The rain pattered against the window; the fire popped and spat embers onto the hearth. I feared I'd never sleep again after what I'd seen. "We're alone now. Will you sing me a lullaby?" I begged.

"The one about broken mirrors, fallen horses, and mockingbirds that won't sing. Or the one about the cradle plummeting from a treetop?"

"Why are lullabies so grim?"

"Because you hope if you speak of death and terror right before sleep, the god of dreams won't have to do it."

"But what if you're just giving him ideas?"

"I've never thought of that. How about a story instead?"

"Just not a fairy tale. Those are even more frightening than lullabies. Honestly, how do kids grow up with their sanity intact?"

Do you want to know the worst thing about evil fairy tale castles?

No elevators.

You'd think with all the magic oozing out all over the place, someone would've thought of conjuring up an internal magical transport device, or IMTD as it shall never be known.

Although my eyelids were sagging, my legs felt like they were filled with concrete, and my stomach kept groaning in a symphony of discontent, I tried to stay alert. Not an easy feat, considering the sameness of the passageways. A suit of armor here, an oil painting there, mirrors wrapped in gilded frames—all blurred together. I mean, how many shadowy, damp, dank, rough-hewn stone hallways can you navigate before you go insane? Almost made me wish a monster would sneak up and ease the boredom.

Almost.

"How many freaking stories is this castle?" I panted, gasping for air. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to relieve a stitch throbbing in my side.

"That depends," Olivia said brightly. She wasn't even winded, which probably meant she was one of those athletic types. Maybe she even liked yoga. I would not ask because we were getting along.

"Depends on what? Like on which part of the castle you're in?" Pant. Pant. Pant.

"No, if someone builds a taller castle in another realm, Brittlebane gets insecure and adds a few stories."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, so it's a boy castle then," I rasped.

"I hadn't really thought about buildings having genders," Olivia said. "Do they where you come from?"

"Not really. But trust me, anything that cares that much about size is a dude."

Olivia turned to look at me, probably to see if I was serious, then shook her head. Apparently, people in fairy tale castles didn't get sarcasm. "You're funny!" She smiled. Something behind us growled, and she dropped the smile.

My stomach wrenched. "What was that?" I whispered.

"No idea. Hungry troll? Escaped prisoner? The kidnappers? It's hard to tell these days. Wait, did you wish for a monster?"

Huh? How would anyone know I wished for a monster? And it wasn't a genuine wish! It was freaking sarcasm. "I may've almost wished, but it wasn't serious. I was tired of all the suits of armor and depressing oil paintings."

"Just watch your back. And let's speed up. The faster you're safely inside your room, the better."

This was when I was inspired by a brilliant idea.

I sped up, taking two stairs at a time, ignoring the pain, and passed Olivia. Look, maybe the hungry monster would be satisfied with one meal, and I didn't want to be the first up on the menu.

(And don't tell me how evil it was to want my new friend to be eaten. I was only being pragmatic!)

With each step, the air grew colder and damper and the sense of unease grew stronger.

Strange noises seemed to emanate from every shadow—hoarse whispers, the click click click of footsteps, and the scratching of claws on stone—but when I turned to look, no one was ever there.

A sense of dread, like a cold blanket of fog, wrapped itself around me. The eerie eyes of every painting and the blank metallic stares of the armored helmets all seemed to follow us as we climbed. And I couldn't shake the feeling that something might be waiting for us at the top. In that case, my brilliant move of being in front wouldn't turn out to be so brilliant.

If someone was kidnapping witches for a nefarious reason, then I would be an easy target. I had uncontrollable magic and knew nothing about survival in this world. Believe me when I say this was not a comforting thought.

No one had ever heard from those kidnapped witches ever again. Maybe they were being killed. But why? For what purpose? "Why do you think someone kidnapped those witches?" I blurted.

"Shhh. Someone might be waiting for us at the top," she whispered.

"Great."

"Shhh."

Figures Petronella would put me in the highest tower like some lame fairy-tale princess who needs a prince to rescue her!

