Food has always played a major role in fairy tales. Hansel and Gretel's enticing candy house, Snow White's shiny red apple, Alice in Wonderland's magic cakes, Goldilocks and her search for perfect porridge. The lesson is: don't be seduced by gluttony or you'll end up on the menu.

So be careful.

Witches always have a pot of soup bubbling in the cauldron, ready to toss in a tasty child to balance the flavor.

Especially a child who pisses them off.

If there's one thing I excel at (other than hacking into government websites) it's getting angry. And I'd about had it with this whole evil queen idea. Since I'd met my "Darth Vader in Pearls" of a mother, my parents had been turned into a completely different species, I'd been zapped, kidnapped, imprisoned, starved, nibbled on by rats, taunted by reflections, and now as if my day wasn't bad enough, I'd gotten Blade a two-thousand-year sentence in the dungeon, and to top all that off, the only food at the queen's banquet was three golden bowls filled with apples so red, they couldn't be real. Which meant they were wax or saturated with poison. Neither was a great option as a meal.

"Sit, Rowen," my evil mom commanded from her seat at the head of a massive mahogany table, lit by fat pillar candles down the center, their wax spitting and hissing like an angry cat.

The table was a creepy work of art, carved with ornate images of vines twisting up the legs like ropes strangling a tree. The queen's voice echoed in the dining hall, which was about the size of the gym at Coffin Ridge High, with twin fireplaces, at either end roaring with orange flame, each large enough to roast a school bus. Not that you'd want to do that.

She gestured to an empty purple velvet chair to her right.

The diners seated around the table all stared at me like I was a curiosity in a circus. Which was ridiculous! I know I looked strange with my weird green eyes and crazy red hair, but compared to the hodgepodge of fairy tale creatures, with their wings, scales, bulbous features, kaleidoscope of impossible hair colors, beards of enormous length, and one being that looked like a shadow, I was almost ordinary.

I scowled when I noted one diner was my least favorite fairy tale creature of all—Tyra. Adrenaline zipped through my body when our gazes collided for a split second. Tyra smiled at me as if I was her prey, someone to be toyed with before slashing me in half with her pink talons.

I stood frozen on the outside, while my insides roasted with heat, my heart galloping off in all directions, my blood fizzing with power.

Keeping the magic inside was painful. It stung like a swarm of bees, begging to be set free. But I clenched everything clenchable—jaw, teeth, fists, toes. What I wanted to do was throw a grade-A, room-destroying tantrum. But fortunately, I had enough presence of mind to know that I had to stay calm and gather intel and not annoy the psycho in pearls. Because if I was to rescue my dads and survive with my sanity intact, a timely escape was crucial.

So, I sat.

Took a deep breath.

And began the intel-gathering process.

Which, right now, just meant paying attention.

First, observe potential escape routes.

There was a door on the opposite side of the room that probably led to the kitchens. Oddly, there were no windows. I hadn't seen one since I arrived, though I'd spent most of my time in the dungeon to be fair. Heavy tapestries hung all along the walls, perhaps hiding the windows on purpose. Natural light would interfere with the overall gloomy vibe.

And speaking of gloomy, the faded tapestries seemed to depict super depressing stories: A girl, by herself in a garden, waiting on a marble bench. A woman with a solemn face alone in a lavish bedchamber. A crone brewing magic in a cauldron, gray skull-shaped smoke rising from the bubbling liquid. Every tapestry depicted a woman alone with her grief. In the furthest tapestry, I thought I saw a tiny book like the one from the attic. But when I looked again, it was gone.

The hairs on my neck stood on end.

Before you say, "Rowen, don't be daft. Anything can happen! You're in a magical castle. Like Hogwarts but eviler. Like if Slytherin gobbled up the entire school." I know! But my logical brain did not want to accept this input. Woven artwork shouldn't change willy-nilly!

