The Word Changers (Christian Fantasy) E-Book

Ashlee Willis

• Herausgeber: Dove Christian Publishers
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Her parents argue and fight almost every day. Not only is their marriage falling apart, but teenager Posy feels her life is falling apart with it. Amidst anger and tears, she retreats to the old library down the street. Posy selects one mysterious book in an undiscovered corner of the library and is magically drawn into another world.Posy finds herself in a kingdom ruled by a cruel and manipulative king and queen who have attempted to usurp the role that belongs only to the Author of their story. The princess flees, an uprising is breaking out in the kingdom, and the prince and other characters fight against their slavery to the Plot.Posy and the prince search for the fled princess, encountering hideous monsters, fierce battles, incredible danger, and strange creatures that Posy only ever dreamed. They must travel to mysterious places that expose the darkest part of the heart, their own raw fear, and past wounds that haunt them. Will they find truth and forgiveness as they plunge into the book? Will Posy and the prince save the story? Will Posy heal the heartache she knew in her own world?A fantasy with elements of Christian allegory, The Word Changers will keep you turning the pages until the very end.

Leseprobe

The

WORD CHANGERS

The

WORD CHANGERS

A Novel

Ashlee Willis

Conquest Publishers A division of Conquest Industries, LLC P.O. Box 611 Bladensburg, MD 20710-0611www.conquestpublishers.com Copyright © 2014 by Ashlee Willis All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission of the publisher. ISBN: to be assigned (eBook) ISBN: to be assigned (paperback)

For Mom and Dad, who taught me to see the worlds beyond the one we live in, and for Lacey, who was by my side in each of them.

The

WORD CHANGERS

Chapter One

A Bewildering Beginning

The moment she began to fall, Posy forgot everything except her descent. She even forgot how she had come to be falling in the first place. Everything behind her grew faint and far, and everything in front of her seemed a black void. Gravity worked backward, and her racing speed slowed. Now she floated, like a dry leaf, or a page torn from a book. Gradually she felt nothing at all.

And the entire time she was falling, she could hear voices, hollow and wide-flung, pulling her back from the precipice. Posy lifted a heavy hand to swat awkwardly at her face.

“You’ve come at last, my dear,” said the voice nearest her. “And about time, too.” Posy attempted to open her eyes, only to find it difficult. Was that the brush of a feather on her brow? She groaned in frustration at the weighted feeling she couldn’t shake.

A woman’s voice came faintly from a distance. “Will it work?”

“Well, their looks are quite different, I must say.” Now a man’s deep tones.

“It was what Your Majesty wanted, if I may remind you,” the answer came smoothly. “And after all, it is much too late now to send her back.”

“Let us hope it is only for a short time,” the woman spoke again, with a slight accent of distaste. “But see. The princess begins to wake.”

Why are they speaking so strangely?Posy’s thoughts crawled sluggishly into her head,And it is almost as if they are speaking about me...Did someone just say ... ‘Princess’?

Only last night—wasit only last night?—Posy lay in her own bed, listening to the sounds of unhappiness down the hall. Crying hadn’t stopped her parents from arguing. Praying hadn’t ended their hate for each other. Fists clenched into the pillow she had pulled over her head had done no good either. Of course it hadn’t.

All the same, something deep within her had clamored and quaked for a change. Something inside had whispered that things could not remain as they were. Perhaps this was the answer. But she thought it more likely it was all a horrid mistake.

Solid arms went around her, pulling her to a sitting position. “There we go, my dear,” said a man’s voice next to her ear. “What a scare we had, didn’t we, Valanor? We thought we were going to lose our princess.”

There was no doubt about it now. Someone was calling her princess. Posy’s eyes snapped open at last. What she saw almost convinced her she was dreaming, if everything hadn’t been so real and so unbearably bright. She had not seen a place like this before. What had she been doing before all this happened? Why could she not remember?

Standing around her bed were several individuals. The first one she noticed was a large man, tall and broad, with ruddy cheeks and a full black beard streaked with shots of gray. His must have been the arms that had moved her, as easily as a doll, up on the bed. He was smiling broadly at her through small, intent eyes as he rubbed his hands together with the anticipation of someone a fraction his age. Next to him stood a tall slender woman, breathtakingly—coldly—beautiful. Her white-blond hair fell over her pale shoulders and shimmered like fairy dust down the back of her exquisite gown. Posy blinked at the sight of the gold crown on each of their heads. A group of people—servants from the look of it—surrounded the two of them, all peering curiously at her.Just as the students in biology class all stare at those poor frogs in their glass tanks,Posy thought with a grimace.

“Did ...?” she began hesitantly. “Did someone call me—Princess?”

“Indeed! And how are you, my dear?” the man said, who seemed to be the king.

“I—I—am all right, I guess. Although—”

“Ah, good!” he boomed before Posy could say more. His grin widened, his white teeth gleamed. “Nothing to put you down for long, eh, Daughter?”

