fter almost a full day of flying I was glad to see the fantastic sight of my home kingdom of Midveil in the distance.

On the outskirts, colorful villages dotted the lush green hills like specks of confetti. Conversely, Midveil’s urban citadel was dazzling and modern—made of sleek silver, polished chrome, and huge panes of glass. My family’s castle resided at the heart of it. Giant shards of glass jutted out decoratively, making the whole compound shine and reflect light at every angle.

The castle staff had been notified of the mode of transport I’d be arriving on, so the guards were not surprised to see a massive dragon land in the courtyard in front of the main entrance.

The guards saluted in greeting. I tightened the shoulder straps on my backpack, checked to make sure my wandpin was still tucked to my bra strap, then slid down Lucky’s left wing.

I patted my trusty dragon on the nose in gratitude as the guards began to lead him through a tunnel to the back of the castle.

I made my way to the stairs at the main entrance. The walk up to the front door was arduous. Even after having made the climb several thousand times in my life, the 372 stairs still made my thighs hurt. By the time I got up to the front door, I seriously needed a glass of water.

Of course, the staircase was only partially to blame for the dryness in my throat and my pounding heart. To be honest, the idea of coming home and seeing my family (particularly my parents) always made me a bit nervous.

I loved my mom and dad, but since they only saw me during the summer and during other brief breaks since I’d started attending Lady Agnue’s six years ago, I felt slightly disconnected from them.

My mom—the famous Cinderella—always tried to be there for me when she could. She was loving in that way. Whenever I was home, she spent as much time with me as possible between her queenly duties and did all that she could to be motherly in those brief, precious moments.

I was close with my two brothers too. Pietro (the eldest) was significantly older than me; he’d just turned twenty-seven. I enjoyed hanging out with him, though admittedly not as much as my other brother Alex. Pietro could be fun, but his default mode was to protect and defend. He behaved big brotherly in accordance with the more traditional sense of the role. This used to annoy me more when I was younger, but as I grew and made it very clear he needed to chill out, he reined in the act a little. Now we had fun, just the parent-approved kind of fun. I could tell he still wanted to protect me, however he restrained the impulse as much as possible for the sake of our relationship.

I appreciated that he tried, but I only spent time with him one-on-one every so often so as not to push my luck. I also didn’t share any of my problems or more mischief-based pursuits with him. It was always in the back of my mind that he was a bit too responsible to understand, let alone let me get away with anything.

My other brother Alexander Knight was on the opposite side of the big brother spectrum. Growing up, Alex hadn’t just helped me get into trouble; he’d encouraged it. And for this, I adored him more than he knew.

I was bashful as a child. I may have felt the same way then that I did now about Book’s pomp and circumstance, and my traditional princess role, but in my early years I was far too timid to express any sentiments of defiance.

Alex had been the one to help me work past that. He constantly pushed me, messed with me, and smack-talked me until I learned to fight back. Through his amiable provocation, my smart mouth found a voice, my inner strength found its confidence, and my spirit came to relish the sassy rebelliousness that characterized me today.

In the past couple of years, when my attitude became a subject of conversation at our dinner table, Alex always joked that he had created a monster. However, what he didn’t say was that he was proud of who I’d become. And what I didn’t say in return was how much I appreciated him for helping me get there.

This was our weird, wonderful dynamic. I was always glad to see him and knew it wouldn’t be hard for us to reconnect, despite the long absences. Unlike with Pietro or my mother and father, the distance between Alex and I was easily bridged because there was no pretense or sense of duty between us. There was just a big brother messing with his little sister, and a little sister never ceasing to challenge the big brother and trying to knock him down a few pegs.

Two guards opened the grand doors at the top of the stairs and I stepped inside my glass palace. Within the majestic foyer was a staircase as enormous as the one outside. This set of steps wound its way downward though, which had never made any sense to me.

Seriously, instead of having a castle layout that had you climb up a bunch of stairs only to descend an equal number of stairs upon arrival, why not build the place on ground level? Our castle’s architect must’ve either been an idiot or a masochist.

