Of Dreams and Destiny

CHAPTER 1

Once upon a time, there was a princess who masqueraded as a whole person. But what people didn’t know was that the princess was a doll made of pieces of sparkling glass. Some were shiny and sharp-edged enough to draw blood, others velveteen and rounded from years of being mishandled. Mostly, the princess was good at reflecting what everyone wanted to see: a vivacious, happy, charming girl fit to take over her parents’ empire one day.

But for her eighteenth birthday, the princess, who’d never wanted for anything, got what she really needed—a fairy godmother. An otherworldly being, patient and kind, round-faced, with warm, twinkling eyes and a magic wand that spat stardust and magic wherever she pointed it. The fairy godmother took one look at the princess and knew just what she had to do: teach the princess to spin those broken pieces of glass into a strong, unbreakable heart that she could place back into her empty chest.

But could the princess do this without first pricking her finger and falling into a deep, everlasting sleep?

CHAPTER 2

DE

Now, that’s what I call a pile of magical bullshit. Daphne Elizabeth handed the self-help book disguised as a quirky coffee-table read back to Jaya, who tucked it away into her Rosetta Academy tote bag with a small smile. Aren’t we past the era of fairy godmothers and stardust? Why can’t the princess just kick everyone’s ass who wronged her and be done with it? Who says she needs to fix her heart anyway?

Jaya raised a thick, manicured eyebrow at DE. We could all use the occasional helping hand in the love department.

It was the last Saturday of spring break; classes would resume on Monday. DE had taken up Jaya’s invitation for a girls’ day out on the town, just walking around, eating gelato, and browsing Bookingham Palace, Jaya’s favorite bookstore. It was a fine way to spend their last big break before graduation. DE glanced sidelong at Jaya, feeling a pang in her chest. In just under three months, they’d all be going their separate ways like points of light scattered to various corners of the world.

On impulse, she grabbed Jaya’s mittened hand in hers. You’ll keep in touch, right? Even when you’re wicked busy running your family’s royal estate?

Jaya’s kind brown eyes bored into her. Of course I will, she said in that regal British accent. "And you will too. After all, you get a four-year reprieve from running your family’s hotel dynasty while you’re away at Dartmouth. Jaya smiled. Plenty of time for FaceTiming."

She said it with so much sincerity that DE nodded, pacified. True, true. The sunlight was warm on her cropped red hair, and despite the chill still hanging in the air—Colorado wasn’t quite done with winter’s trappings yet—DE felt warmed through. At least her friendships were something she could count on. At least she still had that.

Kicking her boot through a giant snow pile, she said too casually, And… what’s the plan with you and Grey?

Now Jaya’s smile was bright enough to power the entire town of Rosetta. We’re still nailing down the specifics, but, um, I think we both want to take a gap year and travel. There are a few parts of rural Asia neither of us has seen, and we’re desperate to do some charity work there.

That’s awesome. DE beamed at her friend’s happiness, though her own heart felt small and remote in her chest. I’m so happy you guys are so… She whirled her own gloved hands around.

So what? Jaya pressed, frowning and tucking a dark curl behind an ear.

You know. On the path toward ‘first comes love, then comes marriage…’ and all that stuff. Not to be too heteronormative about it. But it seems to be what you two want, so I’m happy for ya.

Jaya snuffed a laugh and elbowed DE. Oh, stop it. We’re light-years away from that. Right now we’re just enjoying this… this season. Being together.

Mm-hmm.

They crunched along the thin snow for a little bit, the occasional car or small SUV trundling by on the road beside them. Rosetta was still very much an old town; if the streets weren’t exactly cobblestoned, you could imagine a time when they were. The storefronts had all been cultivated to maintain that old-timey look too, with faux gas lanterns and ornate scrollwork adorning most of them. They passed one called Casa del Tesoro, which was filled with what looked like antiques and high-fashion clothing, but it seemed to be permanently shuttered.

You know that new boy… Alexander Murthy? I think he goes by Xander. I’ve talked to him a bit. He seems quite nice. Pleasant. And he’s handsome, too. Jaya studiously rummaged in her tote bag as she said all this, as if it was just a casual nothing comment.