“Daughter?” Posy murmured in confusion, looking from the king to the queen and back again. She bit back a panicked laugh. A vision of her own mother and father—nothing like these two—swept through her head and was gone. Whathadhappened? she demanded of herself harshly. But she could remember nothing clearly. Nothing but ... but ... Posy sighed in frustration. The memory was just beyond her grasp.

“Yes, my daughter,” the queen repeated, her rich voice filling the corners of the room. “You had a fever, and we have been worried about you these many days. We even feared for your life. But you have proved the doctors wrong and are on the mend at last.”

“No,” Posy shook her head, “I am not your—”

“You may not remember, Princess,” a smooth voice, neither the king’s nor the queen’s, cut in. “They say a fever can chase many memories away, even keep some away forever. You were on a hunt with your father and mother, the king and queen, and the lords and ladies of the court. It began to rain. You, being the excellent horsewoman you are, decided the rain would not stop the hunt. You pushed on. But alas, that very night when the hunting party returned, you took ill with a delirious fever and have been abed ever since. You have regained consciousness only today.”

Posy heard these words with astonishment as she looked around the room for the person who had spoken them. At last, her eyes alighted on the stone windowsill. On it sat a great gray owl, at least twice the size an owl ought to be, sitting with feathered chest thrust forward, a self-satisfied expression on his face. Surely, she thought to herself ... surely theowldidn’t just ... . But even as she doubted it, the creature spoke again.

“But now, here you are,” he said soothingly, as if he were calming a distressed child, “and we all rejoice that you are restored to us.”

Posy stared, open-mouthed, but the creature merely gazed back at her placidly from where he perched.

“Yes, yes,” bellowed the king rather impatiently. “So we will leave you to rest, my dear. Come, Valanor.” He took the queen’s hand. “The Kingdom awaits us, you know.” And they swept from the room.

The Kingdom awaits us?Posy snorted under her breath. Had the man really just spoken those words? They seemed theatrical—like those you’d hear in a fairytale, or read in a ... Posy froze.

“In a book,” she said aloud, though the room was now empty.

Memory flooded her then. Once again, she could hear her parents down the hall, just as she had countless times before. Their voices rose and fell in anger, traveling through the house and into her room like an endless, waking nightmare. She remembered the heavy tread of her own feet as she launched from her bed, heard the jarring of her parents’ bedroom door as she ripped it open. And she had screamed at them—screamed to stop them shouting at one another, screamed to quiet the fear and anger that reared up inside of her. But she had seen their faces turning toward her, and their expressions had gone from shock to anger and then a disappointed sadness that was worst of all.

“How dare they?” Posy turned sideways and whispered into her pillow. “How dare they get angry. They were the ones hurtingme. And hurting Lily, too.”

Posy felt a thrill of sorrow, thinking of her little sister. Lily was only eleven. To Posy’ 15-year-old mind that was much too young to be subjected to the bitter misery of what their parents’ marriage was doing to their family. She had hoped Lily had heard nothing of the wild interchange of that night, when her parents shouted cruel words at one another, and she shouted cruel words to them in turn.

Tears pricked behind her eyes. Yes, she remembered now. Anger and tears had etched such deep grooves into her young heart that she hated the very thought of them. Anger and tears were what drove her out of the house and straight down the street to the library. Peace, and silence, and books. Posy clung to these things.

And that was where she had discovered the book. She had found it innocently enough, she supposed. The library was an old one, to be sure, but she had thought she knew all its dusty corners and sagging shelves by now. But somehow, yesterday, she had found herself in an unfamiliar place. And down the dimly-lit aisle she had chosen a strange, musty book, with a scrolling, antique font. Posy had chosen it for the lettering. It had reminded her of the covers of the fairytales she had read as a child—the ones that made her feel like a character in a kingdom far away from any troubles she knew in her own world. And she had certainly needed such an escape.

Her fingers could still feel the grooves of the book’s title, her hands the heaviness of its spine. She had opened it, and ... and ...

The thought that came to her next made her suddenly sit up in the unfamiliar bed. She didn’t dare say it aloud, to herself or anyone else, for it seemed so bizarre. All the same ...

Posy looked to the windowsill, intending to question the owl, but he was gone. A young maid in a simple gray gown approached Posy’s bed and began to straighten her covers in a fidgeting way, as if she didn’t know what was expected of her. The girl wouldn’t look into Posy’s face, even when Posy asked her for her name.

“Olena,” the girl said, keeping her chin down and her eyes on her clasped hands.

“Olena,” said Posy, thoughts of her own soft-spoken sister making her voice gentle, “I think you must know that I am not the princess, whoever she is, don’t you?”

Olena’s gaze shot up at once and her frightened eyes looked straight into Posy’s. “Yes! That is to say ... no! Oh, Princess! Please don’t ask me such things!” And the girl flew from the room as if she were escaping something horrible.

Think, Posy said to herself.Think hard. Where are you? How in the world did you get here? What were you doing last? Shouting at Mom and Dad—telling them to shut up, telling them I hated them. Yes, I remember that much. Then, at the library ... findingthe book, yes ... taking it ... feeling so strange .... Opening the book .... But that means... Posy’s mind swam and spun within her head. Whatdidit mean?

