White Witch, Black Magic

I wake before anyone else. The sun is just coming up, its light attempting to penetrate the thick foliage. I sit up, yawn, and stretch. I’m not sure why I awoke so early, but it’s just as well. Everyone else, including Avaysia, who was on watch, is fast asleep. I shake my head. We should have known better than to try to put her on guard duty.

Something nearby glints, catching my attention. A ray of sunlight flashes off of something clutched in Jake’s hand. I should probably stay out, mind my own business, but I can’t help it. I lean closer.

Jake’s fingers are loosely curled around an old, battered compass. I recognize it as the broken thing I pulled off of him when we first met. I smile at the memory of the wild, ferocious version of Jake. The version that was just a façade. The compass is open, the inside of it’s lid clean enough to refract the sunlight.

I tilt my head, peering at the face of the compass through Jake’s fingers. It’s hard to see it clearly, but I think that, unlike the last time, the needle is pointing in one direction. Has it fixed itself? No, the needle is pointing towards me. The rising sun is at my back, so the compass points east, not north. Intrigued, I slip the compass from Jake’s hand. He stirs but doesn’t wake. I wait for him to settle again, then look back at the compass. It’s still lined up with both the sun and me. I start to twist it, to see if the needle will stay focused east. So long as the compass points in one direction, it’ll be useable, regardless of what direction it picks, but I’ve never seen a compass that didn’t point north.

Before I can rotate the compass, however, the needle begins to move. It swings around 180 degrees and freezes, firmly indicating the complete opposite direction. So now it’s pointing west, towards Flumen.

“It’s useless,” I say to myself. “So why does he carry it around?”

I shake my head, mystified. Jake, who is lying right in front of me, shifts in his sleep. For some reason, I don’t want him to wake and catch me studying his compass. He’ll probably think I’m prying. I slip the metal circle back into Jake’s outstretched hand. As soon as his fingers close around it, the arrow quivers and swings around again.

As if accusing me of messing with it, the needle points straight at me.

l l l

We survived traversing the Sylvian Woods. Outsmarted or escaped from all those crazy monsters. We’d picked up two extra people, wandered into the Land of the Unicorns, and I’d learned to talk to animals. We’d nearly died at least ten times.

Throughout all that, Avaysia had been scared. But never even close to as scared as she is now.

“Are you sure we have everything?” she asks as we pack up in the morning. “We didn’t leave anything important behind? Or anything at all?”

She scours the ground around where we spent the night, checks over everything three times, and even counts Wren’s arrows.

“Vay,” I say. “You need to calm down. Everything is going to be fine.”

“How? How is everything going to end well? You’ll get a happily ever after. I’ll get a merciless husband.”

She yanks my sword from its sheath and begins polishing it with her dress. She rubs so furiously I’m afraid she’ll tear the fabric. The gown is already battered and she has to look mildly royal when we walk into town.

“Maybe he’s changed,” I suggest, taking my sword back.

“Or maybe he hasn’t.”

Bella sighs. “Chilax, Vay. Jeez.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Should I even bother to ask?”

“Chilax is chill out and relax combined. Chill out as in calm down, not get cold. I guess that’s another Earth thing. Actually, it’s probably an American thing.”

“We have to go!” Avaysia shrieks suddenly. She glances at the sun, judging the time of day. “We’ll be late!”

“What are you talking about?” Wren asks. “We don’t have a set arrival time.”

“The earlier the better, right? We were supposed to be there yesterday, anyways.”

I glance at Wren. This is news to both of us. I can’t remember anything about when we were supposed to get to Flumen. “We lost some time to the unicorns and the thunderstorm, but I don’t think it’ll matter,” I say.

“Alexander could be marching out against my family right now! Of course it matters!”

“Avaysia, you really need to…” Wren pauses, glancing at Bella. “Chill. It’ll be fine.”

She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just really, really stressed.”

“It’s okay.”

We set off through the forest. At about midday, the air grows a little fresher and the light is less green. The trees seem to be thinning. We must be at the other edge of the forest.

“We made it!” I say, urging Neverard into a trot. We break through the trees and into the sunlight. “WE MADE IT!”

