The Unfairest of Them All

  One of Faerie’s most beautiful flowers is the enchanting dandyrose. At the end of a dandyrose’s life, it erupts into a puff of downy white seeds called will o’ the wisps. They are so light they sometimes catch a breeze in our world and cross over, especially near willow trees. They disappear and reappear as they move back and forth between Faerie and Ever After. Will o’ the wisps glow in the nonmagical light of our realm. They follow whispers, and so serve as an interesting ball in the pixie game of Wisp Whispering.

  Not until Apple stood on the edge of the clearing could she hear the whispers.

  Tiny pixies flew around the field, some guarding the goal zones by each willow tree, others surrounding the glowing ball, whispering madly at it. Half wore blue jerseys, half green, both sides tackling each other, trying to keep members of the opposite team away from the ball.

  When the will o’ the wisp disappeared, the two pixies on the sidelines began screeching words Apple didn’t understand. Both teams of pixies spread out over the field, forming a grid pattern. A few moments passed, and the pixies waited, spinning in place, watching. When the ball winked back into existence farther down the field, the nearest pixies swooped to it, tackling one another and whispering at the ball to follow, follow.

  Apple tiptoed up to the two pixies who were hovering off to the side—one in blue, one in green—who she assumed were the coaches.

  “Pardon me,” Apple said softly. “I’m sorry to interrupt your fascinating game, but I need a favor, please.”

  One of the pixies flew by her ear, buzzed loudly, and flitted away. The other made a noise Apple would swear was laughter.

  “Um, I really need a will o’ the wisp—it’s to help a friend?”

  The pixies were screeching at the players, completely ignoring Apple now.

  “Can you help me, please?” Apple asked.

  The pixies glanced at her and returned their attention to the game.

  Boys and woodland creatures were quick to help Apple White, but the pixies were unaffected by her genetic damsel-in-distress trait. Perhaps they didn’t speak her language.

  Apple knew someone who surely spoke theirs.

  “Gala, sweetie, do you think you could find Ashlynn Ella?” Apple asked.

  As soon as her snow fox was out of sight, Apple began to have doubts. The Evil Queen said they must do this alone. But here she was asking Ashlynn for help. And for that matter, the Mad Hatter had helped, too. Had she already damaged the spell?

  Then again, what did “don’t ask for help” really mean? Was Raven supposed to get all the ingredients herself? Or was Apple? She could feel herself spiraling into a series of questions that she wouldn’t be able to answer. This was exactly why things needed to remain on script.

  She’s evil, Apple reminded herself. You can listen to what she suggests but don’t have to do exactly what she says.

  Apple did not have long to fret. Ashlynn was already returning with Gala. Her long strawberry blond hair was loose but for a braid encircling her head like a headband. She wore mint and coral, her presence bringing a bouquet of bright colors into the forest shadows.

  “Wow, that was fast!” said Apple.

  “I was nearby waiting for… someone…” Ashlynn cleared her throat. “Gala said you needed my help?”

  “Yes, I need to make will o’ the wisps tea for… something…” Apple also cleared her throat. Apparently, they both had secrets. “And I was wondering—”

  “Pixies!” said Ashlynn.

  One of the pixie coaches yodeled, and the two teams flew off the court and straight to Ashlynn, buzzing around her, tidying her hair, giving her tiny kisses on the tip of her nose and ears. Ashlynn giggled. They jabbered in high voices Apple couldn’t understand any more than she could understand the buzz of a honeybee, but Ashlynn had no trouble.

  “It’s so good to see you all, too. Who’s winning today? Really? Wouldn’t that give the blue team three straight wins? I see, how fascinating. Yes, I’m sure the green team has an excellent chance. I see you recruited two new whisperers. Oh my, now don’t tell me that, you know my fondness for moths. Yes, of course I’ll let you get back to the game, I was just wondering, do you have a spare wisp my dear friend Apple could have?”

  There was indeed a spare wisp wandering just out of bounds behind a willow tree. Several pixies from both teams whispered it over to Apple. She thanked them and held the glowing thing in her hands. It tickled her palm like a static-electric feather. Before it could disappear, Apple removed a gold ring from her pinkie and threaded some of the wisp through it. The Mad Hatter’s book had said only metal would ground the wisp in Ever After until it could be brewed.

