15

The girls found a spot under a rowan tree just outside the village, near the walls of the big house with the forest beyond. Effie wanted to look at her watch, to see what time it was so she could work out how to get home. But she didn’t have her watch on. She’d been so surprised about her new outfit that she must have forgotten it.

‘So you’ve really never heard of the Princess School or anything?’ said Crescentia. ‘I suppose that’s one approach, keeping you completely in the dark. They say it’s hard for parents to know how to handle it. And if you come from a long way away . . . I guess they must have sold you just for the money, rather than the glory.’

‘Sold me?’

Effie felt tears come to her eyes. But she quickly blinked them away. This was almost certainly a dream. But wasn’t it supposed to be a nice dream? And anyway, her grandfather wouldn’t . . . But what about her father and Cait? They’d already sold her books. And they hated her so much they probably would sell her, given half a chance. But what for? Was it a punishment? Or was it just to stop her from wrecking their stupid deal with Leonard Levar?

‘OK, I’m going to pretend you’re an alien or something and start from the beginning.’ Crescentia tossed her ponytail again. ‘So, once upon a time, this village, and all the villages around it, were very, very poor. Every winter, people starved to death because there wasn’t enough food. A long way away from here, in the western valleys, a farmer discovered this miracle crop, blackgrain, which, as I’ve already said, can only be grown in soil fertilised by dragon poo. He sold everything he owned to buy just three small bags of seed from an old magician who happened to be passing through. The magician also threw in a large blue egg, which he said would be useful. The first batch of seeds came to nothing, but that spring the egg hatched. It was a baby dragon. The farmer did a bit of research, consulted another magician or some wise man who was passing through, and found that he could fertilise his crop with the poo he collected from the dragon. With me so far?’

Effie nodded. ‘How do you know all this?’

‘Literally everyone in the world knows this, apart from you. Anyway, the dragon grew, and so did the crops, and everything was fine for a while. The farmer had a beautiful daughter who helped feed the dragon. On her thirteenth birthday she went out as usual with his bucket of blackgrain and, well, the dragon ate her.’

‘He ate her?’

‘He ate her. Then he ate all the other girls in the village. A couple of the girls’ brothers made swords and tried to fight the dragon. He ate them, too.’

‘Wow . . .’ said Effie. ‘That’s pretty gruesome.’

‘Yeah, right? Anyway, to cut a long story short, the dragon was somehow banished from the village. By then, he’d eaten pretty much everyone under the age of twenty anyway. He travelled across the land until he found a community that was willing to take him in. He basically struck a deal. If the village would provide him with one maiden, ideally a princess, every two weeks, then he would leave the rest of the villagers alone and live peacefully, allowing the local farmers to collect his poo to fertilise their blackgrain crops. It was seen by everyone as a win-win.’

‘Except for . . .’

‘Oh yeah. Except for the princesses.’ Crescentia gulped. ‘That’s us, now, or might be after tomorrow, if we get through the audition.’

‘Why exactly would we want to audition for that?’

‘Oh, because it’s very prestigious to go to the Princess School. Girls who get accepted are virtually guaranteed to become rich and successful in later life. You spend all your time there being taught how to be even more beautiful than you are already. You learn fine conversation skills, how to talk about art and poetry and literature. You learn the great ballads, and all the main healing potions. You learn to identify the most fragrant flowers, and use them to make perfume. You learn to enjoy fine wines and chocolates – although you never get to actually swallow them until the end. You learn to be a refined, rare beauty. Which is exactly what the dragon likes to eat. A princess, basically.’

‘So are you saying that the school provides princesses for the dragon to eat every two weeks? That’s awful. That’s . . .’ Effie searched for the word. ‘Immoral.’

‘It’s what they call practical. The dragon would be eating people anyway. This way at least it’s controlled. Parents who send their daughters to the school are paid a vast amount in return. Enough to give their other children an exclusive education and buy a big house and all the food they need for the rest of their lives. If you are born pretty, you are almost expected to want to sacrifice yourself for the good of your family and your community. I come from a place that relies on exports of black-grain from here. There are no beautiful girls in the whole place. They all come here to serve their people.’

‘But what you said about girls from the Princess School going on to be rich and successful in later life? Surely if they are going to be eaten . . .?’

‘Oh,’ Crescentia laughed. ‘Not everyone gets eaten. The school deliberately takes twice the amount of girls that they need. The dragon’s taste changes week by week, and he’s always trying different things with his diet, so they need a good stock of brunettes, blondes and red-heads, for example. Girls with pale skin and dark skin. So you can survive. There’s no sixth form. If you make it through fifth form without being chosen then you get released back to your family. Although it’s supposed to be really exciting being chosen by the dragon. Like, who wouldn’t want to die young and beautiful, wearing the finest clothes and draped in the most expensive jewels? And apparently he drugs you first so you don’t even feel it.’

‘It still sounds terrifying.’

‘Yeah, right? Now you know why I didn’t want to get out of the car. My sister passed her audition two years ago. She used to send me letters, until . . .’ Crescentia’s voice started to falter, and it seemed as if she might cry. Then she pulled herself together and carried on.

