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“The Rule of Apology: Being royal means never having to say you're sorry.”

—Thomason's Tips to Ruthless Ruling

Sterling dropped his sword and shrieked like a milkmaid, running behind me. “It's alive! Why is it alive?”

I tried to yank the prince forward. “Quit being a puss in boots. There's your beast. Hurry and get it.”

Sterling steadfastly refused to move from his cover while the dragon hopped off his pedestal and started advancing. I was about to grab Sterling's sword for myself when the creature stopped, rolled to the side, and started wailing.

“I've been wounded!” Its cries echoed throughout the grand foyer. “All these years of faithful protection and I am betrayed, stabbed in the back.”

The poor thing thrashed around as if in death throes, its hollering pitiful and loud. And if it didn't shut its snout, it was going to get me in trouble.

I crouched down beside it, retrieving the missing chunk in the process. “Shh, shh. It's no big deal. I can fix it. No need to be upset.” I spoke in soothing tones and tried putting the piece back in, hoping the magic that brought it to life would put it back to sleep once it was whole.

The chunk clattered to the floor the moment I let go.

“Farewell these mortal coils!” The dragon gave one last exhale and lay still.

“Oh, Mortimer, don't get your scales in a bunch. It's just a chip.”

Between the wailing and shushing, I hadn't heard anyone approach. The Emerald Sorceress's gnarled green finger, complete with razor-sharp red-tipped nails, poked me under my chin, forcing me up until I stared at her warty nose. The single, wiry hair sticking out of the wart twitched, a signal I've come to interpret as meaning
You're pixed
.

Verte was the kingdom's head sorceress, oracle, palace grump, and the only reason I hadn't died of sheer boredom. We were often partners in mischief, unless I was messing with her stuff, and then I was on my own. One time, I blew up her cauldron trying to make soup. In retaliation, she sent me a billy goat that ate my entire closet's contents.

Mortimer, the carved emerald dragon, shook his scales and sprang up to his claws, scurrying into Verte's arms. While she was cooing and stroking him like a cat, I took the opportunity to try and sneak away. Just beyond the still-cowering Sterling, the entrance to the palace stood slightly ajar, even though I was less than three feet away.

It had worked…sort of. As I inched closer, the door remained frozen, but I could almost feel it wanting to shut, like it too was alive. The opening was small, but maybe if I sucked in and shimmied sidewa—

“Dorthea Gayle Emerald! Do not take a single step outside that door.”

Mortimer's caterwauling had drawn more than just Verte; the commotion had also caught the attention of my mother. She stood tall, proud, and stone-faced at the archway between the ballroom and the foyer. Every inch of her looked regal, from her sweeping velvet dress to her brown hair, braided back into a severe bun. My father stood behind her, and the servants she'd been directing poked their heads around the archway wall.

At a noticeably safe distance.

Caught red-handed, with a large audience no less, there was no use pretending it didn't look like exactly what it was. Time to use the skills that every proper princess was born with—begging, pleading, and whining until I got my way.

“
Please
please
please
please.
I'll do anything you want if you let me outside for just a little while.”

My mother's eyes narrowed and her chin squared into an even harder line. “And what of the curse? Have you forgotten? Or perhaps you think we stay inside to avoid grass allergies.”

I folded my arms, refusing to budge. “Seriously, has anyone ever thought about the shelf life of this thing? That spell is as ancient as Verte and probably past its expiration date. The elemental hags are probably dead, so maybe their magic died with them.” No one said anything for a few beats, so I continued, determined to win my cause. “I promise I'll be really careful and not play with matches and only go into stores that use glow crystals.”

My father, ever compassionate, stepped in to help plead my case. “Em, perhaps just a few minutes with an escort wouldn't—”

Mother cut him off with a withering glare. “Henry, I believe you have other things to attend to.”

In my head, I imagined the crack of a whip as my father's shoulders slumped and he went back to catching will-o'-the-wisps in the courtyard.

Mother's eyes softened a little as she walked toward me. “I'm not purposely being cruel. This is the story the Makers have given us. Were it just the possibility of an endless sleep, I might consider breaking the rules. But it's more.
Girl
of
Emerald, no man can tame. Burn down the world, consumed by flames
.” She placed a gentle hand on my cheek. “Can you really risk the lives of our people on a few maybes?” Anger and sadness filled her voice. After all, she was bound by the curse too.

And that's exactly why she should understand how
I
felt.

“But can't you see I won't be risking anyone?” I started to explain my brilliant backup safety plan, which included half a dozen servants with water buckets. My words withered and died in my throat as her eyes turned steely again.

“You have already put us all at risk by breaking the dragon and thus the protection spell cast over this entire palace!” Before she turned away, I saw her unmistakable and familiar look of disappointment.

Oops
didn't quite seem sufficient, but how was I supposed to know the dumb carving actually did something useful besides looking sparkly? “Sterling,” my mother snapped sharply. The prince immediately stopped cowering and stood at attention. “As a favor to the throne, would you please stand guard at the door? With the barrier broken, now we must watch both what comes in and what goes out.”