“You are within the book, yes.”

Posy started and turned toward the sound of the voice. The owl had returned and was sitting on the windowsill as if he had never gone, his soft gray and white feathers gleaming.

“In case you were wondering, which of course you have to be, you are within the book. That is really all I am at liberty to tell you for now, for things are a bit complicated within the Kingdom at present. Well,verycomplicated, in fact. I might tell you more at another time, but I don’t know when. It can’t be now. We need more privacy and I need more information. You will have to be patient, Princess.”

“But why are you calling me Princess?” burst out Posy. “You must know I am no princess, and certainly not the daughter of any king and queen. I don’t think you realize where I actually come from .... It’s nowhere like this!”

“Oh, of course it’s nothing like this,” the owl scoffed, ruffling his chest feathers. “No world is like this one. We are characters living within the Plot. And now you are one of us. But I can say no more—not now! I will find you when the time is right. In the meantime,Princess,I suggest you go along with whatever happens. It might be much less than pleasant if you decided to start talking and asking questions. No one asks questions here. You must follow the Plot. The king will have it no other way.” The owl made ready to fly out the window once again. As he turned, his head swiveled around toward Posy and he said, “I am Falak, the king’s chief adviser, if you have need of me. But you won’t, because there is nothing else to say now.” And he spread his great wide wings and dived off the windowsill and out of sight.

* * *

The thought slowly came upon Posy that perhaps it was no bad thing to be believed a princess. In fact, the more she thought of it, the more she liked the idea. How many times had she wished for just such a thing, as she sat curled on her bed enwrapped in a book?

As she lay on the enormous, soft bed underneath a silken coverlet, she began to feel very comfortable. Her fear and ignorance as to the way she had come to be in this strange place began to matter less and less. The owl had told her to play along, and she was only too willing if that meant living as a princess and forgetting the worries of her other life, which already seemed so far away. She determined that she would enjoy this adventure, even if it turned out to be a dream after all.

One thing worried her as she began turning things over in her mind. If this was a book, and it was full of characters, where had thetrueprincess gone? And what if she came back and found Posy had taken her place?

Chapter Two

Inside the Book

Posy slept as though she was exhausted that night, though all she had been doing was lounging in the princess’ grand luxurious bed all day. When she awoke, she felt almost as good as new, though she still had a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that things were not as they should be.

The maid named Olena appeared as if by magic and began to help her dress. When Posy had woken the day before she had found herself in a simple white gown. The worn jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt she had remembered previously wearing were nowhere to be found.

Olena helped Posy into a pale lilac-colored dress that felt like froth on her skin. It fell in folds of material that flattered Posy’s figure to great effect. She found herself staring into the mirror, not able to believe she was looking at herself.

Posy had never thought much of her appearance and had secretly thought herself rather plain. Her brown hair fell past her shoulders, always a bit wild because of the curl in it that she never seemed to be able to control. Wide green-gray eyes set in a pale, unexceptional face. Her figure ... well. “Late bloomer” was how her mother always kindly described her. But she had always accepted her flat, slender shape. The dress she wore now revealed a figure she hadn’t known was there. She blushed and turned away from the mirror.

She had gazed into the embellished mirror long enough to see a few things, though. The dress made her awkward new curves seem graceful. Her hair had a softness and her eyes a brightness that she didn’t recognize. Posy still didn’t think she could be called pretty, but she could look in the mirror and smile at her reflection now, which was more than she had ever done before.

After Olena had swept back Posy’s hair and laced it with tiny flowers, she told Posy she was finished and free to go.

“But go where?” Posy asked.

Olena fidgeted nervously and stared somewhere past Posy’s left ear. “I—that is to say—perhaps ... yes, perhaps you should see your father about that.”

“But, Olena, my father is not here. He is somewhere far away—not here. Whom should I see? Do you mean the king?” Posy couldn’t help herself asking, though she knew perfectly well whom Olena was referring to.

Olena’s hands jerked and she began wringing them together

“Well,” Posy said at last with finality when she realized the maid wasn’t going to answer her, “I will speak with the king, then.” And she picked up her skirts and swept from the room, feeling a thrill as her voluminous skirts swished around her ankles and her delicate slippers padded the marble floors.

Shutting the door behind her, Posy realized this was her first venture beyond the princess’ bedroom, and she felt a growing curiosity to see more of this kingdom she had fallen into. A book, she told herself incredulously as she traversed the wide halls of the castle. I am in a book—that is what the owl, Falak, told me. How can that be, when everything here is so solid and real? Posy slowed her pace and ran the tips of her fingers along the stone wall of the corridor. Real, hard, cold .... not a dream. Posy’s mind reeled.

“Daughter!” boomed a voice Posy immediately recognized. She took a deep breath before she turned and smiled shyly at the king, who was coming swiftly toward her. Posy had no idea how to respond to this large man as he towered over her and appraised her with his intense charcoal eyes. Her heart beat faster as she bowed her head slightly and lowered herself in what she hoped was a proper curtsey.

