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...
Usually, as mere mortals, we gaze upon royalty as if they are divine. As if they know something we don't. As if they do not experience hunger, pain, want, or, God forbid, the need to use the bathroom. But now that I'm royal, I can assure you, we're all the same. Don't believe the hype.
Now, where is my crown?
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If you ever end up living in a fairy-tale kingdom, and I hope you don't, be careful about your dreams. There is a mischievous magic in enchanted lands skulking around the place, looking to wreak havoc on your waking life.
So here I was, living out the dream I had at the very beginning of this crazy adventure. Do you remember? The dream where I was prom queen?
Big Cinderella dress. People dressed in all their finery. No throne, but dreams aren't necessarily 100% accurate.
For example, I hadn't realized how itchy the enormous Cinderella dress was when I was in the original dream. Nor had I noticed the smells of dirt, ozone, flowers, and grass, nor the yeasty, sugary, savory delights wafting in from the kitchen. Also, my stomach was not rumbling like an angry volcano god.
Channeling my inner Queen Elizabeth, I refrained from ripping off the scratchy dress or demanding French fries. Some of us are just born to be noble, I suppose.
I could do this! I've been pretending all my life. Pretending to be an ordinary girl when I knew there was something inside me that was anything but ordinary. How much harder could it be to be a fairy tale queen? It was like being a teenager but with a crew of hot minions, a full-time French chef, unlimited magic, and unicorns.
I stood at the dais, smiling benevolently upon my people, practicing my royal wave, when suddenly, it felt like a small Buick landed on my head, and I almost fell backward from the extra weight. I reached to see what was going on up there, and my fingers delved into the metal fillagree of what had to be a crown. The crown. The one that used to be sitting on a table had now magically appeared on my head.
You know they say, 'Heavy is the head that wears the crown?' I always thought it was a metaphor for the responsibility of ruling. It turns out it's literally heavy. My head throbbed. I tried to readjust it to a slightly more comfortable spot with my hand when something zapped my fingers.
Oh, no! The crown started sending a torrent of multicolored sparks into the room like fireworks. Up in the mezzanine, a merry band of trumpeters blasted out a fanfare. I stood very still, hoping to stay out of the way of the pyrotechnics. Being burnt to a crisp on day one of my reign was probably not the best way to start.
Then the coronation celebration got a little showy if you ask me. The guests edged toward the walls as a magical lake appeared in the middle of the room with a large rocky island in the center where a chorus of mermaids sang their siren song with lyrics focused on luring men toward the sharp rocks and the ensuing bloodbath. Behind them, a lineup of nymphs dripping with pearls danced backup. They were so good; they could easily have danced with Rhianna or Lady Gaga at the Superbowl.
