by Elise Allen
“Twenty at least,” Flissa said. “Maybe thirty.”
“You’re both awful and I hate you,” Sara said, though of course she didn’t mean it. During the Battle for Unification, Flissa, Sara, Galric, and Loriah had spent most of their time together—every minute that Galric and Loriah weren’t out helping the fighters, really. They’d gotten so close that they teased each other easily, and none of them took it seriously.
Well, except Loriah. She could tease, but she didn’t like getting teased back. Sara and Galric had both made the mistake of trying, and it hadn’t gone well.
“Where’s Nitpick?” Flissa asked.
“Where do you think?” their dad’s voice boomed joy-fully. “He followed us into the kitchen to try and steal our meal!”
King Edwin and Queen Latonya beamed as they walked into the ballroom, each with a giant tray of pastries, breads, and savories of all shapes and sizes. Nitpick, the tiny black kitten, trailed at their feet.
“He didn’t have to steal anything,” Queen Latonya replied. “You kept sneaking him treats.”
“Nitpick!” Sara crouched low; the kitten ran across the room and leaped into her arms. She buried her face in his fur. “Mmmm, I love that you’re still a kitten.”
“Of course he is,” Flissa said. “He has magic in him. Remember how young Grosselor looked? And he’d been alive well over a century.”
“That’s right,” Rouen said. “We Mages always look particularly attractive.”
Katya giggled—giggled—and swatted him. Sara kicked Flissa in the leg—was she seeing this?
“Happy first day of school!” the king said as he and Queen Latonya set the trays down on one of the large round tables that dotted the ballroom.
“Aw, sweet. Thanks!” Galric said. “I love frosted tarts!”
He grabbed one and had it halfway to his mouth before he saw the king’s raised eyebrow. Then he froze.
“I mean…um…thank you, Your Majesties,” he said in his most stiltedly polite voice. “It is truly a privilege to dine with you, as always. Thank you for welcoming me, and, um, for your ever-present kindness and munificence, and…”
The tips of King Edwin’s mustache turned up, like they always did when he was amused. He smirked at Queen Latonya. “Should I let him continue?”
The queen smiled back, but it was Katya who answered.
“Oh, sure. Let him grovel for a while. It’s good for him.”
“And thank you for your kingliness…” Galric continued. “And queenliness…and general royalositude…”
“He’s resorted to making up words,” Queen Latonya said. “Now we’re just being cruel.”
Sara laughed. “Galric, stop. They’re just our parents. It’s okay.”
Galric lowered his voice. “I know, but your dad did that one-eyebrow-up, don’t-forget-I-rule-you thing.”
He meant it just for Sara, but of course her parents heard too.
“We don’t rule anyone,” Queen Latonya said lightly. “Not alone anyway. We govern in concert with the General Council.” Then she turned to Rouen and Katya. “Speaking of which, after we get the kids off to school…”
She let the sentence trail, but her meaning was clear. Rouen and Katya had both been elected to Kaloon’s General Council, a new governing body created in the wake of Kaloonification. The General Council was made up equally of Genpos—people without magic, from the general populace—Mages, and Magical Animals from all over Kaloon. If the king and queen needed to discuss something with them away from Flissa, Sara, and Galric, it was probably important.
“Is there a problem?” Rouen asked.
“Nothing serious,” King Edwin said. “A little unrest with the academy starting. Unification comes with some growing pains.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t help that the General Council chose Amala for head of school,” the queen said.
“Of course we did,” Katya replied. “She’s the best person for the job.”
“I don’t disagree,” the queen said, “but I know the perception, especially among Genpos. It’s not good.”
“What’s wrong with Amala?” Galric piped up. “She’s a Shadow—the most powerful Shadow. She led the final charge against Grosselor. We’d have lost the Battle for Unification without her.”
“Right,” Sara said. She was impressed by how confident and knowledgeable Galric sounded, and wanted to show that she knew things about the battle too. “She was the first Shadow to wake up from their magical hibernation. She’s the one who rallied all the others.”
