A Tale of Magic... Read online

  Tears came to Brystal’s eyes and she trembled in her seat. She looked to her brothers for support, but they were just as frightened as she was.

  “I’m—I’m sorry, Father—”

  “You have no right knowing any of the information you just recited! If I find out you’ve been reading again, so help me God, I will throw you out on the street!”

  Brystal turned to her mother, praying she wouldn’t mention the books she’d found in her bedroom earlier. Just like her sons, Mrs. Evergreen stayed silent and still, like a mouse in the presence of a hawk.

  “N-n-no, I haven’t been reading—”

  “Then where did you learn all that?”

  “I—I—I suppose I just picked it up from Barrie and Brooks. They’re always talking about laws and the courthouse at the table—”

  “Then perhaps you should eat outside until you learn to tune it out! No daughter of mine is going to defy the laws of this kingdom by being precocious!”

  The Justice continued to shout about his disappointment in and disgust for his daughter. Brystal wasn’t a stranger to her father’s temper—in fact, she rarely communicated with him unless he was screaming at her—but nothing was worse than being on the receiving end of his fury. With every heartbeat, Brystal sank a little more into her chair, and she counted down the seconds until it was over. Usually if he didn’t stop yelling by the count of fifty, her father’s wrath would escalate into something physical.

  “Is that the carriage I hear?” Mrs. Evergreen asked.

  The family went silent as they tried to hear whatever Mrs. Evergreen heard. A few moments later the faint sounds of bells and galloping filled the house as the carriage approached outside. Brystal wondered if her mother had actually heard it, or if her interruption was just lucky timing.

  “The three of you better hurry before it gets too late.”

  Justice Evergreen and his sons gathered their things and met the carriage outside. Barrie took his time as he shut the front door behind him so he could wave good-bye to his sister.

  “Thank you,” he mouthed to her.

  “Good luck today,” she mouthed back.

  Brystal stayed in her seat until she was certain her father and brothers were a good distance down the road. By the time she regained her senses, Mrs. Evergreen had already cleared the dining room table. Brystal went into the kitchen to see if her mother needed help with the dishes, but her mother wasn’t cleaning. Instead, Brystal found Mrs. Evergreen leaning on the sink, staring down at the dirty dishes with a heavy gaze, as if she were in a trance.

  “Thank you for not mentioning the books to Father,” Brystal said.

  “You shouldn’t have corrected your brother like that,” Mrs. Evergreen said quietly.

  “I know,” Brystal said.

  “I mean it, Brystal,” her mother said, and turned to her daughter with wide, fearful eyes. “Brooks is very well-liked in town. You don’t want to make him your enemy. If he starts saying bad things about you to his friends—”

  “Mother, I don’t care what Brooks says about me.”

  “Well, you should,” Mrs. Evergreen said sternly. “In two years, you’ll be sixteen and men will start courting you for marriage. You can’t risk a reputation that scares all the good ones away. You don’t want to spend your life with someone mean and ungrateful.… Trust me.”

  Her mother’s remarks left Brystal speechless. She couldn’t tell if she was just imagining it, but the dark circles under her mother’s eyes seemed a shade darker than they were before breakfast.

  “Now go to school,” Mrs. Evergreen said. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

  Brystal was compelled to stay and argue with her mother. She wanted to list all the reasons why her life would be different than other girls’, she wanted to explain why she was destined for greater things than marriage and motherhood, but then she remembered she had no evidence to support her beliefs.

  Perhaps her mother was right. Maybe Brystal was a fool for thinking the world was anything but dark.

  With nothing more to say, Brystal left her home and headed for school. As she walked along the path into town, the image of her mother leaning at the sink stayed prominently on her mind. Brystal worried it was as much a glimpse into her own future as it was a memory of her mother.

