You’ve come around just in time. I hate being at odds with you, Farrow,” Bari said when I knocked on her door a couple of days later.
“In time for what?” I said.
Just like when we were small, Bari was quick to believe that I would follow her anywhere. Whether it was in teasing South then or killing the prince now.
“One last spell before the ball tonight,” she announced gleefully.
“I thought you were just going to change your face,” I said, trying and failing to keep the flatness out of my voice.
“The prince isn’t just in love with your face; it’s the way you move, breathe, think. I have to be indiscernible. And even that won’t be enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“We need you for the spell, Farrow.”
“What do you mean?” I asked again, but I already knew. Bari would go to the ball disguised as me. When the prince looked upon her, he would see me. Their plan was not that different from my own. That was the irony. My plan was to make Cinderella look like me when the prince saw her. The difference was that at the end of my plan, his heart would be broken but still beating.
“I can’t go, but you can go wearing my face. She was my mother, Bari.”
“I know. It should be you. But I promise you, I will do your face justice. I will get justice for you wearing it,” she said firmly.
But as she spoke, I felt a chill listening to her words. I believed she meant them. But our ideas about justice did not line up anymore. She was going to use my face to kill an innocent—to kill Mather.
A few minutes later I was with my sisters in the dining room of the manor.
I looked around—Galatea and Amantha were not there, but the rest of my sisters were. South was missing too.
We sat in a circle, where a teapot floated around the room, serving everyone.
Each of them displayed their gifts almost unconsciously. Or maybe consciously. Maybe they were just glad to be in a safe space where they could let down their hair and magic.
Horatia and Ocenth were changing their faces with their wands.
“What do you think of my hair? Be honest.”
“It does not go with your face. Not everyone can pull off bangs, Horatia,” Ocenth said with a giggle. She waved her wand in front of Horatia’s face, and her features changed again, with rounder cheeks and bigger eyes. This face matched the bangs better.
“How about this one?” she asked without missing a beat.
Horatia clapped when she noticed me. “Sisters, let’s raise a cup to our hero, Farrow. She lifted the spell with a wish when we were in the magic shop. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Ocenth added, “She was like a magical detective. She figured out what that poor woman’s problem was and woke her with a wish!”
I was met with proud glances around the table, and the girls grabbed their floating cups to raise them in my direction.
If I wasn’t horrified by what I knew now, I would have been so very flattered having my sisters praise my magic. But instead I had to maintain my calm.
Bari beamed too. She didn’t begrudge my success; she seemed relieved by it.
Looking at the floating teapot, I couldn’t help but marvel at how my sisters all performed magic with ease. Despite the circumstances, I was filled with a sense of wonder at how far their magic had come. If I had grown up with them and with my magic, that could have been me floating the tea or changing my face at will. Instead, I clasped my hands in my lap, waiting for someone to have a wish so I could grant it. But there would be no wishes here that they couldn’t grant with their own wands before I could even raise my own.
I had always thought my sisters were miles ahead of me in magic, at least until the day I gave South his wings. I still wasn’t the same as they were. Maybe I never would be again. But I was here. And so were they. That was something. That used to be everything. But it wasn’t enough. I knew things now that I could not unknow.
Xtina lit the candles without the power of her wand. She used her hand.
Tere created a tiny tornado and blew them out with a wave of her wand. “We should wait for the others.”
My gaze followed her little tornado until it disappeared out the window, and then I looked back at my sisters. While Freya was exactly the same, I couldn’t stop looking at Perpetua, who was now another two or three heads taller than she had been a few seconds before.
“I don’t mean to stare, Perpetua, but did you just grow again?”
“I don’t mind . . . ,” she said proudly. “I have been growing since the day of the Burning. But when I am around humans, I have to hide it.”
She tapped her wand against her chest. She frowned in apparent pain as she sank down to my height.
“It hurts?”
She nodded, tapping the wand again and returning to her real height.
I spotted a plate of Odette’s cookies in the center of the table and reached for one. As good as Galatea’s dinners had been, it could not compare to Odette’s otherworldly cuisines.
The treat was a full-course breakfast all in one bite: first juice and coffee, then pancakes and sausage, then eggs, and ending with dragon fruit.
I closed my eyes and let myself savor the taste.
“I have missed that,” I moaned.
I reached for another cookie and bit into it just as Odette raised a hand to stop me.
“Oh no, not that one,” she said.
But I swallowed it, believing she was teasing.
This one tasted like a flight of desserts: first sherbet, then pie, then chocolate—but it was chased by a bitter aftertaste. The bitterness grew, and I reached for a glass of water. But before I could take a sip, I had a sudden flash of the Burning and Hecate on the pyre, and tears began flowing down my cheeks.
“What is wrong with me?” I whispered, confused.
“It’s not you. It’s the cookie. Odette can make you feel any emotion with one bite,” Bari explained.
“Why would you make that?” I asked, turning to Odette.
“It’s a new recipe. And possibly a new weapon. I can make anyone feel anything with a single bite. For a while, anyway.”
I dried my eyes. The sting of being mad at her for the manipulation of my feelings was replaced with wanting to know more about the spell.
