The Thirteenth Fairy Page 7

  Jack’s brow furrows. “Zera fled into exile. The ogres have been marching across Never After, taking kingdom after kingdom. One by one they fall, forced into surrender and submission. Zera took refuge in Vineland after they invaded Parsa.”

  Filomena turns pale.

  “When we left, the capital was crawling with ogres intent on finding Aladdin’s Lamp,” Jack says, his voice trembling a bit. “There are only a handful of free kingdoms left—Eastphalia, Vineland, the Deep, to name a few—since the surviving fairy tribes went into hiding.”

  “How many kingdoms are still free?” she asks.

  “No one knows. Zera’s been trying to get in touch with all of them, but it’s been difficult. They say Queen Olga has spies everywhere.”

  “Oh my, is that Westphalia?” asks Filomena, pointing to a faraway kingdom surrounded by a thorny wall of vines that reach as high as the castle towers. The entire kingdom is cut off, covered by bramble and bristle. “What happened?”

  “Doesn’t it say in those books of yours?” asks Jack.

  Filomena shakes her head. She tells him what she knows, what was written: that the evil fairy Carabosse cursed the baby princess and wreaked havoc on the kingdom. But that’s where the tale ends.

  Oh, she’s heard the usual stories: about the spindle and the curse of sleeping death and all of that. But Filomena reads the Never After books to learn the real stories. What happened to Princess Eliana? What happened to the evil fairy Carabosse? What really happened in Westphalia?

  She waited a year to find out what happens next, and instead the book wasn’t published.

  “Westphalia fell on the day of the princess’s christening thousands of years ago. It was the beginning of the end,” Jack tells her. “The princess was supposed to bring peace and hope to the kingdom. Instead, it all went bad after Carabosse delivered her curse. Some say she turned the queen into a monster, but others say Olga was an ogre all along. No one knows the truth. And no one’s seen or heard of King Vladimir since, much less the babe. Everyone blames Carabosse. They say this is exactly what she wanted to happen, that she was probably working with the ogres all along,” Jack says bitterly.

  “That’s it?” Filomena asks.

  “That’s it,” says Jack. “Ever since the christening, Queen Olga has been obsessed with finding the princess. She’s tried the Ring of Infinity and the Magic Mirror to look for her.”

  “Why does she want the princess so badly?”

  “There’s some sort of prophecy around the princess’s return. That she’ll bring death to the ogres,” says Jack.

  “No sign of her anywhere, though,” says Alistair. “Prophecy schmophecy. It’s been forever. The princess is gone.”

  “Anyway, now Olga’s fixated on the lamp. We tried to stop her from getting it, and the ogres chased us right off a cliff,” says Jack.

  “Wait—before you came to my world, you fell off a cliff?” she asks. It’s the exact same scenario as at the end of book twelve.

  Jack nods. “I told you, we were running away and stumbled into your world.”

  Filomena is so shocked she can’t speak. I’m in the book. I am in the thirteenth book.

  This is the story. It’s being written before her eyes.

  But what happens now? Jack Stalker is supposed to rescue the princess and set things to rights so that everyone lives happily in Never After.

  But will he?

  Jack looks up at the darkening sky. “Come on. We should hurry.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  FILOMENA’S JOURNEY

  “Are we almost there? We’ve been walking forever.” Filomena’s backpack feels like it’s getting heavier and heavier on her shoulders with each step she takes. Her legs are growing more tired by the minute. She feels her stomach rumble, reminding her that it’s been a long time since they hunted down those cheeseburgers. She’s been quiet, thinking about what Jack told her about the latest events in Never After. Of course, she should have expected it. It’s in the books, after all, but she didn’t realize it was real. That the war against the ogres is real. Evil Queen Olga is real. Which means Filomena is actually in real danger here.

  Grave danger.

  Filomena has had so many irrational fears that it’s difficult to face a rational one. She should be quaking in her boots, terrified that another Ogre’s Wrath will come out of the blue. But instead she’s mostly exhausted and hungry and too tired to feel frightened.