  “No,” she whispered to herself. “That is not going to be my life.… That is not going to be my life.… That is not going to be my life.…” Brystal repeated the statement as she walked, hoping if she said it enough times, it might extinguish her fears. “It may seem impossible right now, but I know something is going to happen.… Something is going to change.… Something is going to make my life different.…”

  Brystal was right to be worried; escaping the confinements of the Southern Kingdom was impossible for a girl her age. But in a few short weeks, Brystal’s definition of impossible would change forever.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A SIGN

  That day at the Chariot Hills School for Future Wives and Mothers, Brystal learned the proper amount of tea to serve to an unexpected visitor, the type of appetizers to cook for a formal gathering, and how to fold a napkin into the shape of a dove—among other riveting subjects. Toward the end of class Brystal had rolled her eyes so many times her eye sockets were sore. Usually she was better at hiding her annoyance during school hours, but without the comfort of a good book waiting for her at home, it was much more difficult to conceal her irritation.

  To soothe her aggravation, Brystal thought about the last page she had read in The Tales of Tidbit Twitch before falling asleep the night before. The story’s hero, a field mouse named Tidbit, was hanging off a cliff while battling a ferocious dragon. His tiny claws were getting tired as he swung from ledge to ledge to dodge the monster’s scorching breath. With his last bit of strength, he threw his small sword at the dragon, hoping it would wound the beast and give him a chance to climb to safety.

  “Miss Evergreen?”

  By some miracle, Tidbit’s sword flew through the air and pierced the dragon’s eye. The creature jerked its head toward the heavens and howled in pain, sending fiery geysers through the night sky. As Tidbit crawled down the side of the cliff, the dragon whipped its pointed tail and knocked the mouse off the boulder he clung to. Tidbit fell toward the rocky earth below, limbs flailing all around as he reached for something—anything—to grab on to.

  “Miss Evergreen!”

  Brystal sat straight up in her seat like she had been pricked with an invisible pin. All her classmates turned toward her desk in the back row and stared at her with matching frowns. Their teacher, Mrs. Plume, glared at her from the front of the classroom with pursed lips and one of her penciled eyebrows raised.

  “Um… yes?” Brystal asked with large innocent eyes.

  “Miss Evergreen, are you paying attention or are you daydreaming again?” Mrs. Plume asked.

  “I’m paying attention, of course,” she lied.

  “Then what is the appropriate way to handle the situation I just described?” the teacher challenged.

  Obviously, Brystal didn’t have a clue what the class was discussing. The other girls giggled in anticipation of a good chastising. Fortunately, Brystal knew an answer that solved all of Mrs. Plume’s questions, no matter what the topic was.

  “I suppose I would ask my future husband what to do?” she replied.

  Mrs. Plume stared at Brystal for a few moments without blinking.

  “That’s… correct,” the teacher was surprised to admit.

  Brystal sighed with relief and her classmates sighed with disappointment. They always looked forward to moments when Brystal was reprimanded for her infamous daydreaming. Even Mrs. Plume seemed disappointed at a missed opportunity to scold her. The teacher would have slumped if her tight corset allowed it.

  “Moving on,” Mrs. Plume instructed. “We’ll now review the difference between tying hair ribbons and shoelaces, and the dangers of mixing them up.”

  The students c
heered for their next lesson, and their enthusiasm made Brystal die a little inside. She knew she couldn’t be the only girl at school who wanted a more exciting life than what they were being prepared for, but as she watched her classmates strain their necks to see ribbons and shoelaces, she couldn’t tell if they were all phenomenal actors or just phenomenally brainwashed.

  Brystal knew better than to mention her dreams or frustrations to anyone, but she didn’t have to say anything for people to know she was different. Like wolves from an opposing pack, the whole school could practically smell it on her. And since the Southern Kingdom was a scary place for people who thought differently, Brystal’s classmates kept their distance from her, as if difference was a contagious disease.