“Your Majesty,” she murmured, barely daring to look back up into his face. She didn’t know whether she was in awe or whether she wanted to burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“Oh, yes, quite proper, quite proper!” he beamed on her. “How well you have recovered, my Evanthe.”

“Evanthe?” began Posy.

“We will have to begin the Plot again now, won’t we? This time a bit more carefully, wouldn’t you say? We don’t want any more riding accidents, or any more straying from the lines. What would the Kingdom come to, eh?”

“Riding accidents?” Posy asked. “But I thought I was supposed to have had a fever ...”

“Ah,” the king gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Yes, yes, a fever, of course.”

How could he have forgotten what happened to his own daughter in such a short time? But then, Posy reasoned, I’m not his daughter, am I? Was it possible that she looked so similar to the princess Evanthe that she was truly being taken for her?

“But my name is Posy,” she finally said cautiously. “Thank you for having helped me recover—I’m still not quite sure what has happened, it’s all so confusing. But I am sure I’m not who you seem to think I am ... Your Majesty,” she added as an afterthought.

The king looked down on her for several moments, which seemed to stretch on, until finally he took a step closer to her. He took her arm gently in one of his large bejeweled hands and leaned toward her, closer and closer until his mouth was almost against her ear. “Now, we can’t have that sort of talk, my dear.” His smooth voice was deadly as a knife wrapped in satin. Posy’s heart began to pound as his grip tightened on her arm and his voice hissed just above a whisper. “People will begin to think that your injury did you a lasting harm. We follow the Plot here, my daughter, and if you stray from it, you will greatly regret it. You are my daughter, Princess Evanthe. I am your father, King Melanthius, ruler of the Kingdom and every creature within it. Your mother is Queen Valanor. You would do well to remember everything I tell you ... sweeting.” The king’s voice brightened abruptly as he spoke the last word and released her arm from his painful grip. Posy took one stumbling step backward. He reached a hand up to brush back a strand of her hair in a fatherly gesture, making a tsking noise. “Such a shame, your memory loss! You must meet with Falak as soon as possible to relearn the ways of the Kingdom, my dear. It seems you have forgotten a great deal indeed.” He turned on his heeled shoes and walked away from her down the corridor without another word.

Posy released a long shaky sigh and realized she had not been breathing. Had the king just threatened her? It all happened so quickly—his manner changed so swiftly—she almost could have believed it never happened at all. The king—indeed, the entire Kingdom—saw her as the princess Evanthe. Whether or not they actually believed her to be the princess did not seem to matter. The thought made her shudder.

She wondered how she could have let the farce go on so long. This was her second day in the book. If she had known it would come to this, she would never have done it. Then she remembered the king’s voice, his breath on her face and his steely hand on her arm, and knew it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Coldness seeped into her fingers and toes as she realized she was trapped. This was becoming more of a nightmare than the pleasant dream she had believed it to be.

* * *

When Posy had spoken to Falak before, the owl admitted she didn’t belong in this book—she was certain she hadn’t imagined it. She had to speak with him now, she told herself urgently, before things got even more frightening. She lifted her skirts around her ankles and started down the hall. A guard stood outside a pair of massive polished wood doors, and she slowed to a stop in front of him.

“Excuse me,” she said carefully, not knowing where to begin.

“Princess Evanthe.” The guard swept a low bow and then straightened. Posy noticed he was not looking into her face, just as Olena had done.

“I wish to speak with Falak. If you could show me where to go, please?” When the guard hesitated, she added, “King Mela ... my father wished me to speak with him.”

He gave a short nod and said, “Oh, yes, Princess. If you would follow me.”

The guard led her down so many hallways and up so many twisting stairwells that Posy was completely lost by the time they came to a stop. Before them stood a low arched doorway, wooden and riddled with knots. Posy attempted to catch her breath as the guard rapped lightly on the door. A noise came from within, and the man lifted the latch and entered, with Posy close behind him.

Though it was mid morning, the room was unsettlingly dark. A cursory glance about the large room revealed to Posy that all the tall windows were covered with thick drapes the color of a midnight sky. The only light in the room came from a fire roaring in the stone hearth on the far side of the room. The ceiling curved into a dome far above their heads. There were bookshelves that appeared to be carved from the trunks of great trees, branches thrusting out from the sides of them and curling into the room like searching fingers. Posy spotted Falak on one of these branches, his enormous round eyes flickering with firelight. He was so still that Posy realized she had been looking at him several moments without seeing him.

“Princess Evanthe to see you, Chief Adviser,” stated the guard, who was already bowing and backing out of the doorway to leave.

“Very good,” said Falak evenly. “Won’t you join me, Princess?” He spread his expanse of wings and glided from the branch to a chair near the fireside. Posy walked across the room and seated herself in the chair opposite.

“The king sent you?” Falak said. Posy was relieved to hear him refer to the king this way instead of saying “your father.”

“Yes, he did,” she answered, “though I wanted to come and talk to you anyway.”

