The ogres push the group to the center of the cavern.
“Are you guys okay?” Filomena asks.
Jack nods.
Alistair is wild with fear. “You gave her the lamp!”
“I had to! She was going to kill you all!”
“That’s still a possibility,” says Rolf.
They watch helplessly as Olga strokes the lamp, practically cooing to it as she rubs it once, twice, three times. “My time was stolen after Rosanna’s belly was swollen. A blasted fairy came along, with a love that was strong. In my scheme she did pry, my desire denied, due to the curse that she cried. The princess is hidden, my feast, my treat! Now show me the princess who’s good enough to eat!”
But nothing happens.
Then a genie floats out of the lamp, looking incredibly annoyed. “You rang?”
“Stupid thing,” the queen barks, smacking the lamp with one of her hands. “I said … show me where Princess Eliana is hiding!”
The genie raises an eyebrow. “I am the genie of the lamp. My power is vast and uncontrollable. Once you make a wish, it’s nonnegotiable.”
Olga glares at the genie. “SHOW ME THE PRINCESS!” she yells.
The genie shakes his head in a way that indicates Olga has no manners.
“WHERE IS ELIANA?” she demands.
In answer, the genie motions to the lamp.
Olga looks down at the lamp. There is a mark on it now. A mark that glows in the darkness.
A mark that looks all too familiar.
Wait a minute …
Filomena knows that symbol. It’s the same one that marks her forehead, and she reaches out to touch it.
Olga looks at the symbol on Filomena’s forehead. “You!”
Filomena is paralyzed. Me?
The princess has been missing for thousands of years. But time is different in the mortal world and Never After. Mere days in the mortal world are centuries in this world.
Some say the princess was hidden. Some say the princess was eaten.
But the princess is here. She is the princess.
The ogre queen is drooling, ready to cut her into pieces and feast on her flesh. There’s no escaping now. Somehow she’s always known she’d be ogre toast.
“Filomena!” It’s Jack, startling her into action. “Make a wish!” he yells. And Filomena realizes that when Olga smacked the lamp away, it rolled near her foot.
“Go on,” says the genie, looking bored. “I haven’t got all day.”
Filomena picks up the lamp and quickly rubs it three times. “GENIE OF THE LAMP, GET RID OF OLGA OF ORGDALE!”
The genie sighs. “As you wish.”
PROLOGUE
THE UNWRITTEN
When Carabosse wakes up, she is in a different world. It’s a world both strange and fascinating. The people of this world think that she and the rest of her kin are mere figments of their imagination. She has her niece in a basket. But she can’t keep her. She doesn’t know enough about this world to keep her safe. And so she looks for those who will. She finds them in a tidy house with a neat garden. They write books, she soon discovers. Good. They will believe in things they cannot see. Perhaps they will believe this.
She kisses her baby niece for the last time and marks the baby with her power, her memories, and part of her soul. Then she hides the mark.
Next she pins a note to the baby’s blanket and leaves her underneath the protection of an oak tree.
She watches them read the note, and cry, and pick up the baby.
To the Lord and Lady Jefferson-Cho,
The kind couple of 101 Creekside Lane,
You have longed for a child for so many years.
Take this babe with my blessing.
Keep her safe, for there are those who will harm her.
Witches and ogres, giants and trolls will come looking.
You must remain vigilant. Protect and defend her.
Hide her away if you can.
I have faith in you both.
I remain forever in your debt.
Her name is
“What does that say? I can’t read that part,” says the mom. Bettina is her name.
“Her name is Ilomena? No, wait, I think it says Renia? Or … Elvira?” says the dad, who is called Carter.
Bettina makes a face. “Not Elvira.”
The dad looks at the letter closely. “Filomena?”
“Filomena, that’s pretty,” says the mom.
“Filomena,” repeats the dad, and smiles.
“Filomena Jefferson-Cho,” says the mom proudly. “That’s who she is.”
“Whoever wrote this was crying,” says the dad. “That inkblot is from a tear. I know it is.”
* * *
Carabosse wipes her face and leaves them. She has more to do before time runs out. She decides she will write the stories of her world. She will write them true. She writes and writes and writes, and she leaves the books at the office of a well-known publisher. Perhaps the stories will spread far and wide. She chooses a name for herself and leaves a photograph of herself, a little bit of magic captured in the frame. She dedicates each book to one of her sisters.
But now her magic is fading. It has taken everything and more to cast the spell, to bring her niece to safety, to write the books. She will not live to see the story finished. That is Eliana’s task now. The fairy’s gossamer gown begins to fade, and soon Carabosse does, too, until all that is left of her is the mark on a baby girl’s forehead.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
VICTORY
Filomena wished to get rid of the ogre of Orgdale. Except nothing happens. The genie smiles mysteriously. “Child of the Forest and the Castle, niece of Carabosse and daughter of Rosanna, you have everything in your power to see your wish come true. I will leave you with that.” The genie disappears.
“A whole lot of help he is,” grumbles Alistair.
“Genies. I told you they’re unpredictable,” says Jack.
“Hang on, you’re Princess Eliana?” asks Alistair, pointing to Filomena. “The cursed baby?”