  The pixies returned to their game, and Ashlynn watched them for a few moments, cheering moves Apple didn’t quite catch.

  “I should go,” said Ashlynn. “I have to, uh, meet that someone.”

  “Thanks, Ashlynn!”

  Apple had just left behind the shadow of the forest when another shadow cast her in shade. She looked up to see an elephant-sized dragon.

  “Nevermore!” said Apple. “What a pleasant surprise. Will you go find Raven? She could probably use some help.”

  The dragon snorted and flew off.

  Apple felt the will o’ the wisp vibrate in her hand, as if it had caught a breeze in Faerie and would have passed over if not for the little gold ring anchoring it in Ever After. Apple began to run. She needed to get that wisp into a teapot and tackle the next riddle.

  This was going to be a long day. But, for Maddie’s sake, would it be long enough?

  MADDIE SAT ALONE IN THE TEA SHOP kitchen, feeding tiny pieces of cheese to her dormouse, Earl Grey. It was unclear if she could hear the Narrator or not.

  Of course I can, Narrator. I am mad, after all.

  Okay, I… uh, I’m not supposed to talk to you, you know, but I just feel so bad about what’s happening, especially with—

  Achoo!

  Bless you. Don’t tell me you have a cold on top of everything else?

  No, it’s just that they’re sending me to Neverland, and you know how pirates… ah… ah… Achoo! Pirates make me sneeze. I’m pretty sure I developed an allergy to them on Yester Day. Now even the thought of—Achoo!—of pirates makes me sniffly and itchy and prone to bursts of air exploding out my nostrils.

  Oh dear. There are a lot of pirates in Neverland.

  Yeah… I’ll get used to them eventually, right? I am sorry that my dad is losing his tea shop. And most of all about leaving my best friend till The End Raven Queen… but she’s too busy to spend my last day together, so maybe she doesn’t really mind that I’m going away.

  Oh, Maddie, I wish I could share with you everything I know.

  I wish I could share with you some of this lovely charm blossom tea paired with raspberry preserves on a warm baguette. You know, baguette almost rhymes with p-p-pir—Achoo!

  THE CROWN OF TERROR PAST

  THE SHELL INSIDE STILL LASTS

  THE ITEM YOU SEEK, A TOY OF THE WEAK

  MAJESTY DOWNED, RUN AGROUND IN TOWN

  TO ECHO NOW NAUGHT BUT HAPPY SOUNDS

  RAVEN WALKED ALL OVER BOOK END. The riddle said, “run aground in town,” and in that she hoped it was literal. Book End was the only town around. She snooped through narrow alleys where so little sunlight filtered between the roofs that the fairy streetlamps stayed on all day. She jogged through residential areas with town houses fit so tightly together they resembled books on a shelf. She stalked open streets lined with pumpkin houses, giant shoe houses, and crooked houses at the end of crooked paths. And all the while Raven repeated the riddle to herself, but nothing caught her eye.

  The only place she didn’t wander was Book End’s Main Street, where the Mad Hatter’s Haberdashery & Tea Shoppe sat mostly empty and totally sad. Raven couldn’t bear to see Maddie again and not say, or think, a word.

  Usually she and Maddie would hang out together on a weekend like today, chatting over late breakfast and tea and then going s
hopping or heading to the Enchanted Forest and hanging with Nevermore and picking flowers and other ingredients for teas.

  And now, she just didn’t know. Maybe she was evil after all, if doing what she thought was right only ended up making people suffer.

  No, she thought stubbornly. This wasn’t her fault. All she had wanted was to choose her own life, her own destiny. Raven sighed. She couldn’t be blamed for everything getting out of control, right? Was it her fault that people saw what she did and—

  Never mind! Solve the cursed riddle for Maddie. She needs you now.

  What the hex was a “crown of terror past”? An actual crown? No. Crowns were never really crowns in riddles. They were always hats, or kings or queens, or things that sit on top of stuff.

  Raven heard laughter echoing down an alley. Little kid laughter. That counted as “happy sounds,” so she followed it to the playground.

