"Thank you for taking the time to come here on such short notice," said Queen Briar's fairy godmother, taking a seat at the head of the long, rectangular table in one of the meeting chambers at Rose Palace. "This is an unprecedented situation in the current time, and it seems to be throwing all of Fairytaletopia into unmitigated disaster. I have heard that the Charmings postponed their christening in light of it."

She had skin like smooth cedar wood, every inch dusted with gold glitter that gave her the appearance of something otherworldly. A band of golden flowers pulled back her halo of bubblegum-pink curls, which settled in just about every direction. Her ears were littered with hoops and crystals in various colors, and Felix Lange noticed that she had a small butterfly tattoo on her neck just below one ear that he hadn't caught upon initially seeing her. He realized that even in a dazzling dress blooming with live flowers, she almost seemed a bit... hipster, for a fairy at least, and certainly for one in such a prestigious position.

Upon further examination, she seemed rather young considering all the other famous fairy godmothers in history. The one responsible for the tale Cinderella, for example, had supposedly been around since the dawn of the dragons, born around 0008 A.D. That made her over two thousand years old. But Camilla Foxflower, her claim to fame being the seventh fairy that eased the severity of the Sleeping Beauty curse, could only possibly be in the early hundreds. She may as well have been a fresh-faced youth. Not that Felix himself was exactly an old-timer at twenty-nine. His thirtieth birthday was creeping up on him, though, and his wife Marissa kept teasing that he'd wake up an old crone with a gray beard.

Of course, these days, anything could happen.

"I am deeply sorry I could not come to you. But I'm afraid there's no room in my schedule to travel all the way to Central Lakeland." She flushed pink, surprising him. He'd heard she was nothing but composed. "I'm sorry. Snow," she corrected, her voice remaining even but her blush betraying her embarrassment over the brief blunder. "I mean no offense to the late queen, it's only difficult to keep up with shifting geopolitics—"

"That's perfectly alright, Miss Foxflower," Felix said easily, and he gestured to the boy at his side. "I hope you don't mind I brought Prince Everette along. His father is preoccupied with all the chaos in the kingdom at the moment, and His Highness has expressed interest in learning more about the situation."

The prince toyed with a stray lock of hair, glancing awkwardly at the fairy and nodding. He'd practically been on Felix's tail every moment of every day since his mother's death, and frankly, Felix didn't want him out of his sight. As he could protect Snow White no longer, he was watching over Everette with revitalized ferocity.

"I wish I could reassure you that chaos is limited to your country," Camilla said bitterly. "Rioting has entered back into the cultural cycle here in Rose and it's spreading from east to west. I imagine you are aware of our, er, rocky last few decades. We are at a loss once again as to how to keep the paranoia contained and the last thing we need is more death." She lowered her voice. "I mean no harmful sentiment toward the current rulers, whom I am much devoted to, but... I must admit, I have not lived through a Rose monarchy so unsuccessful."

"Because they're young and hopelessly inexperienced?" came a voice from the doorway. The occupants of the room swiveled.

Camilla's eyes went wide. "Aveline!"

"Sorry," the Aveline in question said lightly, covering her smile with her hand, but she didn't look very sorry. Felix wasn't too familiar with her accent, but he figured Villagetown was a solid guess; she had a farmer's tan, a slim figure, and a prominent nose. She let herself into the room, waving a feather duster. Her curled black ponytail swished behind her. "I'm only here to clean. Carry on."

She pretended to dust furniture and frames on the walls while very obviously listening to the conversation, but Camilla reluctantly returned her attention to Felix and the prince, apparently deciding not to press the issue.

"I... I am at a loss, largely, when it comes to moving forward," she told them. "I suppose we should cut to the chase and begin by assessing what we currently know." She flipped open one of the file folders in front of her. Police reports, possibly. "The Corpse Flower Assassin, or to use her official alias, Lycoris Radiata, last struck in Central Snow Kingdom and has not been seen in the days since. She is strongly suspected to be working with others. Given the element of convenience, it is very likely that the next strike will be either in Fairy Kingdom or here—if, that is, the pattern will follow what law enforcement have predicted."