  “Yeah, we’re almost there. It’s just around the bend ahead,” Jack says.

  “Thank moons,” replies Alistair. “Me legs’re about to give out. I hope Zera’s made her tulip cake.”

  Filomena scrunches her nose even as she’s glad that Alistair’s gotten her mind off impending death via ogre strike. She’s hungry, but … she’s not so sure about eating flowers. “Tulip cake?”

  Alistair looks at her, agape. “Surely you’ve had it before?”

  She shakes her head in response. “I mean, I’ve read about it, obviously. But where I’m from, we don’t typically eat flowers. I have heard of rose-flavored tea, though. Mum says it’s weak. She prefers the ‘hard stuff.’ Proper English tea.”

  Alistair lets out a hearty chuckle and playfully slaps her arm. “Rose-flavored tea! That’s a good one!”

  “It exists!”

  “I’m sure it does,” says Alistair. “And you saying you don’t eat flowers!”

  “I don’t.”

  Alistair laughs harder. “As if I’d believe that!”

  “I think she’s serious, Alistair,” Jack says.

  Alistair stops laughing almost as quickly as he started, and his face contorts into an appalled version of itself. “Wh-what? Why? The options are limitless. There are so many delicious flowers. So many petals. The juices. The flavors. The healing properties. Not to mention the potions and the magic in them!”

  “Alistair!” Jack interrupts. “Don’t make her feel bad. She’s never been here, remember?”

  “Sorry,” Alistair says. “I just can’t believe it. I wouldn’t want to live in a world where you don’t eat flowers. White orchid pastries are one of my favorite treats. Oh, almost there, Fil. That’s Zera’s cottage ahead.”

  She looks ahead of her, then looks around in every direction, but there’s no cottage in sight. “Alistair, I think you’re suffering from heat exhaustion or something. Or maybe you’re seeing a mirage. There’s no cottage here.”

  “What do you mean?” huffs Alistair. “It’s right in front of you!”

  “Filomena can’t see Zera’s cottage. It has the glamour around it, remember?” Jack looks at Alistair like his friend should know this.

  “Ohhhhhh yeah,” Alistair says. He turns to Filomena and shrugs. “Sorry. Forgot you’re not immune to glamour yet.”

  “How do I get im—” she starts, but Jack interrupts their banter.

  “All right,” he says. “Settle down.” Jack reaches out to what looks like absolutely nothing but air in front of him, knocks thrice, pauses, then knocks once more, pauses, and knocks thrice more. After a few moments stretch by, he turns an invisible knob, makes an opening motion with his hand, and says, “After you.”

  She still sees nothing—although she heard the knock sound on a solid surface—and she stares at the empty space, reflecting on how strange he looks holding an imaginary door open for her. Then he leans against the nothing, shoulder pressed on a surface she can’t see, and she can’t believe he hasn’t fallen over already.

  “Go on,” Alistair encourages her, gently pushing her forward.

  “Go where, exactly?” she wants to know.

  “Inside, silly,” Alistair says.

  But her feet don’t move. She’s frozen where she stands, terrified to accidentally fall through another portal without warning. “I don’t know about—”

  With a friendly shove (thanks to Alistair), Filomena lurches forward and trips over what feels like a step she didn’t see. Or couldn’t see, rather. She stumbles inside, landi
ng in a heap on the floor of a tiny foyer. She looks at the surface that’s suddenly appeared beneath her, touching the wooden planks with her hands to make sure the floor is real. She’s too shocked by the sudden change in atmosphere.

  I was standing in front of nothing … There was nothing there … nothing at all … and now I’m inside a cottage.

  It’s one thing to read about spells and glamours and mirages, and quite another thing to experience them.

  Meanwhile, the cottage glows with a warm amber light, and the scent of something sweet wafts up her nose. Ahead is a long wooden table, with places set for four. Four plates on the table. Four goblets. Four white linen cloths, folded neatly to shape the initials of each of their first names. J for Jack. A for Alistair. F for Filomena. Z for Zera.

  They are expected.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE COTTAGE

  “Hello?” a female voice calls out. “Jack, is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me,” Jack answers, stepping inside the room.

