The Wrong Side of Magic (30 page)

“No,” someone else answered. “Those words mean that he unlawfully imprisoned her a year ago. He didn't send her away to protect her. We have proof of that now.”

King Vaygran realized what had happened and jerked his hand away from Charlotte. It was too late, though. The words stuck.

“If that's not the real princess,” a woman shouted, “then where is she? Bring her forth!”

“Let us ask the girl questions!” someone else demanded.

“That's why the princess's tree is dying!” a woman yelled, pointing at the king. “You're trying to kill her!”

The crowd rumbled with agreement, and several people shouted, “Release her!”

The soldiers pulling Hudson slowed down. No one moved out of their way now, despite the soldiers' commands.

King Vaygran stepped forward and planted his hands firmly on the railing. “I am the king! I decide what happens to impostors. Anyone who thinks differently will answer to Nepharo.”

At the sound of his name, Nepharo gave the crowd a thin-lipped smile, as though the masses below him were unruly children who needed discipline. He held up both hands and grew larger and taller, each moment adding height. His fingers stretched into sharp gray claws, and his skin turned dark red and scaly. A tearing sound came from his back as wings sprouted, unfurled, and flapped angrily. His neck jutted out unnaturally, and for a moment he looked like some horrible genetic accident—a dragon with a man's face—then his beard disappeared and was replaced by snapping jaws and a reptilian snout.

He leaped onto the balcony railing, making it creak beneath his weight, and lifted his head in a roar.

Gasps and shrieks went up from the crowd. The people nearest the balcony backed up, knocking into those behind them. Several people cowered, covering their heads with their hands. Some near the street fled out of the courtyard.

Others stood firm, glowering at the king. “It's definitely the princess,” a man behind Hudson called out. “Or King Vaygran wouldn't be threatening us.”

People around him shouted their agreement.

Charlotte still stood silently, her dark eyes watching the crowd. Only Hudson noticed that the ropes around her ankles were slack. The squirrel had managed to bite through them.

King Vaygran scowled down at the crowd. “All of you, go back to your homes. This is over.”

The instruction didn't apply to Hudson. The soldiers tightened their grip on him. One gave Hudson a vicious pull forward.

A voice in the back of the courtyard yelled, “This is
not
over!”

Despite the soldiers tugging him, Hudson turned hopefully to the voice. He recognized it. Mr. Fantasmo had come.

The wizard rode on a silver unicorn—Cecil. Instead of the corduroy pants and Hawaiian shirts Hudson was used to seeing him wear, Mr. Fantasmo had on a shimmering blue robe. He held his wand outstretched and pointed at the balcony. “Release the princess now!”

King Vaygran's eyes narrowed. “Traitor,” he growled, then motioned to Nepharo. “Kill him.”

The dragon leaped into the sky, wings flapping in great, angry beats. A screech blasted from his mouth, so loud and shrill the air shuddered with the sound of it. He soared toward Mr. Fantasmo, claws outstretched.

Mr. Fantasmo pointed his wand at the dragon and yelled, “Downdraft!”

Hudson realized why Mr. Fantasmo had said these words. A four-leaf clover protected Nepharo from other wizards' spells, but Mr. Fantasmo could still cast a spell on the air around the dragon.

Sparks shot from the end of Fantasmo's wand, swirling around the dragon like a fireworks explosion. Nepharo tumbled, careening downward, wings flailing.

The people beneath the dragon screamed and pushed at one another to get away. Right before crashing, Nepharo righted himself, let out an enraged shriek, and rushed upward into the sky. With a beat of his wings, he shot toward Mr. Fantasmo again. Flames flickered in his widening mouth.

Cecil reared, his horn raised and glistening, sharp as a knife. The dragon pulled away to keep his distance from the unicorn, then breathed a stream of fire at them.

Mr. Fantasmo aimed his wand and shouted, “Extinguish!”

The fire dissolved into a cloud of smoke, covering the area so completely Hudson couldn't see the unicorn or rider.

The soldiers tightened their grip on Hudson. All around them, people jostled and shoved through the crowd. Some were getting away from the fighting. Others made their way to the castle doors. Hopefully to help Charlotte.