“You okay, Farrow?” Perpetua demanded.
“Of course she’s not okay. I gave her the saddest moment of her life on a platter . . . Here, have a happy one,” Odette offered, shoving another cookie into my hand.
I took a bite. This one tasted like chocolate with an aftertaste that was way sweeter. It felt like kisses . . . specifically, those I’d shared with the prince.
My eyes fluttered and my cheeks warmed.
One of my other sisters, Sistine, suddenly began humming—and I felt myself compelled to my feet.
“Sistine,” Bari admonished.
But Sistine hummed louder and the other girls were all pulled to their feet.
“You’re making us dance?” I laughed and smiled as I gave in to the rhythm.
As my sisters danced beside me, I realized how much I had missed all this: the music and the magic. But my family was all here now. The dance was tinged by what I knew I was going to do in a few hours. They would consider it a betrayal. But I considered it a chance to save us all. Save them from themselves. Save our Future as the Entente. They might never forgive me. But I would rather live with that than a Future with my sisters’ hands soaked in innocent blood.
Galatea appeared with Amantha and South alongside her.
“What is going on here?” Galatea demanded as Sistine immediately stopped humming and our feet stopped moving.
“Sorry, Galatea. It’s just that Farrow’s missed so much,” Bari explained, taking a step forward.
Despite the fact that she was the youngest, save me and South, Bari was clearly the leader.
“Well, she’s here now. There will be plenty of time for us in the Future, praise Fate.”
“Praise Fate,” everyone echoed as we returned to our seats and recomposed ourselves.
“Now, girls. Tell me of your progress.”
Galatea went around the table, and each girl gave a cryptic line that made sense to everyone else, but not to me.
Xtina relit the flames on the candles around us and piped up, eager with her update. “Blenheim . . .”
I remembered that was Tork’s land. I wondered if he’d gone back there after our encounter or if he had followed my advice and his heart to Lavendra.
“Blenheim burns,” Xtina said dramatically. “Well, part of it anyway. I took out the northernmost plains and drove the people closer to the palace just like you wanted, sister.”
“Any casualties? We do not need the attention.”
“I was careful . . . ,” Xtina said haltingly.
“Remember, magic doesn’t control you. You control magic,” Galatea said.
I wondered about her comment. Clearly, there must have been a time when Xtina had lost control of her magic and the results had been unfortunate.
Next to her, Em made a guttural sound that did not sound Entente or human. It sounded almost like a wolf.
“Em, you can be yourself here.”
Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. She nodded, and tufts of gray fur began growing on all her exposed skin. Within seconds she was covered. But her eyes still screamed Em.
“I want you all to be yourselves when we are together. Farrow, I’m afraid everyone is shy because of our long separation.”
Within seconds, with her permission, a few more of my sisters had transformed. Almost all had scars. And from what I gathered from their reports, they all had used those scars to their magical advantages.
“But you see, there is nothing to be ashamed of,” Galatea said. “Every one of us who was broken has been restored in other ways. We are stronger than ever. And now we have our Farrow and South back. We are complete.”
The reports about each of the Thirteen Queendoms continued. Each sounded more ominous than the last. We were not hiding; we were lying in wait.
Tere had driven the people of Hesperoux underground and had infiltrated the Eighth Queendom. She hid among them, pretending to be the victim of the strange climate change. No one had yet reached Nimolet, the Eleventh Queendom, or the Quillory, the Thirteenth and the rumored land of the Rookery, the latter because of an apparent treaty with the Rooks. The former because Nimolet was rumored to have an army of Witch Finders, and a plan had not yet been hatched to infiltrate either land.
Horatia was last to tell of her progress. I perked up, knowing that I would undoubtedly be mentioned because of my show of magic at the shop.
“The girl grows. The world turns. There is nothing new under the sun.”
I had no idea what she meant about “the girl,” but I knew the last part was a lie. And apparently so did Galatea.
“Should I ask Bari, South, and Amantha the same question?”
Horatia blushed and twirled her hair. “I had a slight mishap with the spindle. But it won’t happen again.”
Galatea lifted her chin and continued.
This wasn’t a tea party. It was a war room. And my sisters weren’t just my sisters anymore. They were an army. And they had their wands close to the Crowns of every single Queendom.
The truth was, I already knew this. I just didn’t let myself know the heart of it. And I still couldn’t make out the details. Even now.
“South and Farrow will not be raising their wands tonight. South, your time will come, once you are surer of your gifts. And, Farrow, just because you cannot come to the ball doesn’t mean that you will not be contributing to the spell.”
“Farrow, you were fated to be part of this. But any sacrifice must be given willingly,” Amantha stated, suddenly appearing next to me.
Hiding my trepidation was harder than I thought.
“I don’t understand.”
“Hopefully Bari told you that the spell will work so much better if your contribution is of your own free will,” Galatea began.
I was a little busy hearing about the murder of Cinderella’s parents, I thought in protest. But I suddenly wondered what exactly they meant by “sacrifice.”
Galatea raised her wand and my teacup turned into a pair of scissors in the blink of an eye.
“A lock of your hair is all the spell requires.”