"'One down, five to go'," Felix quoted. "The killer's aim is to eliminate each member of the Royal Alliance."

"What doesn't make sense to me," Camilla went on, "is that Queen Snow was killed—" She paused, eyes lingering on Everette's rigid posture and downcast gaze. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. This must be difficult for you." He smiled halfheartedly and she pressed forward, looking pointedly away from him. "Queen Snow was killed but her husband and heir were left untouched. If this was intentional, which it seems to be, then does this mean only the female members of the royal families are being targeted?"

There were other possible explanations, of course. Felix had heard many of them. But sometimes the most obvious answer proved to be the most logical one, and one down, five to go seemed quite clear. Snow White had had no living relatives, so whether her son was biological or whether she and her husband shared an ethnicity or nationality seemed insignificant. And the so-called Evil Queen was long dead, so every conspiracy theory making its way through the terror-stricken streets of Central Snow was unfounded. Felix had seen her severed head himself. He had a theory of his own.

"I believe that's true," Felix said with a frown, "but not for any shallow reason. Queen Snow was more influential than her husband, and her story is familiar to many across the world. So perhaps the point is not the figures themselves but what they represent."

She shot him a quizzical look. "Their... destinies."

"Well—it's a theory."

"In that case—" she shuffled papers around— "we could assume that the other five targets include Queen Ella Charming, Queen Galene Sunsplash-Castellan, Queen Briar Rose, Queen Beauty Novikov, and Queen Rapunzel Santos."

"Or I'm wrong," he added.

But he could tell that she was intrigued by the idea. Everette licked his lips and finally decided to speak up.

"You should consider protection for the next targets."

Camilla turned her head slightly, as if listening to some invisible message in the wind. "Protection besides the royal guard?"

"Clearly," he said, and Felix detected a sharp edge to his voice that hadn't been there before Snow White was killed, "the royal guard are about as useful as I am. If Fairy and Rose are potential next destinations, then Their Majesties Ella, Briar, and Beauty should be put on twenty-four hour watch. The news has already gotten out, so you don't have to fear hiding anything from the people. The priority should be the safety of these women."

The servant with the duster, Aveline, spun. "Assemble a team!" she blurted.

Camilla sighed, although when she spoke her voice was gentle and without malice. "Aveline, darling, you really shouldn't be in here."

Aveline came over and placed her hands on the table, leaning eagerly forward. "Okay. Hear me out," she said with an excited twinkle in her eye. "The people in this room only have enough information to cover Snow Kingdom and Rose Kingdom respectively. Say we get together an emergency panel of knowledgeable staff loyal to the royals from across the kingdoms. Then we brainstorm—just like this—ways to investigate the situation and protect the royals. Putting our heads together, we can all help ensure the safety and prosperity of our respective kingdoms. Isn't that what the purpose of the Royal Alliance was in the first place?"

"The Royal Alliance was created to prevent territorial wars," Camilla corrected slowly. "But... that's not the worst idea you've had, Miss Beaufoy." Avelina looked positively giddy at the fact that she'd been listened to, her grin almost mischievous.

"So you'd like to assemble a think tank?" Felix said with a tinge of skepticism. Everette was right, of course, but the solution itself was a little silly at face value.

"More like a front line of defense," the fairy godmother conceded, looking not quite convinced of the idea either. "I mean, I suppose someone has to step up. I'll send for anyone who has useful intel and we can go from there. It is better to act prematurely than too late, isn't it?"

It was difficult to disagree with that logic.

Felix glanced sidelong at the prince. He was chewing on his dark curls in a less-than-princely manner, and his head was twitching ever so slightly to the side, eyes lost in thought.

He would never be able to guess what went on in that boy's head.

