Holly crossed her eyes and stared at the tip of her nose when a butterfly perched on it. She was breathless and unmoving, but she sneezed when it tickled her nose. Maxwell was to be seen creeping up behind her like a thief in the night. He flicked her nose, sending the butterfly flying away and Holly yelping in surprise and pain. “You!” She swung her arm, aiming for his face, but he easily deflected her attacks. Another one came, then another, but Holly was only able to land her punch in the air. “You really can’t let a day pass without doing anything that annoys me.”Clara stood up and was about to intervene when she saw Holly close to tears. And her anger was only fueled up by Maxwell’s derisive laughter. “It’s just a flick on your nose, Holly, and you’re already exploding. Don’t try so hard looking terrifying. It was cute.”The princess caught her breath when Holly conjured a spiked mace ball made of air. She flailed it at Maxwell who effortlessly deflected it. “I have always hat
The room was dingy and windowless, lit by four wall torches with rusty brackets. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all manner of revolting things Clara didn’t really want to know the name of at the moment. A highly polished collection of manacles hung behind a cluttered desk. Looking around, one thing was certain for Clara: of all the places she had visited so far in Blaire, this was by far the most interesting. It was a cramped space, full of funny little noises. A number of curious glowing instruments stood on spindle-legged tables. Apart from the weird glass jars, occupying a single floor-to-ceiling shelf were books giving off a bizarre feeling.Clara hesitated. She cast a wary eye around the room. Surely it couldn’t hurt if they took a look around.She stepped further into the room, and suddenly stumbled over a bag lying in the middle of the floor. Inside it was a shimmery crystalli
Clara’s eyes popped on the red leather-bound book that was thicker and heavier than a normal book. There was a sign of old age, but there were no other damages. It also seemed to be well taken care of. She turned it over at a different angle to inspect and figure out anything, but nothing else—not even the name of its writer—was written other than the title itself.She held onto it tight against her chest before she strode quickly over the table in a jumbled mess. Thrill and excitement rushed into her system as she cleared the table of strewn parchments. She fixed the candelabra in a suitable position, so it could properly cast a light on the book’s pages.She sat on an uncomfortable squeaky old wooden chair and took a deep breath before opening the book on its first page. At first, Clara thought it was blank. She was about to turn it to the next page when words started to appear. Clara stared at it wide-eyed. Words appeared as they formed a sentence.‘Everything in this book is a hist
Clara and Holly woke the next day to a brilliant sunshine and a light refreshing breeze, and the classes were quick to end. Over Caelholme, the afternoon sunlight crept over the grounds around the shops, sky and lake alike turned periwinkle blue and flowers burst into bloom. Clara and Holly sat under an umbrella shed just outside the town’s famous pastry shop, Greta’s Sweetums. Clara was looking expectantly inside the shop as she craned her neck, checking if their order would arrive any time soon. Inside, there were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable: Creamy chunks of butterscotch that changed color in every bite; hundreds of different kinds of chocolates in weird animal shapes arranged in neat rows that customers must be prepared to catch once it either leaped or flew; colorful candy necklaces which adjusted to the size of the neck; miniature candy cones; cans of slithering candy worms; cakes that could be ordered in towers or slices; and enchanted
Clara plopped herself on the bed as soon as she arrived in her chamber from Caelholme. Her body was beaten up. They spent almost all the afternoon milling around the town, hopping in every shop for exploration; shop owners ended up frustrated as the two ladies left their shops empty-handed as they were just merely looking around even though they had the golds and silvers inside their pockets. Pacifying Holly after she burst into an endless stream of tears was a whole lot of job she hadn’t done before. But their day ended well, and now that darkness finally blanketed the sky, she had no idea what else to do. There was not even a single task their sages assigned them to do. Clara was humming to herself when her eyes spotted the red leather-bound book she stole in the hidden room beneath the redwood. Until now, she was wincing at the idea that she managed to steal a book that wasn’t hers. Over and over, she tried to console herself that she only borrowed it and would eventually return i
“I could report to your father, King Cassius, such disobedience, Your Highness,” Clara repeated begrudgingly the same words Madam Fern threatened her with when she refused to leave the library sooner than she wanted.Willow had gone to Groven House as soon as Clara stepped out of the library’s Restricted Section. And as she stood outside, looking past the three-headed gargoyle longingly, Madam Fern had emerged from a row of bookshelves, searching for her. One of the hardest parts was to suppress the nagging curiosity which could only be pacified when provided an answer it needed. And Clara could only do so much to restrain her feet from retracing their steps back to the library. More than an hour ago, she went off to find an answer. Yet a single answer led to more questions which soon would become uncertainties.Clara stomped her way towards the lake—the one which she fell on the very first day—where the small wooden bridge that led to the Royal Residence was. She faltered in her ste
Alex strode without delay towards it and up he climbed the tunnel. Clara waited apprehensively at the bottom. Seconds turned to minutes and each time, Clara wanted to go up and follow him. She could only hear Alex’s grunt and the sound of struggling, and that alone sent a relief that at least she knew he was alive.Clara took a few steps back when Alex came back, sliding down the tunnel. His eyes held danger and he was clearly annoyed as he brushed off the dirt from his black dress robe. And this expression alone made Clara worried.“What is that noise?” “We’re trapped.” Alex huffed. He ambled towards the desk, ancient and frail-looking, but he managed to sit on it, arms and ankles crossed. Through the small curtain of hair that covered his midnight eyes, he looked at Clara with the kind of stare which held a power to render someone as stiff as a stone.“Trapped?” she asked and Alex gave one swift nod. “You looked rather… calm. What trapped us here?”“A boulder was jammed in the entra
It was hell. That was the only thing she could describe the sensation assaulting her head. And the distasteful stink of rancidity was so oppressive for her sensitive nose.Clara stirred in her sleeping position. Her body screamed of soreness from the hard ground she slept on. As she skimmed her hands over the fabric serving as her cushion, she felt the grease clung to her skin. She sat up with a start, looked around through her half-opened eyes, and realized that her makeshift bed was from the pile of unwashed musty clothes from the wooden chair in the corner. Clara grimaced. She was already on her knees, about to stand up, when she spotted the prince slumped back against the wall, his head lolling to the side. The memory of what unfolded last night came rushing back and it only worsened the pounding in her head. She closed her eyes for a minute, took a deep breath, and picked up a rangy cloth in an attempt to cover him with it. As she was about to drape it over his body like a blan