I dismount and twirl in the sunlight, my arms outstretched. I laugh giddily, ecstatic at having survived what sounded like a death sentence. Jake slips off Neverard as well and comes over to me.

“You’re awfully excited. It’s just another place.”

“But here I don’t have to worry about monsters attacking me every ten feet.”

“You have to go back through the woods to get home.”

“Who cares? I’m here now. We all are. Don’t be such a downer!” I give him a quick hug, then dart away, turn a cartwheel, and hug Wren and Bella at the same time. “We made it!” I say again.

“We ought to clean up,” Avaysia says. “There should be a river around here somewhere.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Wren asks.

“Would you build a town with no source of fresh water at easy access?”

“Good point.”

“So we’re just going to contaminate their water source?” Jake asks.

“Dilution is the solution to pollution,” Bella tells him.

“Uh…okay.”

“We can scoop the water out of its banks. That way it will run onto the grass and not back into the river. Though honestly, I don’t think it will be that big of a deal.”

We locate the river and scrub ourselves as best we can. We aren’t too horribly dirty; it’s only been a few days since we bathed in the Land of the Unicorns.

Avaysia does her best to make herself resemble a princess again. She plaits her hair into three braids and coils them around each other in a complicated manner. Her dress and shoes are torn and muddy, but she wears them regally. We decide to let her ride Neverard while the rest of us walk. Even though his saddle is long gone and she isn’t exactly clean, she looks like a queen. She sits sideways to help with that image.

As we pass through the streets, the townspeople gawk at us. A few seem to guess who we are and bow. Some appear to be scared and hide inside their houses. But most throw open their doors and stare.

I don’t blame them. I would have done the same thing if Prince Alexander and four teenagers came through the streets back home.

Word of our arrival must have spread quickly, because we’re only halfway to the palace when Prince Alexander himself shows up, along with his father and a number of guards.

The townsfolk fall to their knees immediately. Those with hats doff them and the kids hide behind their parents. Prince Alexander does exactly the opposite of what I expect him to. After hearing Avaysia’s description, I thought he’d be some sort of raving lunatic with devil horns.

But he’s quite cordial to us all. He tells the people to rise and continue about their day. Then he dismounts and walks to Avaysia.

“My sweet princess,” he says. He sweeps his hat off his head and bows, his curly dark hair bouncing around his face. He straightens, takes her hand, and kisses it. “How much you’ve changed in—how many years has it been?”

“T-two, my lord.”

“You are even more beautiful than I recall.”

“Thank you, Prince Alexander.”

Avaysia looks bewildered. She seems even more surprised when he says, “Please, call me Alex. As my bride-to-be, you needn’t be so formal.”

This is not at all how I thought this meeting would go. I find myself doubting the authenticity of Alexander. Is he just putting on a good show, and he’s truly the person Avaysia described, cruel and heartless? Or has he changed?

“Is this your guard, my love?” he asks.

“Yes, your Grace,” I say. “I am Emma Rose.”

“Wren Vallean.”

“Bella Ty.”

“Jacob Brunswick.”

“I’m so glad you all arrived safely. Please, come to the palace for food and rest. You will be provided with clean clothes and be able to bathe.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Wren says.

Bella’s lips are pursed. I remember how she mentioned that there’s no royalty in her world. This must be very weird for her. It’s weird for me.

Alexander sets his cap back on his head, pulling it low over his hazel eyes. It isn’t a particularly regal move. In fact, it puts me in mind of some of the boys from home, who would do this exact thing when they were trying to be inconspicuous. He mounts his horse and heads back to the castle. Avaysia follows. Four of the guards dismount and offer Wren, Bella, Jake, and me their horses. We plod up the road.

“He’s very different than how Vay described him, isn’t he?” Jake says.

“People change,” I reply.

“That much?”

“It’s been two years. That’s plenty of time for a boy to become a man.”

“I guess so.”

“You think Avaysia was lying?”

“No.”

“Do you think she exaggerated the story?”

“I don’t know. She has the scars to prove that something happened.”

“Zoë has them too.”

“Who?”

“Zoë. The kitchen maid.”

“Oh, right.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Wren asks.

