Crisanta Knight: The Liar, The Witch, & The Wormhole

ou know, somehow I thought that being in a giant glass castle would be a tad more exciting.”

Blue rolled her eyes and flung away another cryptography book. The text fell pretty loudly onto the table beside Jason, but he did not look up from what he was reading. He was really good at keeping his concentration where studying was concerned. Plus, I reckoned he was used to Blue’s disruptive behavior.

“Hey, you guys said you wanted to help,” I commented as I tossed aside my own text and stretched out like a cat.

“Help, yes,” Blue replied. “Go blind from reading tiny decrypting codes? Not so much. We’ve tried dozens of these cipher keys, Crisa. And every time we apply one to that page you tore from Savoy’s logbook, it only translates to gobbledygook. Finding the one that’ll work is like searching for a needle in a hundred haystacks. Only it’s worse. Can we please take a break and talk about something else for a minute?”

Blue flopped backward onto the white couch—her head dangling upside down over one of the armrests. She bit her lip as she mulled it over. Then all at once she flipped back up—her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Here’s a question,” she began. “Crisa, why isn’t Pietro next in line to be king? Succession dictates that the firstborn is first in line for a throne, right? Take SJ’s family. She’s the eldest of her siblings. So she’s in line to be queen of her kingdom. If Pietro is the eldest of your parents’ kids, why isn’t he Midveil’s next ruler instead of Alex?”

This caused Jason to glance up from his book—evidently he was interested in the answer as well.

I sighed. The knowledge was pretty common in Midveil, and among diplomatic circles, but a lot of outsiders didn’t know the truth behind our family’s line of succession. We preferred it that way for Pietro’s sake. I had never even talked about it with my friends at school.

“It’s because Pietro isn’t technically my parents’ kid,” I explained. “Nor is he technically my brother. He’s adopted.”

I begrudgingly told Blue and Jason the story of Pietro’s origins. As Lenore and Susannah had pointed out recently, Pietro was not a natural born Knight. In truth, he was a natural born Langston.

My mother had grown up with two stepsisters. But only one of those sisters was wicked. While the oldest of the pair was a real nasty piece of work, the younger sister, Merriweather Langston, had always been indifferent, but not unkind to my mother during her pre-Prince Charming days. After the night of the fateful ball, Merriweather actually delivered a tip to the castle that the prince should investigate their family’s suburb for the owner of the glass slipper.

As such, after my parents married my mother forgave her younger stepsister and invited her to be a lady-in-waiting at the castle. In the years that followed, Merri not only served as a loyal, trusted lady-in-waiting to my mother, but as a dear friend. After Merri married and became pregnant with her first child, my mother pledged to be the baby’s godmother.

Tragically, Merri’s husband became ill in the months before her delivery and passed away in his sleep. Whether what happened next was a result of heartbreak, medical complications, or the same illness that took her husband, Merri, too, died upon giving birth to her son—Pietro.

With my mother’s love and promise to Merri, as well as her compassion and commitment to the child, my parents did the only thing they could. They adopted the baby, giving life to Pietro Knight—a prince in name, but not in blood. A royal who would always be a part of the noble court, but would never be king. And a man who would be the most loyal of sons and leaders, but who the public (despite our best efforts) would never treat exactly the same as the prince who was born to my parents six years later—my brother Alex.

It was fairly obvious to both Blue and Jason that I was uncomfortable telling this story. I didn’t look them in the eye once and fidgeted with a couch cushion the whole time like a nervous tick. When I’d finished, they did not probe the subject further. The three of us settled back into our research without another word.

The quietude of this renewed reading lasted another half an hour before Jason looked up from his research. “Guys,” he said. “I think I might’ve found that needle in a hundred haystacks.”

Blue and I rushed over to the table Jason was hunched over. In front of him were two books—a cryptography text and a book on military history. He pointed to the open cryptography text, specifically at a large graph on the left page, which was twenty-seven columns wide and twenty-seven rows tall.

“It’s called a Vigenère Cipher,” Jason explained. “It’s a combination of several Caesar Ciphers where each letter shift depends on a keyword.”

