Protagonist Bound

by Geanna Culbertson

  Fair point. Avoiding that humiliation would have been great. But even so, I’d rather live down a blood-curdling embarrassment like that a thousand times than let the likes of Daniel, or anyone really, save me.

  “Just drop it okay,” I whispered back. “I’m not mad about that.”

  “Well then, what’s wrong?” he probed. “Something is clearly ticking you off. It’s written all over your face.”

  I ignored him and kept moving.

  He cocked his eyebrow. “Oh wait, I get it. This is about what I said to you back at Adelaide, isn’t it?”

  Again, I didn’t answer. But it seemed he did not need my affirmation in order to ascertain that he’d guessed correctly.

  “Oh, that’s definitely what it is,” he said matter-of-factly. “Look, Knight, my job was to hurt you. What did you expect me to say? If what I said bothered you that much, it’s not my fault; it’s yours. Either you’re too soft and need to get thicker skin, or you believe what I said is actually true, in which case those are some identity issues you need to work out for yourself.”

  “Daniel . . .” I started to say in retaliation. But we rounded a corner then and I spotted a door at the end of the hallway that better claimed my attention. It had the word “MANAGEMENT” printed on it.

  I jogged ahead to catch up with the others and motioned toward the door in question. “There?” I asked them.

  They shrugged in concession.

  It was as good a bet as any if we were searching for straight answers, so we quickened our pace and headed directly for it. When we arrived I turned the knob and our group barged in. The second we did, though, the third most surprising thing in the last couple of hours happened. We found ourselves trapped inside of a large, pink bubble.

  Right when we’d entered the room, a magical booby-trap had been triggered. Now the five of us were encased in a translucent, pastel-colored sphere. Which, despite looking like the kind of bubble a small giant might have blown out of chewing gum, we could clearly not pop or escape from. It was like a transparent force field characterized by the vague smell and color of cotton candy.

  Like the bubble, the office around us was dominantly pink—with the exception of the silver carpeting, black crystal chandelier hanging from above, and black leather chair residing behind the glass desk at the other end of the room. In this chair sat a perfectly postured woman wearing a tailored, light pink suit and a pleasant smile on her face.

  “Children, welcome to Fairy Godmother Headquarters,” she said. “My name is Lena Lenore and I am Godmother Supreme.”

  Lena Lenore . . .

  I felt my muscles tense as Lena Lenore stood and walked over to our bubble prison. When she reached it, she turned to an extremely petite blonde standing in the corner behind her. “Daisy, there is no need for this. Press the release, will you?”

  Daisy pressed a green button on the wall and the bubble expanded before bursting into nothingness. Residual raspberry sparkles disintegrated into the air as our all-powerful, magical hostess strode around us.

  Lena Lenore was a beautiful woman. She looked around forty years old and had dark skin and hazel eyes. Her black hair was up in a regal bun with a pencil sticking out of it like a schoolteacher. Every part of her—from her glossy fingernails to her chrome-colored pumps—was sleek and polished.

  It was strange to be this close to her. I’d spent years picturing the woman behind the name who’d sent me those curt, vaguely threatening letters. However, Lena Lenore didn’t outwardly seem as nasty as I had imagined. Her face was soft, her expression curious and full of empathy. So much so that, for a moment, I was inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  But then I thought better of it. Well-constructed appearance could hide a lot of things from the human eye, but not from inherent instinct. And mine was telling me what I’d long already believed. I did not like, or trust Lena Lenore. The essence of her personality I’d gleaned from her writings notwithstanding, there was just something about the woman. Her gaze was a little too confident; the way she looked down on us, a little too amused; and the spark in her eyes, a bit too calculating.

  Moreover, as she studied us, it became evident that the flowery perfume she wore was as noticeable as the air of self-righteousness she seemed to carry around with her.

  When she stepped back, I met her eye line.

  At the risk of the floor sinking again or being absorbed into another bubble, I figured I might as well speak up while I had the chance. My feelings about the woman aside, it was time to ask for the information we’d come for.

