sure he wishes I would disappear,” Terra laughed. “He's never wanted me here. I can see it on his face.�
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“Why do you say that?”
“Every now and then, I catch him sneering at me.” Terra tapped her arrow's feathered tip against her chin. “He's marrying my stepsister.”
“Ah. So you're Cinderella's stepsister. Does that mean I'll be seeing you at supper?”
“No.” Terra snorted at the thought. “Sharman's never invited me to dine with him, even though Cinda's asked him to. Every now and then, however, he will sit with me for tea.”
Elliot snatched a chair from the garden table and dragged it to Terra's side. His leg was still sore, and he needed to sit. “So...” he began, “what is your opinion of Sharman?”
“Do you want my honest opinion?” Terra waited for Elliot's nod. “Very well. To be honest, Prince Elliot, I think he's a pompous turd.”
He exploded with laughter at her description. “Really?”
“Oh yes. Absolutely.” Terra's nod was resolute. “But I don't see him often, which is good, because I can barely tolerate him.”
“Wow. That is... quite an opinion,” Elliot said as his chuckles subsided. “I wasn't expecting that.”
“And what is your opinion of Princess Rose?” Terra asked. “You are supposed to marry her, yes?”
“I am.” Elliot's tightening jaw told her he was less than thrilled by the prospect. “She is... alright.”
“Really?” Terra's nose wrinkled slightly. “Is that really how you feel?”
“I, uh...” The shy prince gave his collar a nervous tug. “W-well, if I was being completely honest, I would say she... she...”
“She's what, Your Highness?” Terra encouraged him to continue.
“She's awful.” When his true opinion finally sailed through his lips, Elliot breathed a sigh of relief. “She's a nightmare. She's difficult, she whines a lot, and she hates birds. Who could possibly hate birds?”
“I haven't the slightest idea. I love birds.”
“As do I.” Elliot could feel his smile returning, and he had Terra to thank for it. “Miss Silver, would you like to--”
He was going to ask her to join him for tea, but his invitation was interrupted by a mad howl. When he glanced up, he saw Rank heading in their direction. The bizarre guard was over-exaggerating a swagger, and he was wearing a chef's hat. Elliot held his breath and hoped his strange companion would make no mention of their drunken escapades.
When Rank paused beside their chairs, Terra's eyes rolled. “Ellie and Stepsister are spending time together? I didn't realize you two knew each other,” Rank croaked.
“We don't. We just met,” Terra explained. “Why on earth are you wearing a chef's hat, Rank?”
“I dunno. I found it and I kinda liked it. Do you like it?”
“No, Rank. It's ridiculous,” Terra told him. “You really are amazingly strange.”
“Thanks.”
“I didn't realize it was possible for someone to be as eccentric as you are,” Terra added.
“Thanks.” As he replied, Rank's fingers fumbled with the wrapper of a peppermint stick. When he had it open, he broke off a piece and dropped it in his pocket. Like him, Gloriosa liked mint.
With a chuckle, Terra asked, “Why are you putting peppermint in your pocket? Are you saving a piece for later?”
“Aye. When I find that bit later, it'll make me excited all over again.” Rank's gaze drifted to the target Terra was using to practice her archery. “Are you shootin' arrows, love?”
“I was.”
Rank's next question was delayed by peppermint. The cool, minty stick was rolling around on his tongue. After a short pause, he asked, “Can I watch?”
“No.”
“Awww. Why?” When Rank pouted at her, his peppermint stick dangled from his lip. “You're good at it, though! I got to see your handy dandy archery skills when we were fighting the dragon at sea.”
Elliot, who had been silenced by Rank's arrival, suddenly spoke up again. “You fought a dragon, Miss Silver?”
“Uh... yes,” Terra reluctantly replied. “But Rank is the one who ultimately took it down.”
When Elliot's gaze drifted to Rank, a proud smile lifted the mage's lips. Rank acknowledged his own heroics with an exuberant nod.
“You two are certainly much braver than I am,” Elliot said. “When I saw the dragon yesterday, my heart almost stopped.”
“You saw a dragon?” Terra's eyes lit up. Dragons—and their many breeds—were always a topic of interest to her. “What type of dragon?”
“I haven't the slightest idea,” Elliot responded with a shrug. “The dragon burned my leg, though. Rank rescued me.”
Once again, Rank acknowledged his heroics with a nod. “I'm good at driving away dragons,” the mage declared, snatching an arrow from Terra's quiver.
“So... you do magic?” Elliot asked him. “You're a mage?”
Rank twirled the arrow and replied with an “aye.” When the arrow stopped spinning, he handed it to Terra. “Go on, then. Show us your amazing archery skills.”
