school.
Overall, every one of these hallways was pretty similar to its counterparts. Except for the one that connected the East and West wings of the school, that is. This hall (at least 200 hundred feet in diameter) was the vast intersection that housed the Treasure Archives I’d passed by earlier in the week.
Hmm, I never got a chance to finish telling you about those did I? Lady Agnue had interrupted my train of thought at the time.
No worries. I’ll remedy that oversight right now.
The Treasure Archives was a collection of the most precious and famous historical objects in our realm. They were the important trinkets that our fairytales were known for, and they were kept in five locked glass cases here at school.
On this night, like every other, they glowed before us in the light of the chandeliers above—all too aware of their unrivaled significance.
Like every other girl at Lady Agnue’s, I had the contents of these cases memorized from having walked past them so often. No one could help it really. From the golden magic mirror used in Beauty & the Beast to the enchanted water lily that could turn people, like Prince Egot, into frogs, each object on display was intriguing and mystifying.
Of course some of the items in these cases were also relentless sore spots for the Legacies and Half-Legacies at Lady Agnue’s. They served as constant reminders of the shadows we lived in, and the expectations we were supposed to live up to.
I knew Blue, for instance, always cringed at the sight of her sister’s torn red cloak and, next to it, the tastefully placed axe that the hunter had used to save her. It still had some blood crusted on its edges.
Super classy.
SJ, meanwhile, tried to ignore the objects that haunted her when we passed them. But, every once in a while as we made our way by the Archives to get to class, I knew of at least one that bothered her—that dang ruby red apple. It was perched on a tiny glass pedestal in the center case and angled to show off the small bite taken out of it, which revealed the apple’s poisoned white flesh.
Then there was me and my shadow—my mom’s infamous glass stiletto.
On the one hand, the delicate treasure made me happy to think of the true love my parents shared and the triumph of their coming together despite the obstacles that had stood in their way. Then again, it was also a symbol of the role my mother and pretty much everyone else in the world expected me to fill. And it was an even greater reminder that no matter what I did, I probably would never be able to fit myself into it.
As Blue and I passed the Archives on the way to the ballroom, I saw the fragile shoe sitting in the center case as usual. The glass shimmered from every angle—beautiful, transparent, and unforgiving, like so many things about this place.
After a few more minutes, we arrived at the back entrance of the grand ballroom. It was a humongous space—large enough to fit four stables—decorated with gold-encrusted walls and glistening chandeliers. The centerpiece was a massive chandelier seven times the size of all the others that hung over the middle of the dance floor. This one’s pastel crystals numbered in the thousands and twinkled like clouds of gorgeous confetti high above our heads.
Far below the chandelier’s glittering enormity, I spotted SJ—one of only a few other students in the vicinity. She was the head of the ball planning committee and, as usual, she and her team of student volunteers, along with Madame Lisbon, had gotten here early to go over their final checklists before the main doors opened.
While Blue and I generally preferred to be late rather than early to these types of functions, we had decided to come down early to help our responsible friend with her final preparations for the first ball of the semester.
SJ was scurrying about the great room in her strappy, scarlet dress—its small train intercut with streaks of sparkling navy that swayed behind her as she
Overall, every one of these hallways was pretty similar to its counterparts. Except for the one that connected the East and West wings of the school, that is. This hall (at least 200 hundred feet in diameter) was the vast intersection that housed the Treasure Archives I’d passed by earlier in the week.
Hmm, I never got a chance to finish telling you about those did I? Lady Agnue had interrupted my train of thought at the time.
No worries. I’ll remedy that oversight right now.
The Treasure Archives was a collection of the most precious and famous historical objects in our realm. They were the important trinkets that our fairytales were known for, and they were kept in five locked glass cases here at school.
On this night, like every other, they glowed before us in the light of the chandeliers above—all too aware of their unrivaled significance.
Like every other girl at Lady Agnue’s, I had the contents of these cases memorized from having walked past them so often. No one could help it really. From the golden magic mirror used in Beauty & the Beast to the enchanted water lily that could turn people, like Prince Egot, into frogs, each object on display was intriguing and mystifying.
Of course some of the items in these cases were also relentless sore spots for the Legacies and Half-Legacies at Lady Agnue’s. They served as constant reminders of the shadows we lived in, and the expectations we were supposed to live up to.
I knew Blue, for instance, always cringed at the sight of her sister’s torn red cloak and, next to it, the tastefully placed axe that the hunter had used to save her. It still had some blood crusted on its edges.
Super classy.
SJ, meanwhile, tried to ignore the objects that haunted her when we passed them. But, every once in a while as we made our way by the Archives to get to class, I knew of at least one that bothered her—that dang ruby red apple. It was perched on a tiny glass pedestal in the center case and angled to show off the small bite taken out of it, which revealed the apple’s poisoned white flesh.
Then there was me and my shadow—my mom’s infamous glass stiletto.
On the one hand, the delicate treasure made me happy to think of the true love my parents shared and the triumph of their coming together despite the obstacles that had stood in their way. Then again, it was also a symbol of the role my mother and pretty much everyone else in the world expected me to fill. And it was an even greater reminder that no matter what I did, I probably would never be able to fit myself into it.
As Blue and I passed the Archives on the way to the ballroom, I saw the fragile shoe sitting in the center case as usual. The glass shimmered from every angle—beautiful, transparent, and unforgiving, like so many things about this place.
After a few more minutes, we arrived at the back entrance of the grand ballroom. It was a humongous space—large enough to fit four stables—decorated with gold-encrusted walls and glistening chandeliers. The centerpiece was a massive chandelier seven times the size of all the others that hung over the middle of the dance floor. This one’s pastel crystals numbered in the thousands and twinkled like clouds of gorgeous confetti high above our heads.
Far below the chandelier’s glittering enormity, I spotted SJ—one of only a few other students in the vicinity. She was the head of the ball planning committee and, as usual, she and her team of student volunteers, along with Madame Lisbon, had gotten here early to go over their final checklists before the main doors opened.
While Blue and I generally preferred to be late rather than early to these types of functions, we had decided to come down early to help our responsible friend with her final preparations for the first ball of the semester.
SJ was scurrying about the great room in her strappy, scarlet dress—its small train intercut with streaks of sparkling navy that swayed behind her as she
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