“For one, the fact that it is way more complicated than the other ciphers we found,” Jason responded. “Since a person can only crack it with a specific keyword, it makes the cipher impossible for anyone to break at random. With his long military history and a reputation for ruthless tactics, a guy like Savoy has got to have enemies. It would make sense that he would use something like this to protect his secrets. Then of course, there’s also this clue.”

Jason pushed the military history book closer to me. “Savoy went through the Midveil Military Training Academy about thirty years ago. According to these records, the leader of the academy during that time was General Lucas Vigenère—cousin to the inventor of the Vigenère Cipher.”

I stared at a black-and-white image of a graduating class of students. The caption identified the stern-faced man on the far right as Savoy. The man slapping him proudly on the back was General Vigenère.

“Maybe so,” Blue replied. “But even if it is, we’re still going to need that keyword in order to solve it.”

“I know,” Jason admitted. “But maybe we can figure it out. We’ve already been reading Savoy’s biographies to find some kind of code key.”

“I didn’t say anything about easy,” Jason replied. “I’m saying it’s possible.”

“I would start with the names of important family members in his life,” Jason said. “Even for a man like Savoy, passwords are always rooted in something personal.”

Jason picked up one of the smaller-sized books from a pile at the edge of his table. “This book on military generals mentions that Savoy’s immediate family consisted of three brothers, two sisters, his parents, and his grandparents on his mother’s side. We could go through the census records and try their names first.”

“We could . . .” I said slowly. “But first I want to try something else. Blue, I saw you reading a biography about Savoy. Did it mention anything about his wife?”

“Yeah,” she responded. “They were married for over twenty-five years before she passed away from Crawley’s Disease. Her name was Loretta.”

“Try ‘Loretta’ first,” I told Jason. “When I was snooping through Savoy’s stuff I found a book and a cigar box with the inscription ‘With Love, L.’ If he lost her to an illness, he is carrying those things around as mementos. If the keyword is rooted in something personal, I would put money down that it’s related to her.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Jason said. “Pass me the page you took from his log and I’ll give it a go.”

I handed him the document and he began to work on translating the first two coded phrases on the page. Blue and I waited anxiously as he plugged the keyword “LORETTA” into the Vigenère Cipher. After a minute of tense waiting, he looked up with defeat on his face.

“Yeah, look.” Jason twisted around and handed me the paper he’d used to write the attempted translation.

“See. Gibberish,” he said as I took in the disappointing results. “But don’t worry. We’ll keep trying. I’m still confident this is the right cipher. We just need to try different passwords. Between the three of us, I know we can crack it.”

“Make that the two of you,” I said remorsefully. “I have to go. It’s almost time for me to have my secret meeting with whomever sent me that note I received the other night.”

“Crisa, are you sure you should even go?” Blue asked. “With all the shady stuff happening with this commons rebellion, and Mauvrey, and your brothers, it could be a trap.”

“Oh, I’m assuming it’s a trap,” I replied. “That way if it is, then I’m already on guard. If it’s not, then I’ll just be pleasantly surprised.”

“Blue, stop worrying. She’ll be fine,” Jason interceded. “She has her wand and her magic.”

“You’re half right,” I said. “I exhausted my magic when I disenchanted the wooden plank.” I gestured at the inanimate slab, which we’d propped against a wall in the corner. “I was already pretty drained from so much practice earlier, but that last trick finally did it. Now my magic has to reboot. Using my powers again isn’t an option until tomorrow evening.”

“Are you nuts?” Blue said. “If you don’t have your powers then you’re definitely not going alone.”

“Blue,” I said adamantly. “First off, I still have my wand. Second, this isn’t a group decision; it’s mine. I have to go alone otherwise it might spook whoever this person is from coming forward. And I have too many questions right now to take that risk.” I flicked my eyes to the clock again. Quarter past two. “If I’m not back in half an hour, you’re more than welcome to come storming the tunnel after me,” I said, gesturing to a diagram on an end table, which I’d drawn earlier to show them how to access and operate the different castle passages. “But for now you’re going to have to let me go, okay?”

Blue looked like she wanted to argue, but held in the impulse. “Fine,” she grunted. “But thirty minutes exactly, you got it?”

I strapped the watch to my wrist and gave my friends a confident look. “All right. You guys keep focusing on finding that keyword and I’ll be back to help soon.”

