It Isn't Easy Being Queen

22. Oops, Mom, I Blew up the Spa

"Stupid spiders," Olivia said, rolling her eyes and then continuing ahead as if I wasn't just threatened by an oversized killer arachnid. This made me wonder, were the giant spiders responsible for the disappearances? From the mind-boggling circumference of this one's mouth, it could probably gobble down a decent-sized witch in three bites.

"How did you scare it away?" I asked, hoping to benefit from her methods.

She giggled. "It's a gift. Like being good at math or magic."

"I'm good at math," I said.

"Well, I'm good at intimidating giant spiders."

"Why do we even have giant spiders?" I said, as my heart slowly receded into non-heart attack territory.

"Petronella gets them. She has a personal decorator on staff who says the spiders add to the ambiance, same with the rusty suits of armor and the rats and the ghosts."

"So, the castle looks this way on purpose? Like as a design statement?" I said, aghast.

Olivia just shrugged her shoulders and kept going. A thought flashed across my brain: that interior decorator should do a stint in the dungeon for at least five years. It would give him a chance to think about his behavior and come up with more original, less creepy designs in the future. Maybe Feng shui the place with some comfy sofas, bonsai, and Zen gardens. 

Then I reminded myself that I wouldn't be here long enough to imprison anyone, and you know what? My heart sank a little bit at the loss.

Finally, the sinister stairs of agony ended. At the tippy top of the castle, we passed through an arched opening that led us onto a wide bailey so high up, I felt like if I stood on tiptoes, I could almost touch the moon.

But why would I stand on tiptoes? That would just make my sore calf muscles even sorer.

The wind whipped past, whining like a jet engine, making my teeth chatter. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying (and failing) to stop shivering. Olivia seemed barely affected by the wind like she was a hologram, and her actual body was in a different place. Her hair barely moved, and her dress fluttered alluringly like a model at a photo shoot, but I was pretty sure she was physically there and not a hologram because the moon cast an eerie orange glow over her blonde hair. We kept moving. Would it ever end?

Being sopping wet atop a gloomy, wind-torn castle roof was pretty low on my list of "Favorite Places Ever." Honestly, I'd rank it somewhere between falling off the roof of a skyscraper and being trapped inside an active volcano, although at least the volcano would be warm.

"Are weeeeee tttthhhheerrre yyyyetttt?" I chattered.

Olivia removed her totally non-holographic shawl and wrapped it around my shoulders. "You poor thing. Moat water is the absolute worst. We're almost there."

"Thaaaankkk yooouuu," I said, touched by the gesture, though it did little good.

Finally, we reached another archway at the opposite end of the bailey and approached a glass door with a sign that read "The Queen's Spa: Entry only by explicit permission of Her Highness. All trespassers will be fed to werewolves."

Geez! "Mom" really loved her threats.

As soon as Olivia pulled open the door, I smelled it.

Lavender.

Thick, cloying, nose-assaulting lavender.

I coughed into the sleeve of my gown.

"You okay?" Olivia said, her big round eyes full of concern.