"When do you plan on telling her the truth about who you really are?"

"The lie is so old by now, it's practically the truth."

"Lies don't turn into truth just because they're old. They eventually start smelling up the place."

"I'm not an idiot, I just prefer a stinky lie to Armeggedon."

"Where is your sense of adventure?"

Okay, so I blew up the spa!

Stop looking at me like I'm an out-of-control fairy tale villain!

Try putting yourself in my place.

Let's say you've just had a total makeover in the evil queen's spa.

You can't help but wonder what this transformation will mean for your life.

Will you be so beautiful that Miles will be in love with you at last?

(Not that you want Miles anymore, but how fun would it be to have him fall hopelessly in love with you and then crumple his heart in your fist like an unwanted parking ticket? Answer = Very fun!)

Will the enchanted mirrors declare you the fairest one of all?

Will you be voted Coffin Ridge High's Most Likely to Become a Supermodel/Computer Genius?

So maybe I went a little overboard there, but a girl can't help but dream.

Then ...

The spa minions spin you in the chair so you're facing the mirror. Your heart is pounding. You're full of hope that finally, you'll be gorgeous. But also, you're a little worried, because once you've been primped, plucked, slathered, and pampered by the experts, you know you'll never look better. You force your eyes open and look in the mirror.

And almost fall off the chair.

Or maybe you're like me, and you have out-of-control magic, and you blow up the spa.

Why?

How would you feel if you looked in the mirror and the reflection was the exact duplicate of your "mother/500-year-old evil queen," in so much sparkly makeup, you could star on Euphoria?

You would've done the same thing.

Admit it.

The question is, how did this happen?

The answer?

It's a long story. Thank goodness you're already here in my story, so I can tell you everything! Eventually.

Now, let's return to the rooftop of Castle Brittlebane, where Petronella has just skidded to a stop on her broom, flung the poor broom over the edge of the roof, and marched over to me with her finger in my ... I mean her ... face.

"What is the meaning of this?" she screamed over the wind.

"It looks like obvious, heavy-handed metaphorical foreshadowing about how the main character is turning into her evil mother?"

Petronella frowned as if my sentence of big words flew over her head. "What are you blathering on about, Rowen?

I balled my hands into fists. "It's your spa! You tell me!" I retorted, retortedly.

"Nothing like this has ever happened before! She spun on the minions who were hiding themselves behind toppled furniture, broken glass, and one lucky guy who found the best hiding place—under the cauldron. "I know you're there! You cannot hide from my wrath. Now tell me, who is responsible for this travesty?"

No one answered. Minions are smart. Smarter than I am!

But you know who is really smart? Olivia, because she was either an expert hider, or she'd already escaped from the roof.

I poked my finger into "Mom's" multi-stranded pearl-adorned chest. "You are responsible! I didn't ask for any of this. Send me and my parents home, and I promise never to destroy anything else in your stupid castle ever again."

The castle shook so hard, I only stayed upright by extending my arms outward like a surfer.

"Sorry, Castle," I said. "It's not your fault Madame has the same taste in castle décor as a vampire in a low-budget horror movie. Everything here is your fault! Why is it so hard for you to see that you've made a mistake? I am not your heir!" I stomped my bare foot for emphasis. Ouch! Never stomp barefooted on a shard of broken glass. It's super unwise to shed blood in a castle where a hungry werewolf or vampire could show up any second. I balanced on one leg, holding my injured foot.

My totally sympathetic mom didn't even offer me a Band-Aid and antibiotic ointment. "This is what comes from your inability to attract a familiar," she said. "You're out of control and not trying hard enough! You cannot even follow the simplest of commands. But hear this ..." she shrieked.

"How can I not hear? You're six inches from my ear and screaming louder than a lovesick banshee."

"No banshee references. Some of my relatives are banshees."

"Figures."

She glared at me. "Rowen Keckilpenny Brown, you will not fail! You are my heir! You will get your magic under control. Because if you don't, your fathers are toast! And by that, I mean I will eat them for breakfast on toast!"

"Why can't you choose another heir?"

"Heirs aren't chosen, girl. They are made! You are hereby confined to your room, where you will think about your behavior. And you will not leave until I see improvement."

"How will I improve if I can't go to lessons?"

"Your lessons will come to you. Now get out of my sight."