One of the soldiers holding on to Hudson pushed a couple of people standing in the way. “Let us through!”

No one paid attention to them.

Hudson planted his feet and twisted his arms, trying to break free from the soldiers' grip. He needed to get away. He needed to get to the balcony to help Charlotte.

Three dark shapes streaked by overhead. It took Hudson a second to realize what they were. Charlotte's eagle and falcon had joined the fray, and another bird was with them. A pale brown falcon. Somehow Hudson knew it was the princess's pet falcon. Wherever it had been, it had recognized its owner and had come to help her. They zoomed toward the castle, trying to get to her.

Harpy eagles chased after them, tailing so closely the birds didn't dare land. Instead, they swooped back and forth around the balcony, nearly knocking into King Vaygran. He covered his head with one hand and waved the other madly at them.

Charlotte still stood exactly where she had been. Why hadn't she run away, now that her feet were unbound? She was moving her shoulders, probably working to free the ropes around her wrists. He couldn't tell if the squirrel was still there, gnawing away at them.

The soldiers yanked Hudson a few more feet toward the castle. He dug his feet in, checking over his shoulder on Mr. Fantasmo. As the smoke cleared in the back of the courtyard, not one but two unicorns took shape in front of the royalty trees. Nigel stood at the back of the courtyard now, too, and another person rode on his back.

Hudson stared at the sight. It couldn't be. And yet the image remained the same. The man had short-cropped brown hair, a wide nose like Hudson's, and a muscled build. A Marine build. His dad was sitting on Nigel's back. His dad. How had he gotten here?

Mr. Brown had never used the sword from his Marines dress uniform, but he held it now, pointing it at the dragon.

“You come any closer,” he called in his soft Texas drawl, “and we'll be having some dragon shish kebab.”

Hudson gaped at his father, stunned. Amazed. Afraid. Could his dad fend off a dragon, even with Mr. Fantasmo's help? Hudson wanted to call out to him but didn't dare. It would be dangerous to distract his father while he was fighting Nepharo.

Hudson yanked at the soldiers' grip again, this time finding added strength. His father was here. He and Mr. Fantasmo had come to help, and Hudson wasn't about to let a pair of soldiers drag him away to a dungeon somewhere.

He wrenched one arm free, then tugged the other free, too. Before either of the soldiers could grab him, he darted away into the crowd and the smoke.

He had one moment of indecision. Did he go to help his father or Charlotte?

Charlotte.

His father would want him to help her first.

Hudson headed in that direction, not sure how best to get to the balcony. There were some men gathered around the castle doors, and by the looks of it, they were having a yelling match with one of the guards stationed there. Was there another way he could make it to her? Could he scale the castle wall? Maybe it would be easier to climb the gallows and use the rope to swing himself over.

He noticed, vaguely, that people were developing faint red spots, the telltale sign of boils. With everything else going on, no one seemed to notice or care—yet.

Charlotte stood in the same place on the balcony, arms tugging at her ropes. King Vaygran crouched nearby, batting at a falcon that zoomed around him. It was quickly followed by the larger harpy eagle. “Where are the rest of my wizards?” he screamed.

An especially loud dragon roar drew Hudson's attention back to the fight behind him. The dragon lunged downward, his red coloring making him look like a smudge of blood against the sky. With outstretched claws, he streaked toward Hudson's dad.

Hudson watched, frozen, a silent
No!
on his lips.

Nigel reared, kicking his front hooves upward and swinging his horn threateningly. His gold mane glowed bright and hot, burning like fire.

Again, the dragon pulled away, but not fast enough. Mr. Brown arced his sword, and with a flash of silver and a loud crack, it slashed through a claw, severing it. The dragon screeched in pain and whipped his scaly tail into Mr. Brown. The blow knocked him off the unicorn and toppled the sword from his hand.

The dragon turned, ready to dive down and strike. Mr. Fantasmo held both arms aloft and shouted, “Whirlwind!”

Dirt, leaves, and bits of grass twirled upward, spinning faster and faster. The dragon growled and snapped his jaws, flying higher to avoid the whirlwind's reach.

Mr. Brown grabbed his sword again, took hold of Nigel's mane, and pulled himself onto the unicorn.