“Yeah, that’s me. Weird, huh?” says Filomena.
“Not really,” says Alistair.
“WATCH OUT!” yells Jack, and Filomena turns to see Olga jumping to snatch the lamp from her in rage.
“YOU WON’T GET RID OF ME THAT EASILY!” the ogre queen yells.
Jack dives in front of Filomena like a football player, arms reaching for the lamp as he does so. With his quick action, he manages to stop the lamp from connecting with Filomena’s face and prevents it from hitting the ground, where it likely would have smashed into pieces. He hits the ground instead, with a loud thud, and rapidly slides across the cavern floor. Rolling, with the lamp intact, he hugs it in his arms to shield it from damage on the hard ground.
He holds it up. “Alistair! Catch!”
Alistair is ready.
The lamp flies across the cavern, and this time Alistair catches it and puts it in his pocket.
Olga launches herself at Filomena in fury, but the wolves are ready, too. Rolf and his pack have transformed back into beasts. They attack the ogres, and Olga and her soldiers have no recourse but to retreat.
“Don’t give up, you fools!” Olga screams.
But the ogres are cowards, and they run from the wolves and the children with the sharp blades.
At last Olga turns away as well, slithering and disappearing into the shadows.
“Get her!” Filomena cries, pointing at the queen’s shadow now quickly slinking from sight.
The wolves give chase, taking after her without hesitation. They run on all fours, disappearing in a furry frenzy while Jack, Alistair, Gretel, and Filomena follow, swords drawn in the air.
“Hey, Fil!” says Alistair.
“What?”
“This time we’re running after them! We’re not running away!”
“It’s another reason to run!” Filomena laughs.
They weave through the cavern’s paths, tur
ning and twisting with each route they take. The light is faint, but the farther they go, the easier it becomes to see, the way out becoming closer and closer with each step.
Once they reach the outside of the cave, the hot sun beats down on them. The open expanse of the dry desert looms before them, and the ogres are just barely in sight.
Olga turns around. “ENOUGH! I will not be disgraced and chased by a group of children and dogs! You may have your wretched kingdom back! We will go back to Orgdale, but we shall return!”
With that last threat, the ogre queen and her soldiers disappear in a cloud of black smoke.
* * *
The wolves turn back into boys and girls. Gretel picks sand out of her hair. Jack cleans his sword, and Alistair holds on to the lamp. He holds it up to the light. “Huh.” Alistair tosses the lamp to the sand.
“What are you doing?” asks Filomena.
“It’s over. The genie’s gone. That must have been his last wish,” Alistair explains. “He’s free.”
“Genies are nuisances, anyway,” says Jack.
“So … you’re a princess. Doesn’t that mean you have to marry a prince?” says Alistair, making googly eyes.
Filomena frowns. “I’m not marrying some dumb prince. That might have been my destiny once. But it’s not anymore. It’s just like it says in the books. We gotta write our own stories.”
Jack turns away so they can’t see his face, but Filomena thinks he is smiling.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
MORE ADVENTURES AWAIT
Filomena’s back in North Pasadena, where nothing ever happens. The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. The weather is warm and ordinary. Since her return home, the most exciting thing that’s happened was when she spilled a plate of saucy spaghetti all over her white T-shirt.
Her parents told her everything, showed her the letter and the basket.
In Westphalia, the thorns disappeared. The kingdom awoke. And they discovered that King Vladimir had been killed, his corpse rotting in the middle of the ballroom, where he had tried to kill Olga and save his daughter. Her father died fighting for her. She will never know him, but she knows she was loved.
Filomena knows who she is now. She is the daughter of Vladimir and Rosanna, and she has a whole family in Never After. Zera told her she can come visit anytime.
But she also knows who she really is. She might be Princess Eliana of Westphalia, but she will always be Filomena Jefferson-Cho of North Pasadena, California, and her parents are Bettina Jefferson and Carter Cho. She is their kin. For love is thicker than blood. And she has been theirs since the moment they found her in their yard.
She tells her parents this.
They are glad. But they also tell her that she’s grounded.
Especially when they hear she was back in Hollywood and did not call them. But it’s not like she was ever allowed out much in the first place. So, in reality, being grounded feels no different from any other day. She’s stayed mostly in her room, reading books, doing homework, and enjoying other non-adventurous things of that nature.
It was hard to say goodbye to her friends in Never After. Her friends. How about that. So many. Even snarky Sid.
Gretel wanted to come back, too. She decided she’d be biportal and go between the fairy and mortal worlds. They promised to hang sometime.
Luckily, before she left the Never After, Filomena asked Zera for a favor. An enchantment or spell to hide the mark of the thirteenth fairy. Her aunt explained that she couldn’t make it disappear forever, but she could conceal it. Now, if Filomena ever wants to see it, all she has to do is shine a flashlight on the spot on her skin and utter these words: Carabosse, Carabosse, if you’re near, present the mark of the thirteenth fairy and make it clear.