“Just talking about Avaysia’s description of Prince Alexander,” I say.

I’m careful to omit the fact that hers wasn’t a very nice portrayal, since we’re around his soldiers. Wren gets it, though. He nods.

“I was wondering about that myself.”

“I guess he just changed,” Jake says.

“Grew up a bit,” I add.

“Maybe.” Wren taps his chin. “I wonder what caused a transformation that dramatic.”

I shrug.

The horse I’m on stops, and I glance up. We’ve reached the castle gates and the guards are dismounting. Up the road, I see Alexander help Avaysia down. He offers her his arm, which she takes. They walk up to the castle together, Avaysia glancing nervously over her shoulder.

“C’mon,” I mutter. “We promised Vay we’d stick with her.”

I jump off my horse and let the guards take the reins. They’ll see he gets to the stables safely.

Will you be all right, Neverard?

I’m half unicorn. There’s nothing these fools could do to me.

You’re okay with living in the stables?

Do I have a choice? Just go keep and eye on your princess.

Thanks.

Make sure to visit me. And bring sugar cubes!

Sure thing, buddy. You’re the best.

I know.

I suppress a giggle, but Jake notices.

“What?” he asks.

“Neverard,” I whisper back.

I don’t want everyone here to know that I’m a witch. And if they find out that I can talk to animals, they’re sure to suspect.

We walk through the wooden palace doors. The castle is much like Avaysia’s, huge and cold. It’s sure to be drafty in these stone walls, but it’s much sturdier than any of the wooden homes the regular people use.

Alex leads us up the grand staircase and shows us to our rooms. “There will be fresh clothes and hot water for baths soon,” he says. “If any of you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.

A pudgy sort of woman comes running up. She’s wearing a red dress and her brown hair is pulled back under a red bandana. She’s carrying a roll of fabric and a sowing basket.

“Which of you is the princess?” she demands.

“Me,” Avaysia says.

The woman drops into a quick curtsey, wobbling dangerously on the balls of her feet.

“Hello, Carlotta,” Alex says. “What are you doing?”

“Beggin’ your pardons, your Highness,” she says, bobbing in and out of another curtsey. “But I hears the princess finally arrived, and three days jist ain’t enough time ta make a whole weddin’ dress. I need her measurement right quick.”

The woman, Carlotta, begins to measure Avaysia. “Hips—36,” she mutters. A young girl, probably about six, jots down the numbers.

“Victoria?” Alex asks.

“Yes, Alex?” the girl says.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping Carly.”

“Princesses aren’t supposed to help seamstresses.”

“But I wanna. And I know my numbers now, Alex, so I can count, and Mama doesn’t know I’m helping.”

“What if she finds out?”

“She won’t, not if you don’t tell her.”

“Vicky, are you writing down the numbers?” Carlotta says.

“Sorry, Carly.”

“Which measurements have you got?”

“Uh…I don’t have hips, arms, and legs. And we need her head for the veil.”

“Are you Princess Victoria?” Avaysia asks the little girl.

Victoria bobs her head, jots down some more numbers, and grins. “You are going to look so pretty, Princess Avaysia,” she says. “I’m so glad Alex is marrying you!”

Avasyia manages to smile. “Thank you,” she chokes out.

“Vicky!” two more young girls appear. They might be twins, but they’re definitely older than Victoria.

“Mama’s looking for you,” one says.

“Hello, Carlotta,” says the other.

“Natalie. Maria,” Carlotta says, nodding to the girls. “Vicky, give me those numbers. Now run along, all of you.”

The three girls skip off down the corridor, Victoria struggling to keep up with the older two.

“Those are some of my sisters. Victoria’s the redhead. Natalie and Maria look a lot alike, and everyone thinks they’re twins, because they’re only a year apart. But Natalie is just a little older. She’s the one with the brown hair.”

“How many sisters do you have?” I ask.

Alex counts them off on his fingers. “Natalie, Maria, Lyra, Victoria, Rose, and Pansy. Six.”

“Any brothers?” Wren says.

“Nope.”

“Ouch.”

“I don’t mind. They’re good girls, mostly. Well, I’ll leave you all to tidy up for dinner.”

