Even teen evil queens need love. Right? (Or at least a handsome sword-fighting minion to do their bidding!)
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Bad things happen when Rowen is around and the worst part is, she has no idea why until a massive family secret sends her on a fantastica...
Food has always played a major role in fairy tales. Hansel and Gretel's enticing candy house, Snow White's shiny red apple, Alice in Wonderland's magic cakes, Goldilocks and her search for perfect porridge. The lesson is: don't be seduced by gluttony or you'll end up on the menu.
So be careful.
Witches always have a pot of soup bubbling in the cauldron, ready to toss in a tasty child to balance the flavor.
Especially a child who pisses them off.
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If there's one thing I excel at (other than hacking into government websites) it's getting angry. And I'd about had it with this whole evil queen idea. Since I'd met my "Darth Vader in Pearls" of a mother, my parents had been turned into a completely different species, I'd been zapped, kidnapped, imprisoned, starved, nibbled on by rats, taunted by reflections, and now as if my day wasn't bad enough, I'd gotten Blade a two-thousand-year sentence in the dungeon, and to top all that off, the only food at the queen's banquet was three golden bowls filled with apples so red, they couldn't be real. Which meant they were wax or saturated with poison. Neither was a great option as a meal.
"Sit, Rowen," my evil mom commanded from her seat at the head of a massive mahogany table, lit by fat pillar candles down the center, their wax spitting and hissing like an angry cat.
The table was a creepy work of art, carved with ornate images of vines twisting up the legs like ropes strangling a tree. The queen's voice echoed in the dining hall, which was about the size of the gym at Coffin Ridge High, with twin fireplaces, at either end roaring with orange flame, each large enough to roast a school bus. Not that you'd want to do that.
She gestured to an empty purple velvet chair to her right.
The diners seated around the table all stared at me like I was a curiosity in a circus. Which was ridiculous! I know I looked strange with my weird green eyes and crazy red hair, but compared to the hodgepodge of fairy tale creatures, with their wings, scales, bulbous features, kaleidoscope of impossible hair colors, beards of enormous length, and one being that looked like a shadow, I was almost ordinary.
I scowled when I noted one diner was my least favorite fairy tale creature of all—Tyra. Adrenaline zipped through my body when our gazes collided for a split second. Tyra smiled at me as if I was her prey, someone to be toyed with before slashing me in half with her pink talons.
I stood frozen on the outside, while my insides roasted with heat, my heart galloping off in all directions, my blood fizzing with power.
Keeping the magic inside was painful. It stung like a swarm of bees, begging to be set free. But I clenched everything clenchable—jaw, teeth, fists, toes. What I wanted to do was throw a grade-A, room-destroying tantrum. But fortunately, I had enough presence of mind to know that I had to stay calm and gather intel and not annoy the psycho in pearls. Because if I was to rescue my dads and survive with my sanity intact, a timely escape was crucial.