  Don’t worry, one day they’ll regret this…, Brystal thought. One day they’ll wish they were nicer to me.… One day I’ll be celebrated for my differences.… One day they’ll be the unhappy ones, not me.…

  To avoid any more unwanted attention, Brystal remained as quiet and alert as possible until the end of class. The only time she moved a muscle was to lightly caress the reading glasses hidden in her dress.

  That afternoon, Brystal walked home from school at a slower pace than usual. With nothing but chores waiting for her, she decided to stroll through the Chariot Hills town square, hoping the change of scenery would take her mind off her troubles.

  The Champion Castle, the cathedral, the courthouse, and the University of Law each towered over the four sides of the town square. Busy shops and markets filled the corners and spaces between the authoritative structures. In the center of the town square was a grassy patch where a statue of King Champion I stood above a shallow fountain. The statue depicted the sovereign on horseback as he pointed a sword into a seemingly prosperous future, but the tribute received more attention from pigeons than from the citizens wandering through town.

  As Brystal walked past the University of Law, she gazed up at its stone walls and impressive glass domes with envy. At that very moment, she knew Barrie was somewhere inside agonizing over his examination. Brystal could have sworn she felt her brother’s anxiety radiating through the walls, but still, she would have given anything to trade places with him. She stopped to say a prayer for him before moving on.

  Brystal had no choice but to pass the courthouse as she continued through the town square. It was an ominous building with tall pillars and a triangular roof. Each pillar had the image of a High Justice carved into it, and the carvings scowled down at the citizens on the ground like disapproving parents—an expression Brystal knew well. She couldn’t stop a wave of anger from flooding her stomach as she eyed the intimidating faces above her. Men like them—men like her father—were the reason she had such little happiness.

  In a corner of the town square, between the university and courthouse, was the Chariot Hills Library. It was a small and modest structure compared to the buildings surrounding it, but to Brystal, the library could have been a palace. A black plaque with a red triangle was displayed above its double doors—a common symbol in the Southern Kingdom that reminded women they weren’t allowed to enter—but the law did nothing to diminish Brystal’s desire to go in.

  Being so close to so many books and being forbidden to enjoy them gave Brystal a terrible feeling whenever she laid eyes on the library, but today the sensation was unbearable. The helplessness she felt triggered an avalanche of emotions, and all the fear, doubt, and heartbreak she had been suppressing trampled over her like a stampede. The scenic route home was creating the opposite effect of what she had intended, and the town square suddenly felt like a cage closing in on her.

  Brystal was so overwhelmed she could barely breathe. She shooed a cluster of pigeons away from the Champion statue and had a seat on the edge of the fountain to catch her breath.

  “I can’t do this anymore…,” she panted. “I keep telling myself that things will get better, but they only get worse and worse.… If life is just a series of disappointments, then I wish I had never been born.… I wish I could turn into a cloud and float far, far away from here.…”

  Tears spilled down her face before she knew they were coming. A few townspeople noticed the emotional scene and paused to gawk at her, but Brystal couldn’t care less. She buried her face in the palms of her hands and wept in front of everyone.

  “Please, God, I need more than just faith to keep going…,” she cried. “I need proof that I’m not as foolish as I feel.… I need a message that life won’t always be so miserable.… Please, I need a sign.…”

  Ironically, after Brystal finished crying and had dried her tears, a sign was the first thing she saw. An old and rickety librarian emerged from the library with a bright yellow board under his arm. With shaky hands, he pinned the board on the library’s entranceway. Brystal had never seen a sign posted outside the library before and was very curious. Once the librarian returned inside, she hurried to the front steps to read the words painted across the board:

  MAID WANTED

  Suddenly, an idea came to Brystal that sent tingles through her entire body. Before she could second-guess herself—and before she was even fully aware of what she was doing—Brystal pushed through the front doors and entered the Chariot Hills Library.