As my hand eased down the silver railing, I began to feel anxious. I knew what awaited me at the end of this massive descent—the throne room. Moreover, I knew who waited for me there—my mom and dad.

Ugh. How could I even begin to describe my father?

He was the beloved king of Midveil, a realm-renowned former prince charming, and a great man on all counts. The thing about such great men, though, was that they were a bit hard to relate to. Especially when you were the rambunctious daughter of one.

When I was younger, my dad and I had gotten along really well. I think he liked me better when I was less strong-willed. And I understood why. King or not, it was easier to get along with someone when they did exactly what you told them and never went against anything you said. But voicing the opinions of your own mind and heart when they were not in accord with that person’s wishes . . . Well, it made for some tense dinner conversation to say the least.

Under the advice of my mother and brothers, I tried to hold my tongue and behave when I was home. But restraining myself that way made me feel like I was not being true to myself. I hated holding back. I hated feeling like the only way my father and I would ever have peace in our relationship was if I pretended to be meek.

My combat boots hit marble, which echoed through the highceilinged entryway. I stopped at the doors of the throne room, wringing the cuffs of the jacket I wore over my dress.

The doors that stood between me and my official homecoming were no less than twelve feet tall. Each door was etched with the image of a sleeping lion. Decorative silver crystals shone like stars above the lions’ heads. My family’s crest was imprinted directly beneath the slumbering creatures with the words Aut viam inveniam aut faciam.

I touched the words to give me strength, as if trying to absorb the wisdom of the phrase. The door felt cold. After a minute I found the courage to go inside. Plastering a smile on my face, I pushed the doors open.

“Guess who’s back?” I called across the room.

My mom and dad—seated on their thrones and in deep conversation with their advisors—looked up.

“Crisanta,” my mom said happily. She nodded to the men she’d been talking to and stood to meet me. Her long, bouncy, blonde hair was curled to perfection. The bustled fuchsia gown she wore matched the color of the stones in her crown and stud earrings.

My mother wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. Only when she pulled away did she notice my new ’do.

“Pumpkin, what did you do to your hair?” she asked, running her fingers through my shoulder-length cut. Then she glanced at my outfit. “And what are you wearing?”

The way she said it made me feel kind of insulted. I mean, I knew my mom was not a fan of my style. She didn’t like my love of boots and made it a point to have my closet restocked with gowns and flowy day dresses whenever I returned to school. But still, I thought my outfit today was cute.

Over my black leggings I wore my favorite lace-up, black leather combat boots, which came up a few inches below the knee. My dress was a blood red, long-sleeved number with a whimsical skirt streaked with navy and black. On top of that I donned one of my favorite jackets. It was black with leather trimming on the sleeves, shoulders, and elbows.

“Sorry, Mom. I had to pick something wind resistant for flying,” I said. “And my hair . . . Well, I was ready for a change.”

My mom’s blue eyes studied me for a moment, then she resumed hugging me.

“You look lovely, dear.” She glanced back at my father who was still in serious discussion with his advisors. She lowered her tone to a whisper. “But how about we put away the leather for the duration of your stay. You know how your father feels about the way you present yourself within the castle and the kingdom.”

I nodded. “I know, Mom. Fancy dresses and best behavior. I’ll try my best.”

My mother smiled and patted me on the head. “That is all I ask. Now go say hello to your father.”

I peeked over her shoulder at my dad, who finally seemed to be wrapping up his conversation. I gulped inadvertently. “He looks busy. Maybe I’ll come back later.”

“Crisanta.”

Too late.

My father rose and I approached him. His advisors bowed respectfully and moved through a curtained-off door on the left that led to my parents’ royal work chambers. I stood before my father and gave a small curtsy before closing the distance between us.

“Hi, Dad.”

The two of us exchanged a rigid hug before he sat back down on his throne and looked me over. It wasn’t in the curious way my mom had, but in the way a bidder studied an item submitted to his auction house—appraising me, as it were. This made me feel uncomfortable, but I met his eyes confidently as he sized me up.

I looked a lot more like my father than my mother. His hair was brown, his nose was rounded and on the larger side, and he had a sharp, proud chin that contradicted the smooth, heart-shaped curve of his face. I could see myself in him and I didn’t like it.

