Freedom comes at a price and a young Earthal princess must live the life of somebody else, even if it means facing evil threats and impossible odds.
***
As someone who craves freedom, Princess Clarabelle cannot just stand by and let her life be take...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
"OW! Stomp down on my heel one more time, and I'm seriously going to have to break your ankle."
"Maybe if you weren't hogging the entire glow of the lamp up there, Miss Vanders, the rest of us could see where we were going."
Clara tried to stifle her laugh as she followed a bickering Maxwell and Holly across campus in the dark. It was almost eleven, and Blaire was pitch-black and silent, except for the hoot of an owl. An orange gibbous moon was low in the sky, cloaked by a veil of fog. Between the three of them, they'd only been able to come up with one gas lamp, so only Holly had a clear view of the path of the shady pocket redwoods. For the other two, the grounds—which had seemed so lush and well-tended in the daylight—were now booby-trapped with fallen bristlecones, thick-rooted ferns, and the backs of Holly's feet.
When Holly had asked her to do some extraordinary moon spells, Clara had gotten a sinking feeling in her stomach. Emir had just dropped her off in her chamber room. And he repeatedly emphasized she was not to wander off on her own. Clara wanted badly to have a friend in Holly, so she didn't want to decline her request. It only occurred to her how big of a deal this ancient magic was; everyone appeared to be interested in it.
Night came and there were no hall monitors at Blaire, no terrifying security system vaporizer watching the students' every action at the redwoods, so it wasn't the threat of getting caught that made her nervous. Sneaking out of the Royal Residence had been relatively easy. It was drawing a crowd that was a bigger challenge.
And that's when Maxwell came into the picture. Clara didn't expect him to be staying out too late. And when he caught them sneaking out, he had the nerve to invite himself on their little escapade. He had to threaten Clara that he would report to the prince if they wouldn't let him join. But for all Clara knew, Maxwell just wanted to keep an eye out for her, not to have fun. Or was it?
Ten minutes later, bundled up in a fuzzy warm coat, a nightgown, and bunny footsie slippers (Holly), Blaire's inner white polo and pants (Maxwell), and with a nervous feeling in the gut about becoming so defiant—which she had never tried before (Clara), the three of them tramped deeper into the redwoods until the post lamps lighting the greenhouse's path were nothing but tiny star-like lights.
They stopped treading the tree-root-ridden path beside a hollowed tree with random diagonal markings carved on its body.
"So what are we up to tonight?" Maxwell asked, his eyes darting alternately between Clara and Holly.
"What we're up to is not your business, Sir Beaumont. And by we, I'm referring to the princess and me. We didn't even ask you to come," Holly snapped back, her eyebrows rising in a challenge.
"I apologize for breaking it to you, Miss Vanders. The prince's responsibility equals my responsibility as well. I must report everything to him." He smiled knowingly, the menace in his eyes screaming trouble. "I can just go back and tell him. He may let the princess slide from the punishment, but I can't guarantee you'll get away with it. So either you'll let me tag along or we'll go back—"
