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...
Is this a dream or is it real? When you live in a fairy tale realm, it can be hard to know the difference.
My pursuer has such bad breath, I gag. There's a roar, and I look over my shoulder to see a massive dragon spitting a twenty-foot long torrent of blue flame in my direction. Riding atop the dragon is a one-armed, sword-wielding minion, his black curls twisting like smoke in the wind. He looks so angry, I swear there is also fire coming out of his eyes.
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One of the biggest drawbacks of castle living was that just getting from one room to another was like embarking on a grueling expedition, somewhere treacherous and unpleasant—like scaling Mt. Everest in the winter or crossing the Sahara in summer, or navigating the hallways in Coffin Ridge High during any season.
If you ever find yourself in an evil castle, I suggest packing a bottle of water, a granola bar, and a map (if you can get your hands on a magical one that pinpoints the locations of the giant spiders or potential witch-nappers, that would be best), oh, and comfortable shoes. But if you can avoid the whole evil castle thing in the first place, that would totally be your best option.
But not all of us have options.
At least not good ones.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Now, where was I?
Oh, right, on my way to the spa where I'd be plucked, patted, primped, and pummeled into the shape of an evil queen.
I wished the spa workers luck with that.
The idea of me being shaped into anything other than a strange-looking evil teen from California was ridiculous.
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I followed Olivia, my gown so soaked with stinky moat water it clung to my skin, making me feel like a plucked chicken in shrink-wrap. We trudged along a thousand torch-lit hallways, past shimmery ghosts and rusted suits of armor.
We slogged up a gagillion uneven stairs, ducking under, around, and sometimes through massive spiderwebs. We had one encounter with a fuzzy black spider the size of a small car. It snuck up behind me, and my heart leaped into my throat. I yelped, and Olivia spun around, bared her teeth at the monster, and, shockingly, it skittered away into the shadows.