I folded my arms over my chest and stood there with my foot oozing blood, but Petronella was serious about me getting out of her sight. She waved her arm, and there was a crackle of blue light, and when I opened my eyes, I was alone in my bedroom. I threw myself down on my bed, so dramatically that the bed bobbed, creaking up and down for a full minute while I sobbed until the sparkly makeup had drenched the duvet.

Get a grip, Rowen!

At least you're not in the dungeon!

You're in a warm, rat-free bedroom, with a bed that sometimes (but not always) tosses you onto the floor, shelves of books, (only some of which are judgmental), and a sentient doorknocker.

My foot had magically stopped bleeding

So, things could be worse!

I forced myself off the bed and stumbled over to the vanity mirror, sat before the mirror with big plans for a major pity session, and screamed. Again.

Things were worse.

How had I forgotten I had Petronella's face?

I wasn't even sixteen, and I already had wrinkles!

Would the effects of the cream wear off, or would I look like this forever? Why would the minions use this cream on me? Was it their idea of a joke? Was it an accident? Or did someone sabotage the potions by mislabeling them?

I knew one thing for certain: I wasn't getting out of this stupid castle unless I could fight magic with magic. I had to get my magic under control, and the only way for me to do that was to head back into the werewolf-infested forest and find Vermeil. Only with a familiar could I possibly learn to manage my magic.

Problem: I was a prisoner.

Or was I?

I tried to open my door, but it wouldn't budge. "Lubris?"

"Welcome back, oh, Almost Queen," came Lubris's metallic twang.

"Can you open the door, please?"

"Lubris requires the password."

"One, two, three," I shouted.

"Beeeep. Sorry, that is incorrect."

"What's with the beep?"

"Lubris is working on his sound effects. Do you like?"

"No, I don't. Open up. Open Sesame. Do what I say, or I'll have you melted down and molded into a toilet," I growled.

"It's not my fault the password changed," Lubris snuffled.

Maybe I'd overreacted with the toilet threat. He was right that it wasn't his fault. "I'm sorry, Lubris. I didn't mean it. Who changed the password?"

"That's classified."

"Can you give me a hint about the new code?"

"No."

"Look, help me sneak out, and I promise to grant all your wishes when I become queen. It's important. I need to find my familiar."

"When Lubris is searching for something, he always finds it right where he already is."

"Is that supposed to be profound?"

"A stationary being has a limited search radius. But that doesn't mean the answers are not close by."

"You're really not being helpful."

"Lubris tries to help, but sometimes people are too dumb to see."

Too dumb! I hit myself on the side of my/Petronella's head. Of course! What a dummy I was! "Thank you, Lubris."

"Remember about granting Lubris's wishes," he said.

"But you didn't let me out."

"Lubris helped you."

"He totally did."

Now, where did I put that dumb book?

I nudged Evil Queening for Dummies out from between two thick volumes on royal etiquette from the bookshelf. As soon as I freed it, the covers began flapping open and closed. When it pinched my fingers, I dropped it. "Hey! That hurt!"

Evil Queening for Dummies replied by snapping shut on my hurt foot. I fell, and the book circled me, flapping and snapping. It was as if it was looking for the best target. That book was a menace!

"I wish you'd stop attacking me!"

The book slammed shut and sat on the floor, as still as an ordinary, non-enchanted book. I didn't approach it, because I was about 67% sure it was trying to lure me in. But Lubris thought the book might have answers for me about locating my familiar, so what choice did I have?

I wished the book would stop attacking me, and it worked. That gave me an idea.

"I wish you'd sit calmly in my lap and open up to the chapter about finding your familiar and allow me to read it without inflicting pain upon my person."

The book leaped onto my lap, opened the front cover, and pages fluttered past, stopping at a chapter called: So, You Rejected Your Familiar and Now You Want to Grovel and Beg Forgiveness.

"I never said I wanted to grovel," I snapped. "I wish you'd burn to a crisp!"

The book slammed shut and vaulted into the roaring fire. "Noooooo!" I screamed. But it was too late. The book had quickly turned to ash, proving once and for all that I was, indeed, a dummy!

Now, what was I going to do?

"I wish Vermeil was here," I wished, because why not? Note to self: Do not wish him burnt to a crisp.

(Yes, I realize I was just relishing a rat-free bedroom. So sue me! Wait, you can't. There are no courthouses in Brittlebane.)

"At your service," said a large gray rat perched on my lap. He looked up at me and squeaked.

My heart exploded out of my chest. I screamed, pushing Vermeil off me. "How did you get in here?" Yeah, I know I wished for it to happen, but one is never fully prepared to come into physical contact with a rat. Ick!