“Oh? And why was that?” the owl tilted his head almost imperceptibly to one side.

“Because ... well, you told me yesterday we needed to speak—that you would speak to me—”

“When the time was right. When I had gathered more information. That time has not yet come. I can tell you part, but not whole. You will have to be patient, Princess.”

Posy searched his face and asked slowly, “Why do you call me Princess when you know I’m not?”

“Because whether you are Princess Evanthe or not, you are now a princess, and a princess is what we need to follow the Plot and save our book.”

“What?” Posy said incredulously. “But why?”

Falak blinked. “I will tell you what I can.”

Posy nodded expectantly.

“Our princess, the princess Evanthe has disappeared,” the owl began, and his huge eyes leapt with reflected firelight. “She has always been here for the Plot. She has never strayed until now. But when the day of–when a certain day came, she was nowhere to be found, and we discovered that she had run away.” His voice was low and sharp. “We do not know what caused her to leave. We do not know why she has betrayed us in this way. We only know that the Plot, and the Kingdom, cannot go on without her. The Kingdom has indeed been in uproar ever since we discovered her missing not four days ago. Though you are from another land, I am sure you can understand how a Plot cannot continue without one of its characters, yes? Our very lives have hung in the balance. King Melanthius and Queen Valanor have been beside themselves with worry for their daughter and with distress about what will happen to the Kingdom if she does not return soon.”

“So if everyone knows she is gone,” Posy said slowly, “why am I being treated as the princess? How did I even get here?”

“Ah, yes.” Falak ruffled his feathers and struck his downy chest out a bit. “That is due to me. Well, to be honest, I was aided by a good bit of luck as well.”

“You brought me here?” Posy’s voice rose in astonishment. “But how? How in the world did you do such a thing? How did you even know I existed?”

Falak shifted his clawed feet on the arm of the chair and cleared his throat, “I dabble–I am not proficient at all, you see–but I dabble in magic. I suppose you could say that I barely even do that. I merely study it, as a curiosity, of course. But I had learned, through my years of study of certain magical laws within our Kingdom and the Plot, laws that apply not only to us characters, but to those outside of our realm as well. We call them the Infinite Laws, for they apply no matter what story you may come from.”

“Even to me, and the story—I mean, world, that I come from?”

Falak nodded slightly. “You see, it is too complicated to explain to someone who has not studied it as I have–and that is why His Majesty left it to me–but in short, there comes sometimes what is called a Requirement. Now, Requirements can occur in both this world and yours or others. When they occur in either realm, there are usually two ways events can unravel: either the Requirement tends to disseminate and resolve of its own accord, or, if it is not resolved, it creates havoc and trauma. Our king is not the type who will stand idly by on the hope that something will take care of itself, and neither,” the creature’s eyes glinted fire-orange, “am I.”

Posy watched the owl closely as he spoke. She wondered just how much the king relied on his chief advisor, and how many decisions Falak himself had made for the Kingdom.

“The Requirement I speak of is, of course, the princess’ disappearance and the continuance of the Plot,” continued Falak. “We had a great need, you see. And here is the crux. In my studies I had learned that it is thought—though never, until now, proved—that if a Requirement occurred in two separate realms, and they were aligned—rather like an eclipse—then they might meld and solve each other. I hope—yes, I do believe—” His smooth voice became pitched with excitement. “—that this is what happened when you were brought here. You are the answer to our Requirement. And we, possibly, are the answer to yours, whatever it may be.”

Posy stared rather open-mouthed at Falak for several moments. She shook her head in disbelief and said, “But you’re wrong. I don’t have a ... Requirement.”

“Indeed?” Falak seemed unperturbed by her answer, and Posy knew he wasn’t fooled. She had of course had a need—there was no use pretending to herself she hadn’t. But was this the answer? It seemed ludicrous.

“Yes,” Falak said sharply. “I see in your face that you know it is true. It is as I thought. For the first time in the history of the Plot—or perhaps anywhere—a Requirement eclipse took place. You see, Princess, you are here for good reason—for a purpose.”

Posy did not know how to respond to this. It was outrageous, yes, but not more so than everything else that had happened to her in the past couple of days. She was beginning to miss her parents, however little they may care that she was gone, and she was quickly tiring of this.

“Well, I have stood in as the princess,” she said slowly. “Now what? As the king so kindly reminded me, I don’t know the first thing about the Plot, and most likely I’ll mess it up, and you won’t want me in it anyway.”

Falak eyed her without expression for several moments and said, “That cannot be helped. You will, of course, make minor slip-ups in the Plot, but they will be of no consequence, so long as we get to your purpose. Once a reader comes, it will be only three days you need remain here, then you will be free to go.”

“It only takes three days for my part to be over?” asked Posy suspiciously.

“Yes.”

“What happens to me, then? Am I even a major character at all?”

Falak straightened up on the arm of the chair and gave her a stern look. “Characters are all equal, for without one of them, how could the true Plot continue?”