  “Ms. Lenore, my name is Crisa. Uh, Crisanta Knight, that is. Cinderella Knight is my mother. And I’m—”

  “That’s what you’re opening with? Really?” Daniel interrupted condescendingly. “Knight, I think we’re a bit past formal introductions since these people just tried to kill us with a watery death-trap.”

  “It’s not our fault you were in the Grand File Room when our security system kicked in,” Daisy—the tiny blonde—said in a sharp, high-pitched voice.

  “Some security system,” Blue snorted. “You just plunged all your files into water. Good luck drying them off.”

  “It’s magic paper, you dumb-dumb. It can’t be destroyed,” Daisy countered in an even higher octave now that she was angry. “And for your information—”

  “Daisy,” Lenore calmly interceded as she held up her hand. “These young protagonists are our guests.”

  Daisy let out a slight huff, but nodded before stepping back into the corner like an ashamed, obedient child.

  “Now then,” the Godmother Supreme continued as she turned to look at me again. “Please. Go on.”

  “Uh, right,” I said. “Well, like I was saying, we’re looking for my mother’s Godmother, Emma Carrington. Do you think you could take us to her?”

  “I’m aware of what you are after, Crisanta Knight. I have read your numerous letters over the years after all, and subtlety is far from your strong suit. But, while I applaud your . . . shall we say, persistence in this matter, I still cannot help you.”

  “What’s the excuse this time?” I asked sharply. “I know it’s not security given that we’re way past that.”

  SJ cleared her throat a bit and lightly put her hand on my arm—warning me to cool it.

  “No, Crisanta,” Lenore responded. “As Coco already informed you, the simple fact is that I am afraid Emma no longer works here. In truth, she was relieved from duty quite some time ago.”

  “Fired like a chimney is more like it,” Daisy added sassily from the corner.

  “Daisy!” Lenore snapped.

  Daisy blew her bangs out of her eyes and hung her head in frustration. Me? I just stood there, mouth slightly agape.

  I couldn’t believe it. We’d come all this way to try and talk to Emma—the one person who might’ve been willing to tell us how to break the In and Out Spell around the Indexlands—and she wasn’t even here. I’d thought Coco had just been, to quote our mushroom-making trainee Godmother, Debbie, acting like a “trick.” But she had been telling the truth. After working so hard to find this place, my godmother wasn’t even here.

  Worse still? I’d just learned she’d been fired.

  I didn’t even know that was a thing. It was my understanding that being a Fairy Godmother was basically a lifelong gig. What could Emma—a woman I remembered as being as kind, wise, and fair tempered as anyone—possibly do to warrant termination of her employment?

  “Why didn’t you say anything before?” I asked Lenore outright. “All this time whenever I wrote you, you acted like Emma still worked here. If Coco was right, then you’ve been leading me on for almost ten years.”

  “The Godmother Supreme does not have to explain herself to the likes of you, Crisanta Knight,” Daisy interceded. “And unless you want to get zapped like your friend did outside, I would watch your mouth and start showing her some respect.”

  I crossed my arms and gave Lenore a glare. “I will when she
gives me a reason to.”

  “Crisa,” SJ squeaked.

  Daisy took a step forward. “Why you little—”

  “Daisy . . .” Lenore interrupted, completely unfazed. “Why don’t you go sign yourself up for our People Skills seminar next week? There are fliers in the level eight common room. I can handle things on my own from here.”

  Daisy’s eyebrows crinkled as she gestured at me. “But she—”

  “Is a guest here,” Lenore responded, eyeing me. “And a particularly interesting one at that. So go, now, before I demote you back to the accounts payable department.”

  With a nervous look and an irritated huff, Daisy removed a silvery bracelet from her wrist. The second she did, it transformed into a wand like Debbie’s, and like mine. With two waves of the wand, the door behind us opened and Daisy dematerialized into a ball of lime green sparkling energy that shot into the hall and caused the door to slam forcefully behind her.

