Bewitched

  Solstice Miabella Canmore is a princess—at least, she was when his father was alive—until he’s no longer. It makes her feel terrible to think that she doesn’t want her father to die because she’d be alone with her step mother, whom her father married after her mother died, rather than because she doesn’t want him to die in general, because she isn’t particularly lovable to his father. It’s one thing to put up with her stepmother’s daily sermons, but it’s quite another to spend time with her obnoxious stepsisters. She isn’t a princess in her own castle, despite her best efforts; rather, she is a servant, and her words don’t matter, at least not to them. She despises her stepmother, and she perceives her as strange… and evil. But she wouldn’t be able to keep her secrets for much longer since she discovers something that will undoubtedly destroy her nasty stepmother. The only problem is that the secret would destroy both the kingdom she’s attempting to safeguard and the…

The path to the attic is far superior to the path to my room. It's hygienic and energizing. When my father was occupying the library, I used to come here a lot. He disliked it when I read out loud in the library with him; he couldn't concentrate. I don't always realize I'm doing it, especially if I'm engrossed in the novel; it's difficult to maintain track of your surroundings when reading. It will destroy the moment when you are checking everything around you on a regular basis.   The servant who received my family's portrait stated she stored it in the attic. I'm fortunate she has her kingdom loyalty; else, she'd definitely toss it away.   When I get to the attic, I discover that everything is the same as it was before. Isn't it generally the case that no one comes here?   Anastasia and Drizella aren't particularly fond of such things. I cant hardly even tell if they can read.   I see the portrait

To me, having to fear the morning should have been a common occurrence. The beginning of my predicament occurs at daybreak. And the fact that it's this morning indicates that the ball will be held tonight. I've been thinking about it since I realized I'd be on pins and needles waiting to see what would happen. Because Tremaine often brings terrible news, I'm guessing the ball is nothing like the name itself.    I get out of bed. My gaze is drawn to the shuffled books on the table that I discovered in the attic. I remembered reading them till I became drowsy, but I have no recollection of what I read. I jerk my gaze to the window, which is only half open because the other side is damaged. The sun’s upper limb rises beyond the horizon, enabling a ray of light to fall on the lovely trees in front of my chamber. The light was split into many beams, which thankfully helped to reduce the amount of sleepiness on my face. I feel revitalized and energized al

The forest is so dark. We walked through the meadow, which was snappy under our boots. When we look up, the trees have become skyscraper-like shadows, looming above us. Steep, shadowy pines shoot high into the haze like spears. Spotty stars and sky can be seen through tree cracks, with the moon beaming through a lattice of leaves.It was only a few moments ago that we decided to enter the forest, and we've already been strolling for almost a minute without saying anything. We follow the barely discernible black trails winding through the floras of the undergrowth. Only our breathings and the snapping twigs, grass and weeds sliding against our trouser legs, can be heard.When the wind whips through the leaves and creaks the tree trunks, I clutch myself tighter, adding to my unease. I despise how silent Flynn is, so I have to come up with a way to get him to talk. Seriously, the night woods scares the living daylights out of me.

The shattered glass pane where we staked our lives jumps with us. As we descend, shards of it fall like glitters in all forms, making lines on my skin. My hair seems to collect traces of it, which irritates my scalp. We land on a palace's concrete thoroughfare, which thankfully hasn't been broken into. I glance upward to find faces peering down on us, inquisitive of what our idiotic stunt had resulted into. The little noises produced by the shattered glass window reverberate like overturned coins. If I hadn't taken a few quavery breaths, I wouldn't have realized I was trembling. People crowding around the window have splintered us, and the cacophonous conversation has just added to my uneasiness. I instantly avert my gaze to the concrete we'd fallen from, fearful of seeing the Prince or Lady Tremaine peering down at us. Despite the fact that it is dark and the cuts on my flesh from the fall are not visible, I can feel them itching and aching. When I hear Flynn giggle