Galric looked at her and nodded. “Exactly.”
“That’s true,” Flissa said. “But Amala’s also extremely old. She was married to Maldevon, and she was one of the reasons people believed Grosselor when he said Maldevon was a Dark Mage.”
Galric scrunched his face. Apparently he didn’t know this part of the story. “She was? Why?”
It was the queen who answered. “Back in Maldevon’s time, Amala adamantly believed that those with magic were superior to those without. She made no secret of the fact that she wanted all people without magic exiled from Kaloon.”
“They called her the Cleaner,” Rouen added, “because she wanted to ‘clean’ Kaloon of all non-Mages.”
“But she changed,” the king said. “Even back then she changed. Maldevon helped her see things differently. We know this; that’s why she rose up and helped us.”
“I know that,” the queen said, “but there are Genpos who believe she only fought for personal reasons, as revenge for what happened to her husband. They’re afraid that if she’s in charge of Maldevon Academy, she’ll use that position to pursue an anti-Genpo agenda.”
“Ridiculous,” Katya snorted.
“Again, I agree,” the queen said, “but some people—including some students, we’ve been told—are very unhappy. It’s something we need to watch.”
“Indeed,” the king said. Then he turned to Sara, Flissa, and Galric. “Will you let us know if you see anything? Anyone making trouble, reacting poorly to Amala?”
Galric stood taller. “Is this a…Are you giving us an official royal mission?”
Sara saw her dad’s mustache twitch. He wanted to laugh, but instead he put a hand on Galric’s shoulder and said, with extreme solemnity, “Yes, son. Yes, I am.”
Galric set his jaw. “Then I’ll be proud to carry it out.”
Sara rolled her eyes. “Okay, you have to stop. Dad, we will absolutely watch for you, but I bet everything’ll be great. The only thing that won’t be great is us getting there late, so…” She nodded her head toward the doorway.
“You’re right,” the queen said. “You have to get moving. Grab some breakfast; you can take it to go.”
Sara, Flissa, and Galric each wrapped some breakfast pastries in napkins and put them in their bags, then the grown-ups all swarmed and hugged them goodbye. Primka wrapped her wings so tightly around Sara’s face that she couldn’t breathe.
When the bird released her, Sara laughed. “We’re just going to school. You weren’t this worried when we went to the Twists!”
“I know,” Primka sobbed. “It’s just that you’re so grown-up. All of you.”
Primka threw herself across Galric’s face. He coughed and spluttered. “Um…thanks.”
Rouen and Katya each took one of Galric’s arms and strode down the hall to the front gates, while the queen linked her arms with Flissa’s and Sara’s and followed.
“I know I don’t have to tell you this,” she said, “but please be good to everyone you see at school. You’re princesses; you need to show everyone that Kaloonification is a good thing, and sending everyone to school together is the best way to bring all of Kaloon’s different subjects together.”
“It is the best way,” Sara said. “Everyone’ll see it.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” the queen said. “I’ll miss having you around the castle, though.”
She wrapped them in another big hug, and Sara tried not to stif
fen. She loved their mom, and she loved that Mom cared so much, but honestly, everyone was acting like she, Flissa, and Galric were leaving home and wouldn’t come back. They were going to school. Yes, it was a huge deal, but not in the way everyone else seemed to think.
Their mother finally pulled away.
“I love you,” she said. “Both of you. Now go.”
“Bye!” Sara called.
She ran out the door as fast as she could and didn’t even dream of looking back.
Flissa watched Sara run out, then threw her arms around her mother again. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered into her mother’s shoulder.
The queen squeezed Flissa tightly, then moved back and gave her a shiny-eyed smile. “Did you say something?”
Flissa made herself smile back and shook her head. “Just that I’m excited.”
It hurt to lie, but how could she tell the truth? Her mother had just told her and Sara that Kaloonification’s success depended in part on how well they handled school. How could she possibly say she’d rather stay home? Even if she did speak up, what could her mother do? School attendance was a rule. It was in the Magical Unification Act. How would it look if a princess of Kaloon asked for a special exclusion?