"Now, let us begin," Petronella said, and I turned my attention away from the weird tapestries. "I've brought you together because we have an enormous task ahead. In exactly four weeks, Rowen Grimshaw, the heir to the Brittlebane throne, will take the oath and become your new queen. Each of you has an important role in making that happen. She will learn to walk, talk, fly, spell cast, and dress like an evil queen. And to say that I will be unhappy if anything goes wrong is an understatement. All disappointments in this matter will receive the maximum punishment allowed by law. And remember, it's my law!"

I raised my hand. "Excuse me?"

"What?"

"My name is Rowen Keckilpenny Brown."

The queen frowned. I did not like the frown. It was the sort of frown that sent prickles of fear down my spine. "Your legal name is Rowen Grimshaw."

"My school records say Keckilpenny-Brown," I pressed on.

Petronella huffed. "You shall not keep the name of your kidnappers. You are the heir, and therefore will carry my name." Seemingly satisfied that I would not argue, Petronella cleared her throat. "Now, at the far end of the table, we have Doryu, the head of transportation and delivery." Doryu had piercing green eyes, rather like mine if I'm being honest, and dark spikey hair. He would've been rather handsome except that instead of skin, he had pale iridescent green scales. "But of course, the two of you have already met."

"We have?" I said. It hit me that there was something familiar about his eyes, but I couldn't place the rest of his face.

"Why, yes, he's the dragon that flew us here, remember?"

"But he looks very different. No wings, no fire-breathing, and he's about a thousand times smaller, though the scales are similar."

"Doryu has a humanoid form. He's a weredragon."

My forehead crinkled so hard I worried I'd have permanent lines. "But that makes no sense. Where does the extra mass go when he changes into a human? And where does it come from when he turns into a dragon? It defies the laws of physics—the conservation of mass."

Petronella cackled, an evil queen tendency. "Have you not yet learned that the only laws that matter here are mine? And why didn't you ask about this when I turned your kidnappers into toads?"

"Geesh, okay, lady. Dictator much?" I said under my breath. But she had a point about my dads. Then out loud I said, "Nice to meet you ... I mean ... nice to see you ... again, Doryu. And, hey, thanks for the ride." It made sense to be nice to a potential form of transportation. Maybe I could turn him from the dark side and get him to fly me and my dads home.

See how good I am at intel?

"Don't mention it," Doryu said, his voice as rolling and deep as a bass drum. "I look forward to teaching you all about broomsticks and their many uses."

Oooh! Broomsticks. Maybe I could fly for Slytherin! Or just fly my dads out of here that way. Although, there was another use for a broomstick that came to mind. Perhaps I could test it out on Tyra's head!

"Beside Doryu, the creature who you might have difficulty seeing is Raife. He is a shadowling from the Shadow realm. If he can materialize for a long enough period of time, he will teach you how to free your shadow and send it soaring through the air to gather secrets. But the chances of that happening are almost zero. Still, we can hope."

Sending my shadow off to spy on people sounded amazing. This could also be a useful skill when I got back to Coffin Ridge! Imagine the intel I could gather! I just hoped Raife could materialize for long enough. "I would love to learn your ways, Oh Shadow," I said. I thought I caught a flicker of a smile from the shadowling.

Over here we have Triton, King of the Sirens," Petronella said pointing to a green-haired, iridescent-scaled man with biceps the size of roast turkeys. "He will teach you water magic and how to master the oceans with nothing more than your voice and a trident."

"Soooo goood too meeet you," Triton sang in a gorgeous baritone. I barely managed to stay in my seat because every molecule of my being wanted to jump over the table and kneel at Triton's feet.

"Sure, nice to meet you too," I said, gripping my seat so hard I think I broke a nail.

Petronella raised an eyebrow at me. "Excellent aural resistance, Rowen. I suppose being stubborn has its advantages," she said. "And next we have Ash, the head of the Poisoned Apple Magic Inventory system and the realm interconnectivity platform called Spiderweb." Wow, that sounded very computeresque. It couldn't hurt to find out more about a magical computer system, right? Ash was also pretty hot, about my age, with cropped copper hair and an adorable grin. Also, he had nubbly red horns erupting from his scalp, covered in downy copper fur. He looked like a choirboy dipped in sugar and rolled in rainbows. But with horns. "You'll not want to cross Ash. He's a demon of the eighth circle. Loves human flesh."