Good for him, DE said quietly, feeling a ripple of defensiveness. She readjusted her favorite scarf—deep purple, with tiny silver moons embroidered on it—smoothing down each individual fringe.

Jaya looked up at her. At five foot four, she was a mere shrimp to DE’s six-foot height. Sometimes DE wanted to pat the top of her head, but something told her this would be ill-advised.

Maybe we could invite him to sit with us at lunch tomorrow, Jaya said. He seems to be a bit of a loner, but maybe that’s just because he hasn’t been asked. It must be difficult, moving to a new school a few months before graduation, when friendships are already established.

DE looked Jaya right in the eye as they turned the corner onto a different tree-lined avenue. A couple of younger people from Rosetta Academy passed them, and both Jaya and DE smiled (well, Jaya smiled, DE tipped her chin). What are you trying to do?

Jaya held up her hands. Nothing! I’m just saying I know what it’s like to be the new kid, and it’s never any fun.

I’m sure Xander can make his own friends without you mother-henning him to death, DE said before she could put the brakes on her mouth. Seeing the brief flash of hurt on Jaya’s face, she slung her arm around her friend’s slender shoulders. I’m sorry. I’m an ass. She sighed, watching her breath curl out of her in a white mist. I’m just… really done with boys. You know? Even saying it made her feel small, like she’d been weak enough to let Alaric suck the life out of her. Which wasn’t the healthiest way to be thinking, she was pretty sure. And yet, there it was.

Jaya, oblivious to DE’s spiraling thought process, nodded and squeezed her hand. I know. But it’s been a few months now since Alaric and… well, everything. Maybe it’s time to get back on the horse? Or at least go near a stall?

You know the defining feature of horse stalls? They stink of horse shit. DE took her arm from around Jaya’s shoulders. No thanks.

You’re so resistant, Jaya mused, half to herself. You remind me so much of Grey when we first met. She stopped and took a deep breath, turning to DE, her eyes bright. But that’s all right, because I have something planned that should help.

DE heard faint alarm bells. Uh-oh. It’s never good when you smile like that.

Jaya frowned. Like what?

Like a deranged little helpful psychopath.

This is going to be good. I promise. Without another word, she took DE’s hand and ushered her across the slick road, the sunlight winking on crusts of ice and turning them into diamonds.

"Where are we going?" DE asked, focusing mainly on not losing her footing. If she fell, she’d definitely take Jaya down with her and then they’d both be run over by someone’s Range Rover, and Grey would never forgive DE.

Coming to an abrupt stop in front of a store, Jaya raised her arms toward the sign. Ta-da! The grand finale to our day out.

DE squinted in the sunlight as she looked up at whatever her friend was gesturing to. This was another one of those storefronts that had been made to look antiquated and charmingly ancient. The brick front had mottled with time, and two gas lanterns flanking its doors blazed invitingly against the frozen steel-gray sky. The sign was ornate and gold and proclaimed that this was the domicile of one MADAME OLIVERA, PSYCHIC AND CLAIRVOYANT.

DE’s mouth in a flat line now, she turned abruptly to Jaya. What—and I mean this in the politest way befitting a princess’s sensitive ears—the fuck?

Come on! Jaya squeezed her elbow, smiling beatifically like only she could. It’ll be fun. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I took Grey here once a long time ago and it was actually really helpful. The woman said some rather insightful things.

DE narrowed her green eyes. You’re right…. That does sound ridiculous.

What do you have to lose? Jaya shrugged as she adjusted the tote bag on her shoulder.

DE began counting on her gloved fingers. Um, let’s see: my dignity as a person, whatever money this person’s going to charge, the ability to look myself in the eye in the mirror, the knowledge that I am a self-respecting member of society—

I’ve seen your Ouija board, Jaya cut in, quirking one corner of her mouth. Don’t tell me you don’t believe at least a little in the occult.

That Ouija board’s a joke! DE said unconvincingly. Okay, it’s mostly a joke. Okay, I’ve been hoping to make contact with my Nan. But seriously—this? She threw a hand out at the psychic’s storefront. Really?