Awful. That’s how it would look. Absolutely awful.
“Flissa, come here!” Sara called from outside. “You won’t believe it!”
Flissa’s jaw tightened. She knew she shouldn’t be mad at her sister. It was wonderful that Sara was excited about school. Of course she was. She loved making new friends and meeting new people. It made Sara happy, and Flissa wanted her sister to be happy. She really did.
“Flissa!” Sara called again.
“Coming!”
Flissa ran out the door and instantly felt herself relax. Her favorite horse, Balustrade, stood majestically waiting for her, and the sight of him melted her heart. She ran up and hugged him tightly around his neck.
“Good morning, Balustrade,” Flissa said, pressing her nose to his. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”
“And you’re not glad about us?” groused a familiar voice. “What are we, chopped liver?”
Flissa’s heart jumped. She wheeled around and saw two horses, one gray and the other black. Sara and Galric stood grinning between them.
“Gus?!” Flissa cried. “Klarney?!”
“At your service,” Klarney said, bending a foreleg and bowing low.
“Told ya you wouldn’t believe it,” Sara said.
Gus and Klarney had been instrumental in helping Flissa and Sara get through the Twists and save their mother’s life, but neither sister had seen them since, and they’d often wondered if the horses had made it through the Battle for Unification alive.
Flissa hugged them both. “We missed you so much! How are you?”
“Absolutely delightful,” Klarney said. “We found ourselves a lovely little field off in the outskirts of the kingdom. About ten horse families, lots of space…”
“Yeah,” Gus said. “Klarney here planted us our own grove of blarnage trees. All the blarnages we can eat.”
“Your favorite,” Galric said. “I’m surprised you’d ever leave.”
“Me too,” Gus said pointedly. “But someone insisted we clomp all the way across creation just to—”
Klarney stamped a hoof, and Gus rolled his eyes.
“I mean, I wanted to clomp all the way across creation and offer my services for your first day of school.”
“And we are most appreciative,” Flissa said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out some of the sugar cubes she always kept handy for Balustrade. She held several on her palm and enjoyed the velvety brush of Gus’s lips as he licked them up.
Behind her, Balustrade whinnied.
“Patience, my love,” Flissa said. “You’ll get yours.”
She gave a handful of sugar cubes to Klarney, then rewarded Balustrade with the biggest share of anyone. As he ate, she scratched his nose and whispered gently, “Don’t be jealous. You know I’ll always love you best.”
“As well you should,” Klarney said, and Flissa blushed because she’d forgotten how well he could hear. “I know horses, and that one is most definitely a keeper.”
“We should go,” Sara said. “We don’t want to be late.” She reached up, grabbed Gus’s mane, and tried to pull herself onto his back. She tried three useless hops, then gave up and pointed at the ground. A puff of scarlet mist appeared. When it cleared, a three-step staircase made of what looked like white marble stood in its place. “Much better,” Sara said. She climbed the stairs and easily swung herself into place.
“Pretty cool,” Galric said from his position astride Klarney. “Kinda cheating, though.”
Flissa agreed; any good rider should know how to climb onto a horse, but of course she’d take Sara’s side.
“She’s just playing to her strengths,” she said as she swung onto Balustrade.
“Exactly,” Sara said. She pointed at the stairs and made them disappear in another cloud of red mist. “And it’s not like we’re in a contest or anything, so it’s fine.”
“We could be in a contest,” Galric said with a grin. “Let’s do it, Klarney! Last one to school’s a rotten plobquat!”
“Onward!” Klarney cried. He took off at a full canter, and Sara squealed as Gus ran after him.
Flissa had no desire to race to school; she’d actually been excited about a long, leisurely ride on Balustrade, but there was no way she’d let Gus and Klarney outshine her glorious stallion. “Git on, mighty Balustrade!” she shouted.
A little nudge from her heels and he was off. It took him exactly three seconds to catch up to Gus and Klarney.
“Well played, Balustrade!” Klarney called as Flissa and Balustrade zoomed past him. “Excellent stride!”