I did not want to be molded in his image. He was a good man and everything—smart, strong, resourceful, and a natural, respected leader who took charge and made tough choices when they needed to be made. Nevertheless, my father was so conventional, shrewdly unforgiving, and relentlessly stern that he made Lena Lenore seem compassionate.

Despite my aversion to following in his footsteps, I knew perfectly well that I was stubborn, proud, and headstrong, just like him. What could I say—in a lot of ways I was my father’s daughter, an understanding that never ceased to irk me.

My father rubbed the knuckle of his pointer finger under his chin as he exhaled pensively. I knew the tick well. He usually did this right before passing judgment on my behavior.

I writhed in the silence.

“Your mother and I were very upset to receive that letter from your headmistress, Crisanta. Your dismissal from school is very disappointing.”

“Disappointing?” I snapped.

My mother gently put a hand on my shoulder. I took a breath.

“Dad,” I continued more evenly. “Didn’t you get my follow-up letter explaining what really happened—why Lady Agnue had to send me home?”

“We did.”

“Okay, then you know that I wasn’t kicked out of school. I came home because of my magic.”

I waited for some sort of reaction from him or my mother.

Making the decision to tell my family about my powers had been a big deal. I knew there was no point in keeping it a secret anymore. While knowledge of my Pure Magic was (and needed to be) kept confidential, the word about my general magic was out. All the teachers and students at Lady Agnue’s—and Lord Channing’s by extension––already knew. The Fairy Godmothers were aware. The antagonists had known for months. It seemed like half the realm was already in on the secret, so there was no use in pretending around my parents. Still, I had been nervous about divulging the truth. Candidly sharing that piece of myself felt odd. Everyone else who knew about my magic had found out on their own or by accident. This was the first time I had made the call to directly tell someone. Getting no reaction at all from my mom and dad was sort of disappointing. I wasn’t the type to crave attention, but I’d definitely expected some here. People didn’t just have magic. Fairy Godmothers were typically the only non-villains who did. Those with Mer blood (i.e., mermaids and the few descendants of the famous Little Mermaid) tended to have a magical ability. But then, people with Mer blood weren’t entirely human. I was something new. So why weren’t my parents saying anything?

I studied their faces. It was hard to gauge what they were thinking. Eventually I broke the silence. “You know, I was almost killed last week because of those magic hunters Lady Agnue told you about,” I said. “I was sent home because she thinks it is safer for me and the other kids if I stay here until they catch all the hunters and improve campus security.”

“I am aware of that, Crisanta,” my father responded at last. “But it is not as though these details about what happened can be divulged to the public. Your family and your school know about your magic, but the greater public does not. Consequently, by all appearances it does seem as though you were kicked out of the academy. And that matters.”

“By that, you mean our family’s image. That’s what matters?” I clarified.

“Of course. What else did you think I meant?”

“I don’t know. How about me? Don’t I matter?”

“Crisanta . . .” my mom warned under her breath.

“What?” I shrugged. “It’s a perfectly reasonable question considering that after learning that I have magic and a bunch of hunters kidnapped and almost killed me for it, my father’s only issue with the situation is how my leaving school looks to Midveil’s constituents.”

My father gave me one of his silent, powerful stares, which I had not become immune to, even after all these years. I looked away and took a slight step back.

My father cleared his throat and was about to respond when the throne room doors opened and a few of my dad’s head advisors entered. The two men wore silvery-gray suits and sky blue ties. The tall, gingery blonde woman in the center wore a similar-colored pantsuit.

I did a double take upon seeing the woman.

Ever since my friends and I had discovered the corrupt practices of the kingdoms’ ambassadors at the last Century City Summit, I’d dreaded eventually seeing our family’s ambassador again.

Susannah Marberg (Sooz, as everyone except my dad called her) had been our Midveil ambassador since I was a preteen. I’d always considered her loyal, kind, and totally awesome. She balanced working for my parents with various outside commitments including mentoring underprivileged children and competing in equestrian tournaments.

Since she’d been a part of our lives for so long and lived in the castle because of her ambassador role, I’d always looked up to her like an unofficial big sister. At least I used to. Now I felt anger whenever I thought of her.

