The Warrior Princess of Pennyroyal Academy Read online

  ALSO BY M. A. LARSON

  Pennyroyal Academy

  The Shadow Cadets of Pennyroyal Academy

  G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS

  an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street

  New York, NY 10014

  Copyright © 2017 by M. A. Larson.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  G. P. Putnam’s Sons is a registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  Ebook ISBN 9780399545726

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  For Scarlett

  Contents

  Also by M. A. Larson

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Acknowledgments

  A CLEAR TRAIL of spittle ran from the corner of Basil’s mouth. He snorted and stirred but didn’t wake.

  “Again! He didn’t hear you!” whispered Demetra. She was on the verge of tears from holding back laughter.

  The sun had just broken over the eastern forest, where birds sang by the hundreds. It was the dawn of what was certainly the most exciting day on the Pennyroyal Academy calendar. Yet in the early-morning hours, campus remained as still as it had been all night.

  Except, of course, for three figures clad in gray huddled outside the storehouse behind the Leatherwolf Company barracks.

  “Poor Bas,” said Maggie, fighting off laughter of her own. “Do it again, Evie.”

  It isn’t as easy as it looks, Evie thought. I’ve no idea how loud I’m being.

  She peered through the window. The storehouse was scattered with axes and barrows and brooms and shovels. Across the room, Basil lay on a small straw pallet in the corner, his too-long hair feathered across his slender face. With each rising of his chest, there came a faint snore.

  Evie opened her mouth to speak, and Demetra broke out in laughter. Evie smacked her on the arm, then looked back through the window to make sure Basil hadn’t woken. When she finally did speak, her mouth moved, but no sound came out. In the storehouse, however, Basil shot up out of bed.

  “Evie?” he said, his voice muffled through the window. “Evie, where are you? I can hear you laughing. Hang on, how can I hear you laughing? Have you got your voice back?”

  “Again!” Demetra clutched her stomach, her voice a squeaking whimper.

  Evie started speaking, but no sounds came from her mouth. There was a great crash inside. Demetra collapsed onto Maggie’s lap, trying to hold in her laughter.

  “A witch attack? Now?” said Basil. “Evie, where are you? What is going on? How are you talking?”

  Evie suddenly began to shout. “Get out of there, Basil. Calivigne’s coming!” Somehow, her voice had come from inside the storehouse.

  There was a humongous clatter as garden implements went flying and Basil let out a shout. Now Maggie toppled to the ground, crying with laughter.

  “Run!” shouted Basil. “Witch! Witch!” He burst out of the storehouse wearing only his breeches, panic on his face. “Calivigne is com—OOF!” He fell to the dirt as he struggled to pull on a boot.

  “Cadet Basil!” came a furious squawk from the front of the Leatherwolf Company barracks. Evie’s eyes shot open. It was Princess Copperpot, their House Princess, and she was spitting mad. She’d had a hard run of luck with witch curses over the years, giving her a wooden leg, two left arms, an eye patch with heavy scarring creeping out from underneath, and a nosy rooster named Lance, who followed her everywhere. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Evie grabbed Demetra and Maggie. Their laughter was cut off as though hacked by a woodsman’s blade, and they ducked against the wall of the storehouse. No one dared even to breathe.

  Go away, Lance, thought Evie. Back to bed with you.

  “I’m sorry, Princess, I . . .” They heard Basil scramble to his feet. “I must have had a bad dream.”

  “Bad dream, is it?” said Copperpot. Her speech was punctuated with strange bursts of volume. “You’re lucky this is the last day of the year or I’d give you some real nightmares!” From the front of the storehouse, Lance buhgawk-ed.

  “Yes, Princess. I’m sorry, Princess.”

  “At least put some clothes on, will you?” said Copperpot.

  Evie’s hand vised down on Maggie’s leg as Lance’s bobbing red head appeared around the side of the storehouse. “Come, Lance!” shrieked Copperpot. “We’ve much to do before the ceremony!”

  Thankfully, the rooster strutted away before he had a chance to notice the three girls huddled in the dirt.

  “Sincere apologies, Princess,” called Basil with a nervous chuckle. Then, after a moment, he hissed, “Evie! I know you’re here! Show yourself!” The door to the storehouse opened, and he went back inside. “Evie!”

  Demetra and Maggie resumed their battle against laughter. As Evie’s lips moved, her ghostly voice came from inside: “Basil . . . this is the spirit of Evie . . . you must do as I command . . .”

  “You’re such a child, Evie. Come on, where are you?” Suddenly, his face appeared in the window. He pushed it open with a small metal rod. “Hilarious. I ought to march you right over there and turn you in—”

  “Basil!” came Evie’s voice from behind him.

  He screamed and jumped, dropping the window closed. A moment later, he reappeared. “How in blazes are you doing that?”