My friends reluctantly went back to their code-cracking as I left the library. The stranger’s note had indicated we were to meet in the fifth of the castle’s secret tunnels. I started to make my way to the room that would allow me access to it from inside the castle—the hall of the human-sized chessboard.

As expected, my route there was deserted. Most of the palace was asleep. The only people who wouldn’t be were the King’s Guard members assigned to the graveyard shift. But since many had called in sick, the men healthy enough to be on duty were appointed to patrol more important parts of the castle.

I entered the hall I sought. It was haunting at this hour. Not to say it wasn’t creepy during the day; giant chess rooms tended to have that effect. Under the glass ceiling’s nighttime luminescence though, the eerie aura magnified.

Clouds covered much of the moon tonight in thick, cumulus gray. The only warmth in the room came from the candelabras that lined the walls. These walls were four enormous mirrored panels that were thirty feet in height and double that in length. They reflected the vibrant orange hues of the candelabra flames, the chess pieces themselves, and my own person in an infinite pattern on all sides.

I stepped toward the center of the room—my footsteps echoing off the tile as I moved. The floor was checkered in massive onyx and chrome tiles. The onyx corresponded with the black chess pieces and the chrome with the white ones. The pieces were about five feet tall and hollow—constructed of a colored acrylic and titanium combo with a felt-lined bottom—making them easy to push along the smooth, life-size board.

I began to glide the chrome knights on the board to specific empty spaces on the right side and the onyx knights to spaces on the left. My final step was moving the far-right chrome pawn and the far-left onyx pawn two places forward and three places to the side.

The moment that last pawn slid into place, the floor began to vibrate. I stepped several paces back and braced myself. Every tile on the board (my own included) began to shift. The whole of the board was now in motion—rearranging itself like a large, living puzzle.

Several of the tiles in the center began to sink, transforming into the first steps in the spiral staircase concealed beneath the room.

Once the floor had settled, I grabbed a candelabra off the wall and entered the passage. When I was seven stairs down, the tile overhead jolted and moved again. I glanced up as the room was sealed off.

Of all the secret tunnels tucked within the castle, Tunnel number five was the least used. The most obvious reason for this was that unlocking this hidden stairwell required the specific, elaborate positioning of some very large pieces, making it a lot harder to access without drawing attention to yourself.

The other reason this route was not frequently utilized was that upon hitting the seventh stair down, a trigger was activated. This caused a chain reaction that reset the chessboard up top. The stairs that had been tile rose up, the opening reverted and closed itself off, and the pieces went back to their proper places. The only way out of this tunnel now was at the other end. Which meant one way or another I would be seeing this clandestine meeting through.

Everything down here was black—my candelabra only able to illuminate one or two steps in front of me. I followed the twisting staircase with caution. My eyes strained on every outline and my ears listened for sounds aside from my own footsteps. At the bottom of the stairs I continued carefully through the tunnel until I sensed I was at about the midway point.

I glanced at Jason’s watch in the candlelight. It was half past two exactly—my meet-up should begin any second.

I drew my wandpin in my free hand and clutched it tightly as I waited. While I couldn’t use my powers to bring life to anything right now, I was beyond grateful that I could still use my wand. Until recently I didn’t believe that Magic Exhaustion would allow it. After all, the reason my wand only worked for me was because it sensed my Fairy Godmother-based magic. And every time I operated it I used a small amount of that magic. Thus, Magic Exhaustion should have robbed me of the capability.

However, a couple of weeks ago after a training session left me with Magic Exhaustion, I used my wand without thinking and it worked. I asked Liza about this and she reminded me that since my wand had been separately enchanted to morph into whatever weapon I chose, it didn’t need my magic to perform that function. The wand only needed the tiniest bit of my magic to detect me as its Fairy Godmother owner.

This still hadn’t seemed like a complete explanation. Magic Exhaustion meant I was exhausted of magic, right? So I shouldn’t have had any. But after I probed the matter sufficiently, Liza admitted something to me. Magic Exhaustion was not as absolute as she’d once led me to believe. In truth, it was like any other type of exhaustion. It didn’t mean your strength vanished completely; it only meant you’d extremely fatigued it. Like runners after a marathon, their muscles might be weak and their bodies depleted, but that didn’t mean they’d lost the ability to run. Magic Exhaustion didn’t take away my power; it only reduced it to such a miniscule level that I couldn’t perform any significant feat (i.e. bring anything to life intentionally). But there was still magic left in me—a small amount, sure, but enough to satisfy my wand’s requirements.

