It Isn't Easy Being Queen

12. The Witching Hour

I sat there, folding my arms across my chest. "No!" Admittedly, I was acting like a child, but what choice did I have? I needed a new plan since blasting her with my magic hadn't worked.

And never underestimate the power of a good tantrum.

"Excuse me?" Petronella's voice was dark and threatening and did uncomfortable things to my sense of well-being.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You would allow them," she glared at my dads with a pronounced sneer on her face, "to remain toads permanently?"

"Actually, now that I think about it more, you did me a favor," I lied. "Now I won't have to listen to them anymore because I don't speak toad. Also, I can drive the car and eat Pop-Tarts for breakfast. So, begone! Don't let the door hit you on the way out," I said. Of course, the door was half off its hinges, so that probably wouldn't be an issue.

"Minutes ago, you ordered me to change them back." The queen smiled, wide and toothy as a hungry shark. I swallowed hard. "Oh, Rowen. You will be a magnificent queen."

Wait, no. That wasn't supposed to be her reaction. "Why do you say that?" I said, not knowing if I wanted the answer.

"Because you use trickery and deceit to get your way. That's a very nice start. The most important task that lies ahead is for you to gain control. The castle won't appreciate it if you persist in blowing things up."

I rolled my eyes. "Castles are inanimate objects not capable of emotion." The almost sentient attic came to mind, but I pushed the thought away.

"You've never met Castle Brittlebane," she said.

"Brittlebane?"

"My castle. Soon your castle."

"Not my castle. Not my life. I am not going unless you turn them back."

"So, you do care about them. You know this gives me even more power over you? You have much to learn, but since you're new to all this, how about I make you a promise?"

"I see how well you stick to your promises. I cannot trust you," I growled.

"That will be your first lesson, my dear. Never trust anyone."

"I hate you!"

"Oh, I feel like your mother already," Petronella cooed.

This woman was clearly insane.

"You're nuts. I would rather poke my eyes out with a knitting needle than go with you. And you are not my mother."

"While the knitting needle idea could be fun," she purred, "it's not all that original. I'm sure you can do better."

Wow, aren't you the pot calling the cauldron black? Toads? Are you kidding me? That's the worst cliché ever."

"Toads make great pets," she said. "And they're useful because if they make you mad or piddle on the carpet, you can always have them for supper. They're simply delicious with melted butter."

"Gross."

"Now, Rowen, you may not come willingly, but you will come. Truly, I would prefer an agreeable heir, but I'm happy to use all means at my disposal to gain your cooperation. And believe me, you won't want to meet my 'means.' They can be quite painful."

The hairs on my neck stood up at attention like soldiers in the snow. "My means can be painful too," I warned, not wanting her to think I was weak.

The kitchen clock struck thirteen, and from outside came a loud boom followed by a cacophony of cracking branches and outraged bird squawks.