Sterling bowed, going on and on about his guarding pedigree as my mother walked away without giving me another look.

I gave Sterling a thorough evaluation—yeah, I could take him, but then he'd scream and the guards would have my nose in the dirt before I made it past the carriageway. But now I knew it was possible; I would just have to wait for my chance.

Almost as if the little dragon could hear me plotting against him, he stirred again and pulled his shortened foreclaw to his head in a melodramatic gesture. “I feel myself slipping away. Is that a light I see?”

Verte bopped him on the snout and ambled away. “Be quiet, you ninny, or I'll turn you into a pair of earrings.” Her voice faded down the hall.

Most of the crowd had dispersed. The final few stragglers looked at me with the all-too-common look of fear mixed with trepidation. Pix 'em. They were just servants. It wasn't like their opinion mattered.

Only one remained, watching me with open curiosity. He looked to be in his late teens or was magically enhanced to appear so. He could have been a hundred for all I knew. I'd never seen him before in my life. He was handsome enough, for a commoner, even in his worn leather pants and cracked work boots. A foreigner, his hair was unruly and dark auburn, which complemented his tanned but dirt-smudged complexion, though the tall, dark stranger vibe was ruined by his piercing pale blue eyes.

Well, I'd had enough of being a sideshow for the day. “If you're the new gardener, the hedges are overgrown and in need of a trim.” I pointed in the direction of my father. “While you're there, you can help the king with the wisps.”

The young man's expression clouded over, but he didn't move.

I stamped my foot and pointed more forcefully. “Off with you. Courtyard's that way. Be sure to clean those awful boots before coming back in.”

“Someone told me I'd find a princess of great worth here. One with the strength to be the hero this realm needs.” He stared at me with those unsettling blue eyes. They were cold, like ice water—made me shiver from head to toe. Then his gaze seemed to search even deeper. Finally, he looked through me, like I was nothing.

In brisk steps, he strode across the marble to the courtyard. But before crossing the threshold, he turned back to glare at me with his lip curled ever so slightly. “It seems she was mistaken.”

Just like that, I had been sifted, weighed, and found wanting.

I felt my own lip curl in response.
How
rude!
Who the Grimm was this peasant to judge me? I was wearing a Glenda original. Original! Not some fairy-godmother knockoff worn by those servant girls turned royal. I was a crown princess, for the love of fairy, and
no
one
dismissed me.

Before I could put the boy in his place—down in the dirt, where he belonged—a clatter came from behind, making me nearly jump out of my shoes. I checked and was relieved that Sterling had simply dropped his sword. By the time I looked back, the gardener was gone.

After stowing his blade, Sterling held up his shield, not in defense of the entrance but so he could look at his reflection. “Clearly he's blind and doesn't know what he's talking about.”

I didn't ask for Sterling's opinion, but it made me feel better.

Until he opened his mouth again.

“Worth,
pffft
. I mean, look around at all the jewels. Your palace has everything you could ever want. Honestly, I don't know what you're fussing about. Why would anyone want to leave?”

Because
a
cage
is
still
a
cage, no matter how big or glittering the bars are.

And I would find a way free, no matter the cost.

“Rule #43: Beware of strangers bearing gifts—especially little old ladies and cute kids.”

—Definitive Fairy-Tale Survival Guide, Volume 1

Even though I was in trouble, princess protocol required me to attend the ball. Nobody said I had to be on time though. Since I arrived fashionably late, the celebration was already in full swing.

Everyone had dressed in their finest, myself included. I'd used my StoryExpress card to buy a gown and matching cardigan shrug spun from platinum; it was softer than silkworm wings. Best of all, it was self-sizing, so the dress would fit the same before and after I made the rounds at the buffet. The couture fashion was a one-of-a-kind and practically cost my firstborn, but it was totally worth it.

But as usual, the shoes really completed the look—limited edition silver Hans Christian Louboutin slippers, with crushed rubies covering the sole and two-inch heel. They'd been a Muse Day gift from Verte and made my feet tingle with happiness. Very few things in the world couldn't be fixed with a new pair of shoes.

Unfortunately, my mother's ire was one of those unfixable things.

I hurried past the base of the dais, hoping my parents wouldn't notice my late arrival. They did but, as usual, were too busy greeting royals and dignitaries to make time for me. For once I didn't mind though. Between the dragon incident and now, my mother had sent three page boys to fetch me, each servant more insistent than the last. I'd ignored them all, pretending to be asleep when they had yelled through my door. Whatever Mother wanted to talk about, I guarantee I didn't want to hear it.

On my way to the center of the room, I waved at Rapunzel, one of the few princesses who wasn't half bad. After all, she was a former shut-in herself. She didn't notice me, since she was busy untangling her hair from some pugnacious lady's mountain of éclairs. Above them, the will-o'-the-wisps tried to get away in their crystal balls, but the gold chains held them tethered around the wisps' middles. Their agitated flittering made the light shimmy and sparkle around the room.