“Ohhh... fine.” Terra accepted his request with a frustrated grunt. She nocked the arrow, raised her bow, and aimed at the target.
As soon as she released the arrow, Rank wiggled his wand. Terra's arrow multiplied into ten arrows, and all ten struck the target.
“Rank!” Terra cried. “How do I know which arrow was mine?”
“They're all yours. Don't complain. I just made you ten times deadlier,” Rank told her with a wink. “Anyway, I need to talk to Ellie for a moment. Man to man.”
Before Elliot could respond, Rank grabbed the prince's shoulder and pulled him aside.
“I like you, mate. I really do. I feel like we connected, eh?” Rank whispered. “But I need to make something clear, alright?”
“Al... right,” Elliot's reply was hesitantly given. In his chef's hat, Rank was difficult to take seriously.
“Terra is my girl,” Rank declared. “Well... she's not mine yet, but I'm going to woo her. I'll woo her so hard, she won't know what hit her. She'll be so thoroughly wooed, I'll redefine wooing in the process.”
Elliot was a bit confused, but he responded with a nervous nod.
“So we understand each other, then?” Rank gently slapped the prince's arm. “Good man.”
Every witch had been cursed a few times, and Donnabella was no exception. Even the most powerful witch in the world was susceptible to the occasional attack from her peers. She had removed most curses, but some were cast with such strong intent, she couldn't shake them.
Because of a witch named Daphne, Donnabella couldn't sleep for more than two hours. She could only take naps. It was inconvenient, but she had learned to live with it.
Because of a witch named Oleanda, Donnabella's toenails were atrocious. They were yellow, crusty and thick, and they stopped growing long ago. There was nothing she could do about them, so she covered them in nail polish and hoped no one would notice.
There was nothing Donnabella liked more than gold, so the curse cast by Arseneca was arguably the worst. Donnabella could multiply almost anything. She could take a single fairy cake and turn it into twelve. With a wave of her wand or a flick of her finger, she could turn one teapot into two. Because of Arseneca's curse, Donnabella couldn't multiply riches. She couldn't even multiply diamonds or rubies. Arseneca knew of Donnabella's love of money, so she cast her curse accordingly. And Donnabella hated her for it.
Donnabella had to resort to other means to acquire her wealth. More often than not, she made other people steal for her. And more often than not, her thief of choice was Fenix.
“Baby,” Donnabella cooed to her lover. Her fingers dragged through his wavy brown hair as she recited her many pet names for him. “Sweetheart. Angel. Babydoll, Dumpling... can you do this for me?”
When she was hired as the prince's caterer, Donnabella was given a room in the palace. Donnabella was hardly surprised when she got the job. She wooed Prince Sharman with magically manifested cakes and sweet treats. No one could resist the witch's blu
eberry muffins.
Donnabella and Fenix were relaxing in her bed, where she covered his face in countless kisses. Every time the witch's cold lips touched his skin, he winced.
“You want me to rob the prince...” Fenix croaked. “And how am I supposed to pull that off, exactly?”
“I don't know. You're good at thieving, Sweetie. I'm sure you'll figure something out.” Donnabella's tongue shot out to lick his ear. “You can turn yourself into a fly and sneak into that massive vault of his.”
“The vault is air tight. I would need a key,” Fenix said. Specifically, he would need the prince's skeleton key. Either the key was with Rank, or it was in Rank's old cell. Fenix wasn't sure.
“Well then... find the key,” Donnabella encouraged him. “I don't care how you do it, just get it done.”
“What if I'm arrested?”
“You won't be,” the witch assured him. “And if you are, I'll rescue you.”
“Very well,” Fenix grumbled as he rolled from Donnabella's bed. “I'll... see what I can do.”
As he was leaving the room, Donnabella exclaimed, “I love you, Baby!”
Fenix had to say it back to her. It was part of his curse, and he didn't have a choice. His lips moved on their own. “I love you too.”
Fenix launched his mission in mouse form. He zigzagged down the Winter Palace's hallways, evading the boots of patrolling guards as he made his way to the dungeon. He didn't know where to find Rank, but he knew where to find Rank's cell, so he decided to start his search down there.
As he scurried down the hall, he was almost stepped on by Prince Sharman. To avoid a collision with the prince's polished boot, Fenix darted into the nearest bedroom—which happened to be Cinda's. Behind him, he could hear the prince muttering, “I have no idea where that blasted key is... it's too valuable to lose... I better find it soon...”
“That's ironic,” Fenix said—but when he spoke, he squeaked. “Apparently, Sharman's searching for the same thing as me.”
Fenix turned his attention to Cinderella and Terra. The latter was rolling up a newspaper and stalking a fly around the room.