  “Now then,” Lenore continued. “Where were we?”

  “Emma,” Blue said. “Are you going to tell us why she was let go or not?”

  “It’s really not very complicated,” Lenore replied. “Personal reasons made it so that she was no longer fit to be a part of this organization.”

  “Well, can you tell us where she is?” Jason suggested.

  “I’m afraid that is classified information, my dear,” the Godmother Supreme responded automatically.

  SJ came forward timidly. “Ms. Lenore, we mean no disrespect . . . but can you not help us at all? It is really rather crucial that Crisa finds a way to speak with her godmother.”

  “She already has. In fact, I believe Debbie was assigned to her just this very evening.”

  “No,” I explained. “Not my Fairy Godmother. Emma Carrington is my actual godmother. And you have no idea how important it is for me to talk to her.”

  “Oh yes, that’s right. I do recall hearing something to that end. But actual godmother or not, I’m afraid I still cannot allow you to speak with Emma, Crisanta,” Lenore said, forgetting her smile for a moment and giving me a look of pure wickedness that made me shiver.

  Although it only lasted for an instant, the impression it left was nothing short of substantial. The look reaffirmed what my instincts had been telling me since the start of this meeting. And I knew then that I would never forget that first glance at Lena Lenore’s true colors—at the shrewd, patient darkness that was lurking beneath her perfect, shiny surface.

  The Godmother Supreme swiftly changed the expression on her face back to a smile so sweet it made my teeth hurt. She walked over to me and patted my damp head as if I were a rambunctious puppy that had gotten into mischief.

  “It was a good effort, though. Truly, dear, I am very impressed with you children. Few people have made it this far. So at the very least return home knowing that you gave us a nice surprise as you pointed out some minor holes in our security measures.”

  “Gaping holes is more like it,” Blue started to argue. “I mean, come on, we’re kids and we broke in here with a plan we cooked up over dinner. And we did it because it’s seriously important we find Emma. So why can’t you just—” Lenore silenced Blue by holding up a single finger in warning, glaring at her threateningly before turning her attention wholly back on me.

  “Do understand, I know why you are really here, princess,” she said carefully. “Why you want so desperately to speak with Emma, and were driven to such lengths to find her on this night. And the best advice I can give you in turn is to leave the matter alone. The rest of you children need not concern yourselves with things that are out of your control either. Believe me, doing so would be pointless and very unwise.”

  Lenore straightened her suit jacket then and sauntered back over to her desk. “On that note,” she said as she casually pressed a large, black button beside the quill holder, “it is nearing midnight and your have a carriage to catch, don’t you, Ms. Knight? So, on behalf of all the Godmothers, have a safe flight and a magical day. Francisco and Cederick here will see you and your friends out.”

  Two surprisingly buff Fairy Godfathers (each seven feet in height and carrying wands the size of guitars) suddenly materialized in the doorway behind us. They hustled my friends, Daniel, and I toward the office’s exit.

  “It was nice meeting you, Crisanta Knight,” the Godmother Supreme called after me as we were being led out. “Do try and keep out of trouble.”

  I shot Lena Lenore a final glance over my shoulder. She was leaning back against her desk watching me. Her smile was gone and her eyes were cold, causing me to wonder if her earlier characterization of me as “interesting” had been something more to be feared than flattered by.

  Francisco and Cederick hurriedly escorted us through the maze-like building. (The time we spent crammed in the elevator with them was by far the most uncomfortable thirty-seven seconds of my life).

  When we reached the lobby again they pushed us out the silver, jeweled front door and slammed it behind us with all the formality a prestigious cook showed toward any rats that dared enter his kitchen.

  It was over. Wordlessly, I got into my carriage while the others mounted their Pegasi. “Let’s go, mushroom,” I sighed.

  Responding appropriately, my ride took off into the night without protest. I didn’t feel like looking out at the stars anymore, so I resigned myself to solemnly staring at the inside of my slowly rotting vehicle. I supposed the carriage knew it was getting close to midnight and wanted to get a head start on decomposing, because the whole thing was starting to reek as badly as the ending to our evening’s disastrous adventure.

