“I’m not like the other princesses, Chance,” I said with a slow, hypnotic fluidity to my voice.
“I know,” he replied just as slickly.
“Good. But there is still one other thing you need to know about me . . .”
I reached up steadily, grasped his bowtie, and gingerly brought his face so close to mine that there could be no mistaking in his mind ever again that he had any power over me. I leaned in and lowered my voice to a whisper.
“You can’t have me.”
I released him and motioned toward the ballroom behind us as my glare narrowed. “So. Pick. Someone. Else.”
At first, Chance seemed a bit flustered by my tactic and my comment. The bemusement in his expression had hardened ever so slightly, and his cheeks were tinged with a touch of redness.
But, a second later he straightened himself, held up his right hand, and casually snapped his fingers. When he did, for a moment his pupils sparked gold like a beautiful, angry reflex.
The flash caught me off guard, so I didn’t react in time to pull away before his other hand made contact with the cuff bracelet on my wrist.
The instant it did, the bracelet began to change. Within the blink of an eye the magic that was his inherited birthright spread, causing the accessory to increase in both density and weight as it turned to solid gold. I yanked my hand away protectively—feeling strangely violated, irate, and kind of jealous.
Stupid King Midas. Why couldn’t my genetics be laden with magical awesomeness? All I had to show for my fairytale bloodline was a fondness for pumpkins and a talent for cleaning my room that I was ashamed of.
“Nice trick,” I commented, rubbing my wrist now that I’d gotten past the initial shock. “Overcompensating for something?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Chance countered. “You’re trying too hard to deter my advances, Crisanta. Meanwhile, I can see the classic truth residing behind your stubbornness as clear as glass. I’m a prince; you’re a princess. The math is simple; the outcome as novel as, well, a world called Book. Whether you want to admit it or not, our inherent destinies together are a lot like the gold in this bracelet—solid, resistant to corrosion, and a surprisingly strong conductor of electricity.”
He moved to touch the accessory on my arm again, which felt more like a handcuff now than a bracelet, but I held up my hand to keep him back.
“Except this isn’t real,” I said.
“What?”
“It’s fool’s gold,” I stated bluntly.
Chance took a slight step back in surprise. I couldn’t tell if he was more confused or offended by the accusation. “No it isn’t,” he replied earnestly.
“It is if it came from you,” I said.
With that, I unclasped the heavy bracelet and shoved it back at him.
“Here,” I continued. “You keep this. I’ll keep my heart. And we’ll call it even. I don’t care what classics you believe in, Chance. But I do know they have no place here. I’m not saying they don’t matter at all. Goodness knows we’re reminded of their shadow every day. I’m just saying that I’m not going to live in it. Not now. Not ever. And certainly not with you.”
I moved for the nearest door and grasped its handle.
“Where are you going?” Chance asked, looking more dumbstruck than I’d ever thought possible.
I glanced back. “Long term? Hopefully forward. For now, this way will do just fine.”
I turned my back on the prince and stepped out the door, my heart flushed with satisfaction and my mind sharp with resolute clarity.
Unlike the beautiful place I’d just emerged from, the western hallway connecting to Adelaide Castle’s ballroom was dark and deserted.
The students and staff had entered the party through the east wing. Even if they hadn’t, anyone with any sense was inside by now—drinking in the room’s energy and the complimentary tropical punch—versus out here walking through empty pockets of the castle. The likes of which were kind of creepy if I was being perfectly honest.
To start with, there were the suits of armor. They weren’t that different from the ones at Lady Agnue’s—shiny, tall, and each holding a weapon of some sort. Nevertheless, at night in the shadows they loomed over the hallway and practically threatened to turn animate should you make a wrong move.
Then there were the curtains. Framing enormous windows, each set was navy, super thick, and some twenty-five feet in length. They hung to the floor—only a good tug away from collapsing like haphazard sandcastles. I kept myself from walking too close to them as I made my way down the corridor, concerned that one might abruptly come down and bury me beneath ten pounds of velvet.