Alexander turns and walks off. We wait until he’s gone, then turn to Avaysia.

“You said he was evil!” I say.

“Rotten to the core,” Jake adds.

“He seems nice enough to me,” Bella comments.

Wren makes a hmm sound.

“He’s changed. A lot.”

“Clearly.”

“Do you guys think I was lying about all that? That I only said he was horrible to me?” She yanks up her sleeves to show us the scars on her arms. “You think I lied about these?”

“No one said that, Avaysia,” Wren tells her soothingly.

“I don’t understand how this is a bad thing, though,” Bella says. “It seems to me that you can have a happily ever after now, too. He seems like a nice guy.”

“I don’t get it,” Avaysia moans. “And I’m scared. What if he changes back? What if he hurts me again? Or—worse—if he hurts one of our children?”

The expression on Wren’s face reminds me of the look Hattie wore when Tom convinced her to eat a lemon. I know how much Avaysia means to him. It must be hard for him to be polite to Alex, and even harder for him to hear the fear in Avaysia’s voice.

“I won’t let him,” Wren says.

“You’ll be miles away, back in Regnum.”

“I’ll stay here. I’ll join the guards here and make sure you stay safe.”

“Alexander would never let you. He’s seen the way you look at me. The way I look at you. He isn’t stupid. He’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“We’ll figure it out,” I promise. “But for now, let’s get ready for dinner.”

“Leave it to Emma to always be worried about eating,” Avaysia snaps. “My life is about to change—for the worse—and all you can think about it dinner!” she stomps to her door, wrenches it open, and disappears into her room.

“Vay!” Wren calls after her.

She slams the door.

My cheeks flush. I’m about to go after her when I feel Jake’s hand on my shoulder.

“She didn’t mean that,” he says. “You know she didn’t. She’s just stressed. Very stressed. But really, can you blame her?”

I sigh. “No. I guess not.”

“Go clean up for dinner,” Jake tells me. “We’ll all be a lot calmer once we’re clean and fed.”

“Do you think we’ll figure out what to do?”

“Maybe.”

“Is that all you can say? ‘Maybe’?”

“Emma, what else is there to say?”

“I don’t know, Jake. I just don’t know.”

l l l

I know Avaysia must be really sorry for what she said to me, because she does something I don’t think she’s ever done before.

She apologizes.

I’ve washed up and put on a dress a maid gave me. Both were as different as possible from the dress and maid I was given back in Regnum. The girl never speaks, and the dress is a pale blue with long, trailing sleeves I’m sure to ruin.

Jake, Wren, Bella, and Avaysia meet me outside the door to the dining hall. Avaysia looks much more princess-like. She’s wearing a flowing purple gown and a tiara is balanced atop her golden curls, glittering. Bella is wobbling about on high-heels and looks as uncomfortable in a dress as I do. The boys are wearing clean shirts and pants. For some reason, they get to keep their boots, which is totally unfair.

“Emma, about what I said. I’m…” Avaysia takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m sorry.”

I smile. “I do believe that’s the first time you’ve ever apologized to me.”

“As a princess, people generally say sorry to me, even when I’m at fault. I don’t know if I’ve ever apologized before.”

“Why are we standing here?” Bella asks.

“I’m waiting for Prince Alexander. After all, I am his bride.”

“Are we allowed to go in?” Jake says.

“You can go in, but you aren’t supposed to be seated until the royal family is.”

“Of course,” I mutter.

“And Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to repeat what happened last time you dined at a palace.”

I blush. Wren is trying not to crack up. Bella and Jake both look curious.

“What happened?” Jake asks.

“Oh, I’ll tell you later,” I say. “Much later.”

“It was a complete disaster,” Wren chuckles. “She—”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“—Up-ended a table and—”

“Wren!”

“—It landed on Avaysia.”

They’re all laughing now, and I can’t help but join in. Though I was mortified at the time, looking back, it seems pretty funny. Avaysia tells Jake, Bella, and me a list of basic rules that I’m sure I’ll forget. She’s finishing up when Alexander walks in.

“Hello, Princess,” he says.