Finally, the stairs dead-ended in a narrow landing in front of two doors of enormous size. One was twice as tall as me with a cast iron gargoyle knocker. The other was three times as tall and made of solid gold, with hundreds of metallic eyes cast into the surface.

There were no monsters in sight, but the sounds of scratching, footsteps, and whispers continued. "If there are no monsters following us, then who's making all that racket?" I said, even as relief coursed through me.

"Must be the castle's way of giving you a warm welcome," she said.

"What does it do when it's giving you a cold welcome?"

"You don't want to know."

I probably didn't. "Please tell me my room isn't on the other side of that creepy door with all the eyes," I said.

The golden door suddenly shifted and blurred like a bad photograph, and when it came back into focus, the eyes were alive, blinking and staring at me. You really don't know what it's like to be given the once over until you've had the joyful experience of a thousand gold eyes inspecting you simultaneously.

Olivia laughed. "That is Petronella's room.

"Right next to mine?"

"She wants to keep an eye on you!" Olivia chuckled. "Or a thousand eyes on you!"

"Terrific," I said. "Do you think that's where she keeps my dads when she's not threatening to eat them at a royal banquet?"

"I don't know. The queen and I aren't that close." Olivia looked down at her hands, which bore callouses and pale lines of scarring. What had Olivia been through?

"I'm sorry," I said.

Olivia straightened her spine and sniffed. "No need. I am doing just fine."

I could tell from the way she avoided looking at me she was anything but fine, but also that she didn't want to talk about it. Time to change the subject.

"In case I need to check on my dads, where's the lock on the queen's door?"

"Let me give you some advice. If you enjoy being alive, never enter that room under any circumstances whatsoever."

"Why not?" I cocked my head, searching for the lock.

"Rowen," Olivia said, hands on hips, "I don't like that look on your face."

"What look?" I said, going for as innocent an expression as a prospective evil witch queen could muster.

"The one that says: 'the minute I have the chance, I'm going to break into the queen's rooms and snoop around."

It was kind of vexing that she already knew me so well. I preferred being an enigma. "Being forbidden to do anything is like an invitation to me."

"Rowen, you are an interesting girl. One minute you fear whispers and footsteps, the next you're planning a suicide mission," she sighed. "I'm going to miss you."

What did that mean? But before I could interrogate her further, she pulled the lever underneath the knocker on the other door and banged it three times against the metal plate. "Lubris, wake up. Time to admit the new heir."

The gargoyle knocker opened one eye, scowled, then closed it and acted like a regular door knocker. Meaning one that didn't move.

Olivia banged the lever three more times, so hard the sound reverberated through the hall. "Lubris, you metallic abomination. Let us in!"

The gargoyle opened its eyes again, and raised its black cast iron brow. "You've got to be kidding. This is the heir?" Its voice was sharp and tinny.

"Say hi to Rowan."

"Must I?"

"You must."

"Hello, your almost highness. If you need anything, make sure not to bother me. I need my beauty rest."

"You're as ugly as sin," Olivia said.

"Exactly. If I don't get my rest, I will look way too pretty, and no one will fear me. Being feared is ninety percent of a guard's job."

"Well, open up."

"I will need the secret code first."

"Lubris is a numbskull."

"Sorry, that password is no longer functional. New code required."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Lubris, stop being a nitwit, and let us in."

"That is also no longer the code. I'll need the correct one or no entry."

I held up my hand. "Let me try."

"All right," Olivia said.

I cleared my throat. "One, two, three."

The door clicked open. I grinned. Lubris sneered.

"Wow," Olivia said. "Impressive. How did you do that?"

"It so happens I am Coffin Ridge's foremost computer hacker."

"What is that?"

"I figure out secret codes and wreak havoc on the town."

"Sounds fun."

"It can be."

"How did you know that would work?"

"I assumed they had changed the code to factory settings for a new occupant. You'd be surprised how many people continue to use one, two, three as their password."

"Let's get you settled then," Olivia said, waving me into the chamber.

We walked in, and I gasped.

