Even teen evil queens need love. Right? (Or at least a handsome sword-fighting minion to do their bidding!)
***
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...
I didn't notice my descent into evil. Each time I bent morality, just a little you see, I could rationalize my actions—I was helping people I cared for, and so what if I hurt a stranger? Okay, in the end I hurt someone I loved, but that too was easily justified. Little by little, I edged closer to the abyss, and when I emerged, fully evil, that was when I realized I'd fulfilled my destiny.
And deserved it.
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This seemed unfair!
No notice.
No countdown.
No warning.
Just boom!
One minute you're calmly pointing out how stealing that which is most loved by your enemy is not the best idea; the next, you're swimming for your life. (Haven't we all had this exact thing happen?) Did anyone even ask me if I knew how to swim? No. My mentors were totally irresponsible. Would Yoda have thrown Luke into a moat if he wasn't sure Luke could at least dog paddle?
Doubtful.
A responsible mentor challenges her mentee but doesn't kill her. Because killing your trainee means you suck as a mentor.
But at that moment, none of these thoughts entered my head. All I was thinking was: AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!
My heart pounded as I thrashed through the foul moat, desperately trying to evade the ravenous moat monster nipping at my feet. I kicked hard, trying to stay far enough from Nellie's jagged-toothed maw to maintain a complete set of toes; I mean, I also wanted to hold on to the entire leg and the rest of my body parts, but dare I dream?
The only light was from the full moon, which meant that it was so dark I couldn't tell up from down. I could barely see a foot in front of me and just hoped I didn't swim straight into a stone wall. The water was thick with slime, and with every stroke, my fingertips brushed against something slimy, making my skin crawl with revulsion. The moat was a gurgling symphony of sound—groaning, creaking, grasses swishing.
"Rowen! Rowen! Rowen!" my trusty familiar's squeaky voice yelled inside my head. I'd forgotten Vermeil was still inside my pocket, but his tiny presence was a beacon of support amid my disorienting predicament. Sadly, my predicament was his predicament. "A plan? We need a plan."
"My plan is not dying!" I said, my lungs about to burst, my head throbbing.
"That's an objective, not a plan," my familiar said unhelpfully.
"I can't tell which way is up. It's so dark. How am I supposed to find that which is most loved by my enemy before I drown when I can't see anything? Just hope I crash into it?"
"Conjure a light."
"Oh, good idea."
(Hey, stop judging me! I would've thought of this if I wasn't trying to keep us from being eaten by a moat monster!) But how could I cast a spell underwater when talking didn't work very well? Nellie's raspy tongue scraped against my toes as if she was sampling her lunch, seeing if she might need to add salt or hot sauce. Yuk! I kicked hard, my foot finding purchase against her slimy snout, making a horrible cracking sound. She let out a massive roar that got further away as I swam, giving me a moment to work on a magical flashlight.