As I picked up the scissors, I felt an irrational sense of relief that hair was all that was required. But I remembered as my fingers tapped the blades that they were not cutting just my hair; they might as well have been slicing out a piece of my heart.
It was gone before it could hit the table. It reappeared on a plate before Galatea. The table and all the settings disappeared too. So did the ceiling above us.
Suddenly we were not in the dining room anymore. We were outside the manor with the moon overhead. Galatea had moved us with a wave of her wand. The plate with my hair and another were on two altars before us. We stood, and our chairs disappeared too.
“We all know that love spells are the most complicated of spells, and we have been taught not to cast them. But these are desperate times, and the prince is lucky that at this moment it is love and not death that he is to be cursed with.”
I watched in horror and in wonder as the spell was cast. They were going to try and take the prince from me. Even though he wasn’t mine to begin with. It wasn’t that I didn’t already know that this was their plan, but having to participate in the ritual knowing its intent made my stomach turn. And looking at my sisters’ faces full of anticipation and glee . . . Seeing how incredibly powerful each of them was showed me what I was up against. Suddenly, I felt like I had when I was small. When it seemed like all my sisters outmatched me in magic. When being the youngest and least-accomplished Entente seemed to be my Past, Present, and Future. Then, I had shown myself to be powerful by accident in giving South wings. But we had been on the same side. Now, what if I wasn’t up to the task? What if a piece of myself—my own hair—was what actually killed the boy I . . . the boy I did not want to kill.
The moon rose over the manor as each sister did her part. Every one of them formed a golden ball of light in her hand, but each one was filled with a different component of devotion.
My sisters spoke two by two or alone as their lights joined the others.
“Beauty . . . ,” said Horatia and Ocenth.
“Strength . . . ,” said Perpetua and Effie.
“Kindness . . . ,” said Odette and Em.
“Rhythm . . . ,” said Sistine and Tere.
“Forgiveness . . . ,” said Selina and Xtina.
“Grace . . . ,” said Freya.
“Humor . . . ,” said Bari.
“Suspense . . . ,” said Amantha.
“Surprise . . . ,” said Galatea.
As the light glowed, Galatea continued:
Fill the places that he lacks;
Make him feel like she is unmatched.
“This spell will take his will and mend it to Bari’s,” Galatea explained to me.
Galatea produced a lock of hair that I would recognize anywhere. It was the prince’s.
She placed it on the altar.
“Taken from the royal barber this morning.”
The hair dissipated and became another globe of light. The light unfurled into strings. And the strings of light met in the air, intertwining. And as they danced around each other, they became a larger globe that spun in the air, then floated down in front of Bari.
The light became solid, a face she took in her palms and then put up to her own. The new face concealed hers. It was mine.
May the prince be unable to resist.
May you seal his fate with a kiss.
All the sisters echoed back Galatea’s words.
“May the prince be unable to resist. May Bari seal his fate with a kiss,” they repeated again.
Bari smiled a slow, mischievous smile. The spell was done.
“She’s me,” I whispered as I took in my own face. It wasn’t a surprise, and yet it was. I had spent years at the Couterie looking at Lavendra’s face, which nearly matched mine. But this sensation was different. My face would be a weapon wielded by Bari.
“She is a version of you, the perfect one that he has in his head and heart,” Galatea explained.
I stopped short. The face was unblemished. The skin glowing, the eyes brighter. The smile knowing but mischievous. This was how he saw me. This was how I looked to the boy who loved me.
“Won’t the Queen and the guards recognize the face of the Couterie who attacked the palace?” I asked, tearing myself away from the face and making myself look at Galatea. I thought I had found a flaw in their plan. Maybe one that could stop all this madness.
“No, they’ll see Bari’s face. Only he will see yours.”
There was no flaw; they had thought of everything. When he saw her, it would be my face. But her magic would make her look like herself, Master Gray’s stepdaughter, to the guards and the Queen.
“And when he kisses her, he will want to marry her, no matter what the Crown says. The kiss will seal the spell,” she continued.
As she said the words, my heart betrayed me, screaming in my chest against the idea.
My sisters’ satisfied faces mirrored Bari’s. They were practically aglow in their pride. But for the first time in my life, I felt no pride in being Entente.
South was unreadable. He didn’t cast a single objection. But he didn’t lend his power to the spell per Galatea’s instructions. I hoped he could read the true conflict in me. I needed him to know that I wanted no part of this.
I was beside myself. I had managed to make it through the ceremony. I was planning to betray them, yet I still felt the draw of being part of them.
But this wasn’t a dare from our youth. This was a preamble to more than our vengeance on the Queen—this was the first step toward the prince’s death and the Entente taking over the Queendoms.
I shoved aside whatever else I was feeling. I knew the human words for it—the jealousy of him being in someone else’s arms.
But all that was eclipsed by something else: the idea of him not being here in the world at all. And the idea of my sisters killing an innocent.
My sisters were stronger than I was, no matter what South said. But Hecate’s words from years ago rattled around in my consciousness. With enough will and enough magic, anything is possible. She had said that with an army of Entente at her back.
I would need an army of my own and someone else’s wish.