by Shelby Bach
The interchapter delegates had come to my first Canon meeting as a grade representative, soon after the attacks had begun. The man with silvering hair had given a long-winded speech, which I hadn’t understood at all. The other delegate, his wife, a beautiful blond woman, had summed it up, saying, “The other chapters of Ever After School suggest that you search for a peaceful resolution with the Snow Queen, as they have. They regret they cannot enter this conflict.”
In other words, we couldn’t even rely on the Ever After Schools on other continents for support. We were all alone in this.
After that meeting, I’d found out that the interchapter delegates were Adelaide’s parents, and then I wasn’t surprised that I hadn’t liked them.
They had apartments at every chapter, but they mostly operated out of the oldest chapter, in Europe. That was the first and last time I’d ever seen them.
Chase and Adelaide dating made a certain amount of sense. They both had parents in the Canon. They were two of the few kids who had always lived here, not just when the Snow Queen threatened them. Their parents left them both alone most of the time. Their relationship shouldn’t still feel like a puzzle I needed to figure out.
“The goblin priestesses?” the Director asked, moving down her list. “The mother of the four Winds?”
“Still in hiding,” said Gretel, “and even if they weren’t, I suspect they would say they have done enough.”
The Snow Queen had found out about the letter the goblin priestesses had sent her allies, the one that told them not to underestimate me. She had sent almost as many troops after them as she had against us.
Probably safe to count them out too. They had other problems.
“The elves of Muirland will probably say no,” said Jack reluctantly. “Solange’s wolves kidnapped their king. I heard some Fey discussing it in Atlantis.”
“This is unacceptable,” the Director said, like all these reports were the Canon’s fault. “To date, the only alliance we’ve secured is with the MerKing.”
Chatty had convinced her dad. The mermaids had a bunch of skilled warriors, but they could only fight from the water. It wasn’t a huge help.
“We’ve fought the war on our own so far,” Sarah Thumb protested. “We’ve done okay.”
Hansel shot her a pitying look. He was our general. “You wouldn’t say that if you had survived the last one. This war hasn’t taken hold yet. These are just skirmishes, not battles.”
Rapunzel glanced at me, her eyes sorrowful. “It’s a hunt now, not a war. She hunts our numbers and our courage.”
Sometimes, news is so bad your body reacts before your mind can catch up. I reeled so hard I almost lost my balance, forgetting the bench didn’t have a back. Chase turned my way, and Lena grabbed my arm, steadying me.
It was going to get worse. That was what Rapunzel was saying. It was going to get worse, and I felt like I was barely holding on as it was.
“What of the Living Stone Dwarves?” the Director asked Henry, the Frog Prince.
I didn’t want to get my hopes up about it, but I did want to see Forrel again. We hadn’t heard from the Living Stone Dwarves since April, when Miriam, Lena, Chase, and I had helped save their young prince and princess, Iggy and Ima.
The Frog Prince sighed. “The ice city of Kiivinsh is still abandoned. They haven’t relocated to any place they’d lived before the Snow Queen gave them a new home.”
Canon members started suggesting areas the dwarves might be hiding.
I barely listened. I didn’t blame the Living Stone Dwarves for not wanting to fight. They were still in mourning for Princess Hadriane. She had stood up to the Snow Queen in front of all her allies, telling them what a tyrant Solange was. Hadriane hadn’t flinched when Solange raised her hand and threw those ice darts. I hoped I could be that brave.
Sarah Thumb’s voice rose above the rest. “Too bad we can’t help them resettle in their homeland in Arizona. We would at least know where to find them. If they had their petrified wood back, they would never budge.”
It had been a weak joke. Only a few people smiled.
“Why can’t we?” It took me a second to realize I’d said it out loud, but judging by the number of Characters who turned to stare at me, I definitely had.
he Director had made it very clear that we young Characters were only there to give reports and receive orders. We were not supposed to talk. I tried to pretend that I had just been muttering something to Lena, but that didn’t work.
“Do you have something to say, Aurora Landon?” said the Director shortly.
I froze.
Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. Maybe I should have pretended that I let the grown-up Characters do all my thinking for me. Maybe I would have—if they had been talking about anyone besides the Living Dwarves.
I knew Hadriane. I remembered the longing in her voice when she spoke of her people’s homeland. So I said, “Why can’t we help them resettle in the Petrified Forest National Park? We should be able to talk to the ranger people. The dwarves would need to hide during the day, but . . .”
I drifted off. The whole Canon was still staring at me. Most of them looked kind of scandalized. I guess it was a stupid idea to suggest during a war. We had enough to deal with.
Chase sat forward. “They might come to us if they hear we have something to offer.”
Then Lena piped up. “I could probably cast a cloaking spell over their settlement, so no humans could see it unless they were inside.”
“They really want their homeland back,” added Miriam, the representative for the rising twelfth graders. She and Hadriane had spent most of the quest side-by-side. Miriam had even started a new fashion among the high schoolers—four-strand dwarvish braids, just like the princess had taught her. “That’s the only reason they allied with the Snow Queen, but we could probably help them more than she could. I mean, we still live in the human lands. We know more stuff.”