  Demetra could barely walk from laughing so hard. Maggie had to lead her inside and deposit her on a rain barrel so she could catch her breath. Evie stepped past the shovels and hoes that Basil had knocked over in his panic. She removed a delicate, beaded silk neckband from beside his pillow. She tossed it to him, and he studied it in confusion. The stones of the neckband were nicked and tarnished, badly in need of a polish, but it was otherwise unremarkable.

  “That’s my new voice—”

  Basil threw the neckband like it was a talking snake. Demetra began to cry with laughter until she fell off the barrel. Evie picked up the neckband and clasped it around her neck. The blackish-brown stones matched the dark waves of her hair, making her eyes gleam as green as a forest after the rain.

  “See? I’ve got my voice back.” Finally, it seemed to be coming from her own body again. “The nurses found this enchanted neckband for me in Cumberland Hall.”

  “Cumberland Hall?” said Basil. “You mean that’s a . . .”

  “Incredible, isn’t
it?” said Maggie, stepping over to admire the neckband. “Evie’s got an honest-to-goodness fairy tale artifact there.”

  “Blimey!” he said, leaning in for a closer look. “How’s it work?”

  “They took a bit of my spit and a bit of my blood and mixed it in here.” She tapped a tiny reservoir hidden amongst the polished stones on the front of the collar. “Princess Wertzheim wasn’t sure if it would work, but . . .”

  “I’d say it works brilliantly,” said Basil. “Scared me half to death.”

  “Sorry about that. It was Demetra’s idea.”

  Princess Wertzheim, the chief caregiver at Pennyroyal Academy, had nursed Evie to health after a particularly close call with the Vertreiben, a secret society bent on capturing Princess Cinderella. Evie had succeeded in helping the most famous princess in the land escape, but she had nearly lost her own life in the process. As a girl raised by dragons, she had learned enough from them to be able to start a small fire with her breath. Thanks to some enchanted trees, the fire she’d started had grown into a conflagration, scattering the Vertreiben into the forest and allowing Cinderella to flee. Unfortunately, Evie’s human body wasn’t yet equipped to handle the heat of dragon’s breath. The act of breathing fire left her throat so severely burned that she couldn’t eat or drink or speak. The medical staff had given her an array of poultices and potions, though none did much to ease the pain. Finally, after six days, the nurses managed to all but eliminate the agony of the burns. Evie had even successfully eaten some small bits of pear, a blessing to her empty stomach. Everything was starting to return to normal. Except, that is, for her voice, which was showing no signs of coming back. Princess Wertzheim had remembered the enchanted neckband from a visit she’d made years earlier to Cumberland Hall, the Academy’s storehouse of magical and bewitched items. With a little bit of practice, Evie had finally managed to start speaking again.

  “Princess Wertzheim says I’ll probably be wearing this for the rest of my life, but at least we managed to get Cinderella out of here.”

  “What fantastic timing,” said Basil. “With your voice back, you can go home for the summer after all, can’t you?”

  “Yes . . . but I’m thinking I might go to Sevigny with Maggie instead.” She turned to her friend. “If that’s all right.”

  “Are you mad? I’ve been asking you that for two years!”

  “Uh, not to be the voice of reason,” said Basil, adopting the earnest, scholarly tone that always made him seem older than his years. “But what about your family? Won’t they worry? Especially after what happened at the Drudenhaus?”

  “I haven’t spoken to them in nearly a year,” said Evie. “I doubt they’ll notice.”

  Basil considered. “I wish I had that problem.”

  “Bas,” said Demetra. “I’m sorry for teasing you with Evie’s voice. I hope you understand that it had to be done.”

  “I consider it my punishment for being friends with you lot,” he said with a laugh. Suddenly, his eyes popped open as he realized something. “Hang on, if you’re out of the Infirmary, Evie, does that mean you can come to the ceremony?”

  “It does indeed.”

  “Fantastic!” he said, looking from Maggie to Demetra. “Well then, shall we go have our final breakfast as second-class cadets?”

  Demetra and Maggie, arm in arm, walked out into the morning sun. Basil reached up and touched the stones of Evie’s silk neckband, his mind working. “You must let me borrow this someday. I could scare the pants off my brothers.”

  • • •

  The Headmistress General’s face looked like an unimpressed owl’s: sunken eyes and humorless beak beneath a crown of choppy white hair. She was addressing the assembled second- and third-class cadets in the Queen’s Tower, a translucent spear that rose high above the rest of campus. The walls were immense bricks of stone, yet somehow sunlight shone through, giving the hall a magical glow.

  “. . . and it has certainly not been an easy year, yet you have all persevered . . .”

  The cadets were arranged by company, creating a colorful patchwork of girls and boys. Two tiers of balconies ringed the hall, filled with proud parents and siblings. And in front, atop a dais lined with ancient thrones, sat the Academy’s staff, all dressed formally in matching cloaks.