As if on command, the front door popped open a few inches, just enough so the bell above the door chimed and a waft of hazy, cedarwood-scented incense wrapped its tendrils languidly around the two girls. They waited, but no one stepped out to greet them. It was like the door, hearing their conversation, had opened on its own.

DE and Jaya stared at each other, neither of them speaking. C-coincidence, DE said finally, her throat scratchy.

Jaya opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the jangling of her cell phone from within her tote. Reaching inside, she checked the screen. Oh no; it’s Rahul. Grey needs me.

What? Right now?

Yes. Jaya looked up at DE. Apparently, he was hiking Mt. Sama and fell and cracked his knee on a rock. Rahul says it’s not dire, but you know how Grey is. He’s refusing to go to the infirmary. I should go convince him. She looked slowly from the ajar front door back to DE. But you should go in. By yourself.

DE rolled her eyes. No way. I’m coming with.

Jaya shook her head. No, I’m serious, Daphne Elizabeth. I truly feel this is a sign. Maybe there’s something here for you. Do this as a favor to me, if you won’t do it for yourself.

DE blew out a gusty breath and regarded the weird front door. Had a breeze pushed it open? The gold lettering on the glass glinted in the waning sunlight, inviting her in. Oh, fine, she said finally, a little intrigued in spite of herself. Jaya was right; she did have a soft spot for the occult.

Jaya squealed and hugged her. I expect a full rundown later.

Yeah, yeah. DE couldn’t help a fond smile. Now go kiss Grey’s boo-boo all better.

Jaya giggled. All right. You’ll be okay getting back?

Yeah, I’ll probably just walk. Or if it gets too cold, I can always text the school’s car service.

With a final lifted hand in farewell, Jaya crossed the street and was gone. DE turned back to the agape door.

Okay, Madame Olivera, she breathed quietly, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. Let’s see what you’ve got.

CHAPTER 3

DE

The main room flickered with blue shadows, a small crystal chandelier overhead, and a few LED candles on a wooden shelf providing the only real illumination. A waterfall incense holder sent undulating waves of bluish-white smoke into the air, which she watched for a moment, mesmerized. There was a series of small rectangular windows high up on the tapestry-covered wall, but they were facing away from the sun and barely let in any daylight, as if they were blocked by unseen trees. There was a faded gold couch and a heavy wooden coffee table, but, as far as DE could see, no crystal balls, taxidermied ravens, or cat skulls. She found herself just slightly disappointed.

A silver beaded curtain in the corner parted slightly. Yes? a deep female voice called.

DE turned and squinted, trying to see better, but it was impossible. The incense had filled the space with a smoky haze, and the room beyond the beaded curtain seemed even darker than this one. Um, hi. Hello. I’m here for… Madame Olivera? She felt like a jackass just saying that obviously fake name.

Ah, an inquisitive mind, a seeker of knowledge. How can I be of assistance?

DE couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw two gleaming eyes judging, weighing, studying her through the beaded curtain. She took a step closer. So, I hear that you’re… a psychic?

A flash of teeth. I suppose that depends on who you ask. But if it’s answers you’re looking for, I think I could help.

Well, if she’s not a psychic, she should be, DE thought. The roundabout answers, responses that could be taken in more than one way—she had the technique down, at least.

If DE went back empty-handed, she knew Jaya would be disappointed. Plus, it was a way to kill an hour. She shrugged. Okay.

The curtain parted some more. This way.

After just a moment’s hesitation on the threshold, DE stepped over.

Madame Olivera’s interior lair wasn’t even as well-lit as the main room outside. Jesus, DE grumbled to herself. She was all for mood lighting and dramatic flair, but wasn’t this a bit much?

The woman, who was leading the way to what looked like a small cluster of wicker furniture, turned and threw one arm out. It was covered with bracelets and bangles that clinked mutedly. Her face was heavily shadowed, and now DE realized it was because she was wearing a hat with a draping veil. DE couldn’t even tell what ethnicity or age she was. She kinda wanted to ask where the woman had gotten the hat—it was quite the vibe—but decided against it.

We shall begin momentarily, Madame Olivera intoned. Sit where you please.