Despite their intimidation, even these droopy drapes could’ve been considered pleasant in comparison to what they adorned. The blue stained-glass windows lining the pathway before me were vast and iridescent. The cold wind blowing in a few open ones sent a shiver up my spine. And the moonlight streaming through them cast strange, aqua-colored streaks across everything in sight, making me feel like I was the sole fish in a really posh fish tank. A really posh, mildly ominous fish tank with some super unsettling décor . . .
Perhaps in broad daylight, bronze sculptures of coral and a fountain in the shape of a buoy surrounded by seagulls may have been quaint and delightful. But at night they were precisely the opposite: just plain eerie.
I proceeded relatively slowly in the direction of the freaky-looking fountain at the end of the hall, passing each twisted, coral-inspired piece of artwork with precaution.
Weirded out as I was, I kept my eyes and ears peeled for any sign of Marie or Mauvrey. At least until I was about twenty feet away from the fountain and my hands curtly began to burn up again.
For the first few seconds I tried to ignore the feeling. After all, I’d felt the same strange burning sensation in the ballroom just a couple of minutes ago and it had dissipated as rapidly as it had begun. So, naturally, I hoped that it would do the same now. Alas, I was swiftly proven to be very, very wrong.
After ten seconds I had to acknowledge that my hands truly felt as if they were on fire. And it was not going away.
Hot!
Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot!
I ran the rest of the way to the fountain and sat on its edge when I got there—dunking my hands into the pool as fast as I could.
Ahhhh!
I winced as the water attempted to cool the invisible flames emanating from my fingertips. But, regrettably it didn’t seem to be helping. To make matters worse, I suddenly lost my balance and slid off the edge.
I would’ve completely fallen into the fountain had it not been for my quick reflexes. I grabbed hold of one of the bronze seagulls before I hit the water.
Ugh, come on. Get up, get going, and go get Mauvrey, I grunted to myself as I clutched the seagull forcefully—using it as a boost to pull myself up.
On my feet again, I noticed that the water from the fountain had stopped streaming out at some point during the embarrassing episode. Looking around, I discovered that this was because my foot was pressing down on the valve beneath the carpet that connected the fountain to its exterior water source. Consequently, when I lifted my boot off of it a second later, the spouts of water burst with three times more force than they had before.
I jumped back to avoid the geysers, which thankfully did not project at that magnitude for very long since I’d only been standing on the valve for a few moments.
Well, that was close. If I’d still had my hands in the fountain I would’ve totally gotten—
It dawned on me then that the burning sensation had completely stopped.
I studied my palms, confused. There was not a single sign of a burn, a cut, or even a leech that would’ve explained the horrifying feeling that I’d just experienced. It made zero sense. It was just like that first day back at Lady Agnue’s. One minute—crazy, nonsensical fire pain. The next—nothing.
The thing was though, if I had to admit it, that day we all came back
to school wasn’t even the first time this had happened. The same phenomenon had occurred on two separate occasions during the past summer alone—once when my family was visiting the Fabbro Mountains and got attacked by a giant rock monster (don’t ask) and then again when I’d befriended that disoriented gnome wandering through our castle in late July.
Yeah. Living in an enchanted realm is never dull, is it?
Anyways, if I really thought about it, I could actually remember this whole deal with the short, strange bursts of burning on my hands happening several times in the last few years.
But, while in the past I’d just shrugged off the odd episodes, now that the periods between them were getting shorter I was being forced to concede to the truth. That truth being that this was totally bizarre, definitely not normal, and was seriously starting to freak me out.
Maybe I should tell SJ and Blue . . .
Actually, on second thought bad idea.
It’s like with my nightmares. There’s a reason why I don’t tell my friends all of the details. The less kerfuffled logic behind that being, well, some things about yourself are just better left ignored.
Aren’t they?
“Eeep!”
My head spun in the direction of the short-lived cry.