‘Girls who go to the Princess School end up wanting to be eaten, apparently. They actually compete to be chosen by the dragon. The most creepy bit in my opinion is that the girl who’s chosen has to spend the night with the dragon before she is eaten the next morning. Apparently that’s what all the conversation classes and art appreciation is for. You have to go to the dragon’s lair, right to the very heart of the sunken castle, where apparently you are served a fine meal and given the most exquisite wines, flowers and chocolates, and then you have to spend the whole night there, with him. And then . . .’ Crescentia drew one finger across her throat. ‘That’s it. You get up the next morning and prepare to die.’

‘So presumably we should just fail the audition on purpose. Get there late or something and just be sent home.’

‘Ha! Sent home? If you fail the audition they put you out into the forest to run wild, and you just end up being killed or eaten by something else. A wild boar, perhaps, or a wolf. They have wolves around here, you see. There are also all kinds of weirdoes in the forest. Bandits, vagabonds, people who have been cast out of their villages. They say that some of them have formed tribes and if they find children lost in the forest they catch them and force them to act as their slaves for the rest of their lives. Trust me, you don’t want to fail the audition.’

‘Right.’

‘Also, when you think of how much our parents have spent on our dowries, like, you know, the extremely expensive clothes we take with us, and all the endless audition preparation – nails, hair, eyebrows, teeth, skin – they want something back.’

Effie looked down at her hands. Nails? She had never had her nails done in her entire life. Eyebrows? She wasn’t even sure what that meant. She brushed her teeth every day, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the dentist. But someone had bought her all those amazing clothes. Effie touched her skirt. What if . . .? What if she got to keep the clothes, and learned those skills that Crescentia talked about, and didn’t get chosen by the dragon? Surely then the Princess School would be sort of fun? Except . . . What was she thinking? How could you enjoy anything while other girls were being eaten? The whole thing was so horrible.

Effie touched her silver ring, twisting it on her thumb. It felt warm and comforting, and she knew she was stronger than usual because of it. But she also felt it would not save her if she were faced with being eaten by a dragon. How would it even feel, to go off to spend a night in a dragon’s lair, knowing that you were going to be lavished with great luxuries and then killed? It would be awful, unbearable. Effie was suddenly overcome with a feeling of wanting to put a stop to this unfair situation. But how could any one person do that?

Effie also still felt strongly drawn towards the big house by the forest. She longed to go through the gates and explore the grounds. After a while, Crescentia fell asleep in the warm afternoon sunshine and so Effie slipped off to look at the gates. They were locked with a huge brass padlock, which seemed unnecessary as they also had two men guarding them. Each man was wearing a uniform and had a sword in a scabbard by his side.

Again, Effie wondered where exactly she was. Was this the Otherworld? But she hadn’t gone into the Otherworld. She hadn’t been allowed. And, OK, here there seemed to be dragons and swords and maidens in peril – but there hadn’t yet been much talk of magic. It felt more like the past than another world. Not that Effie knew anything for sure. This was so confusing.

She touched the lock on the gates. If only it would open . . .

‘Halt and state your business,’ said one of the armed guards.

‘Sorry,’ said Effie. ‘I was just looking. Who lives here?’

‘I can’t give you that information,’ said the other guard. ‘Although,’ he dropped his voice and she could see his eyes twinkle a tiny bit, ‘if you look more closely at the gates you’ll probably find out.’

Effie stood back so she could see the gates properly again. They did remind her of something. Their shape, the ornate, complex structure . . . They were also very beautiful. They were made of dark black metal with gold detailing. There were swirls and flowers and spirals and little pictures of moons and planets and suns, all picked out in delicate filigree. She looked closely until she began to see names made out in faded gold at the top of each gate. Clothilde, it said on one side. On the other, the name Rollo was spelled out. Rollo. That reminded Effie of something, although she couldn’t think what. But she almost missed the most crucial detail. Underneath both names, and linking the two gates together, was one very familiar word. TRUELOVE, it said, and then underneath that, the word HOUSE. TRUELOVE HOUSE. So this was . . . This meant . . .

‘Please,’ Effie said to the guards. ‘I think I might be related to whoever lives here. My name’s Euphemia Truelove, you see, and— ’

‘Do you have a calling card?’

‘A what?’

‘They only accept calling cards. Or, of course, an invitation.’

‘Um . . . Could you just tell them that I’m here?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Because those are the rules,’ said the first guard.

‘Just come back when you have a calling card,’ said the second guard.

‘I don’t even know what a calling card is,’ said Effie, feeling tearful.

‘Well, we can’t help you then.’

Just then, Effie felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Crescentia.

‘What are you doing?’ she said. ‘You should have woken me up. We have to get back. There’s a lot to do before tomorrow.’

‘I just . . .’ Effie realised that she couldn’t really explain anything to Crescentia. She resolved to find some way of getting a calling card so she could return to this place. Her grandfather had told her to come to Dragon’s Green, and this must have been why. Rollo. Where had she heard that name recently?