  He offers a hand to Filomena to help her up—something recurring a bit too often already—and Alistair does the same, offering his assistance as well.

  The two boys hoist her onto her feet in one fluid motion, and she turns around to see Scheherazade standing in the foyer. The sultan’s queen is a young woman with hair the color of night and a smile as soft as a crescent moon. She’s dressed in a djellaba, harem pants, and slippers made of the finest silk. Her forehead is studded with jewels, golden bracelets circle up her arms, and there is a tiny, perfect ruby on the side of her nose. Like her sister Rosanna, she was made mortal by marriage, but the transition did little to dampen her magic.

  Thirteen fairies were born to the Fairy King and Queen …

  Clever Scheherazade, who spun a thousand and one dreams …

  “Welcome,” says Zera, bowing her head to the three of them. “Jack, Alistair, it is good to see you safely back from your quest.”

  Jack bows. “We believe the lamp is safe for now,” he assures her.

  “As safe as can be,” adds Alistair.

  “And you have brought us a guest,” says Zera.

  “Filomena Jefferson-Cho,” says Filomena. “Of North Pasadena.” She wonders if she should kiss Zera’s hand or shake it, but curtsies awkwardly instead. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Queen Zera,” says Filomena, a bit awed by the dazzling beauty and power contained in the storyteller’s presence.

  “Oh, we don’t stand on ceremony here. Call me Zera—everyone does,” says Zera. “You must have had a most tiring journey. Come, please, all of you,” she says, leading the way to the table. “Supper is almost ready.” Wonderful, heady smells of freshly baked bread and sizzling butter and onions emanate from the kitchen.

  “Supper!” says Alistair happily. “Thank you, Z.”

  “My pleasure! I hope you’re all hungry.” She takes the seat at the head of the table, with the napkin folded into a Z, and unfolds it and rests it upon her lap.

  Filomena, Jack, and Alistair take their assigned seats labeled with their names, the napkins folded into their initials. Filomena hangs her backpack on the back of her chair before sinking into it.

  “How did you know we were coming?” she asks, once they are all seated.

  Zera holds up her own Seeing Eye. “I wanted to make sure you guys were safe, so I kept one of these on you. I saw you help Jack and Alistair get away. You know the spells. And you have a certain book.”

  Filomena nods.

  “May I see it?”

  Filomena hands it over. “The series is really popular where I’m from, because the books are new versions of the usual fairy tales. They claim to be the ‘real’ stories.”

  “There are ‘usual’ fairy tales?” asks Zera.

  “Well, I mean, like, in other fairy-tale books, it says that the sultan was going to kill you like he killed all the other girls, except you told him these stories and he begged for you to finish them and so at last he decided to let you live and married you.”

  “I suppose that is one way to look at it,” says Zera. “Except that isn’t quite the whole truth. He was not at all bloodthirsty, and he didn’t kill any of his brides. But it was such a shame for the girl’s family if he rejected her that lies were told about their deaths so they could start over elsewhere. In fact, we fell in love before the first night was over. I told him the stories out of love.”

  “That’s exactly what it says in this book!” Filomena claps her hands excitedly.

  “Interesting,” says Zera as she continues to page through the book. “It’s all here, what’s been happening.” She turns the book over in her lap and gasps. “It can’t be!”

  “What is it?” Filomena asks as Zera pulls the book closer to her eyes and gasps again.

  “Do you recognize her?” Zera asks Jack and Alistair, holding up the back of the book so they can see the author photo.

  “I think so … It’s her, isn’t it?” says Jack.

  “Cassiopeia Valle Croix. Cassiopeia was always her favorite star,” Zera murmurs. “Valle Croix? Loosely translated, it means ‘of the ancient crossways.’ Our home.”

  “Excuse me? Who are you talking about?” Filomena demands.

  “My sister,” says Zera simply.

  “Your sister?”

  “The author of this book is my sister who disappeared thousands of years ago,” Zera tells them.

  Filomena’s mind is racing. “Your sister is Cassiopeia Valle Croix?”