In particular, the wisps' glow bounced off the foil ornaments, making the Story Spruce look like it had been dusted with glitter. I couldn't help but be drawn to it, and reached for one of the twinkling stars.

The smell of incense overpowered the tree's wintery scent as a deep male voice whispered in my ear, “You don't need one of those to make your dreams come true.”

I pivoted sharply on my heels and somehow ended up in a stranger's arms.

“Pardon me,” I demurred politely and tried to take a step back. When his arms stayed firm, I said, “I'm steady. You can let go now.” After that didn't work, I threw princess niceties aside with a “get off” and pushed him away.

I didn't get very far.

“A beautiful jewel such as yourself shouldn't be alone in a corner. Dance with me and shine.” The anonymous Prince Smarming didn't wait for permission before twirling me onto the dance floor in time to the music. Other girls around us swooned with dreamy expressions, like they too hoped to be swept off their feet.

Understandable, since the grabby stranger looked pretty good—okay. Who was I kidding? He was gorgeous in his finely tailored suit that even I couldn't find fault with. His golden hair somehow seemed windswept, even without a breeze. And when he smiled, his sapphire-blue eyes twinkled, and his cheeks had dimples big enough to keep your gems in.

I still wasn't interested.

Though I'd never met the man before, I'd met his scent. Ever since my parents started playing matchmaker, I'd received an avalanche of love letters all doused with the same noxious sandalwood-and-rose cologne. After the first hundred, I asked Father to make the hounds guard my window to scare off the carrier doves.

I vaguely remembered the guy's name, but mostly I thought of him as
stalker
. “Look, McWhiz or something.”

“I'm flattered you made the connection, even though I've been unable to introduce myself in person until now. However, the name is Mick, the Magnificent Wizard of—”

“It doesn't really matter,” I interrupted. “For one, you're way too old for me. And since you're not a prince, you're not eligible to be a suitor anyway. So you can stop with the creepy fan mail.”

A quick frown marred Mick's face before reversing; he blinded me with his pearly whites. “That was rather rude for a lady, but I'll forgive it this time, since I've a keen interest in you, young Dorthea of Emerald.”

“That's nice,” I said sarcastically and yanked on my hand, but the action only seemed to make him hold me tighter.

“You remind me of someone I used to know.”

“Good, then go dance with her.”

“That's not possible.” He faltered on the three count of the waltz. “I made a mistake and let her slip through my fingers.”

History was about to repeat itself. Mick's clinginess made it that much easier to “accidently” step on his shiny, gold-colored shoes.

Hard.

While he gasped and reached for his injured foot, I slipped away and out the ballroom doors into the courtyard.

I found a quiet place in the very back of the gardens, among the agave lilies and a few wisps that Dad seemed to have missed. The lilies were my favorite flowers, even though the blossoms came from a prickly cactus. Unfortunately, their beauty was marred because all of the nearby topiaries were so overgrown that the lion more closely resembled a hedge hippo than the lean and ferocious king of beasts.

Apparently, the gardener was not only rude, but also horrible at his job.

I wandered over to take a closer look and catalog all his mistakes; I'd already started a mental tally of all his faults, so that next time he crossed my path, I'd be prepared to return his previous insult. With interest.

My list-making ended abruptly. I was no longer alone in the leafy menagerie. A little girl stood in the moonlight, her skin pale as a china doll's, her hair sparkling like spun silver. Taking a step toward me, she nearly tripped on her too-large pewter gown. The wobble made the huge fire opal necklace she wore swing wildly across her chest.

“Are you lost?” I asked, stooping low just in case her dress-up clothes tripped her up again. “What's your name?”

“Emerald Princess, just who I was looking for.” Her voice tinkled like broken crystal. “I'm an intern with the Union of Fairy Godmothers, and I have a present for you.” The little girl smiled brightly and extended her hand. When she opened it, there was a delicate, white object inside.

While I was not the kind of girl to pass up any kind of gift, unless the union recently started using munchkin labor, the child was fibbing. But I remembered making up things at that age too, trying to get someone to play with me.

I went along with her game and gingerly picked the gift out of her palm, hoping it would at least be jewelry or something nice. Looking closer, the white seemed to be ivory but just broken pieces stuck together into a crude ball kind of shape. Something was inside as well. It was not ribbon—too thin. Perhaps silver thread. No chance this came from Blooming Dales. The child had probably made it herself.

“Um, thanks. This looks…”
Terrible. Chintzy
. “Like someone worked hard to make… What exactly is it?”

“It's a Muse Day wishing star, made just for you. But you can't show anyone,” she said with a serious face.

I placed the “star” gently into the pocket of my silk shrug; I could ditch it when she wasn't watching. “I'll keep it out of sight.”

“Good,” the kid said, sounding satisfied at my promise. “Wish on it well, so you'll get exactly what you deserve.”

Before I could ask what she meant by that, the girl vanished—thin-air style.

Maybe she had a bit of fairy godmother in her after all.