Protagonist Bound (4 page)

Time passed quickly that first afternoon.

We spent most of it lounging around telling stories of our summer ventures. SJ gushed about the various upper level potions she’d successfully brewed in the basement of her castle without getting caught by her parents. And Blue was excited to talk about how she’d joined a pub fight club in her village and emerged as its summer champion.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have much to tell when my time for sharing came along. My mother had kept me pretty close by her side all summer in the hopes that her example would rub off on me. And, truly, she also hadn’t wanted me to waste my days getting into mischief as SJ had predicted and as Blue had, well, suggested.

The sun finally began to set as half past five approached. We all knew what that meant—time to get ready for dinner.

Evening meals at this school were never anything but formal. Like, so formal that a normal utensil would have imploded self-consciously around the stunning silverware that set our tables.

The reason for this was that Lady Agnue’s used dinnertime as an unofficial class period to test its students. At the beginning of the meal, Lady Agnue would give announcements and usually some sort of little lecture
.
Then, throughout the meal, we were reminded and expected to employ formal eating etiquette (lest we want to be deducted marks from our overall class standing).

It made it a bit stressful to be honest, trying to remember what fork to use and which direction to pass the bread when your stomach was growling and your teachers were hovering over you like vultures with lipstick.

But I digress.

At least the food was something to look forward to, even if all the table-manners rubbish prevented me from eating as much of it as I would have liked. Furthermore, I did keep in mind that I had it pretty easy in comparison to Blue. We princesses were trained in this stuff since our sippy-cup days. So, even for a princess like me, having been raised around this royal, fancy-shmancy nonsense allowed me to adjust a lot quicker than the common protagonists who weren’t as accustomed to it.

My friends and I changed speedily and headed down the grand staircase toward the win-lose feeding situation.

When we arrived in the foyer I was struck by how quiet it was. The grand marble-tiled foyer, which had been bustling with activity just hours before, was now empty. The only sounds were my boots pounding against the floor and the subsequent echo they caused to bounce around the room’s redwood-sized pillars.

The three of us headed down the hall. Chatter and clinking glasses became more audible as we walked on. Soon enough, we reached the entrance to the dining room where the sounds were coming from.

Describing it as a dining room was a bit of an understatement. It was more of a massive banquet hall—five long tables on the right, and one long table on the far left elevated atop a stage for the teachers to watch and judge us from.

Tonight all the tables were draped in raspberry-colored silk tablecloths with sparkling silver runners down their centers. Interspersed across the tables were crystal candlesticks and bunches of white lilies that sat in tall, slender vases.

A warm glow from the dozens of candlestick chandeliers filled the air, their light reflecting off the flatware, glasses, and impeccable china. I practically had to squint in order to adjust to the shimmering light.

I didn’t know what the school staff planned on serving in the hall that evening, but food around here was usually fairly fantastic. And they typically went all out for the first dinner of the semester. Accordingly, thoughts of prime cuts of meat and freshly baked pies filled my head like glorious, hopeful daydreams. It seemed my stomach got overly excited by the imaginings though, because it growled super-loudly.

“Classy as ever, Crisa. Did you spend your summer with trolls?”

Perfect timing as always.

I turned around to address the source of the familiar venomous voice. Mauvrey Weatherall was standing behind me in a magenta peplum dress with black, sharp shoulder pads that matched her glittering dragon-scale necklace and equally harsh stilettos. Her arms were crossed, and her pale blue eyes were fixed in judgmental amusement.

“Or maybe you just spent your summer with Blue.” She smirked as she looked my friend up and down. “Same difference I suppose.”

Mauvrey’s usual posse stood behind her. This group consisted of two girls. First, there was Princess Jade—the oldest and least favorite daughter of, ironically, one of our realm’s most favorite underdog protagonists, Aladdin.

Jade’s younger brother and sister (twins Eva and Lawrence) were the sweetest and most humble kids, so I could never quite figure out why their so-thin-she-vanished-when-she-turned-sideways older sister was such a self-absorbed, self-entitled beauty queen. Nor could I figure out why in all the years I’d known her I had never given in to the urge to smack her across the face like she so justly deserved.

To sum up, Miss Jade was a shallow, conniving priss. And I (like so many other girls at school who she regularly tried to make feel inferior) really hated her. Even so, I still preferred her to the second member of Mauvrey’s entourage: Girtha Bobunk, the little sister of Hansel and Gretel Bobunk.

Little
was a relative term by the way, considering that Big Girtha was massive. Like, seriously. Unlike her older siblings, I gathered starving to death was never an issue that she’d had to face growing up in the forest.

I rolled my eyes at my nemesis. “Very funny, Mauvrey. At least I eat like a normal person. Unlike Miss Size Negative-Four on your left.” I gestured to Jade. “And the teenage mountain range on your right.” I gestured at Girtha.

Blue snorted, trying to hold back a laugh.

Girtha’s dense forehead creased beneath her crooked, mud-colored bangs. She took a step toward me, but Mauvrey held up her hand and the lackey restrained herself obediently.

“Bold move insulting my friends considering the company you keep,” Mauvrey replied. “
Really
, Crisa. Even you could do better than the she-man with knife-throwing action”—she nodded toward Blue, then angled on SJ—“and the daughter of the most gullible princess in fairytale history. I mean honestly, SJ, I have always wanted to ask, did no one ever warn your mother not to take food from strangers? Any fool with half a brain knows that. It is practically rule one.”

“Oh, and I guess only a genius would willingly stab her finger on a clearly poisoned spinning wheel spindle?” Blue snapped in SJ’s defense.

“Blue,” SJ said calmly, putting her hand on Blue’s shoulder. “Calm down.”