“Hello, Prince Alexander,” she replies. She gives him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

He offers her his arm and she takes it. The doors to the dining hall open and they sweep in, as graceful and beautiful as any prince and princess should be. Avaysia may not actually like Alexander, but she’s a very good actress.

Alexander’s parents sit at the head of the table. On King Louis’s right is the boys’ side of the room. On Queen Margaret’s left is the girls’. Alexander sits in the position of honor, at the king’s right hand. Avaysia settles herself next to Margaret.

I sit beside Avaysia, who gives me a small smile and nod. I guess that means I picked the right spot. Bella lowers herself into the chair next to me, directly across from Wren. Jake is between him and Alex.

As the room begins to fill, I realize that the way the table is set isn’t going to work. Since all the lords and ladies come in pairs, there should be an equal number of men and women, but that’s before the six little princesses come into the room. They sit three and three, completely throwing off the boy/girl split.

Alexander notices me watching the six girls and smiles. “Those are all the little sisters I was telling you about,” he says. “Natalie, Maria, Lyra, Victoria, Rose, and Pasiella.”

Each of the girls wave and giggle as they’re introduced, except Pasiella, who’s too busy toddling around, sucking on her thin little fingers. She has white-blonde hair with soft curls in it and a smile that lights up the room. She can’t yet have turned four.

I recognize the two that look the most alike, Natalie and Maria, and the redhead, Victoria, from earlier. The others clearly belong to the royal family. They all share similar features in an interesting mix of their parents.

The first course is served and I’m distracted from the conversation. I have to focus on dining properly. Bella’s manners aren’t much better than mine, but she doesn’t seem to care. I guess, in her world, it doesn’t matter as much.

“You look familiar,” Alexander is saying to Jacob. “Do I know you?”

“Ah, well, I used to be in the circus,” he says. “You might have seen me once. I believe I performed here.”

“You were in the circus!” Avaysia gasps. “You never told me that!”

Jake shrugs. “It wasn’t important.”

“Wasn’t important! I was right! When I first saw you I was certain that I’d seen you before you—”

She cuts herself off, realizing that she’s about to reveal that Jake tried to rob us. Laws on thievery are very harsh in Regnum, and I’m sure it’s the same here. That Jake used to steal isn’t something we want to flaunt about, especially in front of the royal family.

“Before what?” Alex asks, looking curiously around at our faces.

“Uh…before Jake…uh…joined us,” Avaysia replies carefully.

Technically, it is the truth. Just not the whole truth.

Alex is still studying us. I decide it would be an excellent time to change the subject. “So how long until the wedding?” I ask.

“A few days. We’re going to have it in the afternoon in three day’s time.”

Dow the table, the redheaded princess, Victoria, giggles. “Poor Carly,” she says. “She only has tonight, tomorrow, and the day after to sew a whole wedding dress!”

“She has lots of assistances, Vicky, so you don’t need to try to help her,” Natalie assures her younger sister.

A horrified look crosses over Victoria’s face. “Nat! You promised not to tell!”

Natalie claps a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry!” she squeaks through her fingers. “I didn’t mean to, honest!”

“Victoria. Have you been working with the head seamstress again?” Queen Margaret asks.

Victoria goes completely serious. “No.” Her mother raises an eyebrow. Victoria slides down in her chair. “Maybe.”

“Victoria, I have told you again and again that being a seamstress is not a option. You are a princess by birth. That is the only thing you will ever be allowed to do. No sewing!”

Victoria slides farther down in her chair. She’s almost completely under the table; only a few wild locks of her red hair stick up.

“VICTORIA!” King Louis shouts. “How many times do your mother and I have to tell you! Stop pestering Carlotta!”

Victoria pops up and jumps to her feet, knocking her chair over. “I am not pestering Carlotta! I’m helping her! Just because you don’t like me helping her doesn’t mean she doesn’t want me to!”

She turns and runs from the room, slamming the door behind her. Pansy giggles and claps her little hands together. “Vicky go bye-bye!” she gurgles.

