Protagonist Bound

by Geanna Culbertson

  Like even.

  “So . . . um, Daniel, why are you doing this exactly?” I suddenly asked him—my curiosity inexplicably overtaking my better judgment to avoid speaking to him for as long as possible.

  He raised his eyebrows—evidently as surprised as I was that I’d been the one to initiate the conversation.

  “Done with the silent treatment, are we?”

  “Being silent isn’t one of my specialties,” I replied with a shrug. “Just like being charming isn’t one of yours. Now really, how bad is your prologue prophecy that you felt compelled to join our small gang of rebels? I mean, you barely know us for starters. But more than that, most people would say what we’re attempting is nuts.”

  “Yes. They would,” he agreed. “But my prologue and why I’m joining your little quest don’t matter. They’re my business. And you of all people shouldn’t get involved. Got it?”

  His tone had risen sharply just then and I took an awkward step back in response. He seemed to get a handle on whatever weirdness had possessed him though, and his cool, collected swagger returned in the next instant.

  “So, on to our business,” he continued as he began to pace around me. “I can see that this confrontation is already unpleasant enough for you, so I think we can check that off the list. Which means that I guess now I’ll proceed to, quote, ‘hurt you with my words.’”

  I crossed my arms and maintained eye contact with him as he circled around me. “Honestly, Daniel, no matter what our friends believe, I don’t think there is any insult you could throw my way that would hurt me. Tick me off, sure. You’ve proven that time and again. But hurt me? You’ve got no chance.”

  “Because you’re not like the other princesses,” he said. “You’re not fragile, delicate, or sensitive.”

  “Exactly,” I agreed.

  “Not subtle, graceful, or naturally endearing.”

  “I suppose not,” I said.

  “You’re rude, impatient, and judgmental.”

  “Yeah, and so are you,” I scoffed.

  “True,” Daniel continued without missing a beat. “But unlike you, I’m not the self-destructive outcast of my school. I mean let’s face it, Knight, you don’t really belong at Lady Agnue’s, and the only reason they don’t kick you out is because of who your mom is.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I’d say—”

  “It’s too bad, really,” he interrupted. “Your mom is one of the most famous fairytale characters of all time, beloved by people in every realm. And you are her legacy—literally the worst princess Book has ever seen. Bringing shame to her name and yours one stupid stunt at a time, like at today’s tournament.”

  “Hey, that’s not—”

  “And the saddest part,” he cut me off again, “is that even if you are okay with this, you can’t fight what’s coming. No matter how much you struggle against it and try to be something more, in the end who you are will never be yours to decide. In fact, that role is already picked out for you. It’s sitting on a shelf right now, telling you the same thing that everybody else already knows but you’re too stubborn to admit—you’ll never be strong enough to fight it, no matter how much you wish you were. All you can ever be is exactly what you are—a sorry excuse for a princess and another damsel in distress incapable of being a hero.”

  I was wrong.

  That had hurt me. At the very least it had gotten under my skin.

  My first instinct was to punch him, but then Daniel winked at me and I realized this was my cue. So instead I allowed my legs to carry me quickly down the hill toward the ravine.

  I wasn’t sure if the moonlight had prevented Daniel from noticing how red my face had gotten, but I hoped it had. While the tears I forced out of my eyes and my dramatic collapse to the riverbank were fake, the doubts he’d managed to hone in on definitely weren’t.

  How did he do that? I wondered as I knelt in the marsh. How did he know just the right words to get to me like this?

  I already had to regularly fend off the insecurities about everything I was and everything I wasn’t brought on by archenemies like Lady Agnue and Mauvrey. With them, at least I could keep the effect of their words at a minimum by either staying away from them, or dishing back sassy retorts that sufficiently silenced their venom. But Daniel was different. I couldn’t push him away like an enemy because he’d somehow slipped his way into my inner circle of friends. Meanwhile, since I really didn’t know anything about him (aside from the fact that he had a shocking amount of self-confidence and a blatant disregard for people’s feelings toward him), I had no kind of ammo to throw back in his face.

