The last sight to filter through my dreams was a painting I’d seen at Liza’s—the one with the gorge surrounded by a red and orange sky. The image began to flicker until there were no brush strokes or paint and it had become a real setting. My perspective panned over the gorge for about five seconds before it faded to black. When it did, I was in the void.
I heard two voices. First Nadia’s. Then mine.
“I guess this comes down to you and me then.”
“Didn’t it always?”
I woke up.
I thought I’d only been asleep a few minutes, but when I looked at the clock I was amazed to discover it had almost been an hour. The ball was already in full swing and I was probably the only person not in attendance.
While I should have put on my gown, I grabbed a silvery zip-up sweater and slipped out into the hallway instead.
I remembered my routes perfectly. I’d spent too many years roaming these halls to forget them—going to and from classes, trying to evade the guards for some privacy, adventuring with my friends. This place was my home. I could probably navigate through here with my eyes closed. The memory of every twist and turn was ingrained in my mind like a reflex.
I moved with the covertness of a shadow and journeyed down the grand staircase that connected our suites to the main level of the school. The plush fuchsia carpet of the steps squished beneath my boots. The cold, smooth texture of the silver bannister slid under my fingers. Icy winter air flowing through several open windows reddened my cheeks as I descended.
When I reached the ground floor, instead of taking the normal route to the back entrance of the ballroom, I headed in the opposite direction. One of the campus’s western towers had a stairwell with a perfect view of the ballroom. I may not have felt like joining the festivities just yet, but part of me wanted to take a look.
On my way there I noticed that the grand columns and tapestries hanging from the walls seemed smaller than they once did. The oil paintings too, seemed less vivid. And the hollow, armored knights that lined the walkway didn’t appear threatening in the slightest.
After experiencing so much in the last few weeks, nothing about this school would ever seem larger than life again. I had outgrown feeling small in this setting, just as I had outgrown feeling small around Lady Agnue. The main reason for this being that I had grown.
Eventually I arrived at the tower and climbed the winding stone stairwell until I came to a window. It was supposed to be kept shut, but I knew from experience that you could get it open with a good shove of your elbow.
I did just that, and the wind and music of the ball came floating into the tower. I could see it clearly from this vantage point—the glowing aura of the ballroom’s chandeliers poured out of the building like my magic glow had poured out of my hands in Alderon.
I gazed out the window. I had arrived right in time to watch tonight’s main event—the senior class waltz, which took place every December.
Good grief, was it already December?
Between all the kingdoms we’d travelled to, the visits to Earth, and all the twists and turns in time, my sense of the day and month had become pretty warped. I mean, it was nearly the end of the semester and my birthday was less than a week away. It had all happened so fast.
The music from the ball picked up and my attention drifted back to it.
Lady Agnue’s and Lord Channing’s had a ball every month, but the one in December was special. It was at this time that our schools had their annual Ball of the First Frost. This was an important event where the two schools formally presented their senior classes that would be graduating in the spring.
During the fall semester, the seniors from both schools worked with our ballroom dancing professors prior to each of the monthly balls. Paired with a partner chosen at the beginning of the school year, the seniors learned a choreographed waltz that would be performed at the December dance. Nailing this performance was a huge part of our final grade; it fulfilled the mandatory “Ballroom Theory” credit required for all protagonists to graduate.
If you asked me the “performing in front of everybody” aspect added way more pressure than necessary to the test. But holding this presentation ball in the winter meant that seniors could relax during their spring semesters—take some easy classes maybe?
The waltz was just starting as I leaned against the cold stone of the windowsill and watched my older classmates move with the grace of dying autumn leaves caught in a breeze—effortless and beautiful, despite being at the end of this chapter in their lives.
There were a few other traditions associated with the Ball of the First Frost. The seniors didn’t enter the ballroom with everyone else. About fifteen minutes after the ball began they were introduced individually. The grand doors at the front of the ballroom were propped ajar and each protagonist descended the staircase. First came the boys; then came the girls.
The outfits for this evening were also unique. While the seniors went through multiple fittings to have the most exquisite, customized ball attire made for their big day, all underclassmen had to rock a more uniformed look.
To contrast the personally designed black tuxedoes of the senior boys, the underclassmen from Lord Channing’s wore variations of silver suits. And while the senior girls donned unique and colorful dresses, underclassmen from Lady Agnue’s wore pure black gowns that made our graduating protagonists stand out like parrots among a flock of ravens.
As I observed the brilliantly dressed protagonists of Lady Agnue’s dance with the sleekly dressed protagonists of Lord Channing’s, I found myself thinking how it would soon be my turn to be there. I was a junior, about to turn seventeen.
In one year, I would be graduating. In one year, Nadia’s plan would come to fruition. And in one year, I would have to save Natalie—that is, if I decided to go through with my idea to push my Pure Magic and reach her, which Liza had so adamantly advised against.
The sound of applause returned me to the present. The waltz was over, and so was my time here. I made my way back to my room and decided to get ready for the ball.