🙤 ˖ ࣪⭑ ┈┈┈┈ · ✦ · ┈┈┈┈ ˖ ࣪⭑ 🙦

The next morning, having been graciously allowed to sleep on the first floor of the tower in a welcome reprieve from leather seats, everyone prepared for travel. The crew took turns using the enchanted showers, which apparently funneled water from the river connected to the waterfall and were certainly much nicer than that of the inns they were used to. They dressed, tended to injuries, and ate breakfast with Sicilienne and the Writer. Ramona was already regaining balance.

She tested it by walking without support, circling the room. "Think I should be alright. Just the open wings that'll be an issue. But we're headed to a place where I won't stand out, correct?" Fairy was just about the place she would least expect to get caught. Despite being crawling with law enforcement, the criminals vastly outnumbered them, and magical creatures of all kinds with all sorts of weird appearances populated the area. Hopefully, her wing paranoia would be just paranoia this time.

"I'll be transporting you directly to West Fairy," the Writer confirmed, a spellbook in one hand and his walking stick in the other. "And if you haven't been to that particular area, it's rather diverse. I don't think having unique appendages should be a problem if you're concerned about being identified by authorities. Your hair, however... that's another matter." If anything was her identifiable signature, that was it.

She brought a hand up to run through it. "Not too keen on shaving my head."

"Why not dye it?" Sicilienne suggested. Ramona frowned. The Writer answered before she had the chance to.

"The chemicals—i.e. root magic particles—that make up the hair dye we use don't react well with strong concentrations of similar but more natural particles that grow in the hair of certain enchanted species," he explained. Ramona glanced at him curiously. "In other words, she has magic hair, and manufactured magic doesn't like it."

"Honestly? Wear a hat and hope for the best," Bear suggested. "It always works more often than you think it will."

Ramona looked to the Writer questioningly and he conceded the point. "He's not wrong. It's not the best idea, but, you know. It's not as if it hasn't worked before."

Sometimes she got the feeling that the Writer didn't have any more idea what he was doing than she was.

But, see, that was why Lindsay's words rang true even among the most seemingly good in the world. Everyone's always lying. It got to the point where one might find himself wondering if existence itself was merely an elaborate bluff, if the universe and everything in it was some faraway being's imagination. Nothing but a dream.

The thieves gathered their things and everyone made their way outside, where loud squawking seemed to be coming from the direction of the van. "What now?" Penny huffed exasperatedly. When the incessant squawking persisted, she went over and squatted next to it, tilting her head to look underneath and making her hair spill over like an inky waterfall. "Oh, great. It's that lizard-rooster. He's back."

Ramona crouched down to reach for him. "Chicken Fingers! I figured you were dead!" She emerged moments later cradling him like a baby. "I wasn't that sad, I won't lie," she told him affectionately with a gentle pat on the head.

Sicilienne put on a polite, awkward smile, but whatever was going on was definitely weird.

Claude turned to his little sister and cleared his throat. "So," he began shortly. She swallowed tightly. "I guess this is goodbye. Shame I couldn't stay and learn more about your work."

Sicilienne wiped her eyes quickly, and stepped forward to wrap Claude in an embrace. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. Claude was embarking on a journey from which he very well might never return. And she had spent all the time she'd had avoiding him like the plague, like the stupid, petty girl she was. "I'm terribly sorry to see you go. I shouldn't have been so angry."

Claude clutched her tightly. He was still so tall, even though she'd grown. "It's my job to keep you safe," he whispered into her hair. "Not to keep you happy with me. Be angry. It's your right to. Just don't let your emotions overpower you, Sicilee."

The Writer instructed Ramona and the crew to follow him in the van. They took a shortcut route to the pond from yesterday and stopped in the clearing. Claude rolled down the window from the driver's seat—halfway, as far as it would go before getting stuck.

"Alright. Do your magic thingamajig."

Sicilienne looked on forlornly as the Writer tapped his cane on the surface of the pond. The water rippled and shimmered as he murmured an incantation no one else could hear. Then the thieves were looking at their reflections, crystal-clear in the surface of the water.

