Gwyneth returns with her skirt in a sling at the same time the guard arrives with his arms loaded with a yellow crookneck squash.
“No pumpkin,” he breathes as he places it by the feet of the fairy.
“I can work with that,” the fairy decides. “Put the mice and the frogs on the ground.”
Gwyneth complies and this time, with a swish of her wand, the squash transforms into a beautiful, albeit oddly-shaped, carriage. Two more quick flicks and the mice become horses with strange round ears, while the frogs become footmen. It’s an astounding feat of magic really, to make tiny creatures into big ones, and turning vegetables into transportation. One of the horses bumps into the other.
“They were blind mice, does that make them blind horses?” I wonder.
The pink-haired fairy sighs with another flick of her wand. “That’s me, I’m clocking off. Any more queries or magical mishaps will have to wait for the stars to show so you can make a wish.”
She disappears with a pop of pink glitter. Making wishes on stars never worked for me, perhaps it is only the Hallowed that get those benefits?
“Help the maidens with their belongings,” Charming says.
Four men, dressed in the dark armor of the royal guard, rush toward us. One of them reaches me and snatches the mirror from my hands. “Careful with him,” I snap. “He’s cracked but precious.”
Charming sneers at the damaged mirror. “We have hundreds of those at The Hallows. There is no need to bring a damaged one.”
That attitude sums up the people who dwell in The Hallows. If it’s broken, throw it out, replace it with a shinier model without defects. Perhaps Far, Far Away wouldn’t have to beg for scraps if The Hallowed would sully themselves to use something less than perfect.
“Oh fair prince, I am a unique and most dribbling entity. I’m sure no other can match or mirror.” The dude in the mirror chuckles at his own joke, as do I. He got me, while Charming had his sense of humor removed at birth.
“He means driveling, he doesn’t dribble,” I note. “But he’s coming. I have no requirement for a perfect mirror who has been staring at the shiny Hallowed their entire existence.”
Charming rolls his eyes and waves his hand to the rear of the carriage as one of the guards relieves Gwyneth of her sack.
Gwyneth’s fingers snap in front of my face. “Stay with me, Daph, we have a long journey ahead of us and I need you.”
Prince Poopfloof opens the carriage door. His gaze tracks Gwyneth like a predator. Not like the Wolf who stalks unsuspecting girls. Charming gazes at Gwyneth like her floof is his birthright. Ugh, I hate him. His gaze feels like slimy eels slithering over my flesh, and I’m not the one he’s eyeballing. Gwyneth keeps her head high as she accepts his hand and climbs inside the carriage. I follow her and ignore his hand. Of course, the Idols answer my indignation by catching my foot in my dress and my face plants the hard floor. This dress is cursed. I groan as I hold my nose and scramble into the carriage next to Gwyneth.
“My lady, are you well?” the mirror shouts.
“I’m fine.”
“Let me see,” Gwyneth mumbles as Charming slides opposite us. The door slams closed, trapping the three of us in the carriage.
I release my nose and squint through the sting of tears. “Nothing is broken,” she mutters.
“Are you a medical expert?” Charming asks.
“No, I’m a Daphne expert.”
“If it was broken, I would be bleeding,” I explain.
The carriage jolts, and I lean back against the seat. It’s covered in crimson velvet, but it fails to cushion the hard wood. I always imagined these carriages would be smooth. I don’t know why, when the roads in Far, Far Away are lined with stones and dirt. I thought being a blessed Hallowed meant you would glide your way around the realm. “How long does it take to get to The Hallows?” I ask.
“We should be there by the next diurnal,” Charming says, folding his arms and tilting his head back.
I groan and rest my head on Gwyneth’s shoulder, before huffing and sitting up straight. “Have you never been in a carriage?” he asks as he looks down his pointy nose at us.
“We’ve never ventured out of Strongfair,” Gwyneth mutters. The Hallows sits in the center of our realm. Surrounding it in a loop is the land of Far, Far Away, broken up into forty-eight towns. Beyond that is the cursed land of So Far Away. Nobody goes there. Well, nobody comes back. For all we know, it is a rich land, and they are living their best lives with the monstrous creatures we fear. Perhaps we should have run and taken our chances with the monsters we could see. The Hallowed disguise their nature with delicately spun garments and glittery rooms.
There are two entrances to The Hallows, the north and the south. Thin bridges connect our lands together, guarded throughout the diurnal and sundown by vicious Hallowed to prevent us, The Burghers, from entering unsolicited. Can’t have us sullying their precious castles—unless you are the unwilling annual sacrifice of a prince with the belief that anyone is for the taking. I’m still weighing the consequences of stabbing him and commandeering the carriage before taking our chances in So Far Away. With my curse, I’m more inclined to stab myself and doom Gwyneth and I to torture for treason. Better to bide my time and launch an attack once there are fewer witnesses. The trouble is, the plans in my head always depict me as a coordinated badass that doesn’t fall foul of such trivial adversaries such as gravity or walking.
“How does this work?” Gwyneth asks a few turns into our journey.
The prince cracks one eye open, waking from his slumber. I can report that princes do, in fact, snore, much to the disappointment of maidens all across the land. “What do you mean?” he mumbles, sitting upright and wiping the stale trail of drool from the side of his mouth.