  She found a bench and sat. It was one of those candy benches that had become popular in parks a few years back. Raven remembered that her dad let her eat an entire peppermint armrest from a park bench near their castle. This one was old, though. All the good bits had been eaten off or were now so calcified that you’d break your teeth if you tried. She adjusted, and her skirt stuck a bit.

  The playground had the standard castle play set, with a candy-cane climbing pole that everyone licked on the way down. Raven was amazed now that she’d never gotten sick doing that, or sprained her tongue or something. There were a giant boot playhouse, a slide that looked like a tongue lolling out of an ogre’s head, a small merry-go-round spinning all around a mulberry bush, a mini glass tower kids could save one another from (or save themselves, as Raven used to when she was little).

  In the center was a huge climbing dome, only this one wasn’t a spiderweb shape like normal, it was molded to look like the skull of a dragon. She walked up to the play skull and touched it. She’d lived with her mother long enough to be able to recognize the feel of actual bone. This skull was the real deal.

  Raven laughed out loud, and a couple of parents nearby eyed her warily. She ignored them and did a little happy dance.

  “That’s the Evil Queen’s daughter,” she heard someone whisper.

  Let them whisper all they wanted. She’d solved the riddle! The “crown” was the head, the “terror” was the dragon, the “shell” the skull. And the children were using it as a “toy.” But Raven’s giddy feeling turned into a cringe when she took a step back and realized it would take a team of horses to pull it free. Besides, how could she get it up to her room unseen? Let alone fit it through the door. She needed help, and that was exactly what her mother had said she shouldn’t have.

  Just then Nevermore flapped down on her leathery wings and landed next to her. Even though she was in her more polite large-dog-size, parents scattered, screaming.

  “The Evil Queen’s daughter!” someone yelled. “And her evil dragon minion!”

  “Woofie,” came a small, excited voice from somewhere near her knee. A tiny girl, probably no older than two, had toddled up to Nevermore. She had her hand out, and Nevermore nuzzled it. “Woofie,” the girl said again, giggling.

  “Azure!” called a voice.

  Cedar Wood came running up. She was smiling, the wood of her face supple and full of movement. Her face and arms were a warm brown and showed the delicate curves of wood grain, and her dark brown hair was full of wavy curls. She wore her casual day-off clothes—lederhosen overall shorts with a paint-splattered T-shirt beneath.

  “Hi, Raven!” said Cedar.

  “Hey, Cedar,” said Raven.

  “How funny. When I heard all the screaming, I actually thought, ‘I wonder if Raven’s nearby.’ ” Cedar’s smile recarved itself into mortification. “Sorry! Not that you’re always making people scream in terror or anything… though you do sometimes, I can’t tell a lie. Um, shutting up.”

  “Woofie,” said the little girl.

  “Who’s this?” Raven asked.

  “Little Boy Blue’s daughter. Sorry if she’s mauling Nevermore. She’s kind of obsessed with dragons.” Cedar took Azure’s hand. “Everything that’s happening with Maddie really huffs and puffs, you know? If I had a stomach, I’d be sick to it. I’m going to go over to her shop this afternoon as soon as I’m done babysitting Azure and help them pack. Will you be there?”

  Raven shook her head. She was afraid if she talked about Maddie, she’d cry. Cedar must have noticed, because she gave her a hug.

  “I know you, Raven Queen,” she said, pulling back to look at her. “And I know that if you aren’t with Maddie today it’s because you’re trying to figure out a way to save her.”

  Raven pressed her lips together.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to say a word,” said Cedar. “I know spells sometimes require secrets—especially from someone like me who can’t help blabbing!”

  “Cedar, can I ask you something? Is all this, all the bad stuff happening with Maddie and everyone angry and the food fight and the Treasury—is it my fault? Because I didn’t sign the book?”

  Cedar frowned. She was cursed to always tell the truth, and Raven feared whatever she’d say next wasn’t something Raven wanted to hear. Cedar opened her mouth.

  “Never mind,” Raven said quickly, suddenly desperate to change the subject. “So, um, you’re creative.”

  “What?” Cedar asked, tugging Azure away from one of the pokier parts of Nevermore.

  “You’re a painter and artist, so you, like, think outside the dungeon. Can I talk something through with you?”

  “Sure,” Cedar said. “Is it okay if,” she finished, pointing to Azure, who had climbed her way up to Nevermore’s back and was waving her arms.