  “I suppose that’s what she’s calling herself now, or at least in your world,” says Zera. “But I know her by her real name. The fairy Carabosse.”

  “Carabosse!” shrieks Filomena. “Your sister is the evil fairy who cursed the kingdom?”

  Zera bristles. “Carabosse was not evil. She was born to the forest, like me and all our sisters. She had to have a reason for what she did. Carabosse always did. I hope so, anyway.”

  “She wrote these books?”

  “It appears so,” says Zera with a faint smile. “She always did think of herself as a writer.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE RAID

  But Jack isn’t smiling. “Carabosse was a traitor, Zera. It all began with her. She was the one who cursed the kingdom and started the war. We wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for her. She’s an evil fairy, and I’m glad she’s gone.”

  “I know your pain, Jack,” says Zera. “It is mine, too.”

  Filomena glances over at Jack, who is brooding as he picks up his cup. “What happened?” she whispers.

  “My whole family was killed. I’m the only one left. I saw my brother burning in front of me when the ogres attacked our village,” says Jack, his jaw clenched.

  Even Alistair is silent. Filomena remembers a scene from the first book—when ogres set fire to a mountain village high up in the clouds. Only a young boy survived, and he grew up to be a great hero. Jack Stalker was just a character in the book to her back then, but now he is as real as the misery on his face.

  At last Zera speaks. “And I? Is your pain greater than mine? My sisters slain and scattered? My husband murdered? Our kingdom burnt to ashes?”

  Jack shakes his head, and there are tears glistening in his eyes. “You are right. I am sorry,” he tells her.

  Zera lays a hand on his arm, like an older sister. “The ogres started this war long ago. We will fight them together and rid this land of their evil.”

  Then she continues to page through the book. “You say there are twelve of these?”

  “Yes,” says Filomena. Something occurs to her that she’s never noticed before. “This book is dedicated to you.” She flips to the front matter and there it is: For Z, don’t stop dreaming. “All twelve of the books are dedicated to each of you, her sisters,” she adds, knowing with absolute certainty that if they went back and revisited all the other books, they would see a similar dedication in each. For R, whom I miss dearly … For A, who lights up the room … For C, who banishes gloom
…

  “We never knew what happened to her,” says Zera. “After the christening. After the chaos that ensued, she disappeared. We never saw her again or knew where she went.”

  “She cursed the kingdom and fled. Sounds pretty evil to me,” Alistair mutters.

  “But why did she write these?” Jack wants to know. “For mortals, no less.”

  “You heard Z—she’s a writer,” says Alistair matter-of-factly.

  “She never wrote the thirteenth book,” says Filomena. “It was supposed to come out. But she disappeared in my world, too.”

  “Yet she has not reappeared here,” says Zera. “I wish she would. We need all the help we can get.”

  “You truly believe she isn’t in league with the ogres? You know as well as I that some say she is Olga herself,” says Jack, leaning so far back in his seat that his chair teeters on its back legs and it looks like he’ll fall. But he’s Jack Stalker, and he’s perfectly balanced, of course.

  “I don’t believe it for a moment. That ogre is not my sister! Carabosse was one of us. She would never throw her lot in with our enemies,” says Zera. “Like I said, there had to be reason for what she did that day.” She tenderly strokes the author photo. “I miss her so.”

  Filomena is wondering if supper will ever be served, when Jack suddenly kicks his chair back into place. “The Seeing Eye!” he says, removing it from his pocket, where it’s vibrating and giving off sparks.

  Zera’s is doing the same, and they both look into their instruments.

  “Oh no!” says Zera.

  Jack leaps to his feet. The vines circling his arms tense up.

  “What’s going on?” asks Filomena. Alistair looks alarmed.

  “It’s sunset,” says Jack. “The ogres are on the border again. This time they’re hacking through our defenses with some kind of vine cutter I’ve never seen before. They’re going to break through! They’ll be here soon!”

  “We have to warn the others!” says Zera.

  “There’s no way we can warn everyone in time,” says Jack tightly. “Even if we went house to house.”