  The worst part still was the fact that someone I’d basically known for a month could pick up on insecurities I tried so hard to conceal. Which in turn made me wonder if maybe they were a lot less baseless than I wanted to believe.

  I mean I’d known Mauvrey and Lady Agnue forever so it was way more acceptable that they’d learned enough about me over time to discern my insecurities. But with Daniel . . . well, he’d noticed them right away.

  Were they—was I—really that obvious?

  I continued my bogus crying by the riverbank for a couple more minutes but, alas, nothing happened. No magic, no fairy dust, nothing. Absolutely zip. And the previous mental tangent having worn me out already, I was starting to get uncomfortable sitting there. The embankment was cold and kind of damp. Add to that, I didn’t know how many more fake tears I had left in me before my supply dried out.

  Thankfully, right as I began to get discouraged and think this a failed endeavor I noticed a bright red glow reflecting in the river beside me—rapidly getting bigger.

  I turned my head toward the sky and witnessed a ball of fiery glitter zooming across the clouds before plowing into the mud a few feet away. When the flash of light subsided, a woman appeared before me. She was dressed in a luminescent silvery gown with shimmering ruffles that made it look like streaks of lightning were embedded into the fabric. The remarkable ensemble, like her smile, lit up the area around us.

  The woman’s eyes, too, twinkled just as brightly. They were a deep blue and contrasted with her bright red mane, which was pulled up in a high ponytail with small crystal bobby pins sticking out all around it. The most noticeable characteristic about her appearance, though, was that she seemed surprisingly young for a Fairy Godmother. She didn’t appear to be more than a few years older than me.

  “Hi!” the Godmother chirped.

  “Um, hi,” I said, wiping the pretend tears off my face as I got up from the ground.

  “So, what’s up?” she asked me outright.

  I tilted my head, a bit taken aback by her directness. “I, uh . . . need your help.”

  “Well, duh!” she gushed. “I mean what can I do to help you? Wait—hold that thought. Before you tell me, I should let you know that I can only provide you with a fabulous new gown, give you a ride to a ball, or transform animals into helpful attendants. If you need anything other than that I’m going to have to call my supervisor.”

  “Come again?”

  “I’m new, you see and, well, I’m still in training and that’s all I know how to do so far. You know, the basics.”

  I looked away and rolled my eyes.

  Figures that dresses, rides to balls, and animal sidekicks are the basics.

  I stared at her a bit longer, which I guess made her feel awkward because she bit her nails nervously and then began fidgeting with one of her ruby-encrusted bangle bracelets.

  Upon studying her more carefully I noticed that there was, in fact, a silver nametag pinned to her dress that read: “DEBBIE NIGHTENGALE (Trainee).”

  While others might have considered this a setback, the wheels in my head had long started to turn and I realized that if I played my cards right I might actually be able to work this curveball to my advantage.

  “Um, Debbie,” I began. “I don’t need a gown, but I do need a ride. Think you can help me out?”

  “Yeah, for sure,” she repli
ed. “Just tell me your destination and I’ll see what I can do.”

  I twiddled my thumbs, feigning embarrassment. “The destination is kind of personal actually. Could you possibly just whip me up something that can go anywhere? I’d be ever so grateful.”

  “I don’t know,” Debbie said slowly. “We’re really supposed to get all the details before we use magic to help our Godkids.”

  I faked an epiphany-esque expression and gave her a patronizing head nod. “Ohhh, I see. Look, Debbie, if you haven’t learned how to cast that kind of spell yet it’s no big deal. You don’t have to lie to me. I’m not gonna hold it against you for being a trainee.”

  “I didn’t say I couldn’t do it. I just don’t think—”

  “Deb, it’s fine,” I interrupted. “There’s no shame in being new on the job. If you can’t do it, you can’t do it.”

  “I can do it,” she asserted.

  “Debbie, you don’t have to. Seriously I can just find someone else to—”

  “No really, I can do it!” she stated with confidence. “Just give me a chance. Watch.” Debbie pulled out one of the crystal bobby pins from her hair. Instantly it grew into a magic wand. Long, slender, and off-white—it was identical to my own except for the fact that hers travelled in the form of a cute hair accessory while mine had to be lugged around in this old satchel.