I went to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. Then I stared at myself in the mirror. I thought about the night we’d been on the magic train. Sitting in the dining car, I had stared at my reflection in the window and felt so conflicted about the girl staring back at me. Things were different now. The protagonist looking back at me was stronger, more sure of herself, more . . .
I looked down at my right hand and turned it over to examine the palm.
That moment in my headmistress’s office had been the last time I would ever feel the magic watering can’s liquid metal effect. While it was happening I’d assumed the blurry mark was just acting up again. But when I’d examined it later on, I’d discovered that this time had been the real thing. I’d figured out which of my qualities was my essence—that thing about myself that was my greatest source of internal strength.
I flexed my hand, feeling at peace with the word branded there.
“Self-Acceptance.”
I guess Chauncey the talking pig from the Forbidden Forest had been right all that time ago. Accepting myself was what it all came down to.
Makes me wonder why his ex-wife left him.
Maybe it was the kale omelets.
I shook my head and smiled. That was the reason the mark had been acting up periodically over the last few weeks. Every time I accepted a part of myself—being able to see the future, being a leader, being a fighter, being afraid, and so on—the watering can’s magic had been triggered because I was getting closer to accepting myself entirely. It wasn’t until I accepted who I wanted to be as well that I was able to fully accept myself. And now—as the queen of Adelaide had said—I finally felt whole.
I knew the mark would fade in a matter of weeks—just as Blue’s, SJ’s, Daniel’s, and Jason’s had—but for now I was content to see it there. With so many storms brewing, it was a pleasant reminder that through all the bad I could co
me out the other side with something good and become a better version of myself in the process.
Pushing open the wooden double doors, I stepped inside our walk-in closet. The floor was covered in beige carpet. I kicked off my boots and made my way past SJ’s collection of gowns and dresses and Blue’s collection of vests, tops, and pants. The floor space of my section held eight different pairs of boots. When I opened the doors to the rest of my wardrobe I found a shimmering princess gown unlike any other.
It hung in front of my normal assortment of leggings, dresses, and jackets. Unlike SJ’s black gown, mine was a more traditional princess look that poofed out in the conventional fairytale way. The big skirt was draped in dark, glistening lace that worked its way up to the strapless bodice, climbing it like a maleficent vine.
Usually I would have deemed the thing far too extravagant for my personal taste. But there was something compelling about the dress. I couldn’t quite put my finger on this mystifying quality, but I found myself surprisingly enchanted by it. Everything about it seemed perfect, except . . .
Aw, dang it.
The bodice was a corset. I hated corsets. They were super uncomfortable and getting them on was a challenge in itself because you had to lace them up behind your back like a fancy, reverse shoelace.
I would usually pay a visit to our school’s seamstresses a week or two before each ball to specifically request a dress with a zipper instead of a corset. But as we had only returned recently, I’d completely forgotten about the task.
As a result, I garnered it would take me no less than a good twenty minutes to get the dress on without any of my friends to help. I knew from the times SJ had worn a corset gown that getting such a dress laced up properly was a two-person job.
I curtly unlaced the dress’s back and stepped into the complex thing. Just as I was making my first attempts to fasten it, I heard a knock on our bedroom door.
“Hello?”
“Uh, who is it?” I called out.
“Crisa,” the all-too familiar voice responded. “It is me, Mauvrey. Are SJ or Blue there?”
I scrunched up my nose in confusion. What the heck was she doing here?
“Um, no, they’re already downstairs.”
“The door is unlocked, may I come in?”
“Uh . . .”
Why would she want to? I may not have seen her for a while, but I was pretty sure we still hated each other.
Then again, I was not in the mood to fight with my old school nemesis. I was so over her it wasn’t even funny. I had real enemies now. And as such, our animosity seemed trivial and I felt no qualms about letting her in. Just like with Lady Agnue, the effect of her meanness could no longer touch me. I might as well see what she wanted.
“Yeah, fine. Whatever,” I shouted.
I heard the door open then close with a light click as I continued to work the laces of my corset. When Mauvrey didn’t say anything after a few seconds, I decided to call out to her. “What are you doing here, Mauvrey? Shouldn’t you be at the ball?”
“I was,” she responded. “But when I did not see you there I thought I would come looking for you.”
“Why?”
There was quiet for a brief pause, and then . . .
“I wanted to apologize,” she said.
I recalled the dream I had recently about Mauvrey apologizing in my room. I guess this was that moment.
“Crisa, when you ran away from school a lot of rumors started floating around about why you left,” Mauvrey continued. “And after some time had passed, I began to wonder if maybe it was because of me. I wondered if it was my harassment that drove you away. The last time we spoke I more or less sold you out to Lady Agnue for no other reason than satisfying my own spite. So for that, and everything else I have done to you, I am remorseful.”
Neither of us spoke for a long beat. I wished I could’ve gotten a glimpse at her face so I could ascertain whether or not she was being sincere.
Part of me was certain that I shouldn’t take her by her word. But another part of me sort of wanted to. I had seen enough of villains in the past few weeks. Mauvrey’s apology sounded genuine. Maybe she had changed like I had. Stranger things had happened.
“You understand how sorry I am, right?” Mauvrey asked.
