After what felt like an eternity, I finally reached the bottom, emerging outside the castle in a small, abandoned courtyard. With a final heave, I hoisted the chair into the back of a wagon, which was full of all the other chairs I’d already stolen from the council room. Amazingly, no one at the stable had questioned me when I showed up, still in my nightgown, asking for a horse and buggy.
After tossing a few blankets over the chairs, I clambered into the driver’s seat and flicked the reins. As I emerged from the courtyard into the busier castle grounds, I smiled and waved asthough it were totally normal to be out and about in the early morning in a coat and a nightgown, hauling a conspicuous heap of covered cargo.
Everyone smiled and waved back without a second thought. It was like Bryce had said. Everyone acted more like video game characters than real people. Strange. But convenient, given that normal people would have definitely realized Bryce and I sucked at being Chosen Ones by now.
I exited the castle walls and headed into the city. As I neared the market, the crisp morning air filled with the incredible smells of street food—the homey scent of warm dough, the savory aroma of spiced meat and caramelized onions, the sweet whiff of pastries.
Turning a corner revealed the busy main street. Women bustled from shop to shop. Children scampered underfoot. Traders’ carts and stands packed the street, displaying their wares—from colorful scarves to food to baubles and trinkets. Their shouts rang over the laughter and conversation.
It was slow going, but at last I found a spot to park my wagon between a flower stand and a meat pie vendor. I hopped off the wagon, unveiled my stolen wares with a flourish, and propped up a sign on one of the chairs that read:Free. Limit: One per customer.
Grinning, I pulled down one of the chairs for myself. “And now we wait,” I said to myself as I settled onto the plush purple upholstery adorning the gold frame.
Ten minutes passed.
Then another ten.
People would glance at the heap of blindingly reflective furniture, then scuttle away as though afraid. Growing impatient, I stood on top of my chair and began shouting along with the other hawkers, putting my marketing degree to good use. “WHY DO NONE OF YOU WANT A FREE, SUPER-VALUABLE CHAIR?”
Okay. So, it wasn’t my best work. But it didn’t make sense. One chair could turn someone’s whole life around.
I began to grow antsy, worried about what the king might get up to once he woke and left his chambers. I needed to be around to spy on him, in case he was involved with Winston’s kidnapping.
Catching sight of a cluster of young girls at the flower shop next to me, I turned. There were five of them working the stand, all appearing to be sisters, ranging in age from toddler to teen. They all had the same giant green eyes, snub noses, and dark hair.
They giggled and whispered to one another as they cut stems, arranged bouquets, and greeted customers. Aside from Winston’s mom, it had been difficult to see the humanity in everyone else I’d met here. Wizards, kings, people like Cuthbert who were genuinely happy with their jobs—they didn’t exist in my world and therefore didn’t quite feel real.
But these were normal girls. Put them in jeans and T-shirts, give them cell phones instead of flowers, and they’d be just like the kids back home.
My mission felt even more personal now.Real, actualchildren were counting on me. Yes, I had to fix my mistakes and overthrow an Evil One for my own good to get back home, but I also had to do it for these girls and everyone else just like them. Familiar pressure to succeed pressed against my lungs, but I would endure it. I had to.
Back in my coatrack, I’d dreamed of a magical land, a place where I wasn’t held responsible for other people’s comfort and happiness. Ironic how, now that I’d actually gotten my magical land, I was responsible for the fate of the world.
With new resolve, I scooted my chair over to the flower shop girls, the gold screeching over the cobblestones. Straightening, I planted my hands on my hips. “This is for you.”
Five sets of eyes blinked back at me. “We can’t accept this, my lady,” the oldest one said at last, with an airy laugh.
“Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t the time for pride. I insist.”
“No. We cannot,” said a girl who appeared to be the second oldest—maybe eleven or twelve. She stuck her hands in her worn apron. “It is not the way of things.”
I inched the chair a little closer, wagging my eyebrows enticingly. “If you sold this, you could be rich.”
“We cannot be rich,” said the oldest with a little shrug. “We are peasants.”
Sighing, I rested my forearms on the back of the chair. “That’s what I’m saying. You won’t have to be peasants anymore.”
“We can never not be peasants,” she said with a cheerful smile.
I was about to give up and turn away, but my eye caught on her placid expression. Before, I hadn’t paid much attention to any of this world’s cardboard cutout characters, writing them off as storybook clichés, but now I took a closer look. The girl continued staring at me, a serene smile on her lips, but I almost thought I could see a hard glint of something deep in her eyes.
Then she blinked, and it was gone. “Would you like to buy a flower?” She held a daisy under my nose.
An idea struck me. “If you can’t accept the chair for free, would you take it as payment? You could even have it melted down before you sell it, if you’re worried about people realizing where it’s from.”
All the girls exchanged looks. “We don’t have enough flowers,” the littlest said.
I squatted to her level and grinned. “Tell you what. I’ll buy them all, and if you help me with a little project, we’ll call it even.”