  Debbie scrunched her brow and closed her eyes—garnering concentration. After a few seconds she opened them again, waved her wand, and pointed it at a mushroom cap growing in the dirt by my feet.

  Red sparks flew from the tip of her wand and encircled the mushroom like a tiny, shiny tornado. I barely had time to jump back before the spore inflated to the size of a carriage and sprouted four smaller spores at its base to serve as lopsided wheels.

  Leftover sparks dissipated off the fully-grown mushroom carriage as I came closer. Debbie strutted proudly around its right side and patted her creation like a game show prize presenter. I studied the vehicle’s magnitude. Debbie’s eyes full of hope and eagerness to please, she tilted her head in my direction.

  “So?” she asked.

  “It’s a carriage all right,” I laughed happily.

  “Yay! I am so glad you like it!” Debbie practically sang as she jumped up and down and gave me an excited hug.

  Then, just as suddenly, she recomposed herself and put on the most serious expression she could muster. She waved her wand again, causing a piece of glowing parchment to shimmer into existence in her hand and a pair of bright red reading glasses to appear on her face.

  Without hesitation Debbie held the parchment up to the moonlight and read its contents aloud.

  “Young Princess, this carriage will take you anywhere you wish to go. It is a round trip ride for one person only, and will expire at the stroke of midnight. Please keep all arms, legs, and feet inside the vehicle at all times. Fairy Godmother Headquarters is not responsible for any physical or emotional injuries obtained as a result of this enchantment. If you are satisfied with the service your Fairy Godmother has provided, please fill out the attached survey on her performance. Once signed, the evaluation will be magically transported back to headquarters for appraisal. Thank you and, on behalf of Godmother Supreme, have a magical day.”

  All finished, Debbie took a deep breath and grinned from ear to ear—very pleased with herself. She then waved her wand once more, which made the glasses vanish from her face and the form she’d been holding magically reappear in my hand within a sealed envelope.

  “By the way,” Debbie added, not noticing my surprise. “You can totally fill that out whenever. It’s magic paper, so it can’t get ruined. And it’s enchanted so you won’t lose it until it’s been signed. But if you can, try and get it in soon. Annual reviews are coming up and I’ll be darned if that trick Tami Robinswood wins Godmother Trainee of the Year instead of me.”

  I nodded and shoved the envelope into my satchel. While I may not have known who Tami Robinswood was, I did know that I was totally going to give Debbie one heck of a review. The carriage was perfect, and it was a way better means for getting to Fairy Godmother HQ than chasing shooting star dust. Plus, I also felt kind of bad about tricking her into helping a human obtain a free ride to her and the other Godmothers’ top-secret home base.

  Guilt aside though, I knew I’d made the right call. I needed to get to HQ and this was the best way to accomplish that. Furthermore, a Fairy Godmother’s whole purpose was to help her assigned Godkids get what they desired, and in this case the Godmother in question was Debbie and her Godkid was me. So, technically, we were both doing what we needed to.

  I suppose that’s either infallible logic or total bologna. Either way, what’s done is done. Might as well just move on, try to make it up to her later, and inspect my new ride.

  “Um, Debbie,” I said as I looked over the enchanted vehicle she’d crafted and noted a fairly major problem with its construction. “Where’s the door?”

  Debbie panicked and scurried over to the carriage. She inspected it and tapped her finger to her lip, perplexed. Then she waved her wand twice in the direction of the creation. More sparks zipped off its point, but they fizzled out when they made contact with the mushroom and nothing happened.

  Her dress (which on closer inspection may have actually been made of real lightning) began to grow grayer, stormier. Streaks of light crackled angrily across the darkening, flickering fabric as she stood there with her arms crossed and her eyes glaring narrowly at the mushroom. Then, in a brief moment of frustration, Debbie abruptly scowled and kicked the vehicle.

