Crisanta Knight: Midnight Law

By Geanna Culbertson

“Life is not a balanced concept and stories are predicated in the understanding that obstacles will come. They always do. It is up to us to find a way to be true to ourselves while navigating through them.”

SJ, Daniel, Jason, and Blue have returned from Dreamland having achieved their goal of waking their two classmates trapped in a sleeping curse. The problem—their best friend Crisanta Knight didn’t make it back with them. With Crisa captured by the antagonists, our four heroes must team up with their fairytale friends to enact the ancient enchantment of Midnight Law. As they journey through more magical worlds than in any adventure before, and become entangled in the lore of Mulan, Alice in Wonderland, Rumpelstiltskin, and beyond, our heroes will need to face some hard truths about themselves and their relationships. And they have to hurry. Because if they don’t find Crisa by the time the clock strikes midnight, she’s not the only one who’s doomed . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: BQB Publishing
• Release date: Jan 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781945448867

Book preview

ou know what is always a good idea: trying to improve the world. You know what is always a terrible idea: thinking that other people will not fight you as you try to do it.

It was a late August afternoon. Timid sunlight streamed down from higher windows, freckling the gray walls with dots of summer. My twenty-three cohorts in our commons rebellion peace talks sat around me—twelve representatives from the rebels’ side and twelve representatives from their opposition, myself included. The latter group (per the contingency of the rebels) consisted of three Fairy Godmothers, three of our kingdom’s ambassadors, and six protagonists.

Because the peace talks were Crisa’s idea, and our crew of friends knew more about the inner workings of our realm than most, the Godmother Supreme let Crisa pick the six protagonists. With her and a good number of our core group away in Dreamland, that led this assembly to include me, our schoolmates Javier Marcos, Divya Patel, Princess Marie Sinclaire, and her brother Prince Gordon Sinclaire, as well as Crisa’s eldest brother Prince Pietro Knight.

Pietro, Gordon, Marie, and I brought a unique perspective to the assembly. We were all royals who did not have real protagonist books. Ours had been forged so, although we attended Lady Agnue’s and Lord Channing’s, we were technically common characters. Those factors made us as neutral in this conflict as anyone could be. Yet, neutrality seemed as irrelevant a concept within these walls as time sometimes seemed to be.

I glanced at the shockingly large clock at the back of the room—its ticking hands pressuring me to make my big move before the day’s end. That was the plan when I approached Gallant Castle this morning, the domain repurposed for our peace talks. However, I was a creature of tact and had been waiting for the right moment to present my ideas. Today had not been opportune for that. It could be a bit hard to get a strategic word in with so many aggressive people trying to constantly fit in their less agreeable ones.

The very idea of a school for protagonists is absurd, Elias Fray argued passionately. The naturally tan rebel leader in her late twenties said everything passionately. A less poised person may have described the quality as obnoxious. I was trying not to stoop to that level.

Elias’s moxie seemed to irritate the Godmother Supreme, as evidenced by the number of eye rolls the Fairy Godmother had performed after statements made by Elias today—twenty-nine thus far. The two women clashed more than most people on this panel.

Protagonist schools have been a part of our land for centuries, Lena Lenore replied calmly. Our realm’s Godmother Supreme always remained cool and never needed to raise her voice or fist to get people to listen. Her power was inherent. I wished I could be that way.

"You’ve also been a part of our land for ages and that’s not exactly doing the majority any favors," Tim, another commons leader, replied snarkily, adjusting his ever-present scarf.

I did not know what was more surprising—Tim calling the Godmother Supreme out on the anti-aging spell that had kept her alive for over a century and a half, which everyone knew about but no one spoke of, or the fact that he literally wore a scarf every day. It was summer for goodness’ sake. If Blue were here, by now she would have made a joke about choking him herself if the scarf was not getting the job done. Blue was not great at diplomacy. Some of these adults were not that skilled at it either. Tim’s comment caused the other two Fairy Godmothers—Debbie Nightengale and Daisy Gate—to get snappish with Tim about his rude comment, which drew the ire of the other rebel leaders in turn.

Feeling a headache coming on, I massaged my temples and resisted the temptation to rest my forehead on the cool polished surface of the wooden desktop. The remarkable piece of furniture wrapped around the perimeter of the circular room. An apt shape given that oftentimes it felt like our conversation only went in circles, never progressing notably to the treaty we all hoped to sign. After more than three weeks we had only achieved a few moments of agreement.

The desk arrangement allowed all parties to glare at each other with ease. I glanced at my friends beside me, then back at the clock. We only had a few minutes left before everyone departed for the evening. It was now or not until tomorrow.

With respect . . . I raised my hand. The bickering continued unabated.

Javier, seated to my right, gave me an encouraging nod, egging me to try again. Gordon, seated beside him, provided a tired, but sympathetic smile. I could not help but think Gordon’s white-ish blond hair seemed almost gray in this light. Appropriate considering there were days that it felt like we were losing life in this room.

And yet . . . I had to say—despite the stubbornness of these adults, the drearily slow progress, and the number of times a session I felt a headache coming on, I still woke up each morning and entered this building with hope. I would not have been here if I did not have a fundamental faith that we could build a better world and people could be better too.

That was not naiveté; that was my logical belief that things in life were meant to run smoothly, and would do so if selfish vices did not clog the gears so often. The peace talks were our chance to get things back on track. We were going to accomplish something great here. I could feel it.

I glanced at the proposal I had written. I was quite proud of it. The stack of financial documents next to it was a testament to how thorough I had been. Were all parties to adhere to the guidelines I had come up with, several of our outstanding problems would be on the road to resolution. I just did not know if the parties could part with their egos. And I would never know if I did not make my voice heard.

I stood up, brought my fingers to my lips, and whistled loudly, just as Jason had taught me. Debbie—also Crisa’s personal Fairy Godmother—nearly fell from her chair in surprise as a sudden hush fell across the room. I did not care for making a scene, but drastic times called for drastic measures. I met the gaze of the twenty-three faces around me, trying to channel some of the Godmother Supreme’s naturally commanding stature—perfectly erect but not tense, steely and confident eyes, firm and tilted upward chin.