While I had been punctual for this sketchy rendezvous, it seemed the meeting’s instigator did not value timeliness with the same regard. I continued to wait there for him or her as the minutes ticked on.

At 2:40 a.m. I realized that whoever was meant to meet me was probably not going to show. And with my half hour almost up, I decided to call it a night, lest I risk Blue and Jason marauding through the castle passages looking for me.

I began my way down the tunnel anew, journeying toward the exit. My pace was ginger and slow at first. Then I heard a scream.

The horrifying, high-pitched cry echoed off the curved walls of the tunnel. I jumped in surprise, nearly dropping my candelabra. The sound had come from the tunnel exit where I was headed.

The scream came a second time and I started running toward it. As I ran, I heard it again and again and again. It sounded so close now that I felt I was about to collide with whoever was making it. But then I turned a corner and saw the exit to the tunnel twenty feet away. It was wide open. There was no sign of anyone in distress.

The bluish glow of night spilled into the tunnel. I was transfixed for a moment then the same scream projected around me and I almost leapt out of my skin. It was so loud and near. It sounded like it was coming from my feet.

I glanced down, confused. Something silver next to my shoe caught my eye. I crouched low and lit up the ground with my candelabra. It was a small gagecho, his pupils orange from the reflection of the flames. His throat pumped. And then the frightened female scream I’d been chasing erupted from his tiny mouth.

At first I was relieved. After all, the tone of that scream had made it sound like someone was getting murdered. But then I understood something and my relief rushed away.

Gagechos mimicked whatever noise they’d most recently heard. So if this one had copied a scream, then at some point someone down here had screamed. And I had a feeling I knew who it was.

There was no explanation for why the opening on this side of the tunnel was ajar. No one ever used this passage. If the gagecho had heard a scream close by, it probably belonged to the person who’d intended to meet me.

What had happened to this girl who’d sent me the message and wanted to speak with me in such a secretive manner?

These questions looped around my brain as I scurried past the stables and skirted around the grounds until I made it to the main lawn. I saw Lucky asleep in the distance but did not stop to say hello. I darted into the hedge maze then eventually made it back to the library via the secret passage. My friends were halfway to the door when I emerged from the fireplace. The thirty-minute deadline had expired a couple of minutes ago and they were about to come after me.

“Well, you shouldn’t let it get to you,” Jason tried to console me. “It’s not like you know what happened to her.”

“How many things would cause a person to scream like that?” I countered. I plopped my head back against one of the plush couch pillows. “Please tell me that you guys cracked Savoy’s cipher while I was gone?”

“Sorry, chief,” Blue said. “No luck. We’ve tried every family member’s name but all the translations ended up being gobbledygook.”

“We tried the city he was born in, his nickname in the military, titles of his favorite books, direct quotes from his biographies, his sheep and hunting dogs’ names, his—”

I thought back to that romantic novel I’d found in Savoy’s trunk—the outlier of his possessions. It had been a gift from his wife. But unlike the cigar box, which was practical, I couldn’t understand why he’d felt compelled to keep it with him. He clearly wasn’t going to read it. And while the inscription inside was lovely, if he wanted it close by for sentimental purposes he could’ve just as easily torn out the page and kept it with him. There had to be a reason why he kept the book in its entirety.

I thought back to the book’s cover—that lopsided yellow-and-black cottage with the flowers floating near it. It had seemed so familiar. But why?

My eyes wandered about the room as my brain searched for a trigger that would bring back whatever piece of information I was having trouble zeroing in on. That’s when I saw it. Our midnight snacks were on the center table—a bowl of chocolate truffles, some pretzels, and Aunt Jemma’s almond biscuits.

Every year, my Aunt Jemma sent those cookies while she was on her annual trip to the Middlebrook countryside. However, every now and then she’d send other things too, like souvenir key chains, commemorative lace doilies, or postcards.

I dashed out of the library and sped to the lift. I couldn’t get to my room fast enough. When I arrived, I opened the bottom left hand drawer of my desk. I moved my Shadow Guardians book out of the way then dug around through the papers there—old letters, random notes, school report cards, receipts, and various postcards.