  Upon her heel’s impact a door and several windows popped out of the fungus as if on cue. As soon as they appeared, the crinkle in Debbie’s agitated expression softened.

  “Ah, that’s better,” she sighed.

  Her dress’s storm subsided and faded back to its original iridescent shade. After tucking a loose strand of red hair behind her ear, Debbie made a grand, theatrical gesture toward the vehicle and asked me if there was anything else I required. I said no, and thanked her profusely for the help.

  On that note, Debbie waved her wand a final time and red sparks appeared in a ring at her feet. They grew around her body until she evaporated into them—becoming one big ball of red, glowing energy. She levitated there in front of me for a second before taking off and soaring across the sky in a massive arc.

  I watched in awe as she flew away, lighting up the black night with streaks of scarlet.

  Just as her trail began to fade, my friends and Daniel came over the hill behind me on their Pegasi. Blue was mounted on the same gray, speckled Pegasus from this afternoon. And Daniel was on the back of the black steed he’d ridden earlier in the tournament as well.

  I was further delighted to see that the third Pegasus (the one SJ and Jason were currently sharing) was also familiar. It was Sadie. Evidently she was as pleased to see me again as I was to see her, for her eyes lit up and she began to whinny excitedly the closer they drew toward me.

  “Crisa!” Blue moaned as they approached. “What happened? We never heard you yell the signal and when the Godmother took off we weren’t ready. Now the trail is gone and we’ll never be able to follow her.”

  “Relax.” I shrugged. “I’ve secured another means of transportation.”

  I proceeded to tell them what had occurred in their absence while avoiding eye contact with Daniel and scratching Sadie behind the ear. After my explanation—and a short lecture from SJ about how unprofessional Debbie’s Fairy Godmother conduct was in soliciting a good review—I hopped into my one-seater mushroom carriage.

  “Um,” I said awkwardly once inside. “Take me to Fairy Godmother Headquarters.”

  Nothing happened.

  “Come on, mushroom. Time to go.”

  Still nothing happened.

  I started to feel foolish as my friends and Daniel stared at me through the window. But then I remembered something. “Blue,” I called out of the carriage. “Kick the mushroom!”
>
  Blue maneuvered her Pegasus next to my unorthodox vehicle and gave it a good smack with her left foot. At that, the whole thing shook and shot off into the sky like a comet—leaving its own trail of red sparks and the smell of sautéed shiitake behind it.

  Glancing out the window, I saw my friends and Daniel flying in pursuit a few dozen yards behind.

  Well okay then. Mission on, I guess.

  The carriage climbed higher and higher, ascending so close to the heavens the constellations probably felt claustrophobic. Like a foxhound in the front seat, I stuck my head out the window excitedly—my eyes taking in the spectacular sight and the wind rushing through my hair.

  After a bit, the vehicle began accelerating and making sudden turns and small dives through the clouds. On each occurrence I glanced back to make sure I hadn’t lost anyone. Thankfully, I never did. While at times the Pegasi did seem to be pushing themselves to keep up with my mushroom’s unpredictable flight pattern, they kept on my tail.

  The Pegasus with SJ and Jason on it did lag behind increasingly more than the others as our journey continued, though—a price for supporting two riders.

  SJ hated flying, at least the Pegasus method of it anyways. This was partly due to her aversion of plummeting through the sky fully exposed. However, the fear was more attributed to the weird way horses tended to dislike her (a fact that I’d always found secretly a little hilarious given the way other animals would do just about anything for her).

  In appeasement of these personal obstacles, it’d been necessary to pair our friend with someone for the trip. In my opinion Blue was a much better flyer than either of the boys, but since she enjoyed the occasional loop-de-loop, SJ had instantly opted for a different travel partner. Jason, always happy to help in any way that he could, had been the one to offer up his Pegasus flying services as a result.

  His selflessness aside, I wondered if he was now regretting the decision. He was clearly having trouble steering with the way SJ was clutching him in a death grip of panic. She appeared to be violently digging into his sides like a frightened cat—anxiety etched across her face like cracks in a ceiling.