“What?!” My jaw dropped. This made no sense. Why would he need me? He didn’t even like me. Both he and my parents were out of their fairy-lovin’ minds. Out loud, I said, “Is that even legal?”
My mother scoffed and pointed to her emerald crown. Oh yeah. The queen of the Emerald realm could do whatever she glam well pleased. “Once we explain everything to you in detail later—”
“No, I want to know now!” If my fiancé (bleh) could interrupt her, then so could I. “What’s so important that nobody cared how I would feel?”
Father at least had the decency to look mildly ashamed. “Well, you see, it’s rather complicated. But we figured you wouldn’t mind, since you never showed any interest in the other princes—”
“Maybe I have no interest in getting married. To anyone. Ever. I mean, look how well yours turned out. You do everything she tells you, and then go hunting for weeks to hide while we’re stuck in this gilded cage. No thanks. If I want to boss someone around, I’ll get a dog.”
Immediately I knew I had gone too far. Even if both my parents hadn’t gasped from the barbs of my sharpened tongue, my own heart was ashamed to beat within my chest. Before I could take it back, my mother hardened her face and gave me the look she was famous for—the one that caused grown men to fall on their knees and beg forgiveness before they were sentenced to death.
Her nose came within an inch of mine. “Contrary to your spoiled little beliefs, this is not all about you. This alliance is necessary for the safety of the entire realm. If, as crown princess, you do not feel a responsibility to protect your kingdom, then by Grimm, you will follow the rules of this land and obey your queen.”
What started out as a rumble in my mother’s throat had ended in a roar. Before, only those close to the thrones could hear what was going on; now, everyone in the room went quiet and still as statues.
My face heated—from shame, anger, humiliation, frustration… Pick one. There had to be a way out of this. Tears threatened along the edges of my lashes, but I willed them away. I’d rather be boiled and feathered than let them all see me cry.
Every eye turned to me as I rose to regal height with my nose ever so slightly in the air. On the outside, I was as cold and unfeeling as a block of ice. Inside, a fire of indignation burned brighter and hotter than the three suns.
I walked away from my parents. Each step brought me closer to a confrontation with the prince, who stared at me with pity now, instead of his usual disdain.
I searched for something, anything, to ground me and keep me from running away. Once again, the twinkling stars on the Story Spruce caught my eye. Wishing had never worked before, but then again, I’d never been this desperate. With the tree too far away, I reached in my pocket for the next best thing. My hand clenched around the child’s star, the earlier cut flaring to life.
I wish I didn’t have to do this, that the rules and everything else governing this stupid world would just disappear, and I’d never have to listen to my parents ever again.
The ache in my hand shifted from a prickle to a burn. I pulled it out of my pocket to take a closer look. It was glowing. Well, my hand wasn’t glowing, but the star was. I opened my palm, and rays of light shot out from the gift. Dots seared my vision.
I was light blind. Unfortunately, I could still hear, but the noise made me wish I was deaf as well.
Glass cracking. Someone screamed. And roaring?
What in Grimm’s name was going on?
“Rule #23: If you keep a storybook villain talking long enough, they will never fail to spill all the details of their evil plan. Some might even draw you a diagram.”
—Definitive Fairy-Tale Survival Guide, Volume 2: Villains
5
A Nightmare Is a Wish Your Heart Makes
When my vision cleared, I had no idea where I was. Surely it could not be the same party. It looked like a war zone. The floating chandelier had crashed and shattered on the dance floor, freeing the now-dark floating orbs. People ran madly for the exit. Some were being chased by pickax-wielding dwarves, to say nothing of the ogres. The floor was littered with frogs. Hopefully they weren’t enchanted princes, because some of them were getting squished by the mob.
I looked around for familiar faces. The beautiful people I had known since birth had changed or twisted into things nearly unrecognizable. Rapunzel remained by the treat tables, her hair now lying completely in the éclairs, with not a strand atop her bald head. By the punch bowl was a giant pumpkin—wearing glass slippers. A ferocious growl drew my gaze to the back of the room, where a hairy beast wore a yellow ball gown. I tried to block out the memory of Beauty in that dress earlier this evening.
Shutting my eyes, I shoved the star back into my pocket and willed everything to go away. This had to be a nightmare. Any minute now, I was going to wake up in bed, under my golden-goose down comforter. There would be no party, no beasts, and no engagement.