Hudson turned back to the castle and pushed that way again. He needed to help Charlotte.

Her hands were free now, and the squirrel climbed to her shoulder, chittering proudly. Charlotte tugged the gag off her mouth and took a step toward the crowd. “People of Logos!” she called. “I
am
the princess!”

King Vaygran straightened, ignoring the swooping birds for the first time. “Silence!”

His face twisted with such rage, Hudson knew he would do something horrible to Charlotte—stab her or throw her off the balcony. Hudson reached into his leather bag, looking for something to throw. His fingers curled around the jar of hope.

He wound his arm back and hurled the bottle at the king. It flew through the air, spinning, until it smashed into King Vaygran's shoulder.

The king gripped his shoulder and swung around to see what had hit him. Charlotte moved away from him but didn't run inside the castle as Hudson had expected. She might be able to get away if she went inside. She knew her way around, knew secret passages.

He searched his bag for something else to throw and found the metal box of Valentine's candy.

Charlotte went to the railing, her hand held out toward the back of the courtyard. “I need my scepter! I'm ready for it now!”

At first, Hudson thought she was talking to Mr. Fantasmo. Did he have her scepter? With the whirlwind swirling near him, he probably couldn't hear Charlotte.

But her eyes were fixed on her tree. It was no longer shedding leaves or wilting. The branches stood tall and straight, new leaves already budding and stretching. A large white blossom grew in the middle of the tree. No, not white—crystal—a diamond as big as a doorknob. Sunlight hit its sides and sent flickers of colors shimmering outward.

The leaves at the base of the crystal peeled away, and Hudson realized it wasn't a flower at all. It was the top of a scepter. It had been inside Charlotte's tree all along.

She reached out, beckoning the scepter to come to her.

King Vaygran strode toward her again. Hudson wound his arm back and threw the metal box of Valentine's candy as hard as he could. It whirred toward the balcony, hitting King Vaygran smack in the middle of his forehead. His head snapped back, and he stumbled and fell backward.

Ah, love was good.

Charlotte's scepter arced through the air, flying across the courtyard until it landed in her hand. Immediately, the crystal glowed blue and bright like the tip of a flame.

She pointed the scepter at the dragon, who was flapping his wings and snapping at the whirlwind. “Return to your true form!”

A blaze of light hit the dragon and wrapped around him. He shrank, his colors fading, and then his scales fell away like dry leaves in a storm. He flailed in the air on ever-dwindling wings and then sank to the ground, a man again.

Charlotte turned back to King Vaygran. He trembled at the sight of the scepter in her hand and scooted away from her.

She pointed the scepter at the discarded rope lying on the floor. “Tie him.”

The silver ropes quivered to life and slithered over to the king, no longer ropes but silver snakes that hissed angrily.

“Stop!” he yelled, and tried to knock them away. Some of the pieces wound around his ankles, biting their tails to bind him. Others wriggled up his legs, slid across his torso, and made their way to his wrists. He slapped at them uselessly.

“I never hurt you,” he cried. “I sent you away for your own good! You couldn't rule. You were just a child.”

She didn't lower her scepter. “I'm not just a child anymore.”

King Vaygran struck a snake that was twining around his arm. “I did it to protect you!” Instead of falling off, the snake bit the king's finger, then wound around his hand. Other snakes made their way—clinging, squeezing—until they bound the king's arms, too.

“I'll protect you the same way you protected me,” Charlotte told him. “With banishment.”

A crowd had gathered underneath the balcony again, and they let out a cheer.

Charlotte, it was clear, was back in power.

She pointed her scepter upward, using it to turn the harpy eagles into bursts of confetti. Hudson turned away from the castle and made his way across the courtyard toward his father.

While Mr. Fantasmo tied Nepharo with silver cords, Hudson's father looked out over the crowd, searching. His eyes connected with Hudson's, and relief washed over his face. He grinned broadly and held his arms open.

Hudson weaved around people who were heading to the balcony. More and more had joined the throng, pouring in from the streets of Grammaria. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to see what was happening at the castle.

At last, Hudson broke free from the crowd and ran the last few steps. He wrapped his arms around his dad, holding him tightly. The hug felt warm and reassuring. It felt like home. Neither let go for a long time.