Posy rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe you’re supposed to say that or something, but Falak, we all know there are major and minor roles in books, right? So, am I a major one or a minor one? Being the princess, I thought I would be one of the main characters, especially since the whole kingdom has gone crazy since she ran away.”

“Your role,” Falak said stiffly, “is pivotal to the Plot. Without it, the Plot would not survive.”

“So, major,” Posy said, then smiled when Falak drew his owlish brows together in silence. “What do I need to know about my character, then, since apparently I’m stuck here until I go through with this? Is there any type of script I need to look at?”

“No, no, nothing as conventional as that. Follow me.” The owl swooped across the hazy room to one of the tall shelves carved straight into a tree trunk. He indicated with his wing a bottle, one of seemingly hundreds that lined the shelves in the chamber. “This will give you explicit directions for everything you need to do or say. Just take it and open it after you leave my chamber. The rest will happen of its own accord.”

Posy reached her hand up to grasp the crystal bottle. “It’s a pity I’m not a good actress. My part as princess will never be believable, you know. I hope your readers don’t mind a bad performance!” She laughed.

“Our readers,” Falak said, his voice almost mournful sounding, “are very few, unfortunately. Dark fairy tales are no longer as popular as they once were. And you do not need to worry about acting—fortunately for all of us, readers take care of that part themselves. As long as you deliver your lines and place yourself where you are supposed to be when you are supposed to be there, the reader’s imagination fills in all the blanks. As long as the words to the Plot remain the same, and clear, all will be well.”

“Yes, of course, I hadn’t thought of that,” Posy said. “But”—she looked at Falak—“you said ‘dark fairy tale.’ What do you mean ... ‘dark’?”

“Oh, a story that is real, I suppose,” he answered carefully. “A story with tenacity, and strength. It has light that is bright, but shadows that are deep.”

Posy wasn’t sure that answered her question at all. “So, this one doesn’t end happily?” she asked with growing apprehension.

“That depends on who you are speaking of. For some, yes; for others, no. It is the Plot, and we follow it, or we would not exist.”

Why did he keep saying that? His eyes glowed as he studied Posy for a moment before adding, “There are things I wish to tell you, Princess, but as I said before, I cannot—not until I know more. I will come to you when it is time. Now go.” He flew up, up, so far into the domed ceiling that when Posy tilted her head back to gaze at him, he looked like a phantom gliding against the blackness of the sky.

Chapter Three

Imposter Princess

Opening the crystal bottle was like an enchantment. When Posy unstoppered the lid, it gave a slight pop, and then blue, misty light spilled gently over the bottle’s mouth, falling around her legs, moving up around her skirts and flowing into her hair and eyes. Her skin tingled as the mist’s delicate fingers ran along her spine and across her scalp. She shivered as pleasant warmth filled her from head to toe. It was when the sensation faded that Posy began to hear the voice, very softly telling her what to do. Walk down the hallway, dear. Yes, that’s the way. Now head down that staircase and make a right, then a right again. Come on, now, don’t dally, Princess.

She supposed when the time came, when a reader opened the book, and it was time to play her part, the voice would give her words to say, too. At least this way she wouldn’t have to memorize anything—that was a huge relief. The mist led her to her own chamber. Once she arrived, it stopped speaking to her, though she did listen for a while to make sure it was gone. “Well, what do I do now?” she said to the empty room.

The mist immediately appeared, swirling above her head. It made a tsking noise at her and said lightly, We have no reader at present, silly princess, so you need do nothing unless you wish to.

Posy moved across the room to one of the high windows, carved like a gash into the side of the stone wall. She gazed out across two more towers, lower and smaller than her own, a courtyard, and beyond that, what looked like stables. Fields stretched beyond the sprawl of the castle, and beyond them Posy saw a dense line of forest, far down a sloping hill.

Her thoughts must have been waiting for such an opportunity of silence and solitude, for they seemed to descend on her now. Words spoken, things that had happened, seemed to come together in her mind.

First off—the princess had run away. Falak had told Posy that her part in the Plot was pivotal. Everyone knew Posy wasn’t the princess, but they wouldn’t admit it—wouldn’t even look her in the eye. Why, why after so long, had the princess Evanthe run away from the Plot? Why else, Posy asked herself, than to escape what it held for her?

Posy felt her body suddenly grow cold. She shivered and moved away from the window toward the hearth where a fire had been lit. Sitting in a high-backed chair, she stared into the bright flames. She just had to know the answer, she decided.

She sensed it was horrible, the thing the princess had run from. She saw it in Falak’s cool gaze, in the king’s threats, and even in the darting glance of her maid and the guards in the hall. For it was Posy who now played the part, it was she who would face whatever was to come. Falak said the story would end happily for some. But for others …?

“Is mine a dark ending?” Posy murmured to the mist that hung shimmering around the bedpost. Her heart was pounding to hear the answer. But all she heard was silence.