  Her first glimpse of the library was so overstimulating it took a few moments for Brystal’s mind to catch up with her eyes. In all the years she had spent wondering what the library looked like inside, she never imagined it could be so magnificent. It was an enormous circular room with an emerald carpet, the walls were covered in wooden paneling, and natural light flowed in from a glass ceiling. A massive silver globe stood in the center of the first floor, and dozens of law students were spread out at antique tables and armchairs around it. But most amazing of all, the library was surrounded by three stories of bookshelves that stretched into the upper floors like a multilevel maze.

  The sight of thousands and thousands of books made Brystal light-headed, like she had just stepped into a dream. She never knew so many books existed in the whole world, let alone in her local library.

  Brystal spotted the elderly librarian standing behind a counter at the front of the room. Her impromptu plan would end in disaster if she didn’t play her cards right. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, wished herself luck, and approached him.

  “Excuse me, sir?” Brystal asked.

  The librarian was busy applying labels to a fresh stack of books and didn’t notice her right away. Brystal instantly felt a spark of jealousy toward the old man—she could only imagine how many books he had touched and read over the years.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Woolsore?” she asked after reading the nameplate on the countertop.

  The librarian squinted at her and reached for a pair of thick spectacles nearby. Once his glasses were on, the old man’s jaw dropped. He pointed at Brystal like a wild animal was loose in the building.

  “Young lady, what are you doing in here?” Mr. Woolsore exclaimed. “Women aren’t allowed in the library! Now, get out before I call the authorities!”

  “Actually, it’s perfectly legal for me to be inside,” Brystal explained, hoping her tranquil tone would mellow his. “You see, according to the Hired Help Act of 417, women are allowed to enter male-only premises to seek employment. By posting the sign outside, you’ve given me the legal right to enter the building and apply for the position.”

  Brystal knew the Hired Help Act of 417 only applied to women older than twenty, but she was hoping the librarian wasn’t as familiar with the law as she was. Mr. Woolsore scrunched his fuzzy eyebrows and watched her like a hawk.

  “You want to be a maid?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Brystal said with a shrug. “It’s honest work, is it not?”

  “But shouldn’t a girl your age be busy learning how to curtsy and flirt with boys?” Mr. Woolsore asked.

  Brystal was compelled to argue, but she swallowed her pride and kept her eye on the prize.

  “To be honest, Mr. Woolsore,” she said
, “a boy is exactly why I want the position. You see, there’s this Deputy Justice I’m just smitten with. I desperately want him to propose to me one day, but I don’t think he sees me as wife material. My family has servants—many, many servants—so he has no reason to believe I’m even capable of household chores. But when he finds out I’ve been cleaning the library all by myself—to perfection, I might add—he’ll know I’ll make him a better wife than all the other girls in town.”

  Brystal even twirled her hair and blinked her eyes helplessly like a deer to sell the performance.

  “I sympathize, but you aren’t a practical candidate for the position,” the librarian said. “I can’t have you in the library while law students are studying. A young girl would be too much of a distraction for young men.”

  “Then perhaps I could clean in the evening after the library closes,” Brystal suggested. “Most establishments have their maids clean after hours. I could start as soon as you leave and it would be spotless when you return the next morning.”

  Mr. Woolsore crossed his arms and eyed her suspiciously. She was almost too convincing to be trusted.

  “This isn’t some scheme, is it?” he inquired. “You aren’t applying for the job so you can be around books, are you?”

  Brystal felt her heart plunge into her gut. The librarian was seeing through her dishonesty as easily as her mother would. But instead of letting the panic surface on her face, Brystal laughed the idea off and tried using his ignorance against him.

  “Mr. Woolsore, I’m a fourteen-year-old girl. What interest would I have in books?”

  According to the librarian’s body language, reverse psychology did the trick. Mr. Woolsore chuckled to himself, as if he was foolish for thinking it in the first place. Brystal knew she was close to persuading him—she just needed to offer him one more perk to sweeten the deal.

  “How much does the position pay, sir?” she asked.

  “Six gold coins a week,” he said. “The position is five days a week. Employees don’t work weekends or the royal holidays Kingsgiving and Champions Eve.”