The room was like what'd you'd get if you put "Evil Bedroom" into AI and let it decorate. The room smelled of ash and flame and it was enormous, almost as big as the whole downstairs of our cottage in Coffin Ridge. Candles flickered from every surface and a fire roared in a massive fireplace that took up half a wall. On the opposite side was a bookcase stuffed full of volumes, some glowing, some with black smoke wafting out of the top. The spines of several books looked like actual spines! Oh, and the books on the top shelf were murmuring in a guttural foreign language. I wondered if there was an off switch. Well, if nothing else, there was a handy fire that I could use to silence them.

Dominating the room was an ebony four-poster swathed in a canopy of black tulle. Carvings of various monsters adorned the bedposts.

Beside the bed stood a matching vanity and a stool with a black velvet cushion and eight spidery legs. The vanity mirror looked like something straight out of Snow White—with an art déco golden frame and runes etched into the metal. "Is that mirror ... THE mirror?"

"No, that one's in the queen's rooms. This one is also enchanted, but it's an old model. Doesn't do flattery, prophecy, or judge beauty contests." A sliver of moonlight came through a gap between heavy purple velvet curtains. Olivia pulled the curtains together, blocking the light.

"So, what does it do?"

"Basically, reflects anything that is in front of it."

"So, it's a mirror?"

"Pretty much. But also enchanted. I mean, someone else will explain its uses."

I was frankly too tired to interrogate Olivia further. And while the bed looked like something that might suffocate me in my sleep, I had to risk it. My eyelids were dropping fast. "Thanks for walking me here," I said.

"Any time. There are clothes in the wardrobe. A bathroom through there. And I had a basket sent up earlier." She hefted a wicker picnic basket from beside the vanity.

"Thank you!"

"I thought you might be hungry since the queen cut off the banquet early. There are snacks and some light reading."

"Wow, Olivia, I don't know what to say."

"Good luck tomorrow with getting your familiar," she said. "A good familiar can really hone a witch's power."

"Thanks."

"A bad one can really mess you up. Drive you insane. Kill you in your sleep."

"What!?" Ugh! Something else to worry about.

"Just kidding. Bye, Rowen!"

"Wait! I still have questions!" I called, but the door slammed shut.

The moment she left; I pounced on the basket, opening the lid. I would get answers to my questions! But right now, I needed to devour some cookies, doughnuts, cupcakes, and other baked goods I'd never seen before. And best of all? No fruit! Hurray! I gobbled down everything. My belly was finally full. I couldn't even bother to change out of my gown, so I removed the apple I'd stolen from the banquet from my pocket and Papa's spectacles, placed them atop the vanity, then rolled into bed with the book which bore the bizarre title: Evil Queening for Dummies. I opened it to page one: "So, you think you have what it takes to be an evil queen? Trust me, you don't."

I threw the book across the room and blew out the candle on the bedside table. The murmuring books seemed to grow even louder. "Shut up!" I cried.

They started to yell. I couldn't understand a word of their language, but I knew they were cursing at me.

"Quiet, unless you want me to throw you in the fire!"

They stopped yacking.

Finally, there was quiet, and lying atop the softest mattress and pillows I'd ever known, all the unanswered questions seeped out of my head as sleep engulfed me.

Once again, thank you so much for reading! I had a blast writing this chapter, developing the relationship between Olivia and Rowen, and giving you a glimpse into the castle. Hope you had fun too! Stay tuned for Chapter 19 where Rowen seeks her familiar. Hopefully, it will be a good one and not one that murders her in her sleep!

Here's a funny one! I actually made the picture of the royal bedchamber in AI describing it as the bedroom of a teenage evil queen in her evil castle bedroom!

Dedicating this chapter to Wattpad Phenom and incredibly nice person, CrystalScherer. When I first joined the Paid Stories program, Crystal was the first person to reach out to me. I love brianstorming with her and appreciate her wisdom and humor.  She is incredibly successful and prolific on Wattpad, and if you don't know her work yet, you should! I promise you're in for a treat!