Elias, your detailed list of problems with the protagonist schools was first discussed in this room on July 22. We have been bouncing around the topic a lot since then, but the most torrid point of your argument was the taxes that commons have to pay to support the schools. I have been looking at the numbers . . . I picked up my notepad, though I knew the numbers by heart. Across all categories, commons, protagonists, and royals are taxed the same percentage of their net annual income.

Which is a perfect example of fairness across the classes, said Ambassador Zachary Shewd, one of the higher-ups selected by the Godmother Supreme to be present here. He was from my kingdom of Dobb. Exactly, SJ.

I shot him a stern look. I was not finished.

The Godmother Supreme caught my eye. Her luxurious black hair cascaded around her toned, dark-skinned arms and framed her unreadable expression. I found it fascinating and unnerving. I had no doubt she and I had the same aptitude for public speaking, grace, and so forth. I had been trained in proper princess ways my entire life. The difference between us was that she did not care what anyone thought. She made no apologies. In that way she was more similar to Crisa, and several of my other friends. I was still working on that.

As I was saying, I continued. When it comes to roadwork, healthcare, and so on, we should all pay the same taxes because we share the same amenities. But if only protagonists go to protagonist schools, then commons have no business paying for them. I reached for a neatly clipped stack of paper and handed the documents to Javier. Will you please pass these dossiers around?

I pivoted to address the room again as Javier distributed my work. You will see in my fiscal breakdown on pages one through four of your packets how the last five years of taxes for protagonist-specific benefits have taken a toll on the average common’s income. On page six of the dossier is a chart I made to illustrate how this correlates with increased crime rate and decreased likelihood of commons taking on non-trade professions. On the last page is my proposal for how we revamp our tax system to benefit all parties. It is color coded so it should be easy to understand.

I waited awkwardly as the others glanced between their packets and me. Their expressions ranged from surprise to disbelief. That is all, I said abruptly, sitting back down.

SJ . . . Susannah Marberg (the ambassador from Crisa’s kingdom of Midveil) marveled. This is very impressive.

I have several questions, Ariel Steinglass (the ambassador from Adelaide) commented. Not shocking. The small, but booming-voiced woman naturally distrusted any new ideas.

And there will be time for those tomorrow, Debbie said, brushing away red strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. As it is almost five o’clock, I recommend we adjourn for the evening and commit to studying this proposal tonight in preparation for tomorrow.

The Godmother Supreme nodded. Agreed.

Agreed, Elias seconded.

With that, everyone began packing up eagerly like kids at the end of a school day.

Great work, SJ, said Javier. My curly-haired friend was fairly short, but he made up for it with the size of his smile, which he unleashed frequently. I loved that about him. There were plenty of heroes at Lord Channing’s who were stuffy. Javier Marcos was not like that. He was genuinely kind in addition to being honorable and selfless.

Thank you, I replied. I believe the proposal will move things along. Nothing gets done when people are throwing words at each other like knives. Numbers, facts, and logic cannot be ignored when presented as clear as day.

Let’s hope so, Pietro said. Now come on. Dinner is on me tonight.

I glanced up at Crisa’s dark-haired, dark-eyed adopted brother. I considered it a lucky thing that he looked nothing like Crisa. It may have caused me to miss, and worry about her more if he did.

What do you mean? Marie asked, popping up next to him. Her blonde hair was as fair as her brother’s, but while Gordon was extremely tall she was quite petite. Is it not chicken parmesan night at Darling Castle?

I’m suggesting we find a restaurant in Gallant for dinner, Pietro clarified. Just because we’re staying at Darling Castle doesn’t mean we have to eat there every night. That place can get a little crowded sometimes. Couldn’t you use a break?

I smiled as I pushed the last of my papers into my book bags. I knew exactly what Pietro meant. We had been staying at our friend Chance Darling’s family castle in Clevaunt since the start of the summer and his ten siblings were a lot to take. A night out could be rather enjoyable.

That is a lovely idea, I commented. Gallant’s capital is only an hour away from Chance’s castle. Would you like to call Evette to join us? We could wait for her.

No, she left this morning to spend the week in Midveil with her mother, replied Pietro. They’re picking out a wedding dress.

I cannot believe Evette has waited until now to purchase her dress, Marie commented, fastening the last buckle on her own book bag. You two are getting married in November. It was my understanding that picking out a dress is one of the first things a bride-to-be should do.

Nope, no way. We’re not doing this again, Marie, Gordon declared, holding up his hands. No wedding talk. I’m allergic to conversations about dresses, floral arrangements, and silk napkins.

And he wonders why he’s still single, Javier said.

We laughed to Gordon’s chagrin before filing out of the now-empty chamber into the connecting hall of Gallant Castle. Navy and black marble flooring amplified every footstep. Diamond-shaped shards of crystal decorated the walls in a glistening pattern like choreographed stars. Sporadic skylights allowed natural light to flow between chandeliers.

It was as grand a castle as any I had been in. Only instead of servants and courtiers bustling down the halls, we passed commons who eyed us darkly and/or warily as they crossed the corridors to keep distance between us.

For the last few months Gallant Castle had served as home and home base to many commons from the rebellion. Their forces had executed a coup and seized this castle in the spring, killing Gallant’s rulers King Mason and Queen Livry, and holding many courtiers hostage. As part of our peace talks, the rebels let all captives go under the condition that our realm’s higher-ups let this castle remain a commons base and all rebels inside stay untouched for the duration of our peace talks.

It must have burned the Godmother Supreme to allow this, but we could not exactly hold peace talks in a building where hostages were being kept on another floor. And the rebels insisted that we meet somewhere that they did not feel vulnerable. Ergo, it had to be done.

The concession was a big win that allowed us to move forward. It also led to a pair of other necessary triumphs. The rebels agreed that there would be no further attacks while our negotiations were underway. Our higher-ups, in turn, committed to not hunting rebels in the meantime either. I felt it was a good sign that both sides had compromised on these points. We would have to come to a more permanent solution for Gallant later, but for now the populace of this kingdom was not locked in fear, and going into the city for dinner was safe enough.

I tried smiling politely at a common woman carrying a large sack as she passed, but she only glared back.

Hey, SJ, Divya said, suddenly appearing next to me. Where did you learn to whistle like that?

While Marie was petite, Divya Patel was tiny. She was also several years younger than the rest of us, the youngest at the peace talks, and agile as a cat. Her enormous dark eyes looked at me with wonder as she hurried to keep up with my gait. Her long ponytail swung erratically behind her unlike my braid, which swished with subtlety.