Marie.
I scurried down the rest of the corridor and made a sharp right turn into a high-ceilinged library. In front of me now was the back side of a much larger fountain with three dolphin statues spouting steady streams of water out of their mouths into the pool beneath them. Directly beyond that structure was Marie, backed up against the edge of the fountain. And some twelve feet across from her was the enemy I sought.
Mauvrey and her two disproportionate lackeys were glaring down at Marie—the massive window behind them casting their faces in villainous shadow.
“Am I interrupting something?” I asked, tearing the trio’s attention away from Marie.
Mauvrey seemed a bit startled to find me there, but flipped her hair and accepted my bid into the showdown nonetheless. “Not at all, Crisa. In fact my friends and I were just having a few words with Marie.”
“Yeah. Sure you were,” I said as I quickly surveyed the area. “Were those words ‘self-centered, self-righteous narcissist,’ by any chance? Because those are typically the words that come to my mind during any conversation with you.”
Spotting what I was searching for, I moved slowly around to the side of the fountain, stopping just at the edge and strategically planting my foot down in the desired location. Marie shot me a nervous expression as I approached. I gave her a subtle, reassuring smile in return before crossing my arms and readying myself to be disparaged by Mauvrey, who’d been silent for way too many moments now.
“Mauvrey,” Jade said, also noticing my enemy’s hesitation. “What are you waiting for? Crisa just insulted you. Say something.”
“I do not have to,” Mauvrey responded coolly to Jade. Then she focused her line of sight on me in the way a shooter would a bullseye.
“You see, this is merely a game between Crisa and myself,” Mauvrey went on. “And while she may enjoy the occasional pull ahead, at the end of the day we both know that she cannot possibly hope to win.”
“And why’s that?” I countered as I noticed the suit of armor holding a bow and arrow two feet to my right.
Mauvrey curved her lips into a confident grin. “Because I do not play fair.” She nodded to Big Girtha, who responded by reaching into her size-a-million dress and pulling out two sets of brass knuckles.
Okay, did I miss the memo on battle-ready bras tonight or something?
I mean, how does that even work?
“I am going to ask you one time out of courtesy,” Mauvrey continued as Big Girtha slipped her fingers into the brass knuckles. “Go back to the ball, Crisa. I promise I shall deal with you later. But, for now, this is none of your business.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Mauvrey,” I said, unshaken by the threat. “Any time you go too far and cross that line, you make it my business because it falls to me to push you back over. So I’ll ask you one time out of courtesy. Leave. Marie. Alone.”
Mauvrey rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. There are no teachers, no heroes from Lord Channing’s, and no annoying friends around to protect you. If I stuck Girtha here on your tail right now, you would need all the luck in the realm to save your callused skin.”
Big Girtha crinkled her massive Sasquatch eyebrows as she pointed at me. Then she menacingly punched her right, brass-covered fist into her left palm suggestively.
I glanced again at the adjacent suit of armor and then up at the window immediately behind my nemesis. It sported the same giant, meaty curtains that hung heavily from the windows in the hallway.
“Actually, Mauvrey,” I replied, turning my attention back to her. “I don’t need protecting, or luck, or saving. All I need is this,” I said as I reached under the skirt of my dress and pulled out Blue’s ball of yarn. “And just a little more time for build up.”
“What is she talking about?” Jade whispered to Mauvrey.
“Good question, Jade,” I interjected. “You see, I’ve been standing on this valve for a couple of minutes now, and I thought it was important that I give it as much time as possible so that the reaction would be big enough when I let go.”
Mauvrey tilted her head in confusion. “Wait, what?”
I whipped my head toward Marie. “Duck. Now.”
Marie didn’t question the command and dropped to the floor as I lifted my boot, which had been forcefully pressing down on the fountain’s water valve for some time.
