It Isn't Easy Being Queen

11. To Toad or Not to Toad

The evil queen wasn't affected, though. She floated out of the way of the slowly advancing potion, waved her arm, and time sped back up. The potion rained to the floor, where it sizzled and smoked all the way through the wood. We now had a steaming pit in the middle of the kitchen. I could only imagine how Dad would feel about his floor now.

"My floor!" Dad cried.

(I didn't have to just imagine.)

The evil queen drifted to the floor, hands on hips. "Paul Brown. A witch-dissolving potion? I thought I'd taught you better."

Dad looked sheepish. "It was all I had."

"Points for trying, I suppose," Petronella said. "And now it's time for you to pay for your insolent remarks about my age." She raised both arms, the blue lightning once again sparking from her fingertips, and unleashed her power.

As I said, no one got to zap my parents except me, so I dove between her and my parents, screaming, "no zapping in the house!" because that was all I could think of on short notice. (And don't remind me it is a dumb rule because I had already zapped inside the house and destroyed the kitchen and broken all the windows, which allowed my 'mom' past the wards.)

"Rowen, no!" Dad yelled. Too late.

The queen's power struck me. It was like a million needles going into my skin all at once. I fell to the floor, barely missing our new pit, and lay there, heart pounding, my breath coming in short quick gasps. The sharp pain on my skin intensified, seeping into my body. I waited to dissolve or burn to a crisp, but instead, the magic settled in and became, well, part of me.

My breath slowed. The pain lessened. I felt incredibly strong. Like I could fly to the moon or generate a hurricane. I scrambled to my feet. The queen and my dads watching me with jaws dropped and eyes wide.

"What?" I said, spreading my arms defensively.

Dad conked his head on the table, trying to come out from beneath. "Ouch." He rubbed his dark head. "You absorbed the queen's power."

"Is that what I did?"

The queen smiled with something that seemed alien to her face, like the lines surrounding her mouth weren't at all used to this new position. It was something like affection. "My dearest daughter, you are my heir. My power is your power. We share the same essence. You will come to the castle with me and take your place as the rightful queen. I will teach you everything you need to know, how to walk, talk, fly, zap, destroy, and punish like a queen. You'll learn field blighting, how to barnstorm on your broomstick, creating slime for fun and profit, how to subjugate your minions, torturing telemarketers, and most of all, how to rule. In one month's time, you will take the oath and the job."

Is it wrong to say most of this kind of sounded fun? "Will there be servants and tiaras and pretty dresses? A few Prince Charmings vying for my attention?"

Petronella looked up. "Hmmm. Certainly, no Prince Charmings." She glared at my dads. "Did you fill Rowen's head with fairy tales?"

"No," Papa said. "She did that herself."

Petronella shook her head. "You won't have servants but minions, which are far better. There might be a tiara stored somewhere, and you'll have a complete wardrobe made for you." She pursed her lips and gave me the once over. "Surely something better than whatever that is that you're wearing. I haven't kept up on fashions in your realm, but I thought jeggings were the latest style."

I scrunched my face. "Jeggings? Ugh. No way."

"A loss, certainly," Petronella said.

"Would everyone love and respect me?"