"Jason taught Blue, Crisa, and me how to whistle years ago. It is not very ladylike, but I had to do something to get everyone to stop bickering. Please do not tell Jason or Crisa or especially Blue that I did that. I will never hear the end of it."

SJ Kaplan.

I turned, as did the rest of my group. Lena Lenore strutted toward us, her black suede pumps clicking with supremacy against the marble floor. The rebels she passed either scurried for cover or simply froze, trying to avoid eye contact.

I stepped forward, posture straight in spite of the weight of my two book bags. Yes?

She stopped in front of me. Can your little friends spare you for the evening? I assume none of your typical princess activities outside these walls are life or death.

I bristled. Feeling uncharacteristically bold, I lifted my chin—grateful that my five-foot-ten frame kept the Godmother Supreme from towering over me like she did so many others. With respect, Godmother Supreme, I would urge you not to belittle my friends and me. These peace talks are about growth, equality, and showing one another respect. We have been working together for weeks now, and it hardly supports the diplomatic spirit of what we are trying to do here if you patronize us.

There was a pause. I held my ground despite the part of me that wanted to apologize for being so blunt. My confidence was not sourced from inherent boldness like Blue’s and Crisa’s was. Mine was practiced, patient, and only vocalized when I felt I could back it up properly.

The Godmother Supreme nodded slowly, face impassive. That is fair. And for the sake of that ‘diplomatic spirit,’ please bid your friends adieu. I would like you to join the Godmothers and me for dinner.

I blinked. For what reason?

As I said, diplomacy, she responded. I was impressed with your proposal and would like to speak with you about it.

You’ve already read it? Divya blurted.

I am a fast reader, dear, the Godmother Supreme said. Then she looked me up and down. And I read people even better. Now what do you say?

I glanced at Pietro, who had become a sort of older brother to me these last few weeks. I had a flock of younger brothers but no older siblings to turn to for advice. He had provided that when asked and I was grateful. Pietro gave a shrug and I took his expression to mean Why not? I pivoted back to the Godmother Supreme with that exact response. Why not?

Very good. She took off her impressive ring. It transformed into an off-white Fairy Godmother magic wand. With a wave, red sparks consumed my massive book bags, shrinking them to the size of doll accessories.

To lighten your load, she explained. It is hard for anyone to look respectable when schlepping around heavy baggage. They will return to normal size at the stroke of midnight. She slipped her re-transformed ring back on her finger. Now come. Debbie and Daisy are waiting for us on the second floor. She turned and began striding away before I could ask anything more.

I stowed my miniaturized bags in the pocket of my maroon velvet dress and looked at my friends. Wish me luck.

You don’t need it, Gordon said encouragingly.

I was not sure that was true, but I waved to my friends and swiftly followed the Godmother Supreme. Walking in her wake allowed me to fully appreciate how people moved out of her way. I had no doubt that the woman could part the sea if she wished.

As we made for the stairwell, the rebel leaders from the peace talks were descending. Elias, I said, nodding to the woman at the head of the pack.

SJ, she said plainly.

On the second floor, Debbie and Daisy waited at an open balcony, looking out at the Gallant citadel as the city lights began to twinkle in the twilight.

The three of us part from here every evening, the Godmother Supreme explained. It’s far easier to magically teleport with open space above us.

SJ, do you like stir-fry? Debbie asked.

Fairy Godmothers knew most of the same spells, but each woman took to certain kinds of magic more than others, developing specialties. Debbie’s gifts were weather manipulation and fashion design. Her ensembles always blended the magic concentrations perfectly. Today’s knee-length gown featured a dizzying display of gray tornadoes spinning across her skirt and bodice.

I have never had it, I replied, forcing myself to maintain eye contact and not be distracted by her dress. But I am fine with anything.

Then let’s go to the Red Steeple for dinner, Debbie suggested.

Ooh, love that idea, Daisy, a petite blonde, said with her squeaky voice.

The Godmother Supreme turned to me. Prepare yourself. Traveling in this manner can be a bit disorienting if you are not used to it. Crisanta certainly took some time to adapt.

The Godmothers drew their wands. Daisy’s also took the clandestine form of a ring when not in use. Debbie’s wand hid in the form of a sparkly hairpin like Crisa’s did.

My best friend had a wand because of her godmother Emma; rest in peace. The woman had been Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother and upon leaving the Fairy Godmother Agency, she had given her wand to Crisa. The wand could not cast spells like those of active duty Godmothers. However, Crisa’s wand was enchanted to morph into any weapon she willed it into. Additionally, only Crisa could control it because a Godmother’s wand solely responded to her unique magic. Emma had given Crisa a spark of her power back then so my best friend could operate the wand.

The three women waved their wands and our foursome became consumed in a rush of raspberry colored magic. I felt my body disintegrating before each atom was hurled around on a roller coaster ride. After a flash, I found us standing outside a restaurant decorated with glowing red lanterns.

I clutched my stomach and grimaced. The Godmother Supreme had undersold magical transportation disorientation. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. I had never so much as burped in public, I was not about to vomit here. Noticing that the Godmothers were waiting for me to compose myself, I forced my body to stand straight and smile agreeably.

No need to delay on my account. Please lead the way.

Debbie shot me a concerned look, but I held my smile despite the churning in my stomach. Thankfully, as I climbed the steps leading to the restaurant, I began to feel normal again. To my surprise, the smell of caramelizing onions and sizzling beef in the air helped considerably.

The restaurant bustled with activity. People crowded just inside the door, waiting for a table. Staff zipped back and forth with steaming plates. The host was picking up a stack of menus when we approached.

Four please. Something in the back, Debbie said.

It’ll be a thirty-minute wait, said the host without looking up.

The Godmother Supreme stepped forward. Four please. Something in the back.

I told you— The man looked up. His eyebrows nearly touched his hairline in shock and chagrin. Fairy Godmother Supreme! Of course. Right away. Carrie! He snapped his fingers and a waitress appeared by his side. He passed her four menus and she motioned for us to follow. Once we were seated at a table with tall chairs near the rear of the restaurant, hidden by red velvet curtains with golden tassels, the waitress attempted to distribute the menus, but the Godmother Supreme held up a hand.