“Actually, this is pretty random,” said Ben, who was the representative for the grade above us, “but I have a cousin married to a park ranger who works there.”
For three whole seconds, it seemed kind of possible.
A few members of the Canon were warming up to the idea. Red Riding Hood scratched her chin under her red baseball cap. Henry stared at me with the same shock I’d felt the day the sword master invited me to be his assistant—like I’d never seen him properly before. But Hansel and Rapunzel both smiled.
The Director’s look was cool. “The dwarf king will be truly eager to accept our help, I’m sure. The last time his people allied with ours only resulted in the death of his eldest daughter.”
Everyone but Ben flinched. We had invited Hadriane on the quest with us. I wasn’t the only one who felt responsible for her death.
“Mildred.” Rapunzel’s voice was soft, but the reproach was obvious. “One child was taken from him, but his twins and heirs were returned safely. The king would not forget.”
“It’s a fair point,” said Gretel. The guilt lodged in my stomach barely budged.
“The king does owe us,” Hansel agreed, “and his people may want revenge for the death of their princess.”
“So, this should be our new policy, then?” said the Director. “To lure allies to us the same way Solange does? Offering them lands we do not have?”
Ugh. In every meeting, the Director found a way to remind everyone how similar the Snow Queen and I were. We weren’t just the only two Characters in history with Unwritten Tales. Sometimes, we thought the same way too.
She didn’t need to tell me. I’d been doing my research. I knew I could turn evil just like Solange.
“Not necessarily,” said Henry. “There’s a world of difference between promising something you never deliver and offering to help them do something immediately.”
The Director stared at me instead of Henry. I shrank back between Chase and Lena.
Then the door banged open. It was Rufus, one of the elves who mann
ed the emergency phones and M3 lines these days. He was too out of breath to speak at first, but he would only interrupt the meeting for one reason. Someone had called in another attack.
“Who?” the Director asked Rufus.
“Marty Mason’s farm in Idaho. He graduated more than ten years ago,” Rufus said, “so he thought he was safe. But dragons have burned down his house. His family is fleeing to the nearest Door Trek door, but he called on his cell phone for backup.”
“How many dragons?” Hansel asked.
“Marty saw at least four. He also said that he spotted smoke farther out,” Rufus said.
I struggled to my feet. My legs were still wobbly, but I was on duty until dinner.
“Sit down, Aurora,” added the Director. “As talented as the rising ninth graders may be, you had your own battle just a few hours ago.”
Chase stood up. “I’ll go.”
The Director nodded. “You and Ben go, and take as many students from Ben’s grade as you can find in the next few minutes.”
Chase followed Ben out the door. He didn’t look back. I could hear him yelling that he had to grab his sword and a sandwich from the Table—he couldn’t fight on an empty stomach.
Then we all were dismissed.
Lena buried her face in her palms, muttering about stupid rings and stupid bats and stupid Directors. If rescuing me hadn’t put her behind schedule, then getting an ultimatum from the Canon definitely did. “Did the exploding bats just put you over the edge?” I whispered to Lena, only kind of joking.
She dropped her hands. “I don’t want to make them,” she whispered. Her fingers curled around the edge of the bench, like she was anchoring herself to her seat. “I keep thinking about what happened in the Snow Queen’s palace. I mean, the Bats of Destruction were great at first, but when General Searcaster got control of them . . .”
She had been blaming herself for our capture for months. Honestly though, it would have probably happened even if General Searcaster hadn’t turned the bats against us. “It’s not your fault, Lena.”
She nodded, but the frown didn’t leave her face. “That’s what Gran says too. But, Rory, we were just lucky that time. What if I make some of the exploding kind and she gets them, too?”
They could kill hundreds of Characters in minutes. “You’ve told that to the Director?”
“She says that we just won’t use the bats in direct battles with the Snow Queen and General Searcaster,” Lena said, keeping her voice low so none of the others could overhear. “They’re the only magic users strong enough to take over another weapon.”
If Lena still felt this guilty over the regular bats, I didn’t want to find out how she would feel if the exploding bats fell in the wrong hands. “There’s a lot wrong with that plan,” I said cautiously.
“What choice do I have?” Lena said. “She’s the Director.”
“You just have to give her something, not necessarily what she wants,” I said.
Lena’s head popped up again. That idea had clearly never occurred to her. “The Director shot down the shield idea . . . ,” she said, thinking aloud.
“An offensive weapon, then,” I said, relieved. “Something that helps her feel like we’re not so outnumbered.”
Then I saw what I’d been hoping for—that flash in Lena’s eyes, the one that meant an idea for a new invention had snapped into place. “Rory, you’re a genius!”
She pushed through the crowd, hurrying toward the workshop.
I stayed where I was, smiling after her. I didn’t have anywhere to be except my new apartment, and I wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing Mom again.
Across the room, sitting quietly on her extra-tall chair, Rapunzel met my eyes, waiting too. Good. I’d thought up a new question the night before.
I made my way over as the rest of the Canon and the grade representatives finished filing out. The Director noticed. She sighed in a terrifically disapproving way, but she didn’t have time to actually stop and find out what we were up to. She was too busy. So far, that was the only good thing about the war.