I snorted. Wow, a lot of cannibalism in this place. But if you thought about fairy tales, there was a lot of that kind of thing going on. Still, a computer expert could be a useful source of information.

Talk about intel!

"Hello, Ash," I waved.

"Hi, Rowen. You do look delicious."

"I'm not. I'm very bitter and stringy."

"Funny too! Comedians make the best snacks."

"Never spar with a demon, Rowen, you cannot win," Petronella said.

Watch me, I thought. "Got it," I said.

See? So cooperative!

"Next, we have Frekvic." A gnome-like creature with wiry silver hair and matching eyebrows, and a bulbous nose, rather like a skinned tomato, plucked a pointy red hat off his head, revealing a shiny bald spot, and hit himself with it. Repeatedly. "Frekvic oversees the castle zoo. He will accompany you there tomorrow to search for your familiar. That'll be enough, Frekvic!" The little man stopped hitting himself with his hat.

Frekvic sounded like a mini Hagrid, taking care of the magical creatures of the realm. "Familiar?" I asked.

"Yes, with a witch with your utter lack of control, you shall require a familiar to learn to focus your powers."

I think she was dissing me, but I pasted a smile on my face and said, "a pleasure to meet you, Frekvic." Hopefully, he could introduce me to a familiar like a winged unicorn or a hippogriff who could transport me out of here.

Then, in an act of pure genius, I slipped the napkin from my place setting and hit myself over the head with it. Frekvic beamed.

Score Rowen!

"Now, moving on. I believe you're well-acquainted with Tyranna, our resident fairy," Petronella said. "She will work with you on preparing for your coronation. Makeup, hair, wardrobe, protocol." Tyra's wings stiffened.

Oh, lucky me!

Not!

"Terrific," I said. Just what I always wanted. A mean-girl makeover.

"Your highness," Tyra said, her lip curling in obvious disgust. "This is an impossible task. Some people are beyond hope, even with advanced fairy magic. She possesses no beauty, style, or class. I need more time."

My chest constricted. Even though I despised Tyra and didn't plan on staying long enough for her transformation torture, these words hurt. Most people probably thought the same about me, but kept their opinions to themselves or whispered them in the school hallways. Sadly, I agreed with her.

Petronella glowered at Tyra. "You have four weeks."

"Fine," Tyra said. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Excellent, now, with that settled," Petronella said," let's move on to your right with our chief witch trainer—Zara Lamprey. One of the most accomplished witches in the realm. You will learn much from her."

She glared at me, so I glared back. I am an expert glarer when I want to be.

"It can't be done," Zara rasped. She smelled like the ocean and had silvery blue hair and matching eyes. "Even if she does attain a familiar, she is too wild."

Petronella banged on the table so hard her goblet fell, spilling honey-colored wine onto the thick woven carpet beneath the table. "She will be ready! That is your job!" Zara nodded her head. "Perfect. Now, let's eat!" She clapped her hands. "Dinner, Jacques," she said. Doors at the far end of the massive hall opened, letting in the most delicious smell of roasted meat. My stomach growled and my mouth watered. At that moment, I was so hungry, I would've sold my family for a hamburger.

Kidding!

Geez!

My dads, perched on a bed of rocks in their little terrarium, were safe from me. It was Petronella and her "justice system" of bizarre and excessive punishments that were the problem. She'd promised I'd be able to turn them back to human form, but to her, promises had as much value as a speck of dust.

As an expert liar, I knew a lie when I saw it.

A line of minions marched into the room, each bearing a silver domed platter.

One stood behind each of us, then with some silent signal, the minions set the platters before us at once and removed the lids. Then they poured wine into our goblets. Sure, I wasn't of legal drinking age on earth, but in this realm, apparently, I was. I mean, if you're old enough to run a queendom, you're old enough for wine.