Those won’t be necessary. For drinks, we’ll all have water. For entrees, Debbie will have the number four, Daisy and I will have the number seven, and the princess will have the number nine. She alluded to each of us as she spoke.

The waitress was gone before I could open my mouth. I pursed my lips. I was an agreeable person, but I had never cared for being steamrolled. It was a condition I was regrettably prone to over the years. Such was the price for being an introverted child in the past and having so many vocal, strong-willed friends in the present. I did not want to add Lena Lenore to the list of people who made me feel that way.

How can you be certain about what each of us wants to eat? I asked the woman, meeting her eyes from across the table.

The Godmother Supreme looked at me with amusement. The ladies and I have eaten here on a few occasions, so I know what they like. As for you, I can make an educated guess.

I raised my eyebrows slightly. "Can you now?"

Yes. Like most people I deal with, dear, you are easy to read.

I am afraid I cannot say the same about you from our brief association. For example, the specific reason for your invitation to this dinner still eludes me.

It was to talk about your future, princess, she responded. But we’ll get into that further in a minute. She stood up and Daisy mirrored her movements abruptly like a soldier standing at attention for her captain. The Godmother Supreme sighed with annoyance.

Calm yourself, Daisy. I am just going to the restroom.

I’ll go with you, she said.

Daisy, we’re not adolescents at a school dance. I need no accompaniment.

But I actually have to go this time, Daisy protested.

The Godmother Supreme waved her hand dismissively. Fine.

The two women left the table. I turned to Debbie only to discover her focus was on the window of the adjacent wall—staring out at the moon appearing in the sky. To see its pale form against the dimming summer night was beautiful. Once darkness fell, it would be thick and glowing, so close to being full.

I can’t believe it has been over three weeks, Debbie said wistfully. Crisa and the others have been scurrying across another dimension doing who knows what while we’re here pushing papers and bickering with one another like children on the schoolyard.

I had often thought the same thing, so I told her what I told myself. Debbie, you must not get discouraged. I am sure with a bit more time and structure to our talks, we will achieve an agreement with the rebels.

The Godmother looked at me thoughtfully. If anyone can broker that, it’s you.

How do you mean?

"SJ, you may not speak as loudly or as often as others at the peace talks, but your voice has been crucial nonetheless. Don’t think people haven’t noticed. You are the one who managed to get all sides to agree to the truce that secured the release of the Gallant captives. You made sure the official ceasefire treaty regarding rebellion attacks got signed. And your calm rationale has kept the ambassadors and rebels from killing each other when things get heated. Every one of our steps forward can be traced back to your level head, sound speech, and logical yet thoughtful perspective on each party’s views. You’re a natural leader. When your parents pass on the crown one day, Dobb will be in good hands."

I felt flattered. I had been trying so hard to keep the peace in our peace talks, flexing the muscles for patience, kindness, and understanding that I had developed over the years from having younger, rambunctious siblings and sassy, hot-headed friends. Yet I could not believe that Debbie was giving me such credit. I was one child in a room full of adults.

I suspect that’s why the Godmother Supreme asked you here, Debbie continued. Regardless of the exact outcome, when these peace talks are over, things are going to be different. Our strategizing Godmother Supreme likely plans to collect as many allies in the new order as possible. As the future ruler of a large kingdom with the respect of the rebel commons and a close friendship with our resident all-powerful princess, you are a perfect choice.

There are plenty of protagonists and royals that the Godmother Supreme could align herself with who do not have such a colorful history with this realm, and who have not fallen as low as I have in the past, I said plainly. The only truly unique trait of those you listed is my relationship with Crisa, and I have no control over her. No one does. So while I appreciate the compliment, any statistician would prudently advise that if Lena Lenore wants to collect prominent allies like commemorative snow globes, she would better her odds by picking someone else.

But you see, it’s not just about your prominence, Debbie said earnestly. She likes you. She bit her lip and mulled over an idea. Maybe that’s the wrong word for it. Are you familiar with the term bromance?

I shook my head.

It’s when two guys are all about one another’s whole situation, Debbie explained, making elaborate hand gestures that did not help illustrate her point, but certainly showed her enthusiasm. "I suppose we could call the girl version of that an ob-she-ssion. Like obsession." She rapped a finger against her chin, lost in thought.

Debbie . . .

Right. Sorry. The point is you show respect for the Godmother Supreme’s presence and reverence for the tradition she stands for, but you are not meek and will voice your opinions and challenge people if need arises. The Godmother Supreme likes that about you, SJ. You’re dynamic, but not dangerous. Full of fire, but you know when to keep it cool. That’s why she wants to cement a stronger relationship with you.

But I—

The Godmother Supreme and Daisy approached our table, followed immediately by several waitresses with our dishes. A small iron cauldron—like the kind I cooked smaller potions in—was set in front of me. It was filled with sizzling vegetables and bite-size chunks of meat. The whole concoction smelled of green onion, ginger, and chili.

Plates delivered, the servers hovered uncertainly until the Godmother Supreme gave a dismissive wave of her hand. They half-bowed nervously and scurried off. The Godmothers began to eat, so I did too. I puckered my face with a bit of disappointment; the food was delicious. The Godmother Supreme had correctly guessed my tastes. She knew it too. She glanced at me briefly with a smirk in her eyes.

Debbie is a bit of a talker, the Godmother Supreme said after a moment. While we were away, I assume she told you more about why I asked you to dinner.

I took a delicate sip of water, put the glass down, and nodded. You would like us to be allies, I said bluntly.

I would. You are wise, capable, and powerful in a way that does not draw attention or court enemies.

I think you give me too much credit. I took another bite of beef and diverted my gaze.

The Godmother Supreme paused, then set her utensils down. SJ, would you like to know the best advice my mentor gave me when I was young?

I looked up at her.

She said to always be the smartest person in the room, but never let anyone know it. Laying all your cards, your strategies and thoughts, out on the table is a good way to get yourself killed or condemned. Knowing when to hold back is just as important as knowing when to go full force. That ability to stay under the radar fosters success because while others may show their hands, you can calculate around their moves to best them.

With respect, Godmother Supreme, I said, I do not believe anyone would describe you as someone who stays under the radar.

Not overtly, no, she agreed. "I designed my public persona to instill fear and authority. But when I have direct dealings with others, my plans—the inner workings of my thoughts—are kept close to the vest whenever possible. Operating that way is how I have stayed in power so long. It is a skill, among others, I’d like to help you develop. What would you say to a mentorship?"

