The Warrior Princess of Pennyroyal Academy Read online

  Finally, the endless hours of night ended abruptly. Malora’s horse evaporated into the darkness, and she floated to the ground. She turned to the others. In the dim moonlight diffusing through the clouds, her face looked like a skull. “Here we are. The jewel of the mountain kingdoms. You can leave your horses here. We’ve finished with them.”

  “Are you mad?” said Forbes. “You want us to go on foot?”

  “Witches cannot see well, but they can absolutely smell. And horses smell even worse than you people do.”

  They all exchanged dubious looks, though none of them dismounted.

  “Marburg is just beyond this hill,” said Malora. “I’ll help you through, but there are many witches there. And they will smell your horses, and they will find you and throw you in pots. Is that your choice?”

  “You could have told us this before we wasted all that time filling the saddlebags with documents,” said Evie.

  “Yes, I suppose I could have,” she said with a smile.

  Evie sighed heavily, then climbed off the horse. “Come on. There’s no point in arguing now.” Her stomach clenched at the thought of all the documents they’d be forced to leave behind.

  Marline dismounted, then began untying the hawk from the saddle. She lashed it over her shoulders and didn’t complain once. Basil did the same with the Bandit’s Chair. Evie checked the saddlebags for anything else she could carry but decided only on her knapsack. Forbes stayed on his horse the longest. As they all peered up at him, he rolled his eyes. Then he jumped off with a frown.

  Malora led them through the trees in a single line. Climbing a rambling hill, Evie began to notice an orange light in the distance. It wasn’t long before she realized it was fire.

  They reached the summit. There stood the once-grand Kingdom of Marburg, ruined by war. There were flames eating away at some of the interior buildings. The gates had been torn free and burned, leaving only their iron bones. Carriages were strewn in front of the curtain walls, dismantled and destroyed.

  Standing atop each lookout, creeping along the top of each wall, loomed the dark forms of dozens of witches.

  “THEY’RE LIKE COCKROACHES,” said Marline. “Big, magical cockroaches.”

  She was peering through a slit in the curtains of a carriage window. Malora had found one on its side outside the kingdom walls that hadn’t been too badly damaged by the witches. She had righted it and conjured several of her phantoms to pull. The horses looked more like moonlit reflections in the water than actual living beings. Inside, the carriage smelled like a dungeon cell that had never seen the sun, dank and thick.

  Evie slipped the curtains aside with her finger and saw a sliver of the kingdom. They were traveling down one of Marburg’s twisting back roads. Witches stared with yellow eyes from the windows of the once-grand timber-framed cottages and buildings that ringed the castle. Others lurched down the street, stopping to watch as the carriage passed by.

  “What’ve you got in there?” squawked one of them, a short, round one whose oversized yellow eyes made her look like an owl.

  “Mind your business,” said Malora from the driver’s box outside. The witch recoiled as though stung. She turned her yellow eyes right to Evie, who leapt back with a gasp. Marline, however, didn’t even flinch.

  “This whole bloody kingdom stinks of fire,” she said quietly. Then she sat back and let the curtain fall closed.

  “I’ll never understand why they burn things,” said Forbes. “Odd choice for monsters who hate fire.”

  “They’re like a lot of things,” said Marline. “Attracted to what kills them.”

  Forbes scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s not, mate. We learned all about the psychology of the witch this year.” She turned to face him, the stone hawk on the bench between them. Evie, Demetra, and Basil sat on the bench opposite. “Witches love the rain, yeah? And they also love fire. Two things that could kill them, and they love it. Now why is that?”

  “I believe that was my original question.”

  “Listen, you snotty git, you’ve got to think about what motivates a witch. She’s made up of dead things. Someone’s heart. Dried herbs. Crushed bones. Whatever else they throw in that stew. All of it dead. Then, when she comes climbing out of the cauldron, she’s born without a heart of her own. Practically speaking, she’s already dead, isn’t she?”

  “You’re giving them too much credit with all this,” said Forbes. “They’re simple animals.”

  “Just listen, will you? I’m trying to educate you about your enemy.”

  Evie was most certainly listening.

  “Witches are drawn to fire and water because they’re drawn to rot and decay. Look at this kingdom here. They’ve already plundered it, haven’t they? Not much left for them, to be honest. But they can’t get enough. Because they want to see it in ruins. They need to see it in ruins. The destruction fuels them. But on the other side of the coin, fire and water can also kill them, yeah? Why is that? Because they’re two essential elements of life.”

  “Fascinating,” said Basil. “I’d never thought of that before.”

  “It’s the same reason we’ve got centuries of stories about princesses and witches. It’s never sea captains and witches, is it? Or flower merchants and witches. It’s always princesses and witches. We’re drawn to each other. It’s inevitable. We’re blood enemies, but we’re forever bumping up against each other, as connected as a moth and a flame. The magic a true princess can create is built with love. Has to be. It’s made up of courage and compassion, and what else is love but those? The witch is drawn to it, to us, but we’re also what kills her.”

  Forbes sat with his arms crossed, a sour look on his face. He glanced over at Marline. Evie could tell he was impressed, despite his attempts not to be. “So how many have you killed?”