King Louis begins apologizing for his daughter’s behavior. The lords and ladies assure him that it’s perfectly all right; young child get wild notions into their heads and can be quite mercurial. Dinner resumes and everyone ignores the empty chair Victoria left behind.

l l l

After the meal, I’m the last one to leave the room. Jake notices me sitting by myself and stops near the doorway. Everyone else files out, wishing each other a good night. Soon, Jake and I are the only two left.

“You go on ahead,” I say.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I just need a minute to think. I feel awful for Princess Victoria.”

“The redhead that wants to be a seamstress?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, she’s a princess. She isn’t supposed to get a say in shat she becomes.”

“It’s just so unfair. Avaysia has to marry Alex, because it’s best for the kingdom. She’ll never see her family again. And her sisters are probably going to face a similar fate. And Alex’s, too. Besides, who ever said Alex wants to marry Avaysia?”

“He looks alright with it.”

“So does Avaysia. If you’d only met them tonight, you’d think they’re the happiest couple in the world. Who’s to say Avaysia’s the only one who’s screaming on the inside?”

“You’re saying that Alex doesn’t want to marry Vay?”

“I’m saying it’s possible. Or he might be content to. I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I hope you’re just being sarcastic.”

“What? You don’t want to have a deeply personal conversation with a prince about how unfair life as a Royal seems?”

I make a face. “I’d rather lie down in the mud and have a horse walk all over me.”

“Lovely image. Thanks for sharing.”

“You asked.”

“I’m going to bed. Enjoy your time to think.”

Jake walks out, leaving the door open behind him. I sit by myself for a minute before following him. As I go down the hall, I hear sobbing from behind one of the doors. I pause to listen.

“—not fair!” I hear a teary voice say.

“I know.”

I sneak towards the door, which was left cracked. I peek into the room. Victoria, Lyra, and Rose are sitting on the floor. Victoria is crying. Her face is splotchy from the tears and her cheeks are the same angry red as her hair.

I hear a knock on the door I assumed was the entrance to a closet. But when the door swings open and Maria and Natalie walk out, I realize it must be some sort of secret passageway between the princess’ rooms. Natalie is carrying Pansy. All six girls are dressed for bed.

Victoria gives a loud sniff. Rose hugs her while the others offer words of comfort. Pansy sucks on the fingers of her left hand and pats Victoria’s knee with her right.

“S’okay, Vicky,” she coos. “We sing song.”

“Natalie,” says one of the girls. It takes a moment for me to realize that it’s Natalie. This strikes me as odd, until all the girls say their names. It seems to be part of some ritual they’ve created.

“Maria.”

“Lyra.”

“Victoria.”

“Rose.”

“Pasiella.”

All six purse they’re lips and make an ’oooh’ing sound. They list their names again, but this time it’s what they call each other.

“Natty.”

“Ria.”

“Ly.”

“Vicky.”

“Rosie.”

“Pansy.”

The humming swells in volume. Then together they begin to sing.

“Six little daughters are we/good and obedient as a princess should be/but down deep inside/if you look you’ll find/we’re fighting, fighting/fighting against time/our lives we can’t fulfill/but someday yes, we will/because we’re trying, trying/trying to add reasoning to the rhyming/someday we’ll make a stand/and choose our own fate—”

They’ve made up a song about tearing down a way of life that’s worked for as long as anyone can remember. They want to make it possible for everyone to have a say in whom they marry.

I start to back away from their door. I feel like I’m intruding on something deeply private and personal. No one is supposed to know about their song. Once again, however, my evasion of ladylike behaviors catches up with me. The shoes tangle in the hem of my dress and I topple over backwards and sprawl across the ground.

The singing stops abruptly. Six heads peek out of the door.

I sit up. “I-I’m sorry,” I stutter. “I tripped and—I didn’t realize—I thought…well…you all have lovely singing voices.”

Pansy giggles. “You sing too?” She wriggles away from Natalie and wobbles across the floor on her little feet. She puts her warm hands on my cheeks. “Sing wid us!”

Her smile is bright, making the corners of my own mouth turn up a little. But it’s her eyes that captivate me. It’s almost possible to pass it off as a trick of the light; say that her irises are really a shade of blue. But they’re not. Pale as the color may be, they are unmistakably purple.