So now, with that mark no longer visible on her forehead, she doesn’t have to wear beanies to school and pretend she has lice. It’s the little things, she reminds herself. And since she lost her backpack in Never After (her parents sure weren’t thrilled when she told them she left it there), they bought her brand-new copies of the books she’d left behind. Matter of fact, they bought her the entire series. Only this version has updated covers! Jack has a few more companions—a dark, curly-haired princess, a stylish fashion designer, and an entire wolf pack, in addition to the loyal Alistair.
As she sits on her bed, with her little fluffy Pomeranian, Adelina Jefferson-Cho, nuzzling against her leg, Filomena flips open one of the books. Right where she’d left off reading last night. Being grounded isn’t bad at all. And in her case, apparently you get rewards, like a new backpack and new books.
“Filomena!” her mother calls from downstairs. “Come down, honey! It’s time for dinner!”
“Coming, Mum!” Filomena yells back, putting her book down open-faced on her bed to save her spot. She never has a bookmark when she needs one.
She puts on her slippers and calls Adelina to follow her, then heads down the steps with a skip to join her parents in the kitchen. The familiar bag of delivery dinner sits on the counter, and the aroma of lemon and chicken sifts through the room.
“Mmm,” Filomena hums. “Is that what I think it is?” She eyes the bag hungrily, rubbing her hands together as she takes her seat at the table.
“Yup,” her father responds with a grin. “Only the best chicken francese from your favorite restaurant.”
Filomena does a little dance in her seat, making her father chuckle. “I should get in trouble more often.”
This earns her a warning glare from her mother, who says, “I don’t think so. And, hey, up.” She beckons Filomena with her pointer finger. “Come help me set the table.” She sets down three plates and three bowls on the counter.
Filomena gets up, carries the dishes to the table, and sets them down in their appropriate places. Then she grabs three napkins and folds them in triangles, placing them next to each plate.
While her mother is rummaging through the silverware drawer for forks and knives, there’s a knock at the front door.
Filomena and her parents exchange curious glances, and her father says, “I wonder who that could be. Are you expecting anyone, honey?” he asks his wife.
“No…,” she says, almost as if asking a question. “Fil? Are you?”
Filomena shakes her head, confused. “No. Come on. You guys know I don’t have any friends.” The Fettucine Alfredos have disappeared from school—the only explanation was that they had transferred—but Maggie Martin found another group to hang out with.
“I’ll go see who it is,” she says, half hoping for something, though she’s not quite sure what.
She peeps through the hole to see who it is, and smiles. For just outside, on her doorstep, are Jack, Gretel, and Alistair.
Filomena opens the door. There they are. Gretel, her hair in a high ponytail; Alistair, looking no worse for the wear after being squeezed by ogres; and Jack, his vines popping out of his arms, that jaunty green cap on his forehead.
“Hey,” says Jack.
“Hey,” says Filomena.
“You look fabulous!” says Gretel. “Is that your school uniform? So chic.”
“You guys should come in. We’re having dinner. Mum and Dad will insist you join us,” Filomena tells them.
“Oooooh,” says Alistair.
“No time,” says Jack. “We’re not just dropping by to say hi. This is important.”
“What’s going on?”
Jack lowers his voice. “The Stolen Slipper. We’ve got to get it back.”
“For Cinderella?” Filomena asks, confused.
“From Cinderella,” says Gretel. “That wench!”
Filomena scrunches her face in response. If she remembers the story correctly …
Oh, never mind, she thinks as she recalls previous versions of stories that are blatantly untrue or false, at least according to the people who actually live in fairy tales.
Filomena is about to cross the doorstep when she stops. “Wait, I forgot something!” She rush
es back inside, closes the door, and heads to her bedroom, where she grabs a book.
“I started writing the thirteenth book,” Filomena informs them, out of breath from running upstairs and back down so fast. “But not all the pages are filled in.”
“So let’s fill them in,” says Jack.
“You are coming, aren’t you?” Gretel asks. “I blew off a nail appointment for this. You’d better come!”
Alistair stifles a laugh and Jack elbows him, letting him know it’s time to be serious.
Filomena looks back and forth among her small group of Never After pals, each of them awaiting her response with eager and expectant eyes. In that moment, she realizes she just accidentally lied to her parents … again.
“Mum, Dad, come over and meet my friends. Because I do have friends,” she says. “They’re just not from school.”
Her parents come over to meet everyone, and there’s a lot of hugging.
“You’ve got to go back to Never After, don’t you?” asks Mum.
Filomena nods.
“Be brave,” says Dad. “And come home to us.”
“Group hug!” she says, holding on to both of her parents as tightly as she can.
They let go. They let her go.
Now she and her friends are on to their next adventure. But not before they hunt down a couple of cheeseburgers.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, a book is a journey an author does not take alone. So many thanks to my longtime dearest friends in publishing and out: my editor Jennifer Besser and my agent Richard Abate. I am so lucky to have you in my life and my books! Thank you to everyone at Macmillan, 3Arts, and Gotham Group, especially Martha Stevens, Brittany Pearlman, Melissa Zar, and Ellen Goldsmith-Vein. Shout-out to my friends who love books as much as I do: Margie Stohl, Raf Simon, and Jill Lorie.
Special thank-you to my friends and family who shared their stories about being adoptive parents and adoptees—thank you so much for helping shape Filomena’s story!
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