The rat pointed a paw at me. "You ... you ... you ... Why do you look like Petronella?"

"Long story," I sighed, my heart slowing a little.

"Looks like an overapplication of Cloning Cream. I thought they banned that stuff. There should be an All-purpose Counter-ointment in your medicine cabinet."

"Cloning Cream?"

"Please, Rowen, we have a lot of work to do getting you up to speed before your coronation."

"But how did you get here?"

"You wished."

"What, suddenly, my wishes are coming true?"

"Girl, you live in a magical queendom. Wishes happen." He sniffed the air. "Smells like you wished for your book to set itself on fire, too."

"Wait, so, all I need to do is wish for something, and it comes true? I wish I'd known that from the beginning!"

"Not really. It's just that the witch and her familiar enjoy a special bond. When you wish for me, I appear. It's a powerful and ancient magic."

"But how come wishing worked on the book?"

"I'd say someone used a wishing spell on it."

"Can you teach me that spell?"

"I can teach you many things! But you'll have to grovel at least a little first."

I got on my knees. "My dearest Vermeil, please, please, please be my familiar. I am very sorry for how I treated you. I now see the error of my ways, and will do anything to get you back."

 "Excellent groveling. May I sit in your lap?"

I shrunk back. "Nothing personal, but I don't like rats."

"We don't like humans much either. All that furless skin and inability to appreciate the fine-dining opportunity afforded by a decaying garbage pile."

"Gross."

"See?"

"I suppose I do."

"So that was it? That was all the groveling I'm going to get."

"Sorry, but I'm not the best groveler."

"We can work on that." I glared at him and bared my teeth. "Or not."

Someone rapped on my door. "Who is it?" I said.

"It's your next appointment," Lubris replied. "Should I tell him you're not here?"

"Good idea, but it's a little late for that now."

"I tried."

"You did."

"Hello, Rowen, it's me, Ash, here for your lesson." Oh, no! Ash was that cute demon from the banquet! And I still looked like Petronella in a robe.

"What lesson? How to survive an exorcism? Best seasonings when consuming bland human souls? How to enter the ninth circle of hell?"

"While those would all be useful, no, I'm here to teach you about Poisoned Apple and Spiderweb. Essential tools for the modern evil queen."

Poisoned Apple and Spiderweb! Mwahaha. "Finally, Vermeil," I whispered to my familiar. " I shall hack into the Brittlebane computer and discover all the secrets of the realm!"

"Hellooooo?" Ash called. "Patience isn't one of my virtues. Not that I have any. Virtues aren't demon strong suits.

"You're going to have to wait a few minutes so I can get dressed."

"No need to go through all that trouble for me. I don't mind."

"I'll bet you don't, demon. But no freaking way." 

I headed for the bathroom. "Okay, Vermeil, I'm going to go find that antidote cream stuff. But would you mind for now if we keep you a secret?"

Vermeil cocked his little head. "You're ashamed of me?"

"Of course not!"

"Then why?"

"Because I'm ashamed of me."

"You're the boss."

I liked the sound of that! "Boss," I said, enjoying how the word rolled off the tongue. "Plus, I have an important task for you."

Vermeil's eyes brightened. "Can you steal the key to the dungeon cells? I have someone I'd like to free."

"Sure thing!" Vermeil said, disappearing into a hole in the wall. Giving orders was fun! I wondered how Blade would thank me for saving him. There would probably be tears and endless declarations of gratitude. I grinned so hard my jaw ached as I went to the bathroom to put on my face.

Okay, you know how some chapters just come out easily and make you laugh the whole time, and others are like carving a mountain into a tombstone? Well, this chapter was the former. I had the best time writing it, and I hope you had fun reading it.

Were you surprised about Rowen's face? I actually did a pros and cons list of all the options and decided this one worked best for the plot and for pure shock value. Let me know what you think.

All votes and comments are sincerely appreciated! 

Chapter Dedication - I hereby dedicate the entirety of this chapter to my mersister, TiffanyDaune. I met Tiff on Wattpad many years ago when her story, Coral and Bone, won the first annual Wattpad Under the Sea story contest. Later she became a judge in the contest and has supported mermaid literature on the site through her work as a Wattpad Ambassador. We've hung out many times, and I consider her one of my dearest friends. She is incredibly talented, and I cannot wait to see where her writing career takes her. Definitely swim on over to her profile and read all her works! xoxoxoxo