Now I put down my utensils. I dabbed the corners of my mouth with my napkin. Then I looked Lena Lenore straight in the eye.

No.

Debbie and Daisy froze mid-bite.

The Godmother Supreme frowned. No?

I have respect for you, Godmother Supreme. And speaking with complete honesty, there are traits of yours I have admired for some time. But although we are working together to formulate the best outcome with the commons, I do not want a personal relationship with you.

"Um, why?" Daisy asked, equal parts shocked and annoyed.

Because the Godmother Supreme is responsible for the persecution, imprisonment, and destruction of my best friend, I said, unable to keep the passion from my voice this time.

I turned to Debbie. Surely you must understand. The Godmother Supreme spent months trying to provoke and foil Crisa, in the end enslaving and bidding her to use her magic to wreak death and chaos on the commons rebellion.

I had tried to keep from looking at it all evening, but I finally gestured at the charm hanging from the long necklace that dangled over the Godmother Supreme’s crisp black business dress. It was a tiny genie bottle.

When Emma transferred a spark of magic to Crisa so she could operate her wand, it had inadvertently mutated into Pure Magic. This added another layer of constant struggle to my best friend’s life.

Aside from the Author, the Godmother Supreme’s sister, all people with Pure Magic Disease in Book had been corrupted by their power and turned evil. It was an almost-consistent consequence of having the disease. Thus, anyone with Pure Magic was exiled to live in Alderon with all other villains and monsters. This was a preemptive measure to keep them from terrorizing the rest of the realm.

However, Crisa had used her magic to do a lot of good for Book, and she was a princess. She could not simply be shipped off to imprisonment, so instead she had been put on trial. The outcome—the higher-ups saddled Crisa with perpetual genie servitude as a means to control her. The Godmother Supreme could summon Crisa and suck her into that tiny bottle from anywhere in our dimension if she required my friend’s magic, or if my friend ever got out of hand. It was servitude and a failsafe wrapped in one neat package.

SJ, Debbie said delicately, I know it’s not ideal, but this arrangement was the best way to get the more conservative jurors in Crisa’s trial to let go of the Alderon angle. It is unfortunate, but it allows her more freedom than other solutions would.

I understand that, I said, nodding. And I have accepted it like she and all our friends have. What I cannot accept is what genie servitude to you has turned her into. I looked directly at the Godmother Supreme. Your commands have caused Crisa to do dark things with her magic. She is already highly at risk for being corrupted by her condition. Using her as a weapon against the commons rebellion in recent months has pushed her more in that direction than necessary.

Every Pure Magic carrier had one specific ability, aside from the power to see the future in dreams that they all shared. Crisa had the power of life. She could restore it to those who had recently been killed, resurrect herself, and give life to inanimate things that would do her bidding as a result. Regrettably, with her gift came the power to take life as well. When she used her abilities that way, it was like feeding the darker side of her Pure Magic—the hungry, malevolent part she was always fighting to stay away from. Knowing the Godmother Supreme had sent Crisa on missions that led to her taking the lives of others caused me great torment.

I have never specifically told Crisa to take life, the Godmother Supreme said unapologetically. I give her a task. How she fulfills it is up to her. I do not appreciate the accusation that I am to blame for her actions, or what she has become. Your friend is far from pure of heart. There is anger in her—hatred, darkness, a fondness for power and using that power against the people who have hurt her. Do not pretend otherwise.

I took a deep breath. Crisa does have a lot of those traits, I said eventually. But you should not pretend like you did not encourage her to develop them. Which is why I decline your mentorship offer. I could never fully trust you as long as you retain control over Crisa with that genie bottle.

My once sizzling beef had grown lukewarm. Lena Lenore observed me soberly. Debbie and Daisy watched with expressions of anxiety and discomfort.

Then become someone I fully trust instead, the Godmother Supreme proposed. "Crisanta is too powerful to roam free. I stand by that. We need a way of controlling her, and I am the only person with the wisdom and tact that our realm’s ambassadors approve of to do so. There is no one like me. But . . . perhaps there can be. Allow me to mentor you, SJ. Prove yourself a worthy protégé with the peace talks by brokering a resolution between the rebels and higher-ups. Show them, and me, that you can be trusted to be just and wise and tactful—putting the good of the realm before yourself and even the ones you care for. Do that, gain my favor and theirs, and, she held up the genie bottle charm on her necklace, I will pass control of Crisanta’s genie servitude to you and you can decide to use it as you see fit."

I blinked, stunned. The tiny genie bottle glimmered in the restaurant’s lanterns and twinkling lights.

Do we have a deal? the Godmother Supreme asked.

I took a moment to swallow the magnitude of her offer. That genie bottle could be mine. Crisa would not have to report to the Godmother Supreme anymore. I would become the guardian of my best friend’s power and her conscience. She would be thrilled. This would change everything.

I locked eyes with my new mentor. How do we begin?

The Godmother Supreme smiled.

ynamic, but not dangerous.

I pondered Debbie’s description as I migrated through Darling Castle. After dinner, the Godmother Supreme had magically transported me here. The Godmothers did not have absolute teleportation powers, but Gallant was close enough to Clevaunt that the magic worked fine.

The gold-edged corridor sparkled as I walked to my desired destination. My stomach churned with unease. Not from the teleportation. Deciding to win the Godmother Supreme’s favor through mentorship was the best plan for getting my best friend out of the woman’s clutches, and the choice sat right with me. Debbie’s analysis of me, however, did not. I realized this was not a particularly logical response. Why should I want to seem dangerous? But the description brought up an irksome notion that popped into my mind every now and then like an immortal dandelion.

Out of all the characters in my close group of friends, I came across as one of the least intimidating. This image was partially a façade; I was powerful, but in my own subtler way. Most people not noticing this was a consequence of my skills being rooted in careful, strategic steps versus running blindly into the line of fire and the unknown. I did not like the unknown. I did not like taking on challenges that I was not properly prepared or trained for. Was it so wrong to only want to take the lead in areas I was comfortable with? Did that mean no one would ever see me as dangerous? Perhaps spending more time with the Godmother Supreme would change that. I had not considered a self-serving angle when I agreed to the arrangement with her, but maybe she could push me to be bolder in less familiar situations.