My nemesis and her friends hadn’t noticed that the fountain had stopped running for the last two minutes. And now the residual pressure built up from the blockage created an explosion rivaling the biggest geysers of any valley. Each of the three dolphins released enormous bursts of water, which shot straight in the direction of Mauvrey, Jade, and Big Girtha and knocked them completely off their feet and against the window behind.
The immense pressure of the aquatic explosions lasted long enough for me to grab the bow and arrow from the adjacent suit of armor and rapidly tie one end of Blue’s yarn to the arrow portion of it.
I hastily squeezed the squishy ball three times—transforming it into rope—and then fired the arrow just as the fountain’s water pressure died down.
The arrow pierced the top of the curtains. I grabbed my end of the rope and pulled as hard as I could to rip the sagging drapes from their hooks. Too busy hacking up water and trying to reorient themselves, Mauvrey and her friends did not have time to react when the curtains subsequently fell down on top of them.
My enemies temporarily buried beneath the damp, velvety mess, I wrapped my end of the rope around my pinky finger. A split second later, the ball of yarn reappeared in my fist.
I raced over to Marie and extended my hand to help her up. “Come on. We gotta go.”
“Is this the part where we run away?” Marie asked as I yanked her to her feet.
“Marie,” I responded as we dashed out of the room. “We are not running away. Running away is for damsels in distress.”
We sped around the corner and hastily headed down the hall I’d just come from.
“So what exactly do you call this then?” she panted as she tried to keep up.
“Retreating with purpose,” I called back. “Duh!”
“Yeah, but—Ahhh!”
I spun around just in time to see Marie toppling over. Her heel had broken and she was now sitting on the ground in a purple, mushroom-shaped compression of her massive, floofy dress.
I helped the fallen princess up again. Marie took off her heels and held them in her right hand as we made our way back toward the ballroom. Alas, when we arrived at the west doors I’d exited from, I jiggled the handles only to discover they were locked.
“Now what are we supposed to do?” Marie whimpered.
“We’ll have to find another entrance. Let’s try this wa
y,” I said, gesturing to my right. “I think this other corridor might lead to the east wing. We can enter through there.”
Marie nodded and followed my lead into the next hallway.
Several staircases, a foyer, and a sketchy wax figurine exhibit later, Marie and I eventually found ourselves in a small observatory. It was pretty dark, but the circular ceiling was glass just like the one in the ballroom so we had the glow of the moon to illuminate our way.
Unlike the ballroom, however, instead of candles, this room was filled with maps of stars and cloud formations. And, in lieu of a spacious dance floor, in the middle of the space sat a large, copper telescope that gleamed in the moonlight like lost treasure.
The metallic, majestic thing was magnificent. But what really caused my eyes to light up was the sight of a very different discovery just beyond the beautiful instrument. On the other side of the room was a door with an actual castle directory!
I cantered up to the helpful, unexpected door hanging and learned we only needed take that door, two flights of stairs, and a hard left turn to arrive at the east wing entrance of the ballroom.
Perfect! I thought to myself as I swung the door open.
“Crisa!”
Not perfect.
Mauvrey was standing at the opposite end of the observatory atop the staircase we’d just ascended. Her blonde hair was a straggly mess and her purple dress dragged soggily on the floor. The seriousness of hatred and—no doubt—thirst for revenge in her eyes was only detracted by the droplets of water that comically dripped off her nose and onto the floor.
She appeared to be alone, but I stepped in front of Marie protectively all the same.
“Hey, Mauvrey. Where’d your hench-girls get off to?”
“We split up to find you,” she answered.
“Well, you found me,” I said firmly. “Now if I were you, I would turn around and pretend like you didn’t.”
“Or what?” Mauvrey hissed.
It was actually an interesting question. I didn’t have my wand. And even if I did, I wasn’t about to battle Mauvrey. That would’ve been ridiculous. We may have been mortal enemies, but I would’ve never actually hurt her. I drew the line of our rivalry at combat as I assumed she did. That is, when she didn’t have Big Girtha around to do her bidding anyways.
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