The last member of the Canon, the Goose Girl, shuffled through the doorway, feathers stuck all the way down her backside. Then Rapunzel turned to me, her dark eyes worried. “Are you all right?”
I nodded. She must not have foreseen the Wolfsbane clan. It used to be rare that an attack took her by surprise, but EAS had so many of them now. Her visions couldn’t keep up. “I wanted to ask you something,” I said.
Rapunzel pressed her lips together so hard they looked white. That was the only way you could tell how much she hated me asking questions about her sister.
I couldn’t help it. I had convinced the Director to let me borrow all the books the reference room had on Solange when I found out how my Tale was connected to hers. I even had a copy of Solange’s Tale, transcribed by the librarian at EAS’s European chapter. But texts didn’t answer all my questions about the Snow Queen.
Only her sister could know certain things.
“Why snow?” I asked.
Rapunzel was quiet a moment. It took her a while to gather her thoughts sometimes, especially when she wanted to make sense. I appreciated her effort. Once, I had asked her why Solange had kidnapped a boy named Kai in her early days, and Rapunzel’s only explanation was, What would you do if power flowed through your veins instead of blood? Not super helpful.
Then Rapunzel looked at me, dark eyes narrowed. That usually meant she’d figured out how to explain something. “Do you remember what I told you of her mother?”
“Yes,” I said, although I kind of regretted asking that question. Solange’s mother had been a noblewoman during the French Revolution. She hadn’t survived. Solange had been hiding in the mob that executed her mom.
“It snowed the morning after her mother died,” Rapunzel said. “She found such comfort in the way the white wiped the landscape clean of the previous day’s terror. She said it was like a blank canvas on which she might paint a world of her own devising. So she always enjoyed creating snowflakes with her sorcery, even before she became heartless.”
Yep. This was another question I wished I hadn’t asked.
It is supremely annoying to pity the person trying to kill you. It didn’t even help me stop her.
“The idea you put forth before the Canon. It was a good one,” said Rapunzel.
I half smiled. She had definitely changed the subject, and she hadn’t even tried to be subtle about it. “Thanks.” The Director hadn’t liked it, though. So nothing would probably come from it.
Then Rapunzel said something that made the dread return a hundredfold.
“You will not like what your mother asks of you this evening,” she murmured, “but do not fault her for wanting it. She doesn’t understand yet, not as the others do. You will refuse her, but do so with kindness.”
Our new apartment was in the same hall as the rest of my grade. Well, except for the triplets, but they had picked out rooms just in case their father ever let them move.
I’d picked our new home almost as soon as I’d come back from Miriam’s quest. Well, technically, Chase had found it for me, but I’d given him very specific requirements: three bedrooms, and mine needed to have a closet, so I could use a temporary-transport spell to escape even if Mom tried to lock me in my bedroom. I wondered what Mom and Amy thought of the place. It was so much smaller than anywhere else we had lived in the past few years.
I almost managed to get past the apartment where my dad, Brie, and the baby had been living for the last few months, but before I’d gone two steps down the hall, the door opened. Brie popped out, dressed in a pretty sundress and high heels. Her standard uniform for business meetings back in L.A. “Hello again, Rory! Your dad and I have a dinner thing back at home. You’re welcome to come. We can do something afterward. Maybe an early birthday celebration.”
“You can even bring your sword.” Dad stepped out too. His hair was still wet from the shower, and Dani was strapped
to his chest. She was awake now. I knew she was supposed to be too young to recognize people besides her parents, but she was looking right at me. She knew we were sisters. I stretched out a finger, right next to her tiny palm, and she gripped it, blinking.
“Right!” Yes, Brie always sounded that enthusiastic. I’d gotten used to it. “Eric has decided to introduce our bodyguards as the kind of extras he wants for his next project. He even reserved them their own table. He’ll come across as somewhere between over-the-top and eccentric, but—”
“But I’ve decided that I’m okay with that as long as my girls don’t mind an over-the-top, eccentric father.” Dad wrapped an arm around my shoulder and squeezed. I smiled. “What do you say?”
“You haven’t heard about this project yet!” Brie said.
Since Dad hadn’t been able to take on another film without endangering his life, he’d announced he was on paternity leave for the rest of the year. But before my workaholic father could go into withdrawal, Brie had suggested he try to write a screenplay. Dad had always wanted to take a stab at being a writer-director. Now he finally had the time.
He’d never mentioned what it was about. But if he thought fully armed teens could be great extras, then my guess was an action flick.
Dad shoved his hand through his wet hair. It was going to dry like that, going in a thousand directions. “I’d love to run the story past you. I can tell your mother I invited you to come weeks ago, if you want.”
I gave him a look. I couldn’t do that to her. After this morning, ditching her for Dad and his new wife would just add insult to injury. “Maybe next time.”
So Dad and Brie gave me great big hugs and kisses, and they promised to call me if they ran into any trouble. They had their cell phones if their M3 got blocked. Then they were gone, and I was at the door of my new home.
I couldn’t procrastinate any more. I turned the doorknob and stepped inside.