"Mirror portals," the Writer said, smiling slightly. "Always been my specialty."

Claude lifted an eyebrow. "We're expected to—"

"Drive right through it," he said brightly, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary to suggest.

He made a face, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "Well, then. Here goes nothing."

And because Claude Verelia had never been good at goodbyes, he propelled ahead without so much as glancing back. Everything had happened fast—too fast—but there was no turning back now. This mess was just beginning, and there was no room for guilt, no room for regret.

The wheels spun madly and they hit the water, everyone grabbing onto anything in reach for dear life. But sure enough, the pond glittered, and the van exploded out the other side of the portal at magnificent speed, water splashing in its wake. Claude's eyes darted back and forth between the mirrors, tires screeching as they emerged in the middle of traffic on a busy road. He let out a scathing series of foul language as he quickly forced the vehicle into line with all the other cars, flipping off a few annoyed drivers who honked.

The wind whipped at his hair through the open window. They were in Fairy, all right; the air smelled like daffodils and honeysuckle and the fluffy clouds formed whimsical shapes in the sky like idealistic child's drawings. And there were cars of all strange shapes and sizes—from massive trucks with huge rims driven by ogres to tiny pixie-sized two-seaters in the hover lane. Ramona let out a loud whoop, sticking her arm out the passenger's side and wiggling her fingers.

"I'll be damned," said Minerva wryly. "We made it."

Claude waited for an opening and pulled over, turning on the hazard lights.

"Right, so what's the plan?" he asked, clambering out from the front. Everyone gathered in the middle seats, mostly facing each other.

"Okay." Ramona breathed in deeply, running a hand through her hair. "West Fairy." The gears were spinning in her head, and the path ahead felt clearer than ever. She knew exactly where she was going. "We find a place to stay until the Blackhearts. Our plan will go from there."

The others murmured their agreement. Claude watched her carefully. "You still intend for us to go," he said, and his tone didn't betray his opinion either way, but she already knew. It didn't matter whether anyone disapproved so long as they all stayed together.

"The Alliance will be there," she pointed out, "or at least some of them. We know for sure that certain members are also gang affiliates. If we're going to find them anywhere, the Blackhearts is the only guarantee. We could search high and low, but the most likely place they'll be is the biggest congregation of bad guys of the year."

He nodded slowly, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. "You know, that's the first reasonable thing you've said in the last thirty-six hours."

She winked. "I only aim to please."

Penny propped her boots on the back of the seat in front of her and unfurled a map. They really needed to get the GPS system fixed one of these days. Maybe a new paint job too. "So who's driving?" she asked. "Not it." Chicken Fingers, who had been stuffed into a cardboard box next to Bear's seat, crowed his agreement.

Lindsay dashed to the front seat. "I'm driving this time, and we are so playing the Peas!"

Claude responded only with an eye roll, but Ramona clapped her hands eagerly. "Nothing like a little karaoke to ease the stress of saving the world," she said brightly.

Penny sighed, but her subtle shift in expression betrayed her amusement. Even Minerva propped her chin in her hands and didn't seem to mind when Lindsay turned on the radio player and slid in a disc. By the time she pressed her foot to the pedal, the van was filled with the intro sequence to a song that had been popular for at least a decade. Everyone knew the words to "My Happy Ending", whether they liked it or not.

Ramona pretended to play the drums from the passenger seat, and Bear followed with dramatic air guitar. Lindsay started singing along to the first verse.

"Let's talk this over, it's not like we're dead. Was it something I did? Was it something you said?"

Minerva's voice surprised everyone, quiet at first, but very beautiful. Ramona couldn't recall ever hearing her sing before. She joined in on the next line: "Don't leave me hanging in a city so dead; held up so high on such a breakable thread."

Penny shook her head and smiled a little, singing the bridge. "You were all the things I thought I knew, and I thought we could be..."