How was your fancy schmancy dinner?

I turned to see Peter Pan flying up the gold-encrusted staircase I had just climbed. The Darlings were descended from King Midas and many of them possessed gold-related powers, hence the gilded décor everywhere in sight.

How did you know? I asked.

Pietro called. So, you have fun?

It was fine, I replied to the floating twelve-year-old. We talked a lot of business. Nothing you would be terribly interested in, but if you want to know the details—

Pass, Peter said. During my shift watching Sleeping Beauty Jr.—

Mauvrey, I corrected. Sleeping Beauty Jr. is a bit insensitive to her condition.

The golden-haired daughter of Sleeping Beauty was a former classmate, a former archenemy, and a current victim of a sleeping curse residing under our watch in one of Darling Castle’s towers. She was also the reason Crisa and company had gone to Dreamland.

The personality we knew as Mauvrey Weatherall did not actually belong to this girl. In recent months we learned that an antagonist named Tara had possessed Mauvrey for many years. Turn of events had led to Tara being expelled from Mauvrey this past spring, however the princess still remained unconscious. Part of the long-term possession had required Mauvrey to be placed under a sleeping curse that involved a Shadow creature invading her mind in Dreamland. That kind of curse required the Shadow to be removed in Dreamland. As a result, a group of our friends had journeyed to the alternate dimension to save the innocent girl, and to protect the precious information in her head.

Mauvrey had absorbed the memories of a now-dead Fairy Godmother named Paige Tomkins—the only person who knew the location of Book’s missing genies. The antagonists wanted that information, and we needed to ensure they did not get it. Hence my Book friends and I guarding Mauvrey’s comatose body and enlisting the help of several powerful allies from other realms to do the same when we were at the peace talks. This week that included Peter and Merlin.

Peter huffed. "During my shift watching Mauvrey, your magical mentor insisted on my dad’s behalf that I study some Camelot history books. My head is now super full of new information and I need a few hours of non-learning. He put his hands to his temples. I didn’t attend school at all when I lived in Neverland, but now I’m studying in the summer? What is my world coming to?"

Arthur and Merlin mean well. They simply want you to know more about your homeland, I replied. Then I smiled. Peter, did you just refer to Arthur as your dad?

Peter’s face contorted with embarrassment. What? No. What’s that? He looked down the hall and held his hand to his ear. Coming!

I smirked at the boy. I did not hear anyone calling for you.

Then add super hearing to my list of abilities—right behind flying, sword fighting, and making nacho cheese. Later. He zipped around the corner and out of sight.

Since being reunited with his long-lost father, King Arthur of Camelot, Peter had been working on balancing the freedom of his immortal life in Neverland with his responsibilities as a young prince in Camelot. It was a lot to handle, but he seemed to be getting used to it. Just now had indeed been the first time I heard him say Dad when referring to Arthur. That was progress.

An ovular clock hanging over a nearby mantle showed it was approaching seven. The Darling royal family was likely still at dinner, as were my friends. Although my designated shift to watch Mauvrey did not begin for another hour, I continued on with my intention to relieve Merlin early. Extra quiet time in the tower where we kept Mauvrey sounded nice after such a long, full day.

I reached the desired door at the top of the stairs in a tower at the far end of the castle—guards on either side—and knocked before pushing it open. I hope you do not mind me clocking in early, I said to my wizard mentor.

SJ. Merlin looked up from the potions books he was reading as I entered. How did changing the world go today?

As it always goes, I replied wistfully. It involved a lot of shouting, numbers, and bathroom breaks. I glanced over Mauvrey, who slept, unchanged, on an elevated bed in the center of the room. Golden-blonde tendrils spilled over her pillow, and she still wore the same outfit as the day we had taken her in—purple leather jacket with matching heeled boots, black pants, and black top. Thanks to my potion-laced lanyard accessory the SRB (Soap on a Rope-like Bracelet), she had been perfectly preserved for months.

Well said, Merlin replied, rising from his chair, one of the few accouterments we had added to the circular stone room.

Merlin stood a handful of inches shorter than me and was probably in his sixties—I would never ask to verify, as that would be impolite. Overall, he was quite dapper. He kept his beard trimmed and styled, and his robes were always freshly pressed and elegant.

I talked with Arthur and Dorothy today, Merlin said, stretching. The potion we created to stop the poison from spreading in their wounds is still holding up. No sign of relapse.

Excellent news, I said. I want to keep checking on that regularly for the time being. No one has created a cure for Questor Beast poison before, so we must be thorough.

Agreed, Merlin said. Thanks for tagging me out early. I have some work to do tonight. Speaking of which, your shift watching the princess tonight goes until midnight. Do you still want to meet me to continue our potions work tomorrow morning?

Of course I do. I will meet you at four o’clock like always.

You are the only teenager I’ve ever met that says things like that with a smile, Merlin replied.

I will take that as a compliment.

How ladylike of you.

I gestured at the book under his arm. May I borrow that? Potions reading calms me.

Have at it, Merlin said, passing me the weathered, incredibly thick blue volume. I did not have any luck with the chapters I read today.

Which ones?

I’m researching how to break curses where love is involved. I am doing a favor for . . . never mind. Exhausting to think about.

The person or the task?

Merlin huffed, slightly amused. Both, at times. He patted my shoulder and headed for the door. Have a good shift.

Once the door shut, I stood perfectly still, closed my eyes, and breathed deeply. Silence was one of the world’s most precious and underrated gifts.

After a minute, I picked up the chair Merlin had been sitting in and moved it closer to Mauvrey. It felt less awkward that way, like I was reading at the bedside of a patient recovering from illness.

To finish my setup, I grabbed a warm pashmina from a hook on the back of the door. Chance’s kingdom was in the mountains and it was cold here, even in the summer. I tucked the cloth around my legs as I sat and began to turn the pages of Merlin’s book.

I was glad the wizard had lent me the reading material. I was grateful for many things where Merlin was concerned, including his presence in our lives in general. Merlin was a legendary character who had dedicated his life to protecting his realm, safeguarding the greater good, and defending the people he cared for. Moreover he, like Liza, had remained uncorrupted by his Pure Magic and went on to become one of the most skilled potionists of all time. I was fortunate that he had taken notice of my own passion and prowess for potions and volunteered to mentor me. Under his tutelage, and that of my other potions mentor, the Wizard of Oz, I had thrived.

