by Jen Calonita
“Protection charms!” the footman yells to me. “Olivina is too smart to let the next generation of princes and princesses be seen before they’re ready.”
“Or kidnapped,” adds the driver.
“Or put under a curse,” adds the second footman.
I try not to think about any of those scenarios as I stare at the shimmering gray castle. It dwarfs what the royal court has going on. (Rapunzel, Rose, Cinderella, and Snow—Enchantasia’s reigning princesses—all have castles that sit in a quad surrounding their headquarters.) This castle is ten times the size of that. It could be as big as our whole village! There’s even a waterfall flowing from one turret. Hundreds of flags billow in the wind atop the turrets, the largest one spelling out ROYAL ACADEMY in gold, glittery letters. I blink fast. On the rocky wall that surrounds the hilltop compound, I see hundreds of small figures. We’re still a distance away, but I can hear the cheering.
“Your family flag is above the main building, princess,” says the footman, pointing toward a doorway that is two stories high. I spot the Nile family crest even from the distance. It has a painting of a river running through a Royal Infantry suit of arms. “It’s rare for a first-year student to be flying so close to the school’s banner, miss,” he adds, staring at me. “Who are you related to?”
“Me? No one important.” I point to myself. Maybe he hit his head on the bumpy ride. “I’m just Devin, remember? Devin Nile?”
He looks flustered. “No, I mean, if you’re not related to someone important, why are you getting this much attention from Olivina?”
Before I can really ponder his question, the coach stops short. I look out the window and notice several bridges leading to the castle, all crowded with coaches waiting for their turn to enter. Mine is the only one that is a pumpkin coach.
“Are you ready, miss? This is everyone’s favorite part!” the footman says excitedly.
“Ready for what?” I get the feeling I’m supposed to be doing something. I fumble around the orange velvet seat cushion in the hopes of finding some sort of “First Day” scroll, but there’s nothing. My trunks are tied to the back of the coach, so any chance of consulting one of the books Olivina requested is out of the question. Think, Devin! What could I be expected to do right now?
The horses gallop faster toward a lowering drawbridge that connects us to the school grounds. The cheering grows as we ride up to an expansive courtyard and stop in front of large, sparkling double doors. I peek out and spy a velvet carpet that reaches from the coach all the way into the castle. It’s lined with people wearing gray velvet dresses and suits. I hear a pop and look up. Fireworks are going off overhead. I do a double take as two blue songbirds fly into view carrying a banner between their beaks. It says WELCOME, NEW STUDENTS! Holy harpies, this is intense.
“Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Devinaria Nile of Cobblestone Creek,” a crier shouts.
It’s time to face the music, I guess. I take a deep breath and go to open the carriage door, but ropy vines are holding it tightly closed. “I can’t seem to get out,” I yell to the footman.
“Of course not, miss,” he says. “We need your escort first. Is he here yet?” He looks around as one of the horses neighs. “Should we call for him?”
My shoulders tense. “Escort?”
The footman blinks, then pushes a white, powdered curl away from his face. “Your prince escort who will accompany you from the coach to the castle.”
I hear what sounds like the impatient stamping of hooves and look back. There is a line of white coaches behind ours now. Come on! I hear a horse neigh. What’s the holdup?
“I didn’t know I needed an escort,” I explain sheepishly as much to the footmen as to the horses. Some of the occupants are hanging their heads out of their coaches to see what’s going on. “I don’t have one.”
My driver and the footmen look equally mortified—for me.
“Every princess who enters Royal Academy has an escort,” the first footman says. “The girls who come are usually all over this stuff.”
“I must have missed the memo,” I say lightly. “Can one of you escort me then? I don’t want to hold up the line.”
They burst out laughing.
“A footman?” one of them asks incredulously. “Escort a princess? No, I’m sorry, miss. We can’t. And you can’t enter school alone either.”
“Why not?” I ask, wringing my hands, which are starting to get clammy. I hear more neighing and wince.
“Because it’s tradition.”
Outside, the crowd starts whispering to one another. Lily climbs onto my shoulder, and I look at her. “Any chance you can turn into a princely escort real quick?” I ask. She blinks at me, then nods her head in the direction of my satchel. Curious, I open it and see my pocketknife utility tool glinting inside. My heart leaps. Father must have slipped it into my bag for me! I pick up the knife and eye the vines holding the carriage door closed. Waiting for an escort I know will never come has to be worse than whatever tradition I’d be ruining by walking into the castle alone. While my driver and one of the footmen confer, I start cutting through one of the vines. One, two, three. There! It’s loose. I open the carriage door, and there is an audible gasp from the crowd as I hop out…solo.
“Miss!” The driver’s eyes widen as I try to run past him. “You can’t do that!”
“I’ll explain my confusion, and I’m sure it will be fine,” I say as Lily hisses at him, flicking a deep-red tongue in his direction. The footmen block my path. How rude! I fold my arms over my chest.
“Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?” asks a boy who looks about twelve, just like me. At least, I think he’s my age. His fancy jacket and gold sash make him seem older.
Finally! “Can you please tell them I can walk myself into school? It’s really no trouble. I forgot to call for an escort, and they won’t let me through.”