Blue was clearly annoyed that SJ was taking such an insult in stride, as was I. Mauvrey was such a . . .
witch
. (More than that really. But no one ever taught us any curse words around here so witch was about all we had to work with.)

I didn’t care what Mauvrey said about me, but harassing my friends was crossing the line. SJ was too nice a person to deserve insults like that, and Blue was still on probation for punching a classmate last semester. If Mauvrey pushed her too far, Blue would surely knock the princess’s pearly teeth in and might well be expelled for doing so. I had to direct Mauvrey’s venom back in my direction to protect them both.

“Leave SJ and Blue alone, Mauvrey. What’s the matter, run out of insults about me all of a sudden?”

“Never,” Mauvrey scoffed, easily taking the bait. “How could I when you provide so much material?” My nemesis gave me one of her signature golden-blonde hair tosses, and she and her entourage pushed their way past us into the banquet hall.

Ah, nothing says, “Welcome back to school” like a toxic exchange with an archenemy, am I right?

“You did not have to do that, Crisa,” SJ said when the prissy posse was out of earshot. “I appreciate the sentiment behind it, but Mauvrey already has it out for you. I can handle myself.”

“Really?” Blue countered. “Well, if you can handle yourself then why don’t you ever get upset when Mauvrey insults you?”

“Mauvrey is an unkind girl; it is true. But the best way to deal with such a person is to remain even-tempered and be the bigger person by still showing kindness. After all, you catch more flies with honey.”

Blue rolled her eyes. “That’s a horrible saying. People don’t want to catch flies; they want to swat them down dead.”

“I agree with Blue,” I added. “You really should react more to stuff like that, SJ.”

“And you, my friends, need to react less,” SJ chided. “You cannot allow your tempers to control you like this. You have to evaluate the situation carefully so as not to cause further damage or escalate a situation unnecessarily.”

The princess part of my subconscious knew she was right, but that didn’t make Mauvrey or the advice any less irritating.

Maybe I really should listen to SJ and learn to
—

The scent of turkey wafted up my nostrils. I started walking in the direction of the banquet hall, my friends in tow. Most of the students had already taken their seats, so we scuttled to a few available chairs in the back. A couple more girls who’d arrived even later than us trailed behind.

“Hi!” Princess Marie Sinclaire said as she approached an empty seat across from SJ.

“Hi, Marie,” we all responded in unison.

Our friend Marie tucked a strand of long, platinum hair behind her ear before thoroughly brushing a hand over her chair and checking the seat before sitting down. Watching her, I concealed a small smile. This tendency of hers was funny to observe. But it was a natural habit, I supposed, when your grandmother’s fairytale was about the intense injuries received from lying down on a bed with a magic pea hidden underneath a hundred mattresses.

The enormous doors to the banquet hall closed then, signaling that dinner was about to begin. A tiny glass bell on the stage rang and we immediately quieted down like well-trained show dogs.

From behind her tall-backed chair at the teacher’s table, Lady Agnue rose. She was wearing a fuchsia dress with a high collar. Her brown hair was pulled back tightly in a regal bun. Her copper eyes shone like the ring around a solar eclipse and the sequined pretense around our place settings.

“Welcome back, ladies,” our headmistress cooed in a honey-coated voice. “I hope you are all as excited about this new school year as I am. Just a few reminders before we begin dinner this evening. The In and Out Spell will go up around the school tonight at ten o’clock sharp. From then on, the campus will once again be concealed within its wonderful, protective barrier that shall only be lowered for field trips and preapproved events with the boys from Lord Channing’s. On that note, this month’s ball will be on Saturday night. But, as a special treat, the In and Out Spell will be lowered during the afternoon so you can socialize with the boys for a majority of the day beforehand. I trust you will all behave accordingly.”

This announcement sent up a flare of animated whispers among my classmates. Usually we only socialized with the boys from our sister school, or rather, our brother school, Lord Channing’s School for Princes and Other Young Heroes, at our monthly balls or occasional tournaments. A fact, by the way, I was totally okay with. Most princes and assumed heroes tended to act like invincible idiots, so the less time I spent having to make uncomfortable small talk with them the better.

There were of course
some
boys who were semi-interesting to talk to. Like our friend Jason and his roommate Mark, for example. Jason was a Half-Legacy—the younger brother of the famous Jack who once climbed that overgrown beanstalk. Mark, on the other hand, was the prince of Dolohaunty and a full Legacy like me and SJ. They were both good guys—two of the few good guys out there—and I didn’t mind considering them my friends.

Thus, I conceded that this Saturday might actually be fun. Blue, Jason, and I would spend the day battle-royaling in the practice fields, and SJ and Mark would probably sit and watch us while discussing boring prince/princess stuff like the economy or trade routes.

I drifted out of my mental tangent then to discover Lady Agnue was still talking. She addressed each table in turn. When she glanced over at our table, I thought she shot me a slight glare. It might’ve just been my eyes playing tricks on me, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if she did.

To put it simply, Lady Agnue did not like me. It was no mystery why. After all, she was traditional, proper, and all about the rules, while I was a bold smart-mouth who enjoyed breaking said rules. Her loathing of me was no skin off my nose though, given that the feelings of animosity between us were fairly mutual.

Eventually, and not a moment too soon, our headmistress finished her speech and the much-awaited food was finally served.

Speaking candidly, it was probably for my own good that proper dinner etiquette kept me from eating as much or as fast as I would’ve liked to. Because I seriously
love
food. And tonight’s meal was definitely something to write home about. The main course was turkey, and the aroma of the roast and all its side dishes could’ve turned a vegetarian into a carnivore on the spot.

Needless to say that while catching up with the other girls around the table throughout dinner was great, what was really satisfying was shoveling way-too-large amounts of food in my mouth when my teachers weren’t looking.

Mmmm . . . mashed potatoes!