The Queen of Hallow did not have a Dark and Terrible Secret.

She had a small, boring secret.

Probably, she thought, because she was small and boring.

Her name was Felicia, she was ten years old, and this was her secret: she hated being queen.

She particularly hated signing endless bits of paper before breakfast.

‘This one,’ said her Aunt Delilah, placing an important-looking letter on the table in front of her.

Felicia tried to read it, but Aunt Delilah’s fingers covered everything except the part where her signature was supposed to go.

‘Who is it to?’ asked Felicia.

‘The Duke of Upsy Daisy.’ Which was her aunt’s way of saying, ‘I’m not going to tell you.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘Hen’s teeth and butterfly boots.’ Which meant, ‘Mind your own business.’

Felicia didn’t sigh. (‘A queen does not sigh’: Aunt Delilah)

She didn’t roll her eyes. (‘A queen does not roll her eyes, either.’)

She just bent her head, picked up her fountain pen and signed the letter in purple ink, with lots of unnecessary flourishes.

Felicia Augustina

Alexandrina Rose Regina

She had barely finished the last flourish when Aunt Delilah whisked the letter away and put down another one.

This one looked even more important. It had a gold seal at the bottom. It was three pages long.

Aunt Delilah’s hand did not quite cover the last page.

Felicia could only see a single word. But it was a word she didn’t know.

‘What’s a Spellhound?’ she asked.

Is it not strange that the Queen of Hallow did not know one of the Three Great Secrets of Hallow?

After all, every Queen and King before her knew them. Even the ones who were only ten years old.

But she didn’t.

Does it make you wonder what other important things she didn’t know?

Yes?

Good.

‘What’s a Spellhound?’ asked Felicia.

Aunt Delilah’s thumb came down hard, and the word vanished. ‘What nonsense are you talking now? A Spellhound? There’s no such thing.’

‘But—’ said Felicia, trying to see past her aunt’s thumb.

‘The word you saw was “spelunking”. Now sign the letter, please, so we can get on with our duties.’

Felicia should have just signed it.

But the word had definitely been Spellhound. And that set her thinking about yesterday, when she had asked for a puppy.

Aunt Delilah had said, ‘Puppies bite. We cannot have the Queen getting bitten. I will order a goldfish, instead.’

Felicia didn’t want a goldfish. She wanted a puppy with a cute little nose and bright black eyes.

A puppy who would sit on her lap when she rode in the back of the royal automobile, or hide in her pocket when she was meeting the ambassador from Quill or the prime minister of Stonehuff.

A puppy who would snuggle up next to her in her big, lonely bed.

She wanted it so much…

She felt an odd sort of fizzing in her tummy. Like a firecracker, the ones that started off slowly, so you thought they weren’t going to be very interesting. But then they got big. And wild. And—

‘Cake!’ cried Aunt Delilah. ‘The Queen needs cake!’

And almost before Felicia could draw breath, there was a whole cream cake on the table in front of her.

It had five layers, plus meringue, chocolate sprinkles and strawberries. And Cook had made it just for her.

So even though she didn’t really want cake for breakfast, she ate three slices. (‘A queen is never ungrateful.’)

Then she signed the letter.

And then she was carried off by her ladies-in-waiting to practise being respectable, and to memorise the names of all her ancestors, right back to Bettina the Bald.

She would much rather have learnt something useful. Like, which lords and ladies had always been loyal to the throne of Hallow, and which ones had to be watched carefully.

In case they were secretly witches.