Fake voice: check. The woman had deepened her voice for sure and was pronouncing each consonant carefully, as if trying to disguise her real accent. DE chose a small wicker armchair with a hard-to-see floral pattern on the cushion.

"What’s your name? Like, your real name? Madame Olivera’s a stage name, right?" DE asked suddenly as Madame Olivera settled on the love seat across from her. Between them was a small wicker table with a glass top, the kind that you usually saw in old condos in beach towns. She wasn’t sure why exactly she’d asked that, only that she was feeling increasingly out of control in this weird room, and Daphne Elizabeth McKinley hated feeling out of control.

The question gave the psychic pause. She looked at DE for a long minute, as if she’d never been asked that before. DE only had an impression of shrewd and calculating eyes, watching her from behind the thick veil. The fact that she couldn’t see this woman while the woman could see her—well, as much as was possible in this dark cave of a room, anyway—was more than a little unnerving. Is it important that you know my name?

DE shrugged and looked around, making note of the shelf in the corner that glinted dimly with apothecary bottles, a huge rough crystal—maybe amethyst—and what looked like varying sizes of sticks and twigs from the forest.

I don’t know. I’ve never been to a psychic before. DE turned back to face the woman, infusing her voice with a confidence she didn’t quite feel in the moment. But I think I can make an educated guess about how this is supposed to go. You help me feel comfortable and like you have all the answers, then I ask you my question and you make me feel better about all my regrettable life choices. Right?

A suggestion of white teeth from behind the veil. The woman was smiling at her. You seem to have a very good idea of how this is all going to work.

DE snorted and leaned back in her chair, which creaked softly. No disrespect to you, but I know this is all an assembly line. It’s like any other business: get the customer in, give them what they need, get paid, get them out. And on to the next one and the next one. Repeat customers are, of course, gold, so you always want to give people good news.

Madame Olivera (DE guessed she wasn’t going to reveal her real name, after all) cocked her veiled head, her voice genuinely curious. Then why are you here?

DE waved a hand toward the door. Oh, my friend. Jaya. She saw you before, and she’s desperate to help me.

Madame Olivera waited, and DE squirmed in the silence. Do you need help? There was no judgment in the woman’s voice, still only curiosity.

DE ran her finger over the glossy wicker on the arm of her chair, her eyes on her lap. My friends definitely think I do. And I guess any shrink would tell you that too. But I think… it’s complicated. Sometimes when you get hurt, you should rally and fight back and all that shit. But other times, you should take it as a warning, you know? You should take it as a sign from the universe that you need to sit the hell down and keep to yourself.

DE looked up, expecting Madame Olivera to express confusion, or maybe even tell her that she was right, she definitely needed help, and oh, by the way, here was the number to a really good therapist. But the psychic just continued to look at her, the veil obscuring her face, just a hint of glittering (blue? Black?) eyes visible through the diaphanous fabric.

And does keeping to yourself make you happy?

DE considered the question, her chin in her hand, her legs crossed. Dunno, she said finally. I can’t remember happiness anymore, to be honest. It feels like a song I heard a long time ago and then forgot. To her horror, she felt tears spring to her eyes, hot and unforgiving. I’m sorry. Standing so suddenly the chair scraped backward, DE reached into her pocket. I’ll still pay you for your time. But I shouldn’t have come in here. And least of all unloaded my shit onto you, a literal stranger, she added mentally.

Please, stay. Madame Olivera waved away DE’s money, but DE put it down on the table between them anyway. We have much to talk about.

Yeah, I don’t think so. I mean, I appreciate you playing therapist or whatever, but—

You have to listen. The woman’s cool, pale hand shot out and grabbed DE’s wrist, bangles jangling. The movement was so quick, a lightning strike, really. DE hadn’t even seen her move. And once she registered what was happening, she was too shocked to pull away. She could feel the pressing intensity of the woman’s veiled gaze. "There’s a storm coming, Daphne Elizabeth. Souls will slumber in the perpetual twilight… and one will perish. You must remember you have the key to vanquish the storm. Look into the past—and your heart—for the answers. Take down the walls you’ve built