The boy grins at me, then bows, giving me a great view of his head of thick, jet-black hair. “Hello, princess.”
Everyone looks at me, including the boy.
Oh, they’re waiting for me to curtsy, aren’t they? I give a quick curtsy. “Hello.” We look at each other. “Can I go now?”
He makes a face. “As much as I like a girl who can handle herself, I don’t know if…”
“She can’t, Prince Heathcliff!” blurts out my driver. “You know the rules better than anyone. She jumped out of the coach and tried to go inside alone. It can’t be done, especially when she arrived by pumpkin coach.”
He raises one eyebrow at me, his baby-blue eyes taking me in with interest. “Did she now?” He steps closer. “Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so. My name is Devin,” I say. And then I remember, with a sigh, that formality is the thing here. “Devinaria Nile of Cobblestone Creek so… Hey. Can you please tell them I can pass?”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Gentlemen, I’ll escort her inside.”
“That’s really not necessary.” I try again, an edge coming into my voice.
“Really, sir?” The footman ignores me. “Lady Clarissa Hartwith seems very keen on you escorting her inside.” He looks over at a group of princesses who are hovering nearby, clearly trying to hear our conversation. The one in the middle looks angry. I’m starting to get angry too.
“Clarissa will have no trouble finding someone else,” Prince Heathcliff says and flashes me a smile that makes his rosy lips stand out against his pale skin. “Shall we?” He offers me his arm.
I stare at it. “So you’re really not going to let me go alone either?”
He looks momentarily baffled. “I can’t do that, but as I said, I’m happy to help. And as all those staring princesses could tell you, I’m the best escort of the bunch today.”
I wince. “Who are you?” I ask incredulously. “Prince Charming or something?�
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He laughs. “Stop! How sweet. No, that name is already taken. My friends call me Heath.” He holds out his elbow again.
That Clarissa girl and her friends are shooting daggers at me. I look away and try to ignore their whispers. (“Why did she get the pumpkin coach? I’ve never even heard of the Niles.”)
My footmen sigh impatiently, and the horses are getting anxious. Would you just go with him? one says. He’s a looker!
“Fine.” I loop my hand through Heath’s arm so we’re interlocked. “But let’s make this quick.”
Heath looks offended. “Hey, I’m trying to help you. This is your first chance to be in the Royal Academy Roster.”
“The Roster?”
He steps onto the red carpet, which begins to glow. The trumpets start playing again, and the fireworks resume. We begin the long walk up the red velvet steps to the sound of cheers.
He pats my arm. “Looks like someone else didn’t read the books Olivina suggested. You really are my kind of girl. Thankfully, my twin talked my ear off about most of this stuff on the ride here, so I picked up a thing or two. You’ll get the hang of it, I’m sure.” The crowds begin to part for us, clearing the stairs.
“Who is that?” I hear someone say.
“It’s Heathcliff! No clue who he’s with,” someone adds.
“I’ve never seen her before either. I thought he was escorting Clarissa.”
I look back at Heath, who is smiling and waving to the crowd. “So is that Clarissa girl going to be really mad that you walked me into school instead of her?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. She’ll get over it. It’s only day one!” He looks at me. “You were a smarter choice today. I can tell you don’t want to make me your prince, which is a plus in my book. I have zero interest in finding a princess anytime soon.” He winks despite himself. “Not when there are so many adventures to be had first.” Talk about pompous.
“Presenting Princess Devinaria Katherine Nile and her escort, Prince Heathcliff Harold White the Third!”
The sound that comes next is so shrill that I almost let go of Heath’s arm to cover my ears. It sounds like a hundred bats flying out of a cave at once, but it’s not bats. It’s girls. The princesses already inside the castle are screaming and holding up signs with Heath’s name on them. One girl is jumping up and down and waving a sign that reads, SNOW GLAD YOU’RE HERE, HEATH! Snow glad? I do a double take at Heath.
His smirk returns. “Figured it out, huh? Snow White’s younger brother, at your service.”
Heath is that Heath? The one always being written about in Happily Ever After Scrolls? They love reporting on how he hangs out at Robin Hood’s Archery Range in the village when he should be in school and takes magic carpets to exotic lands when he should be at royal court functions.
“Don’t get weird on me now, Devilish Devin.” Heath winks at me again. I’m starting to wonder if he has an eye twitch. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other. You’re my sister Raina’s roommate.”
My jaw drops.
“I’ve seen your magical portrait for a week now, and I read your bio too, but it didn’t do you justice. I had no clue you’d be this unpredictable.” He grins again. “I like it. Now smile. We’re about to make our entrance.”
We begin to climb a never-ending staircase. Just when I think my feet are going to give out, we step onto the top step. I audibly gasp. The ballroom looks like it goes on forever and a day. Crystal furniture sparkles around every corner of the room, while wall-size tapestries portraying our reigning princesses hang above our heads. There is also a portrait I don’t recognize. It’s of a plump woman in an elegant silver gown and cape with curly blond hair and lots of jewelry. My eyes are drawn to the name glowing beneath her portrait: Olivina. I hear someone sneeze and look around. Seated to the right of us is the royal court, along with a figure whose face is hidden by a sparkling cloak.
