Page 7 of Wickedly Ever After (A Fairy Tale Romp, #1)

“I did no such thing. I’d only attack a person if they could defend themselves.

You couldn’t even flatten a gnat.” The girl in the new dress gazed up at Ida with the kind of steady confidence that she’d expect from a witch, not a princess.

She had a striking face, pretty, even with the clear light of anger in her soft brown eyes.

Her reddish-brown hair was pulled into a thick braid that fell halfway down her back, and her lips were so tight they looked pale against her tan.

A farmer or a blacksmith, perhaps. Her arms were muscular, and she looked strong.

“Your Goodness, my name is Amber. I know you’ve been told Mildred is a match girl, and that she tore all her hair out to make dolls out of matches, but that’s a lie, and a wig.

I’ve known her for years. Her family owns the biggest tavern conglomerate in the capital.

My father works for them—he’s makes the iron rings for the barrels.

She’s not an orphan. She’s not poor. She’s not been through any real hardship.

It’s not fair they didn’t tell you, and it’s not fair to the other girls either. ”

“She’s lying, Your Goodness!” Mildred wept. “I am a match girl. Amber is just jealous of me. She always has been. She knew she could never be a princess because she’s from a good family! She wants to smear me so she can be the princess!”

Amber’s face twisted into a disdainful sneer. “I don’t want any part of that nonsense. I’m a smith and a damn good one. I’m not giving that up.”

Mildred’s tears turned to angry sobs. “This is your way of getting even because Timothy Greene liked me instead of you in the eighth grade!”

“Oh, for Gods’ sake. You can choose who you want to marry or if you want to marry at all! Those other girls don’t have half our privilege—”

Mildred slapped Amber. “You think any one of those other girls has any idea how to be consort to a prince? They wouldn’t know how to embroider a pillow! Some of them probably don’t know how to read, let alone compile a guest list for a party!”

Amber’s bright eyes sparkled, but she didn’t retaliate. “If they get a chance, they’ll learn all they need and more, and you’re denying them—”

Suddenly, it all seemed so revolting, so worthless, so inane.

One thousand years, and this was the best magic could come up with?

Of course, it wasn’t magic that had come up with this travesty; she hadn’t even been consulted in centuries for the choosing.

She was supposed to be. She’d have never gotten the committee’s proposal past Hector if that wasn’t in there, but the reality was somewhat different.

They’d turned the whole thing into a massive politically motivated beauty pageant.

The nerve of Hector, calling her irresponsible but…

maybe he had a point. Here she was, about to rubber stamp another princess, one that even other commoners knew wasn’t deserving.

This wasn’t like Queen Annabeth—at least the committee had been duped on that one as much as she had.

Her temper, already at the breaking point, snapped.

“Stop.” Ida cut both girls off with a swipe of her hand. Mildred went on shouting in complete silence. Amber whirled around to face Ida, face red, eyes glittering with fury, but she stopped talking. Smart girl.

Ida rubbed her temples. “A thousand years ago, my mentor, the Good Witch of the North, placed a single red rose in the hand of a struggling servant girl and changed the fate of the world. This is supposed to be a solemn, reverent moment, not some tit-for-tat on a daytime crystal ball talk show. You should both be ashamed of yourselves. But so should I.” She picked up the red rose and held it carefully while the water dripped from the stem onto the folds of her robes.

“Once upon a time, magic chose the girl who would become the Common Princess. Maybe it’s time to return to tradition. ”

She descended the stairs, holding the rose.

“My duty for the last thousand years has been to place this rose in the hand of the worthy princess, who will be taken captive by the evil dragon and rescued by the good prince, to ensure that this magic—the magic that saved us from ourselves—will continue to protect us and preserve us. Hold out your hands.”

Mildred stuck her hand out at once. But Amber folded her arms over her chest.

“You would really refuse this test as a person who has been the recipient of Happily-Ever-After your whole life?” Ida stared directly into Amber’s deep brown eyes.

“The magic will choose. Not you. Not I. Not some committee who gives out favors to those who can buy them. Isn’t that what you wanted? Why you came?”

Amber’s face turned red and her frown deepened into a gulch, but she slowly held out her hand.

Ida held the rose out like a wand. She touched Mildred’s left hand. The rose shivered between her fingers, but nothing happened. Then she touched Amber’s.

For a moment, Ida thought perhaps nothing would happen at all.

She was on the verge of stepping back, calling Hari and telling him to send all the other girls back into the room.

That would probably be the right thing to do, the fair thing.

Then the rose warmed in her hand, first the stem as it filled with magic, and then the sepals, the petals, the stamens.

With a sudden burst of dark smoke and the smell of a rose garden, the rose flared with crimson light.

Amber’s mouth fell open. Next to her, Mildred Cheapstreet broke into silent sobs, stamping her feet and yelling soundlessly at Ida and Amber in turns. Well, that would never do. She’d not be able to make herself heard over that once she lifted the spell.

A flick of the rose and Mildred was a match.

Ida picked her up and tucked her gently in her pocket.

It would do the girl good to spend some time reflecting on her life and what she might want to do with it now.

Perhaps a room full of matches in which she needed to find herself would be just the thing—Ida used to do that with grains of wheat sometimes.

Very meditative, sorting wheat. But right now, she had a princess to deal with, and a very angry one to judge by the color in Amber’s cheeks.

“Congratulations,” Ida said. “The magic chose well. I wish you the best Happily-Ever-After, my dear.”

Amber’s red face turned purple. She opened her mouth, as if uncertain whether or not she could speak, but the words poured out in a torrent. “I told you, I don’t want it! I have a life. I don’t want to marry some prince. That’s not my idea of a Happily-Ever-After! You can’t force me to do this!”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything,” Ida said. “The magic—”

“The magic can go get—”

“Listen to me,” Ida said, holding up her hand. “You’ve been chosen, Amber Smith. You can either embrace your destiny or you can run away from it. That’s the real choice you have to make now. Is it really so bad to be saving the world?”

If Amber’s glare were turned into a sword, it couldn’t be sharper. “You’re going to regret this.”

She threw the rose down on the floor and stomped out.