Prologue
O
nceuponatime,there was a princess who lived in a castle.
And right now, she was very angry.
There were whispers among the castle staff that the princess was demanding. Her parents—the king and queen of Laandia, the small country situated between Canada and the Atlantic Ocean—joked that she was high maintenance. Her older brothers shook their heads at her moods and called her bratty, spoiled, and little sister.
I call her Lyra, and I think she’s magnificent.
And have since the first day I came to the castle.
I had been three years old, still muddled and overwhelmed by the shock of being yanked out of my quiet life with my aunt in England, to living full time with my father. And on that first day in Laandia, my father brought me to meet the king.
His boss, he called him. His best friend. The king of Laandia was my father’s best friend.
That was the day Princess Lyra was born—in an upstairs bedroom in the castle because Lyra was impatient even then and there had been no time to get to the hospital.
My father and I had just arrived at the castle when King Magnus practically flew down the stairs to greet us.
“Lyra is here,” he all but shouted.
At me.
At least it felt like he was telling me, and me alone, like it was a royal gift he was bestowing.
Even though I had no idea who, or even what, a Lyra was.
I soon found out: the king took my father and me up to where the queen lay in a big bed with a tiny baby swaddled in her arms. The little thing was crying, wailing really, like its life was over.
That was how I got to meet the little princess of Laandia even before her brothers did.
That little baby, now twelve, stands before my father and might be just as angry as the day she was born.
“What do you mean,Spenceris coming to live here?” Princess Lyra demands, red-blonde hair flying around her petulant face. “What aboutSophie? And Stella? What about them?”
“The girls will be staying with their mother.”
My father sounds sad. Even at fifteen, with my teenage boy’s lack of consideration and low attention span, I know my dad and I can tell this divorce isn’t something that he wants.
Me, on the other hand… Signe is not my mother, and unless she’s pretending in front of a crowd, or my dad, she’s never really shown me much in terms of motherly affection.
Not that I know first-hand what motherly affection is. All I know is what Signe shows Stella and Sophie, my half-sisters. But I see the love Queen Selene shows her children.
Shows me, as well.
And that’s why I’m not too upset about moving to the castle.
Yes, I’ll miss my sisters because they are the best thing that came from my dad’s marriage. But they’ll still be my sisters and I’ll see them all the time.
When Signe told Dad—and me—to leave, King Magnus invited us to live at the castle. This means I get to live with my best friends—Kalle, Odin, Bo, and Gunnar. And I can pretend that Queen Selene is my mother.
And then there’s Princess Lyra.
Who is furious that I’m moving in.
“That’s not fair,” Lyra cries. “Why does Spencer get to come and not Sophie? I want Sophie, too.”