Everyone joined in for the chorus except for Claude, ridiculous air instruments and all. "You were everything, everything that I wanted! We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it! All of the memories so close to me just fade away... All this time you were pretending; so much for my happy ending."

They all were laughing and singing along during the second verse, and when the chorus rolled around again, Minerva nudged Claude.

"Come on. It's 'My Happy Ending'. Don't act like you don't wanna sing."

Reluctantly, he sang too—mumbling at first, and finally giving in and belting out the chorus with everyone else.

The crew sang until they forgot about all the weight on their shoulders, the instrumental rhythm drowning out impending doom as the van rattled its way through West Fairy, headed for the next page of their adventure.

🙤 ˖ ࣪⭑ ┈┈┈┈ · ✦ · ┈┈┈┈ ˖ ࣪⭑ 🙦

"This should be an interesting experience. Ramona Ambers has many things on her mind, and saving the world is not at the top of that list," the Writer remarked once the thieves had gone and he had settled at his desk with a pen in hand. Sicilienne had propped up a canvas on her easel by the window and dragged her stool in front of it. She picked up a brush and looked out onto the colorful trees that made up the forests of Nowhere.

"Do you think Ramona will stay on track?"

He turned a page, stroked his chin thoughtfully, and began to write. "She will. Claude will make sure of it." The Writer sounded much more confident than she felt, and she figured it was best to trust him.

There was a long silence as Sicilienne chose the color palette for her newest painting. She thought of the tunic Claude had been wearing and decided to paint the sky a pale, creamy orange rather than the cotton-candy blue that she saw before her. Perhaps she would do a sunrise this time. The thought of Claude made her throat constrict. He was putting himself in great danger for the sake of destiny. It was such a courageous and generous thing to do for someone who had never thought of himself as either.

"Writer, sir?" she said tentatively, almost not wanting to know the answer in the event that it wasn't the one she hoped to hear. "Will my brother ever get his happily ever after? I—I know he's no Prince Charming or Robin Hood, but I really want that for him."

"Of course, Sicilienne. Everyone gets a happily ever after." Sicilienne exhaled in relief. He paused. "Except for the villains. That's what keeps everything in balance. Good always triumphs over evil."

Sicilienne chewed her lower lip. "But, sir. We don't get happily ever afters. Do we?"

He sighed. "Not particularly."

She wasn't sure what to think of that.

Later that day she was clearing out her room and among the pile of books found Claude's. Her fingers brushed the little white letters on the cover. She flipped it open to the first page and hesitated.

She had his whole life in her hands. She could read all of it if she wanted, no longer allow her brother to keep her in the dark. Here she had total control. But...

It's my job to keep you safe. Not to keep you happy with me. Be angry. It's your right to.

She shut it and placed Claude's book on the stack with the others. No, she didn't want to know.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Happy Birthday to LD!! And also to me, lol, or at least on the 22nd (I just got my nails done to celebrate!). Sorry about the long wait. This chapter's been done for a month, but I've been preoccupied and frankly forgot all about publishing it. Whoops :/

I'm really glad this book has made it this far, even though ten chapters may not seem like a lot! It's kind of a big deal for me. Also, if you guys enjoy reading reviews or want extremely sarcastic writing advice, you should head over to The Writer's Gradebook at akaprocrastiNATION where I do both of those things >:) Basically, I read both overrated and underrated Wattpad novels and break down the good, the bad, and the ugly. There'll be a few popular recommendations too, I'm sure. And Este is going to be doing reviews as well!

Today's poll is... what are your favorite and least favorite Thanksgiving foods? I find turkey, mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole absolutely disgusting, so you can sue me. My dad has recently started making pernil on holidays instead, and pork isn't my favorite meat, but man will I take that any day over turkey. Anyway, my favorite Thanksgiving food is obviously pumpkin pie. It's not even a competition, even though sweet potato casserole is pretty decent too.

Also, in case you guys didn't notice, we have new scene separators now! 🎉 I've hated the old ones for ages but didn't come up with a better design until this chapter. Te amo and toodles!