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...
Everyone makes such a fuss over werewolves. As if they're the only shifters that matter. Try living in a cat's body for sixteen years!
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I don't know if you've ever been inside the consciousness of another person, probably not unless you've visited a magical realm or you had a near-death experience in a car wreck, left your body, hovered over it for a few minutes wondering if you'd put on clean underwear that day, and then got distracted by a cute paramedic. By the time you were ready to slip back into your injured body and yell "Surprise, I'm still alive!" they'd already loaded it into the ambulance and taken it away. After wandering around as a disembodied consciousness for weeks searching, you finally gave up and slipped into some random body that turned out to be your boyfriend who'd by this point already gotten over you and was back on Hinge dating a different girl every night.
For those of you who have experienced neither of those scenarios, I will have to explain what it was like.
I could feel, see, taste, hear, and smell everything my "host" could, plus I could read his thoughts. But he didn't seem to know I was there. Phew. That could've gotten super awkward. As I settled in, I became less and less aware that I was a separate being and ended up experiencing my "birth" just as Calvin E. Dalb aka Cal did on that night sixteen years ago.
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Even in the chill wind, the heavy purple velvet robes were stifling and itchy and Cal was thinking how much he longed for this eternal, infernal ceremony to be over.
Cal knew it would end in disaster just as he knew the sun would never rise in Brittlebane. He'd warned Petronella against her idiotic decision, but did she listen? No. She never did. That was the problem with evil queens. They always thought they were right, and if you dared disagree, you'd end up boiling in a cauldron with only fish heads and newt eyes for company.
Who knew what would emerge from the brew? Would it be an heir? Would it be nothing more than a slithering, skulking slime that smelled of feet and old cheese? Or would it be a giant, fire-breathing monster that burned everything within a five-mile radius?
Including (and most importantly) Cal!
Sometimes being the youngest minion to hold the position of Head of Inventory Management really sucked. Cal wished he could serve as the royal pedicurist instead. The queen was usually in a good mood during her weekly pedicures. Though there were a few times the queen was displeased with the callous removal and the poor minion was sent to the dungeon for eons.