I took a deep breath and resumed struggling to lace up my dress. “Don’t be,” I responded.
“But I am,” Mauvrey said. “Everything that has happened to you . . . I am afraid it all comes back to me.”
“Mauvrey,” I continued as I pulled on the corset’s laces. “I appreciate the apology, but it wasn’t your fault I left school.” I managed to get one of the laces through a fastening loop then tightened my grip. “You didn’t—WHOA!”
I’d given the aforementioned lace such a forceful yank that it knocked me off balance and caused me to topple over.
“Are you okay?” Mauvrey called out in a worried voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied from the floor of my closet. “It’s just this stupid dress I’m supposed to wear to the ball. The bodice is a corset and I can’t reach it well enough to fasten myself in.”
“Do you want me to lace you up?” Mauvrey offered.
Is she serious? Of course not.
Then I sighed. I was sitting in a giant compression of my dress—squashed pairs of boots beneath me, and clothes I’d knocked off their hangers all over me. Without the assistance of another person I would sooner destroy this closet than get this dress on.
“All right. Yeah,” I conceded. “I guess I could use the help.” I got up, dusted off my pride, and shuffled into the bedroom with my partially laced-up dress.
Mauvrey stood by SJ’s desk wearing her own black gown. It was cut with a high slit in the front and had a plunging neckline. Her long blonde hair was pulled to one side by a sparkling blue clip that matched her eyes. Overall, she looked just as intimidatingly pretty as I remembered.
She gestured to the spot in front of the mirror. “Please,” she said.
I came over to meet her and turned to face the mirror as she’d instructed. Looking at my reflection, I admitted to myself once more how stunning the dress was. Although the corset made it much more difficult to get into, I loved how pretty and totally magical I felt in it.
I glanced at Mauvrey in the mirror—she was hard at work behind me, really putting her back into lacing me up. I felt kind of weird about the whole situation, and my face flushed in embarrassment. Despite that, I found the humility to speak to her.
“Thanks,” I finally said, ignoring the increasing redness in my cheeks. “I would’ve been stuck here fiddling with this thing for hours if you hadn’t come along.”
Mauvrey didn’t look up; she kept fastening me in tighter and tighter. “My pleasure,” she replied. “I am just glad I can always count on you to be running late, and that SJ and Blue were already downstairs.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because dyed black or not, there is a decent chance that one of them would have recognized this thing in a second,” she said as she threaded the laces through and pulled them tightly.
“There we go, all finished,” she said proudly. “Hmm, I think a bow made out of the leftover ends would look quite nice. Thoughts?”
“What do you mean they would’ve recognized it?” I asked as I tried to turn to face her. But that’s when I realized I couldn’t turn around. I tried again but still couldn’t. I was frozen in place.
My eyes filled with panic as I kept trying to move. Hard as I strained, I was barely able to lift my arms more than a few inches, and when I did my whole body quivered in pain. All I could do was watch Mauvrey make an unnecessarily ornate bow with the remaining laces at the back of my corset.
“Do not bother,” Mauvrey said. “The dark magic tied into Snow White’s poisoned corset is fast-acting. It has probably already drained you of more than half your life force. And gone with it is the strength to move, let alone fight back.”
Snow White’s
poisoned corset? But that means . . .
I glanced down and that’s when I saw them. Peeking out from beneath Mauvrey’s dress was a pair of black, glittering pumps with four-inch, silver-sequined heels. I also noticed a purple garment lying on the corner of my bed that hadn’t been there when I’d gone into the bathroom. It was a cloak—the same purple cloak I’d seen in my dreams paired with Mauvrey’s sparkly shoes.
I gulped down the fear as anger and understanding washed over me.
“How long have you been working for Arian, Mauvrey?” I asked bluntly, finally realizing that she was the cloaked girl I’d seen talking with him in my dreams.
“Much longer than you might think,” Mauvrey responded, not sounding surprised that I’d made the connection. “But I have only been charged with important tasks in the last few months. My first big job was breaking into the Treasure Archives.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Care to share how you did it?”
“SJ’s special potions book, of course,” Mauvrey explained. “I volunteered in the library last spring and found it in the restricted section. I had planned to steal it this semester, but I was dismayed to learn that it had been checked out by one of the teachers. Luckily, I caught a glance of SJ with it in the potions lab, and I knew I could take it from her instead.”
“But the only spell in that book that would’ve silenced the Archives’ alarms took weeks to make,” I said, thinking back to the potion that SJ had brewed.
There was no way Mauvrey could’ve used the same tactic. When SJ’s special potions book went missing from our room earlier in the semester, it had only been gone a couple of days before the break-in occurred—not enough time for Mauvrey to cook up the same recipe.
So how had she done it? The glass cases of the Archives had been shattered. And even if the alarms had somehow failed, the various security measures in place should’ve stopped her.
“Do you remember our first day of potions class this semester?” Mauvrey asked. “When she was sucking up to Madame Alexanders, SJ perfectly described the Sleeping Capsule Spell used to enchant my home kingdom when my mother’s curse came to fruition all those years ago.”
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