And yet—like with so many aspects of fairytales and magic—Merlin came with a catch. The wizard had a knack for strategically manipulating others with his Pure Magic ability to see the future. He had used Crisa and her powers like a chess piece on a board multiple times. This caused a rift in their relationship and a dark shadow over my view of Merlin—someone who I could have otherwise looked up to, even idolized. Knowing about his craftier side meant I would never be able to fully trust him. It was like my relationship with the Godmother Supreme. How could I trust anyone who played with my best friend like a puppet on a string?

I absently ran my finger down a page in the book. Oh, Crisa. If I had a gray hair for every time I worried about her, my Snow White heritage would be far more appropriate.

I honestly was not sure which was worse—being the target of so much doom and tragedy, or being the best friend of someone with that fate, and feeling powerless to stop it or protect that person. Not that Crisa had ever given me much of a chance to protect her. Although she had become incredibly strategic and wise through our adventures, she could be heroic to a fault and her propensity for feeling things too deeply—passion, justice, anger—did not exactly deter conflict.

I huffed and leaned back in my chair. It was strange; though my potions work had meant Crisa and I had not spent a lot of time together lately, I felt her presence in all aspects of my life. Even now that she was in another dimension, so much of my being revolved around her. She—like many of my friends—was entwined and blended with my story like yarn in a tapestry. Unless you looked closely, we did not exist as separate materials. Together, we created a whole.

In one sense there was great comfort in that—knowing you had people in your life so connected and involved in your story that you would never be alone or need to worry about falling without someone to catch you. At the same time, having that level of closeness meant you could lose yourself in other people’s stories too, especially if the characters you chose as companions were strong personalities.

I wondered if I would ever escape that. I wondered if I wanted to.

It was a delicate balance—finding a way to shine alone while being a part of a team. I had recently started to find this equilibrium by taking time off school to work on potions with Merlin in Camelot and Julian, the Wizard of Oz, in his realm. Leaving behind everyone I knew had been hard, but also liberating and I had loved it. But I was ashamed to admit that last bit because what kind of person enjoys being away from the people who love and need them?

I felt equally conflicted about so willingly letting my friends go to Dreamland while I remained in Book.

It was logical that I handle things at the peace talks while Crisa, Blue, and the others traveled to another dimension. Even before the rebels requested me as an emissary, I volunteered to stay behind and watch over things. Elias contending I participate in our diplomatic venture seemed like a sign from the universe that I was in the right place at the right time. I was more useful here—the peace talks allowed me to utilize my natural strengths whereas my brave, changeable friends were better suited for unpredictable adventure in Dreamland. Yet . . . a tiny part of me continued to question the decision to so readily heed Elias’s insistence that I stay.

Was that because I subconsciously believed it was selfish to let my friends handle the unknown dangers of Dreamland while I leaned into my familiar strengths here? I did feel safer relying on things I was good at—logic, reason, and utilizing the princess skills I had always excelled in at school.

Or did my willingness to stay bother me because—deep down—I worried I was still allowing myself to be influenced by my greatest insecurity. That same fear that Debbie had dredged up this very evening. Despite how far I had come, I could not hold my own in a group of mighty heroes.

I sighed. Perhaps Debbie was right; maybe I was dynamic and not dangerous. Dynamic people wowed with debate and strategy. Dangerous people took risks and were not so reserved about showing their power and adapting to new situations.

I rubbed my forehead, then resigned to reading my potions book. There was only so much introspection a girl could take.

I’m here to relieve you, Javier said, opening the door to Mauvrey’s tower.

I did my best to stifle the yawn I felt coming on, but had to quickly cover my mouth in embarrassment when I failed to do so. I needed to add Super Coffee to my list of potions to invent someday.

Apologies, I said. Ladies are not supposed to yawn in public.

Your mom fell asleep in public, Javier replied. I think she would understand.

I cracked a smile, shutting my book as I stood. According to the clock, it was two minutes to midnight. Were you able to nap a bit? I asked my friend.

Javier nodded. We found a great burger place in downtown Gallant and stayed out later than we should have, what with the early morning tomorrow, but I took a quick nap when we came back. Everyone else should be sound asleep now. How did your time with the Godmother Supreme go?

Fine. She wants to mentor me, help me develop leadership skills.

How do we feel about that? he asked, genuinely curious.

I clutched the potions book against my chest. We feel reluctant, but willing. I realize the Godmother Supreme does not have a big fan base within our ranks, so some of our friends will likely be against this, but she and I came to a deal. The Godmother Supreme said that if I earned her trust and respect, she would transfer care of Crisa’s genie bottle and genie servitude to me.

Javier whistled. That’s a big win. It’d be a bit awkward though, wouldn’t it?

Why?

You’d essentially be in control of Crisa and her magic. He shrugged. Gordon is my best friend and I can tell you with certainty he wouldn’t dig the idea of me having control over his life, or vice versa. It’s a weird situation to put any friendship through.

I furrowed my eyebrows and shook my head. I had not thought about it that way. I was simply focused on taking that control away from Lena Lenore. Regardless, this achievement is a long time from now. If one day I succeed in winning the Godmother Supreme’s favor, I am sure Crisa would prefer this alternative to obeying her longtime foe.

Are you sure about that?

The voice came from behind us.

I dropped my book. Javier and I spun around. There she was —Mauvrey—sitting upright, blue irises staring right at me.

Javier’s eyes doubled in size from the shock. Holy—

Oh my word, I said.

Hi, SJ . . . Mauvrey slowly swung her legs around so her purple ankle boots hung over the edge of the bed, dangling a few inches above the floor.

I stepped forward. "Mauvrey, you—you woke up! Are you—Yipes!" I tumbled forward as my magically miniaturized book bags returned to normal size and exploded out of my dress pocket and to the floor. Goodness, I had forgotten about those. I scampered up hastily, Javier helping me by the arm.

Mauvrey blinked at me, surprised. Are you okay?

"Am I okay? Are you okay? Mauvrey, do you know what is happening?"

I . . . She scrunched her face and closed her eyes for a moment like she was simultaneously trying to hold in a sneeze and fight off a headache. Sort of. Where am I?