I thanked the minion who served me the most peculiar-looking array of food I'd ever seen. Six long fried things poked out of a little silver bowl in the middle of the platter, topped with some white stuff that totally looked like spit.

Petronella picked up the fried thing with her fingers and took a bite. "Mmmm. The lemon, rosemary sea foam, is a culinary masterpiece," Petronella said. "My new chef cooks in the French style. The old one became so boring. Anyway, he was delicious in the end. Eat up."

Gross!

I haven't eaten in centuries, so I picked up a fried stick covered in foam, not spit, and took a bite. "Tastes like fried chicken," I said. Ravenous, I tore off three more bites before I noticed Petronella smirking and patting the terrarium. "They're frog's legs." My dads leaped across their prison to the side furthest from the queen.

Bile rose in my throat as I slowly lowered the frog's leg to the plate. Even if they weren't toad's legs, frogs were close relatives. "Real subtle," I croaked. I scooted my chair away from the table, intent on grabbing my parents and running as far from the kitchen as possible.

"Sit down, Rowan," demanded the queen. I complied by dropping into my seat and slouching like a sullen teenager. Probably because zappy magic was sparking out from her highness's manicured fingertips. "Now I'm sure we understand one another. So, unless you want your family served up for the next banquet, I suggest you stop plotting your escape and start focusing on being the best evil queen you can be."

"I wasn't ... p-p-p ... plot ... plotting," I stammered. How could she know!?

"Oh, Rowen, don't lie to me. I know you better than you know yourself. And hear this: you have no hope of transmogrifying your kidnappers back into human form until you are the queen. As the spell was performed by the queen, it can only be undone by the queen. And there's no escaping this realm. Every one of my subjects knows that to help you would mean a lifetime of punishment." She beamed at me and took a huge bite of a frog's leg, lemon rosemary foam sticking to the sides of her mouth.

The kitchen door banged open.

"Your majesty! Your majesty!" Olivia swept into the dining room, her dress torn and dirty, her hands stained with what looked like grease.

"You dare interrupt my banquet?" Petronella growled. "Someone better have died."

"I apologize, but it's happened again!"

"Death?" the queen asked.

"No, another witch has disappeared!"

Another witch? What was going on here? No one mentioned death or disappearances to me earlier. I was a witch! Did this mean I could disappear too?

The table erupted in conversation.

"Quiet!" the queen commanded. "I can't hear myself think! Who this time?"

"One of the garden witches."

"Oh, bother! Fine, I will deal with this. Dinner is over. Olivia, if you could please accompany Rowen to her rooms."

"Yes, your highness," Olivia said with a pretty curtsey.

Rooms! Did that mean I didn't have to sleep in the dungeon tonight? But wait. Wouldn't one of those large minions with their enormous swords be a better option to show me to my room? A scrawny girl like Olivia wouldn't be much help against potential murderers/kidnappers. Also, I deserved a better explanation about what was going on in case, you know, I was next. "But ..." I said.

Petronella turned her steely grandma gaze on me. "No shenanigans!" she said, sweeping out of the room.

I plucked an apple from the table. What? I was still hungry, and so what if it was poisoned? At this point, I didn't even care. I gave my dads a nod goodbye, making a silent promise to avenge them. It was all I could do not to cackle.

Thank you so much for reading my story. It means the world! This chapter was a hard one because it's an introduction to a lot of creatures all at once and not much action. I tried to stay focused on one goal—gaining intel to help with her escape—but it was still hard to juggle so many things at once.

Like:

Worrying about Blade

Worrying about her dads

Not angering the queen

Being hungry

Meeting a lot of very strange characters

Describing a new setting in terms of sights, sounds, smells, etc.

And more!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you in advance for your votes, comments, and just being the best readers an author could ask for!

Dedicating this chapter to BindingTies. Leigh is one of my oldest friends on Wattpad. She is utterly brilliant, talented, funny, and kind. If you like humorous, sexy writing, I highly recommend you head over to both of her Wattpad profiles and read her work. Her other profile is LeighWStuart. I love her to bits!