I pulled out a postcard I’d received from Aunt Jemma two years ago during one of her trips to Middlebrook. I must have subconsciously remembered it this whole time, maybe even glanced at it when I had stored my Shadow Guardians book in here.

I flipped the text part of the postcard over in my hand to reveal the front image. It featured the exact same cottage as the cover of Savoy’s book, right down to the chimney and the flowers floating around the exterior. The only difference was that at the top of this picture in bright yellow, cursive print was the words: “Greetings from the Famous Gravity Spot! — Gravity, Middlebrook.”

I remembered now. The Gravity Spot was this weird location Aunt Jemma had visited during one of her trips. According to legend, it had once been the sight of a great Fairy Godmother battle. And because of all the magic used there at the time, it had been left with this odd enchanted energy that made everything within a certain weight range float upon entering its gravity field.

Gravity . . . I thought to myself. I closed my eyes and recalled the inscription in Savoy’s book.

“Past summer’s end and winter’s fire,

In the rains of spring and autumn tire,

Keep my heart and always recall,

Where Gravity froze, and we did fall.”

– With Love, L.

I’d wondered why Savoy’s wife had chosen to capitalize the word “gravity” in the final line of her poem. I’d assumed that it was because it was important. The truth though, was that in addition to being important, she’d capitalized it because it was a name.

“Guys,” I said, panting to catch my breath. “In all those history texts you’ve been reading that referenced Savoy, did any of them mention a place called Gravity, Middlebrook?”

“Um, that sounds kind of familiar,” Jason said as he went over to grab a book from the table. “Give me a second.” I waited with bated breath as he flipped and scanned pages.

“Here it is,” he said, holding up the book. “I knew I’d read that name somewhere. Gravity, Middlebrook, is where Savoy met his wife. She was born there and one year when he and his troops were passing through—accompanying the king on a royal visit—he wandered into this place called the Gravity Spot where she worked. The rest is history.”

“That it’s then,” I gasped, as I took the book from him and read the passage for myself. “That’s what the password for the cipher is. Gravity. Savoy didn’t just keep that book I told you about because of the inscription; he kept it because it was a memento of the place where the two of them first met. Based on how old it was, he might’ve even gotten it on the day in question.”

Blue immediately went for a piece of parchment and began to plug the two coded columns of the logbook page into the Vigenère Cipher. Jason and I waited nervously as she worked in silence. After a minute, she looked up.

The three of us huddled over Blue’s results to see for ourselves. Sure enough, the keyword of “GRAVITY” had yielded an actual translation.

“Technically, I’m just a girl who broke into a suitcase and held onto a postcard way too long. But I’ll take it,” I replied, grinning. “Now come on, plug that keyword into the entry that corresponds with Aggie and Blaine’s transaction. If the information for these other columns is ‘Products Purchased’ and ‘Purchaser,’ then it should tell us what they spent all that money on and who they bought it for.”

Jason brought over the coded entry in question and laid it on the table in front of Blue who immediately started copying it down on a clean sheet. She scribbled furiously as she decrypted the code. After about thirty seconds she abruptly stopped writing.

“Blue, what’s wrong?” Jason asked. “Did it work? Does the translation make sense?”

“Um, yeah, it worked,” she said. “As to whether it makes sense or not, that’s not something I can answer.”

“Blue, you’re scaring me,” I said. “Show me what the translation says.”

No, no, no, no. It couldn’t be, but it was. It was right in front of me written in black and white. There was only one member of the Knight family whose name started with a P.

“Pietro . . .” I swallowed hard as the truth settled in my throat like a lump of coal.

“Pietro is adopted, Crisa. You may think of him as your brother, but he’s not. His aunt and grandmother were Cinderella’s wicked stepsister and stepmother. There’s evil in his blood. Maybe that explains this.”

The lump in my throat burned. I felt angry, vengeful, and hopelessly sad. Without saying another word to my friends, I traipsed over to the couch and lay down, staring up at the ceiling.

I needed more than a minute, actually. But with the big banquet tomorrow and a treacherous brother sleeping in the castle, I didn’t think the universe would afford me any more than that. Why would it? It was not in the habit of showing mercy. Tonight was no exception.