* * *

The day wore on and, despite her worries, Posy grew bored. She paced the marble floors of her room, her lavender dress swishing around her, and she gazed upon the bright tapestry murals hanging on the stone walls of her bedroom until she had committed them to memory. Olena brought Posy’s lunch on a gold-embellished tray. Posy thought, as she watched Olena place the food on the table by her fireside, perhaps it will all taste like nothing. What can food taste like in a book? But when she took her first bite she was overwhelmed with bursts of sensation and incredible flavors. “Oh, no,” she said aloud, smiling at Olena, “I will be ruined for normal food after this.” Olena’s eyes grew round, and she nodded awkwardly before curtseying and rushing toward the door to make her escape.

Posy sighed. “Olena, before you go, could you tell me something?”

The girl turned, her blond curls trembling on either side of her pale face.

“When do you think my father and mother will want to see me? I mean the king and queen. You see, my head injury made me forget so many things.” Posy put her hand delicately to her temple, grimacing a bit for effect. It had been a head injury, hadn’t it? Or had it been a fever? She couldn’t recall, but it didn’t seem to matter to Olena.

Relief spread across the maid’s face at the normalcy of the question, and she smiled. “Well, Princess, it is customary for characters to wait until a reader comes to begin their roles at all, but it is never much opposed if members of the royal family, such as yourself, choose to roam the castle or the grounds to find amusement in the meantime. The king himself likes to organize hunts, and throw an occasional ball, between readers.”

“And what do you do while waiting for a reader, Olena?” Posy asked curiously.

“Oh, my lady, I have much to do. We have to keep the castle scrubbed and shining in the event that a reader opens the book. The Plot has to be ready to spring into action at every possible moment. You never know if the reader will open the book at the beginning or in the middle ... they’re so unpredictable!”

“What is your role in the book?”

“I am your maid,” she said as if the answer should have been obvious.

“And what is your name in the Plot?”

“Why, it is Olena, my lady.”

“So you are a character, but the character is also who you really are?”

At this Olena looked still more puzzled. “My lady?”

“Hmm. Well, never mind.” Posy licked sauce off one of her fingers and tried to ignore Olena’s stare of horror. “I suppose since I am of the royal family, I will take advantage of my freedom and walk around the castle grounds for a while. If anyone asks where I am, you can tell them what I’m doing.”

“Very good, my lady,” Olena curtseyed one last time and disappeared quietly through the doorway.

Posy stood up with renewed energy. If only she had known this hours ago! The castle had to be extremely vast, and the grounds full of wonderful places to explore. As she headed for the doorway of her bedroom, the mist piped up, rushing over her shoulders and into her ear, Darling girl, you are not going to venture out in those shoes! And without a wrap! For shame, Princess!

“Oh, um.” Posy looked down at her light fabric slippers. She quickly exchanged them for a pair of smart-looking little boots she found in the scrolled wooden cabinet by her bed and grabbed a white fur cloak with a fluffy hood and threw it over her shoulders.

Posy enjoyed getting lost, really, although she knew in this castle full of guards and characters and mists, she could never really be alone. Nevertheless, she instructed the mist to stay in her room. She preferred to find her own way this time. It consented with a disappointed sigh.

After seemingly endless twists and turns down hallways that all somehow looked the same, and down several treacherously steep stone staircases, Posy finally emerged from the walls of the castle and into a courtyard. Sun spilled onto her and she sighed with pleasure. But the wind nipped at her cheeks and nose, and as she made her way across the cobbled courtyard and past a bubbling fountain, she pulled her cloak tightly about her shoulders.

Posy didn’t know where she was going. She just walked, a feeling of freedom overcoming her after being confined almost entirely in her room for two days. She eventually came to the outskirts of the gardens and saw the stables ahead of her.

“Good afternoon, mistress,” a young stable boy called to her and bowed as she neared one of the high wooden doors where he stood brushing a horse. “Would you like to ride today?”

“Oh, I, uh ...” Posy was taken aback. She never rode a horse in her life, and she knew without a doubt that now was not the time to learn. “No, I don’t think so today. Thank you, though.”

“Lad, what must you be thinking, asking the princess such a question?” A new voice emerged from the darkness of the stables and the speaker strode out into the sunshine. “After the accident that she has just recovered from? I wouldn’t be surprised if she never wanted to see a horse again!”

Posy looked up into the face of a young man about two or three years her senior. His hair hung in silken black waves to his shoulders, and his dark eyes swam with amusement and something like mockery as he took in her appearance from head to toe. He was certainly no stable hand, obviously, judging by his clothes and his way of speaking. Arrogant, Posy thought with a frown.

“Oh, excuse me,” his voice invaded her thoughts. “It was a head injury, wasn’t it?” His dark eyes bore into her, gripped her as if her response would answer more than what he asked.

Posy turned away from him, lifting her chin. “No, I won’t ride today,” she said haughtily. “But that certainly doesn’t mean that I won’t ever ride again. Thanks for your obvious concern, though.” She turned to leave and caught his eyes still on her. Their intensity made her want to squirm, or to run away. Instead, she swung to face him and said, too angry and flustered to care, “Isn’t there something you should be doing? Somewhere you need to be? You’re ... annoying.” She tried not to think about how childish the words sounded.