After that, Flissa blocked out everything else, especially their destination. She pretended they were just out for a ride. For forty minutes they raced over fields and past villages, and Flissa marveled at all of Kaloon’s changes. There were so many somber reminders of the battle, like the charred swaths of land, and the construction from all the rebuilding.
Then the wind changed direction, and Flissa caught the overpowering scent of roses. She used to like the smell. Now it made her stomach churn because she knew the cause: it was the remnants of the Twists.
The Twists had always existed in its own magical realm; only its entrance, the Brambled Gates, had appeared in Kaloon properly. Flissa had seen it firsthand. The gates appeared out of nowhere as a tiny dot in the air, then grew into a thick, thorny, living forest. If you walked into the forest, you entered the gateway to the Twists; if you walked around it, you’d see it was thin as a piece of parchment. That’s why at the end of the Battle for Unification, after everyone had been evacuated and only the darkest of Dark Mages like Grosselor and his closest followers were forced to remain inside, all the Shadows and all the strongest Mages were able to surround the Brambled Gates. Then, as the Gates closed and shrunk down into that tiny floating spot that contained the entire Twists, the Shadows and Mages hit it with all their combined magic.
“Did you destroy it?”
That’s what Loriah had asked when Katya told them the story. They were all in Katya’s cottage at the time—Flissa, Sara, Loriah, and Galric—and Flissa remembered the look on Loriah’s face. Her jaw was set, but there was something soft in her eyes. Flissa had wondered if Loriah might feel a little sad about losing the Twists forever. It had been terrible, of course, but all the free-flowing magic had also made it oddly beautiful, and for so many years it was the only home Loriah knew.
“We did not,” Katya had said. “We banished it to the magical plane. The dragons, the man-eating holes in the ground, the tar pits, the fire-spitting cobra trees, and of course the darkest Mages…they still exist, but they can’t get through to Kaloon anymore.”
“Huh,” Loriah had said, folding her arms and leaning back into Katya’s couch. “You should’ve destroyed it.
”
Flissa didn’t feel the same way. Condemning the Dark Mages to a lifetime in the Twists with no hope of escape seemed like a much more fitting punishment. Galric had agreed with Loriah; he thought the Dark Mages would enjoy a lifetime in the Twists, and it wasn’t fair that they got to be happy after ruining so many other lives. Flissa saw his point, but she didn’t particularly care whether the Dark Mages were happy or not. As long as they were far away from Kaloon and couldn’t hurt anyone but each other, she was fine with their fate.
Flissa’s only complaint was that the Twists didn’t disappear without a trace. They left a scar—a thorny rosebush on the far outskirts of Kaloon. It floated in midair, just like that dot of the Brambled Gates had when the Shadows and Mages blasted it with their magic. The rosebush was brown and withered, with jet-black roses whose rotten petals curled in on themselves, but it was very much alive, and its scent was so strong that when the wind blew in the right direction, it perfumed the entire kingdom.
Flissa didn’t like it. To her the scent was a taunt, a warning that dark magic never really went away. Not entirely. She had shared her fears with Katya, who assured her that the floating rosebush was harmless. It was a shell of old magic. It didn’t radiate power, and it couldn’t cast enchantments. She said the only fallout from the Twists happened in the moment of its destruction, when shock waves of magic radiated through Kaloon. This Flissa already knew; the evidence grew every day, and she saw constant reminders on her ride to the academy. She galloped Balustrade over fields of orange grass, just like the kind that had grown in the Twists. They passed trees that grew in topiary shapes—giant, leafy rabbits and elephants and bears. They rode past a field of pink, spherical gourds as large as a grown man’s chest.
Then Flissa heard chimes.
The ring tree.
She slowed Balustrade to a walk as she approached. The tree was massive, with a trunk so wide that Balustrade could stand sideways and hide completely behind it. The trunk rose to twice Flissa’s height, then split into two halves that curved around to form a perfect circle. Countless leafy limbs branched off from the top of the circle, bearing not fruit, but tiny organic bells that tinkled in the breeze.