  My hand absentmindedly wandered into my satchel to pull out my wand. Fiddling with it always made me feel a bit better. But then I felt something else inside the bag . . .

  The folder! The folder from the file room!

  I snatched my prize out of the satchel with a feeling of excitement and dread. Debbie and Daisy had been right about magic paper. The folder and its contents were not only still perfectly intact, but they were as pristine as if I’d just purchased them from an office supply store.

  All I could do was hold up the folder then—hold it and study it and take in its general existence as best I could to make sure it was actually real, and that I really, truly had it.

  The verdict: It was and I did.

  In my hand I held a file with the name “Natalie Poole” printed on it.

  Pay Attention: This Chapter’s Important

  t had been about a week since our epic fail at Fairy Godmother HQ, and we were once again imprisoned at Lady Agnue’s while the boys were back at Lord Channing’s.

  As none of our classmates or school staff had been the wiser about our little, disenchanting venture, everything had more or less returned to normal . . . with the exception of the dirty looks I’d been getting from some of the other students, that is.

  I supposed dirty looks was putting it mildly, considering how much backlash I’d received from my princess counterparts as punishment for my vigilante performance in the Twenty-Three Skidd tournament. Most of them highly disapproved of my actions. And they voiced this disapproval through snide whispers, nasty notes passed to me in class, and snarky eyebrow raises whenever I passed them in the halls.

  It was a good thing I had SJ at my side most of the time to keep me from acting on any of these gestures of malice; that was for sure. Otherwise at least one of my snooty princess classmates would’ve gotten punched in the jaw by now.

  Despite all this persecution, there was at least one good thing that had come out of the whole tournament debacle—the new level of respect a lot of the students had for Blue. The common protagonists were widely impressed with what she’d achieved that afternoon in the tournament. They applauded her fearlessness in entering the competition, recognizing that she had been the first one of them to really prove her capacity for heroics.

  Add to that, any objections by the princesses of Blue’s behavior were a lot fewer in number and a lot mo
re subtle in nature than their objections of mine. After all—as Lady Agnue had so kindly pointed out at our last assembly—Blue’s participation in the stunt was less surprising and insulting to them than my actions were because I was expected to be bound by my princess responsibilities whereas she was not.

  I mean, even the headmistress herself had acknowledged during our first week of school that Blue had the potential to be a hero. Me, apparently not so much.

  Whatever. I had bigger problems to worry about than the opinions of my classmates.

  I had no idea how I was going to find my godmother, Emma. Furthermore, even if I did know where she was, I was utterly stumped on how to physically get out of Lady Agnue’s now that the In and Out Spell had been reactivated.

  Then there was the ticking time bomb that was my prologue prophecy. Over the last several days it had been consuming my thoughts like a virus that was slowly taking me over.

  I hated that. And I devoted whatever clear headspace I could muster to trying to think of some kind of plan for fighting against it. Alas, ten days later I still had nothing.

  As mounting frustration ate away at me, the only source of release I had anymore was in the practice fields. While every other aspect of my existence seemed to be in turmoil, there I found the one form of change in my life that I was actually happy to embrace.

  After the Twenty-Three Skidd match, I realized that I’d been missing my true calling all these years and there actually was something in the world that I was good at.

  The lacrosse sword I’d naturally taken to had given me the idea to transform my wand into a spear. The staff of my new weapon was about the same length as the original tool from the tournament, minus the extra grip function—around five feet. The only alterations I’d made to the lacrosse sword’s base design were reducing the size of its blade and scrapping the basket.

  The result was a simple weapon, and a much less typical one since I’d never seen any of the boys at Lord Channing’s—nor any of our own common protagonists for that matter—employ it. Frankly, I’d never even seen a spear in the weapons shed at our school. That sorry excuse for an artillery was predominantly stocked with second-hand, standard fighting tools like swords, knives, shields, and so on.