The figure stands, removes her gold hood, and smiles beatifically. The royal court is all staring at her, and that’s when I realize: It’s the woman from the portrait! It’s Olivina!
A hush falls over the room as Olivina eyes the two of us. Then she points a wand in our direction.
“Welcome to Royal Academy!” she says in a thick, throaty voice. And with a flick of her wrist, poof! We’re gone.
Chapter 5
Pixies and Dragons and Dresses, Oh My!
Poof!
Heathcliff is gone, and I’m alone in a long hallway where flickering torches cast an eerie glow. Curved stone arches and gargoyle statues tell me I haven’t been sent home (drat) and am still somewhere inside the castle. My eyes are drawn toward several glowing signs on the walls. I step closer to read one and… Zip! A butterfly shoots past me. How did it get inside? I blink again and realize I’m not looking at a bug. It’s actually a tiny human with wings, but it’s not a fairy. Is that…a pixie? A flock of them suddenly flutter through the hallway, throwing confetti and singing.
Jumping giants, this is cool. I have to talk to one. “Hello!” I say to one flying past me.
Zip! It tosses confetti in my face and keeps going, its silver wings grazing my left shoulder. I can hear it laughing as it flies away. How hospitable.
“Excuse me, I don’t know where I’m supposed to go, and I was wondering if you could help me.”
Two pixies stop in front of my nose, look at each other, and giggle. One points to the darkened hall behind me. “Definitely that way,” the boy one says in a high-pitched voice.
Skeptically, I peer into the darkness and see pixies zooming in the opposite direction. Wait a second. Pixies, pixies, pixies…what have I read about them before? Think, Devin. Don’t they love to cause mischief? Yes! That’s right. I can’t take their advice. Maybe one of these signs on the wall has some better answers.
The Royal Way: There Is No Try, Only Triumph! —Olivina
Not helpful, but maybe the next sign has something better.
When Life Gives You Poison Apples, Make Applesauce to Give to a Villain! —Olivina
I’m not even sure what that means. I keep walking in hope of finding a clue to where I should be going, and a pixie flies into my forehead. We both scream.
“You could have killed me,” the pixie shouts, her voice no more than a whisper.
“Sorry!” I rub my smarting forehead. “But I wouldn’t have bumped into you if I knew where I was going.” The pixie opens her mouth, but I cut her off. “Please don’t say ‘down the dark hall.’ I know that’s not true. Can you save us both the trouble and tell me where I’m supposed to be? I was poofed here.”
She crosses her arms and looks at me. “I don’t have the time to show you,” she snaps. “I’m very busy, and all princesses should already be in line.”
“In line?” I ask hopefully. “What line?”
She slaps her hand across her mouth. “Wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she mumbles. “It’s down the lit hall. The one lined with other girls. Didn’t you read Olivina’s manual?”
“No,” I admit sheepishly.
“You didn’t read Royal Academy Rules? Just come this way. Not reading the manual, I swear,” she says under her breath. But thanks to my super-keen sense of hearing, I hear her.
“I appreciate your help, Miss…?”
“Ava,” she says and does a double take. “No one has ever asked my name.”
“Really?” I say in surprise. “Well, how do people address you, then?”
Now she looks intrigued. “They usually don’t. Let’s go so I can get back to work. With the ball tomorrow tonight, there is much to do if I want to enjoy it myself.”
“I forgot all about the ball.” Ava almost flies into the wall in horror. As I turn the corner to follow her, I see a long line of girls in rainbow-colored gowns. There is a lot of squealing and chatter. “Thanks for your help!” I say. “One las
t thing: What is this line for?”
She flies backward and looks at me sharply. “To get your lady-in-waiting, of course. She’ll take you to your room and coordinate all your appointments. You already have your tailoring sessions set up with Marta, right?”
“Marta?” That name does sound familiar.
Ava rolls her eyes. “Princesses these days. Marta! The royal tailor?” I try to look like I know what she’s talking about, but she flutters to my nose and lands on it. “Did you take pixie dust to the eye or something? You should know all this. Day one at RA is the biggest day of your life.”
I sigh. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”
She flies to my shoulder. “Look, don’t beat yourself up, okay? Just get in line and your lady-in-waiting will explain the rest.”
“Thanks, Ava.”
Ava smiles ever so slightly. “You’re welcome. Good luck!” She flutters away.
I join the line and stand quietly, listening in to snippets of conversations. (“Mother limited me to only six pairs of shoes in my trunk. Can you imagine?”) I’m still half a dozen girls from the front when I hear something strange.
“Psst.”
I look around. None of these girls are trying to get my attention. They all seem to know one another, and a few are even giving me dirty looks. I suspect they’re friends with Clarissa.
“Psst!”
There it is again. I look around and spot a hand waving wildly at me from underneath a table with a velvet tablecloth.
“Could you hold my place in line?” I ask a girl discussing glitter hair-care products with a friend. Both of them have their hair done up with glitter already—one in pink and one in purple—to match their gowns.