  “Not nearly enough,” she said. “I’ve only been a Princess of the Shield for a few days, haven’t I? But I’ll tell you one thing: it’ll be a few more dead before I’m gone. I bloody hate witches. My stepmother was a witch.”

  “So was mine,” said Evie.

  “I’ve never had a stepmother,” said Forbes.

  “Human mother here,” said Basil.

  “Same,” added Demetra.

  “Two stepmothers, two witches. Not a very good ratio,” said Marline.

  “Only a fool would put their trust in family, blood or not,” said Forbes. “We think we need them as children, but we’re better off once we realize we can stand on our own.”

  A wave of shame crashed over Evie. Though he had phrased it in his own uniquely harsh way, it still hit a bit too close to home. Since enlisting at the Academy, she’d felt herself steadily growing apart from her family. This summer, she’d even decided to abandon them to go to Maggie’s instead. The idea that they might see it as her not needing them anymore nauseated her.

  “My stepmother was far more than disappointing,” said Marline, patting her stone hawk with affection. “She murdered my brother here.”

  Forbes gave the statue a dubious look. “Your brother?”

  “Half brother, if you want to be a slave to the facts. But whatever you’d like to call him, he was the best brother any girl could hope for. We shared a father. A great man, truly. But she bewitched him. Next thing we knew, she was our stepmother. She was cruel to my brother but never to me. It made things even worse. I felt guilty for all the secret torment he went through, but I was just a child. I didn’t know what to do, and neither did he. And then one day Dad went off to market, and she finally took it too far. Set fire to my happy family just to watch it burn.”

  “Who’s inside?” came another muffled witch’s voice.

  “You’ll be if you ask that again,” snapped Malora. Even through the carriage walls, her contempt for her fellow witches was clear. The axle squeaked as they jostled over a rut in the road.


  “All she left of my brother was bones. I found him before my father could, thank the Fates. Wrapped him in linen and buried him beneath the big juniper tree outside our cottage. Then I got down on my knees and said a prayer for him. And that’s when something happened that changed my life forever. The tree started thrashing about, you know, in the way enchanted trees do. Only it wasn’t enchanted. Next thing I knew, it just . . . split in half. Straight down the middle. And there he was.” She looked down at her statue with bittersweet eyes.

  “That’s remarkable,” said Demetra. “He came back as a hawk?”

  “Aye. And as soon as he did, he was off. Gone into the clouds. I was absolutely gutted. And there sat my stepmum with this smile on her face. So pleased with herself. Well, about a week or so later, back he came.” She sat forward, trying to keep her voice down, though she was clearly excited. “I can’t possibly explain this to you properly, but I swear that it happened. When my brother came back, he had a millstone in his talons. I understand that’s not possible, yeah? But it happened.” She couldn’t stop smiling now, the same intense, slightly mad expression Evie had first seen during the ambush. “You know what he did? He flew at her. Knocked her in the river. Then he dropped the millstone right on her head. Pinned her underneath. I’d never been more proud of my brother in all my life.”

  “I’m so sorry, Marline,” said Demetra. “I had no idea that hawk was your brother. No wonder you’re so attached to him.”

  “I promised him the day he killed that witch that I’d never leave him again. And I never have done.” She kept her hand on the hawk’s back. “We’ve traveled all across this land, my brother and me. And ever since that day, we’ve never been afraid of anything. Not one thing.” Before she could become too emotional, her melancholy became anger. She thrust her finger toward the front of the coach. “But she should be.”

  The carriage hit another bump, and Marline settled back, drifting away into her thoughts. With everyone else going silent as well, Evie turned to her window. She eased the curtain aside and put her eye to the glass. The black-cloaked figures were even thicker here on the high road, lurking amongst the burnt walls and soot-clouded puddles. This was the very spot where she had first become enchanted by humanity. And now it was crawling with witches.

  They seemed to be growing more interested in the carriage as well, watching it pass with hungry eyes and leering grins. They crept out from the butcher’s and the tanner’s and the stables and the forge. They crawled through the timber-framed buildings, skulking behind broken windows, hobbling figures with sharp noses and sagging skin, stinking of rot. The only sound was the repetitive squeak of the carriage axle as the wheels bounced along the stone-pocked road.

  One witch, her hair the consistency of sun-dried worms, got a bit too close. There was a loud crackle that made Evie wince. The witch flew backward, struck by one of Malora’s dark spells. The others backed away, their evil grins replaced by anger and fear.

  “Stop, Evie,” said Demetra. “It’s better if you don’t look.”

  Evie closed the curtain, but it didn’t help her nerves at all. Her fists were clenched for what felt like an eternity. What she’d seen out the window was less frightening than what she was seeing in her imagination, so she looked back outside again.

  “Nearly there,” she whispered with relief. “We’re almost through the gatehouse.” The witches were fewer near the massive wooden doors. The wheels cracked as they bounced onto the timbers of the drawbridge. “We’re outside! We’ve done it!”