The black-haired young man gave a snort of derision, then shrugged and said, “Have it your way, then. Evanthe always did. Why should her ... replacement be different?”

Posy’s mouth dropped open, and the hand of the stable boy next to her stopped brushing the horse in mid stroke. She watched the young man’s back as he strode indifferently back into the stables. No one save Falak had yet been so blunt with her about her role here, and the fact that she was so out of place.

But she had seen something, only for a moment. Something had happened, behind his black eyes, so quickly she could almost convince herself it hadn’t been there at all. But not quite. What had it been? Fear? Sadness? Confusion? Perhaps all three. Posy suddenly felt deflated and empty.

Bells clanged raucously from a high tower somewhere as Posy made her way back through the gardens and into the castle.

* * *

Olena was waiting when Posy arrived back in her chamber. “My lady.” Olena dipped a short curtsey and said, “I am here to tell you dinner will be in an hour, in the Great Hall, with the king and queen.”

“I am to eat with the—with my mother and father?” Posy asked. “Is that ... usual? I mean, did I do that back before I had my—er—sickness?”

“Oh, yes, on occasion, Princess, although not always. Usually it was when—” Here she stopped a moment as if wondering if she should continue. “Normally His Majesty wants to sup with his family if he has something important to say about the Plot or one of the characters.”

“I see. All right, then. Can you help me get ready?”

“Of course, miss. I will help you change, and dress your hair for you.”

For the next hour, while Olena worked on fashioning Posy’s hair high up on her head, using hot tongs to make small ringlets around her face, Posy’s mind wandered. So, she would face the king and queen tonight. She had not seen the king since their alarming exchange in the corridor that morning, which now seemed so very long ago. She didn’t feel apprehensive exactly, but a nervous anticipation tingled through her. Maybe she would learn something more tonight.

When she was ready at last and stood before the mirror, Posy was captivated by what she saw. It wasn’t Posy at all, she thought. Perhaps everyone truly did believe she was the princess, if this was how she appeared to them. Beneath the pale shade of powder Olena had covered her face with and the delicate curls hanging to her shoulders, Posy searched for recognition of the self she used to see in the mirror.

Now she thought of it, what had she looked like? Something in this book, or maybe in the castle, seemed to hang over her, threatening to make her forget all she had known before. Posy attempted to bring up the image of her sister in her mind, her mother, her father, her house. She realized with a feeling of dread that she couldn’t. A cloud—a sort of fog—fought to cover things in her mind. She could feel it, tucked at the edge of her consciousness. She suddenly knew she had to leave this place as quickly as she could.

* * *

The mist led her to the banqueting hall, commenting on her appearance between directions. Posy nodded absently as it swirled about her shoulders like a cloak and murmured, I do believe that dress makes you look a bit taller than normal, dear.

“That’s great,” Posy said absently, her mind elsewhere.

“Daughter!” King Melanthius’ voice rang down the length of the enormous vaulted room as Posy walked through the doors. “Come—come down here quickly now. Let the queen and me get a look at you!”

Posy made her way as gracefully as possible past all the empty tall-backed chairs lining the long table. She looked up into the king’s face with some trepidation, wondering how to behave with him after their last conversation. But his face gave away nothing; indeed, he looked as if there had never been a harsh or awkward word between them. He smiled sincerely at her and scooped her hand into his large one, kissing it. Then he pulled out a chair for her.

“Evanthe, my darling,” the queen smiled placidly, her long white hands resting upon her lap. “I am so glad you are feeling well enough to join us this evening. Your recovery has been nothing short of a miracle.”

Posy felt cold when the queen spoke. It was as if her words were a script or a pretense. Even a mask.

“Yes,” Posy said, “I am feeling much better. Thank you, Your Majesty.” She found that though she had referred to the king and queen as her parents to Olena so as not to upset her, she couldn’t do it to their faces. They were most certainly not her parents, and she could not imagine them ever being so.

The king took his seat at the head of the table. The queen and Posy sat across from one another further down the table. Melanthius looked upon them both with a generous smile. “We are expecting a reader any day now, you know.”

“We are?” Posy blurted before she could stop herself. How can they know when a reader will come?

The king raised a black eyebrow. “Why, yes. We are always expecting a reader. It could be tomorrow—it could be in a week. Who knows? But we will get one, make no mistake. Our story will be told, princess. My story, your mother’s ... yours.”

“And ...” Posy took a nervous breath, “what is my story, Your Majesty?”

The king’s dark eyes squinted at her, and his mouth instantly drew into a tight line. In panic, Posy tried to change tactic.

“That is—with the accident, I have forgotten many things. I know that when the time comes for me to play my part in the Plot, I will do so. I just ... I would like to know ahead of time what is expected of me.” There was no reason the king should grant her request. Nevertheless, she had to ask, even if she was refused.

Queen Valanor gazed at her husband, and he frowned, drawing his bushy eyebrows together. “I believe I will tell you, Evanthe, since it is understandable that with your memory loss, you will want to be reminded. Tonight is not the time, though. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon? In my audience chamber.”