Camille flung herself onto her bed, burying her face in her pillows. She screamed with such ferocity that the pillows failed to muffle the sound. Tears poured out of her eyes, soaking her skin, and her body shook with sobs. She wanted her screams to pierce the ears of everyone in the kingdom; she wanted to tear at her own flesh; she wanted to break something fragile and precious, watching fragments of glass fly through the heavens.
She raised her head and screamed louder, the sound echoing inside her skull and around the tower room. It soared out the window and across the valley, gathering force from the wind, sending the birds flying away in search of a tranquil forest.
During every moment of her life, Camille had been utterly devoted to Clementine. She’d loved her and cared for her. She’d done all she could to prevent anyone puncturing their magic bubble. She’d killed the evil prince for Clementine. She’d killed the wicked witch for Clementine. Every act of her entire existence had been to prove her love to Clementine.
But Clementine didn’t want her anymore. Had she ever?
All those terrible things that Camille had done were wasted. She’d darkened her own soul, and Clementine hadn’t even noticed. Camille had risked everything. She’d been condemned to living in fear that someone would discover she’d murdered the evil creatures who threatened Clementine. Those bloody, broken bodies were like sacrifices, allowing the two princesses to be united forever, but Clementine hadn’t been grateful; she hadn’t proved her devotion to Camille. The years had turned her selfish and cruel.
Instead, Clementine had found others she loved more—the charming prince, the young princess—and now, she cared nothing for Camille.
Realizing these things made the screams swirl with the force of a tornado inside Camille’s soul. They grew stronger and more fierce until she thought she might shatter into a million pieces and fall into the earth, the fine dust of her lost forever among the sand and grasses, scattered on the tops of trees.
Clementine had continued to mourn as if her heart belonged to the wicked witch. She ached for that horrible creature; she failed to remember how the witch had tormented her as a child. It was bitterly unfair. Camille had spent hours comforting her friend when she’d suffered the witch’s cruelties.
When Camille’s fairy godmother promised she would be given power, the promise felt sure and true. Camille believed the fairy godmother with all her heart. The magical power would allow her to have all she desired. But the only thing she desired was her beloved Clementine, and that was denied.
Had her fairy godmother lied?
Did Clementine truly love the charming prince and the young princess more than she loved Camille? Or was she bewitched? If she was bewitched, Camille needed to find a way to break that spell.