  During those long, boring nights in the Infirmary waiting for her body to heal, a thought had taken hold in Evie’s mind. Maybe she wouldn’t go home after all, even once the nurses declared her healthy. When she’d last seen her mother and sister, all they’d done was argue. Perhaps it would be better for them to have a bit more time away from her. Perhaps it would be better for her to be around other humans outside the Academy. Perhaps, though it hurt to think it, she simply didn’t want to go home.

  “Let me close by saying congratulations on an excellent year. You have worked hard, and now is the time for your reward. Third-class cadets, I hereby proclaim you second-class cadets.”

  The back half of the hall erupted in cheers. The balconies rippled with waving, clapping hands. Beatrice, without so much as a smile, raised her hands for quiet. Slowly, the new second class began to settle, though excitement still crackled through the hall.

  “Cadets of the second class, I hereby proclaim you first-class cadets. Well done.”

  The wave of excitement now hit Evie’s company, as well as the other princess company and the two knight companies who had just been advanced. Though they were equally as euphoric as the younger cadets, they managed to hold their composure a bit better, exchanging hugs and smiles instead of delirious screams. Evie felt a rush of pride as she embraced her company-mates. She had done it. Against all odds, she’d made it through her first two years of princess training. Only one more and she would be commissioned a Princess of the Shield, a sworn defender of the realm from all wicked witches. Shivers raced down her arms at the thought.

  “When you return in the fall,” intoned Beatrice, and the joyful buzz fizzled away, “you must endeavor to make it your best year yet. The road only grows more challenging. The witches only become more real. Take these months to reflect on your enemy. Remember those we lost to the Vertreiben. And then return to us refreshed, renewed, and ready for battle.” She surveyed the hall with sharp eyes and pursed lips. “Now, there is one final thing I should like to leave you with. As you know, the first-class cadets will receive their commissions in a separate ceremony later today. Since they aren’t here now, I don’t feel too terribly guilty sharing this with you.” Her face threatened a smile, but she managed to suppress it. “Cadets, you shall have a very important duty awaiting you in the fall. For the first time in nearly twenty years, Pennyroyal Academy will play host to a royal wedding.”

  A flurry of voices rippled across the hall as the day’s delight reached a fever pitch. Beatrice, meanwhile, did her best to speak above the noise. “Each of you will be heavily involved in the planning and execution. This is a rare opportunity for us all, and we must represent Pennyroyal Academy to the best of our abilities.” The thrill could no longer be contained. Voices grew increasingly louder. “All this will be in addition to your regular training,” she nearly shouted. “Lest you think a royal wedding is purely pleasure, let me assure you it is not. This will be hard work, ladies and gentlemen, but it will also be a remarkable opportunity to learn how an event of this magnitude comes together.”

  “Who is it?” shouted one of the younger girls, which prompted a host of other curious voices. “Who’s getting married?”

  Beatrice let her silence do the talking. She didn’t speak again until the hall had gone completely quiet. “We will be hosting the wedding of King Nordstrand to one of the most celebrated graduates of recent years: Princess Middlemiss.”

  Chaos broke out. Evie, however, didn’t move. Since she first arrived at Pennyroyal Academy as the child of dragons, Princess Middlemiss had served as her own personal touchstone of how to
navigate through humanity. In Lieutenant Volf’s histories, Middlemiss was a girl as riddled with doubt and as questionable a cadet as Evie imagined herself to be. Middlemiss lived somewhere along the One-Shore Sea, which wasn’t terribly far from the Dragonlands. This made her feel something like Evie’s local princess, since none existed beyond Griselda’s Tears, where dragons roamed freely. During the long summer nights between her first and second years, when all she wanted was to come back to the Academy to see her friends, she used to disappear for hours at a time into Volf’s tales of Middlemiss, of witches fought and treasures won. And now that same storybook princess would be having her royal wedding right here at the Academy. And Evie would get to help. It made the summer looming ahead seem as endless as the sea itself.

  “Cadets, please!” shouted Beatrice, though now the excitement had reached something of a rolling boil. “Cadets!”

  “Straighten those spines, you lumbering cows!” came an incongruously sweet voice that sent a dagger of fear straight into Evie’s heart. It was Leatherwolf Company’s fairy drillsergeant. She zipped amongst her cadets, shouting for order. Other fairies did the same. Trails of shimmering dust began to stripe the air. Within moments, the cadets were back at attention, and the fairies floated gently back to the sides of the hall, furious scowls on their tiny faces.

  “Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Commander Muldenhammer is here to tell you a bit about exit procedures.” She nodded gracefully, then shuffled away from the lectern. Her assistant, the lumpy, snarling Corporal Liverwort, met her, and they disappeared out the back.

  Commander Muldenhammer, an immense man with long white hair, began to drone on about the importance of leaving the barracks in pristine condition for the summer. Evie’s mind drifted to thoughts of what her final year at Pennyroyal Academy might be like. She had learned and experienced so much already during her first two years in human society. Next year was already promising to be the most exciting one yet, but it was still four months away.