She’d been in the room at the Capitol Building along with the ambassadors of the other twenty-five kingdoms when my friends and I had eavesdropped on the Summit—the bi-annual meeting held by the ambassadors to discuss important matters of state. That meant Sooz knew about the very protagonist conspiracy we were bent on stopping. It also meant she’d been doing it for her entire career, most likely without my parents’ knowledge.

I dreaded coming face to face with her now, having to confront the feelings of betrayal I felt toward her and what she stood for.

Thankfully, the woman who entered was not Susannah—simply a woman of comparable hair color and height. I exhaled in relief as the advisors approached my father.

“We’ll discuss this later, Crisanta,” he said, waving me to step aside and let them pass. “Go settle in and send your brother my way when you find him. Alex and I are to attend an agriculture committee hearing this evening before dinner.”

My mother took me by the arm before I could say anything else.

“Sorry,” I said under my breath once we’d left the throne room. “I guess that ‘behaving myself ’ thing was an empty promise.”

My mother didn’t reply as we moved down the hall and approached the glass lift that would take us to the upper floors of the castle’s southern wing. Its transparent doors slid open and I stepped inside, but my mother did not join me. I looked at her, feeling guilty.

My shoulders slumped. “I really am sorry, Mom. I know I let my temper get the better of me where Dad is concerned and I shouldn’t, but he just . . .” I sighed again. “I didn’t mean to tick him off. I’ve had a rough week. Hopefully I won’t be a burden on you for very long and I’ll be out of your hair before—”

“Crisanta,” my mother interrupted.

I blinked.

“You are not a burden—not on me, not on your father, not on any of us. What you are is our daughter, and we will do whatever we have to in order to protect you now that things have . . . changed.”

My mother took one of my hands in hers. “How long have you had it?” she asked carefully. “The magic, I mean.”

“I’m not entirely sure,” I admitted. “A long time. Emma put it there before she disappeared, so it could’ve been any time before my seventh birthday.”

“But how long have you known of its existence?” she clarified.

I shrugged. “A few months. It all happened really fast. I’m still figuring it out.”

My mom suddenly hugged me again. “I am sorry about what happened to you back at school, my sweet girl. It must have been awful.”

I closed my eyes as fire, hay, and hunters flashed across my memory.

“It was,” I answered. “But I’m okay. At least I will be. I just need time to process.”

“I understand that, Crisanta,” my mother replied slowly. “Just know that if you ever require anything else, or anyone else to help you, do not be shy to reach out. I know how you are about such things. You internalize; it is your way. But it is not always the best way. Sharing a load with someone can make carrying it so much easier. Whether it is me, your brothers, or perhaps one of your friends from school, I encourage you to find someone with whom you feel comfortable enough to share your problems before they overwhelm you.”

My heart ached.

I’d already had someone like that. And it did make carrying the load a lot easier. But Daniel didn’t want the job anymore. After he pushed me away, it would take a lot for me to feel comfortable sharing my faith with someone again.

“Mom, I’m fine,” I lied. “Honestly, I’m not overwhelmed.”

“And I am glad to hear that, Pumpkin. I only worry that it may not always be the case.”

“All right, Mom. I promise that if it ever becomes too much, I’ll take your advice and find someone I trust to talk to. Okay?”

“Okay,” my mother replied. She stepped back then bit her lip and glanced away. The doors to the lift began to shut, but I put my arm up to block them.

“What’s that look for?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she responded sadly. “I only hope that this is not another one of your empty promises. I can protect you from a lot, pumpkin, as can your father, your brothers, and these walls. But I cannot protect you from yourself. That is something you alone are charged with.”

I tilted my head, absorbing her words.

“Go,” she said, her tone changing from solemn to spritely. “Dinner is in two hours and I am sure you want to relax after such a long flight.”

I nodded and the doors to the lift began to close again.

“Remember,” my mom called. “Attire is formal.”

As the translucent box began to rise to the eighth floor, my mother disappeared from sight and I was left facing nothing but my own glassy reflection and fading thoughts of Daniel.