  “Fwy, Woofie! Fwy!” she shouted.

  “Oh, that’s totally fine,” Raven said to Cedar, and then, to Nevermore, “Um, don’t fly.”

  The dragon huffed and sat, curling her tail around herself like a cat.

  “So I have this really big thing that I need to move from the village to my dorm room, but people can’t really know about it. Any ideas?”

  Cedar looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “This has nothing to do with Maddie and some spell to save her, right? Right. I’m not asking. So how big is it?”

  “Like.” Raven looked around, trying to find something as big as the dragon skull that wasn’t actually the dragon skull. She gave up. “As big as that play set there.”

  “That is big. Well, okay, I’m just going to start saying stuff out loud. It’s how I work with my art. Try stuff out till I find something that works. Um, you could take it apart.”

  Raven opened her mouth to say how that wasn’t possible, but Cedar just kept going.

  “And take it in piece by piece and reassemble it. You could disguise it as a giant and roll it in on wheels, you could hire a giant to carry it, you could magic zap it into a marshmallow and carry it there. You could, um, shoot it out of a catapult, turn it into a flying machine, have Nevermore carry it for you, find a hidden relic that stops time and use it to stop time and then take your time to move it in whatever way you wanted, pour a Shrinking Potion on it (and then an Embiggen Potion after you move it), teleport it, dig a wishing well under it, talk to it and see if it will walk there on its own…”

  “That’s good!” Raven blurted, holding up her hands to stop Cedar at the same moment that Azure toppled off Nevermore. The little girl landed directly in Raven’s arms, giggling.

  “Enough dragon tumbling for you,” Cedar said, taking the little girl from Raven. “Is that good? I can do more—”

  “That was plenty,” Raven said. “Thank you.”

  “No problem,” Cedar said. “Maybe I’ll see you at the shop later? And if not, I know whatever you’re doing for Maddie, you’re doing all you can.”

  Cedar carried Azure off to the vine swings, while the little girl called, “Woofie, Woofie!”

  “Well, ‘Woofie,’ ” Raven said to the dragon, “did anything Cedar s
ay—”

  Raven was interrupted by the sounds of screaming.

  Nevermore had transformed into her full, terrifying size, crushing the bench she was perched on.

  “Nevermore!” Raven shouted.

  The dragon popped back to small size, and instantly everyone stopped screaming.

  “Cedar suggested you could carry it,” Raven said. “When you’re big, you’d be strong enough to pull it out, but there’s still the problem of how to get it through the normal-sized window of my normal-sized room.”

  The dragon enlarged again, the nearby crowd picking up its scream right where it left it. Her suddenly huge wings knocked Raven over. Nevermore helped her up with the nudge of a horned nostril, and then instantly shrank down. Everyone stopped screaming.

  Again, Nevermore popped big. The crowd screamed. Nevermore shrank small. The crowd sucked in a gaspy breath, preparing for the next scream.

  Raven giggled. “That’s just mean. You’re scaring them out of their minds.”

  She gave her pet dragon a tight hug, hoping to keep her from popping huge again, but also because she just needed a hug right then. “Just stay small for now, okay?”

  Nevermore chuffed a puff of warm air into Raven’s neck. Raven pulled back and looked into Nevermore’s eyes.

  “Were you trying to tell me something with all that small and then big stuff?” Her dragon just stared at her. Raven really wished she could speak dragon. “We need to shrink that skull, don’t we? Just like Cedar said. Except we don’t have a Shrinking Potion. Or an Embiggen one.”

  Raven had the magic within her to do the size changing, but a spell backfiring in a playground might accidentally turn a child into a toad, or a toad into a child. Raven’s mind spun and finally stopped on a thought.

  “You’re a dragon, and that skull is made of the same stuff you are,” Raven said. “Do you think if you shrank yourself while holding onto the skull, you could be the Shrinking Potion?”

  Nevermore huffed again and took to the air, as large as an elephant—an iridescent black, scaly, leather-winged, and dagger-clawed elephant. Such an airborne monstrosity would fuel the nightmares of all the townspeople for weeks. They screamed, of course. The dragon landed on the skull and in a twinkle shrank to a more manageable size. And so had the skull.