  The rumble of the wheels on the drawbridge filled the carriage until at last they reached the other side, where they crunched back down onto gravel and dirt. Evie filled her lungs and let her muscles relax as Malora’s creatures spent the next twenty minutes navigating the thin, winding trail down the mountain ridge from Marburg. Finally, the carriage groaned to a stop. Marline opened the door, picked up her statue, and stepped outside. One by one, the rest of them emerged. The fires lit up Marburg on the other side of the valley, but otherwise the night was cool and crisp and clear. Basil piled out of the carriage and ran to the bushes to be sick. When he returned, his skin had gone gray. “Sorry,” he said. “I can’t tolerate riding backward.”

  “Well,” said Malora, “it seems I’ve done my part. And I didn’t even kill a one of you.” She smiled. “Unless you count the bird.” Marline just laughed and shook her head as she stepped away.

  “Thank you, Malora,” said Evie. She stared into her sister’s eyes, despite how terrifying she found it. “I mean it. Thank you. You may have been born a witch, but that doesn’t mean you have to be one.”

  “A lovely sentiment,” said Malora, “but I wasn’t born, remember? I was mixed up in a pot and sent off with a head full of lies.” She waved the tips of her fingers dismissively. “Ta-ta.”

  “Come on,” said Marline. “Before those witches up there realize what just happened.” Demetra, Forbes, and Basil began to follow her down the hill, but Evie lingered, still staring at her sister.

  “I hope we meet again.”

  A cold smile crept across Malora’s face. “You shouldn’t.”

  There was more Evie wanted to say, but she couldn’t put it into words. Finally, she turned and walked away. As she and her friends entered a spruce forest, with tall trunks and feathery needles all around them, Evie couldn’t help feeling a sense of sadness about leaving Malora. I know there’s good in her . . . Why doesn’t she? The only road in sight was a thin strip of red earth descending into the fog that hung heavily beneath the trees. They consulted Rumpledshirtsleeves’s map and saw that the westernmost of the Two Brothers was just ahead at the bottom of the mountain. The forest was quiet and empty, except for the haunting echo of the wolves singing across the valley. Over and over they howled, joining and rejoining the chorus to create one chilling voice.

  “What a beautiful call,” said Marline softly after they’d been walking quite a distance. “Beautiful call from a beautiful creature.”

  Then, in the darkness ahead, they heard Forbes’s sword jump from its scabbard.

  “Who’s there?” Everyone froze as he took a step into the ferns lining the path.

  “Forbes!” whispered Evie. “What is it?”

  “Come out of there,” he said in a loud voice, stopping ten feet short of a copse of ghostly white birches.

  Evie watched the shadows. Something seemed to be moving, but she couldn’t tell if it was just her mind playing tricks.

  “I said come out.” Forbes sheathed his sword. “Come on, you. Out.”

  A little boy emerged from the trees. He was dressed in rags, mud-stained and filthy. He looked to be around ten years old, with short brown hair.

  “Who are you?”

  “No one,” said the boy.

  “What are you doing out here in the dark?”

  “You’re not meant to see me. I’m to stay hidden and report anyone who passes.”

  Forbes narrowed his eyes. “Report to whom?”

  • • •

  The boy, whose name turned out to be Franz, stopped behind a large spruce tree that leaned perilously over the edge of a cliff. One good storm would send it plunging to the river below. Franz pointed just downstream to where the water bent back to the right and disappeared into the forest.

  “That’s where we live,” said Franz. “Everyone’s very nice.”

  “Is this the Two Brothers?” said Basil.

  “One of them,” said Franz. “West Brother.”

  “Look at that, we made it! Go on, Franzie, take us down.”

  The boy turned and gave the group a sheepish look. “They’re going to be cross with me for being spotted.”

  Demetra stepped forward and bent down in front of him. “They won’t be cross when they hear what a hero you’ve been. Do you see her?” She pointed at Marline. “That’s a Princess of the Shiel
d. Who could be angry with you for finding her? I bet they’ll all be thrilled.”

  The worry evaporated from the boy’s face. He led them along the river and down the embankment to a small collection of tents and cook fires nestled above the water. Several villagers milled about, each as filthy as Franz. Some roasted fish on spits. Evie’s stomach rumbled.

  “What’s this?” said one of them in alarm.

  “That’s a Princess of the Shield,” said Franz with pride. “Found her myself.”

  The villager’s eyes went wide, as though Marline were a visiting queen.

  “My father and sister and I live just at the bottom,” said Franz, continuing along. “We’ve been here longer than most.”

  “Where were you before this?” said Demetra.

  “Up in Marburg. Most of us here are from Marburg, but there are others. Some came from the west, where they say it’s even worse than here. The north as well. This place is all right because the witches don’t really come down this way. Princess of the Shield here,” he said to the people they passed. “Found her on the road.” The men and women they passed gave nods and even the occasional smile. Soft snores came from several of the tents. And still the wolves howled across the river.

  Evie kept her eyes on the people in the encampment but also on the blackness beyond. It was bold to have fires at night, but the villagers had clearly been there quite some time and knew the risks. When Franz led them to a group of three sitting on stones around one of the fires, Evie stopped dead. Across the river, the wolves’ howling ceased.