It Isn't Easy Being Queen

43. A Deathbed Promise is Legally Binding

"Vermeil, why can't I move? You got rid of the ropes."

"It takes a few minutes for your body to adjust to not being a statue."

"But I didn't get turned into a statue," I argued.

"You look pretty statuesque to me," he said. "Maybe the mirror didn't turn you to stone, but you're exceedingly rigid. Don't worry. It'll improve."

"I don't have time for this!" I hissed.

"Meerrrlllleeenn," Petronella croaked.

"I think she said 'Merlin," I said.

"She definitely said Merlin," Vermeil replied.

"Does she mean The Merlin? The guy from King Arthur?" I would've pointed out that he was only a myth, but who was I to talk when I was basically living in a fairy tale?

"Yeah, they were a 'thing' before Petronella took the oath. She had to kick him to the curb when she became queen. I heard she didn't take letting him go very well."

I couldn't blame her. Who chose a life without love? "What did she do?"

"Remember smallpox?"

"Not personally."

"Well, back in the 1500s, it was quite the killer. Rumor is, that was her."

"How horrible, but I guess she was only sixteen. Her frontal lobe wasn't fully developed. And rumors aren't always true."

"Rowen," Petronella rasped like a plague victim.

I ordered my head to turn toward Petronella's voice, but my head did not obey. "Is she okay?" I said.

"Depends," Vermeil said.

"On what?"

"On what you're comparing her to. She's in good condition for a corpse. But not in such great shape for a witch."

"What happened to her?"

"I think she had her magic sucked out by that giant machine. I'm afraid without her magic; she has progressed to her true age. All that's left is a frail dried-out carcass."

Gross!

Evidently, Olivia had finally succeeded in her greatest wish—she had magic. But she hadn't gotten it from our non-existent triplet. She got it from our 'mother.' Our creator. Petronella was the "there is another" Tyra had referred to. Of course, their magic would be compatible.

But I didn't get why Olivia didn't just take it from Petronella in the first place. Wouldn't that have been easier than kidnapping me? All I could think of was that Olivia wanted Petronella to live to see the object of her ridicule become queen. To gloat.

But the critical thing was Olivia had the magic she needed, and right now, she was on her way to take the oath, and I was trapped here on a table. "Enough!" I yelled. "Come on, Other Me!!! Let's do this! I focused on the magic swirling inside me, gathered it up, and sent it into my fingers, where it exploded outward as bolts of lightning. There was a horrible creaking sound, like metal crumpling, then the room erupted into chaos, with pieces of metal and glass and liquids and medieval weapons popping off the walls, and everything soaring through the air. I bolted upright, and Vermeil flew off my chest, careening into the abyss, flying dangerously close to sharp chunks of what used to be a magic-sucking machine.

"Rowen!" he screamed. "Help!"

"Prohibere!" I encanted. Stop in Latin.

It was as if time had frozen. Vermeil hung in midair alongside random medieval weaponry and shards of metal and glass that used to be the magic-sucking machine of evil. Petronella hadn't joined the flying circus of destruction, as she was still tied down. But a gleaming longsword hovered over her shriveled neck. I leaped from the table, shouting a spell to move the detritus aside, "recedite!" For extra emphasis so that the magic wouldn't have any doubt, I swept my arms wide, magically pushing everything toward the sides of the room. As Vermeil flew past, I plucked him out of the air. Everything dropped with an ear-splitting crash, clatter, roar, and rumble.