Chance Darling’s castle in Clevaunt, I responded. Oh, um, Chance Darling is a prince from Lord—

I know who Chance is, SJ. She glanced at Javier. And I believe your name is Javier Marcos. I recall seeing you play in a Twenty-Three Skidd match.

Um, yeah, Javier said. Hi.

Hi.

Mauvrey, I— I realized I did not know what to ask next. In all the time my friends and I had been trying to protect Mauvrey while she slept, we never discussed the protocol for how we would handle her waking up. I still could not believe I was in the room when it happened. And that it happened so casually! I had expected lights, magic sparks, maybe some impressive gust of smoke.

After a second, I decided on a broad but important question.

How much do you remember?

Mauvrey shivered and dismounted the elevated bed. Though when her boots hit the floor, she nearly toppled over. Javier and I rushed to help her.

Can we talk about it somewhere else? she asked sadly. Somewhere warmer?

Of course, I said, not letting go of her arm. Javier, wake the others and get them to my room. Tell them our friends in Dreamland have successfully broken the sleeping curse. Mauvrey is alive again. Let us hear what she has to say together.

It was like spending my life on autopilot. Or rather, it was like I was watching my life from a viewing room, Mauvrey explained.

Javier, Gordon, Marie, Divya, Pietro, Merlin, Peter, and I had gathered in my chambers in the castle, i.e. the guest room Chance’s family had let me use since we arrived for the summer. It had amber walls, light wooden floors, golden tassels hanging from the canopy bed, and decorative gold swirls on the mantle. The room was spacious, but this was the largest congregation it had ever hosted. We had pushed the couch that usually faced the fireplace closer to the bed to make room for everyone. Mauvrey sat on the bed, wrapped in blankets, me beside her. Earlier Peter had zipped down to the kitchen to make her a hot chocolate, which she now sipped. My friends huddled around her, eyes full of curiosity and bewilderment.

Though it was nearly one o’clock in the morning, we were awake and alert as ever. Plot developments had a way of doing that to you.

The last time I was in control of my body was many years ago right before I was meant to start my first term at Lady Agnue’s, Mauvrey said. "I fell asleep during a slumber party with a dear friend of mine named Tara. When I fell asleep, my mind transported me to a horrible place where I was covered in black goop and chased by dark beings. I ran, but the black ooze became stickier and stickier, and soon I was trapped. One of the shadow monsters swallowed me whole. After that, the viewing room effect I mentioned commenced.

It took me a while to understand what had happened, to realize that I was not in control of my body anymore. Tara was. She assumed my life entirely. She attended Lady Agnue’s on my behalf and periodically checked in with the antagonists. As me, she became their spy and errand girl—my body gave them access to the protagonist world and allowed them to strike against main characters more efficiently. Like when Crisa’s prophecy appeared and they told ‘me’ to kill her. That was not the first bad act Tara committed directly with my hands. And in that instance, like all the others, all I could do was watch . . .

Mauvrey shuddered and looked down at the hot chocolate mug in her grip.

So you’ve been aware of everything this whole time? Pietro said gently. You’ve just been trapped in your own head, along for the ride?

Mauvrey nodded, her face full of shame and regret. I am so sorry for all the pain I have caused. She looked at Pietro ardently. Like the day I—well, Tara—helped your brother Alex attack Midveil castle in an attempt to overthrow your parents. She closed her eyes tightly. If it is any consolation, watching yourself do something terrible and not being able to stop it is its own kind of misery.

It must have been awful, Marie sympathized, putting her hand on Mauvrey’s shoulder. She sat on the princess’s other side. "We are so sorry, Mauvrey. What you have been through, it is . .

Reviews for Crisanta Knight

[jenniferrobb · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

It ended up being mediocre for me. I liked the premise--what happens after the "happily ever after" at the end of fairy tales. Turns out they go on to have families.Princes and princesses are assumed to be protagonists in their own stories and are sent to "finishing" schools to be trained as such. A few lucky commoners receive "prologues" as well and get the same treatment. Unfortunately, the schools seem to tend to stick to the "traditional" roles. Men are the heroes; they get to do the fighting, the defending, etc. Women need to be rescued and should comport themselves properly at all times. The girls do seem to get the shorter end of the stick--they're trapped within their school grounds by a spell most of the time.And had the story stuck to that, I'd probably have rated it higher. But to me, the story dragged on way too long.WARNING: SPOILERS MAY FOLLOW. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.*****Crisanta, called Crisa, is the daughter of Cinderella. She rooms with Snow White Jr., called SJ, and Blue, the sister of Red Riding Hood. They are also friends with Jason (and Mark who is mentioned but never shows up in this book). Jason's new roommate is Daniel. While SJ seems content to follow the "princess" storyline, Crisa wants to be an untraditional protagonist, so when her prologue comes telling her she's going to marry a man she despises, she decides it's time to go find the author and try to plead her case to get her plot changed. And that's about where I think this book should have ended. Because after that, we're subjected to the group tricking a fairy godmother trainee in order to find Fairy Godmother Headquarters--in an attempt to locate Crisa's former fairy godmother, Emma. Then, when that fails, we're forced to endure the girls's attempts to steal several enchanted items from their school's exhibit so that they can use the mirror to show them where Emma is. Then, they have to escape their school and travel to find Emma, who gives them a list of three items that they will need to be able to break the spell surrounding the author, and finally, before book one mercifully ends, they must secure the first item from the list. During that last, Crisa learns that her dreams have some root in the real world, and also that the council is faking royal prologues as well as destroying ones that come for commoners.So, let me guess, the author probably wrote a non-traditional prologue for Crisa which was intercepted by the council and a fake one written and substituted in its place--either that or Chance is supposed to protect Crisa somehow (even though she'd rather protect herself).

[lcarter11 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Faint tendency towards harping on a subject (reminiscent of the essay pattern: say it, repeat it, say it again, lol), but it's quite an interesting story. Crisanta is Cinderella's rebellious daughter. As in, she thinks it's unfair that protagonist's stories aren't a record of their life choices but rather the story "the author" lays out for them. (When you put it that way, I agree!) She's got two best friends, one snarky high-school type enemy, and a wild idea that she can change her future. Along the way, she rides flying horses, occasionally uses a word incorrectly, finds Fairy Godmother headquarters, and...well, the story is just getting going when it ends and I realized it was a series. Lol, not quite a whiplash-vertigo class cliffhanger. I wouldn't mind reading more of this series.