a dazed, infatuated look on his face as he moved from his chair and advanced toward the giggling Penelope.
With a mighty kick, Marianne propelled the grate across the room. She could see Robin reaching out, inches from Penelope. Marianne thrust her hand back inside the tunnel, reaching for her book. Instead, her hand closed on a furry object. Without thinking, she pulled out a terrified rat and flung it with all her strength at Penelope’s head. Marianne scored a direct hit, and with a bloodcurdling yowl, Penelope, the rat lodged in her hair, whirled around to Marianne. Penelope’s face contorted in a rage unlike anything earthly Marianne had ever seen. Shaking her head back and forth in an effort to expel the unwelcome passenger, Penelope lurched toward Marianne. Suddenly Penelope began to jump up and down, her screams increasing to banshee-like levels as a grubby tail disappeared down her back.
“Robin! Get back in the chair!” yelled Marianne. Robin’s face instantly registered comprehension, and he retreated.
“He’s mine!” screeched Penelope. “You’ll pay with your life for that, you little—” Her sentence was cut short as the first rays of sunlight struck her. She collapsed, shaking uncontrollably, her hands flailing as though trying to ward off an invisible enemy. With a final shriek, Penelope’s body went rigid and flopped down into a heap of pink silk and chiffon. A stupefied rat gratefully escaped from the creases of Penelope’s dress and scurried to the open portal.
Marianne looked at Robin. His sword was drawn. “I was going to stop her from hurting you,” he said, his eyes on the princess. The creaking of the door as someone unlocked it shattered the silence. The wizened housekeeper limped into the room. Upon seeing Robin and Marianne staring at her, she reeled backwards. “You’re alive!” she said, in a faltering voice.
“We are, but we’re a little worried about her,” said Robin, motioning to the messy, whining princess. The housekeeper turned and fled down the hallway, her footsteps fading as she cried, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! The princess is awake!”
Robin chivalrously helped Penelope stand up. “What happened?” asked Penelope, holding her head. “The last thing I remember is some old hag throwing dust on me and bawling about how I’d ruined her son’s life. I mean, he was ugly! I wouldn’t even have gone out with him if Priscilla hadn’t dared me to and— Who did you say you were again?” Robin and Marianne gaped at her. “What?” she demanded.
“Frankly I’m unaccustomed to having a lovely princess waking in the night and trying to kill my sister,” replied Robin brusquely.
“You think I’m beautiful? That is so cute of you!” said Penelope, wrinkling her nose in delight.
Footsteps stopped Robin from elaborating. Into the room strode a stocky man in rich robes, attended by the hunched housekeeper. “Poppa!” cried Penelope, tumbling into his arms. “Did you miss me?”
“My darling Ellie! You will be quite ashamed to see how badly I have kept house,” said the king, trying to hold back his tears.
“I do hope the ballroom is still usable. I have fantastic plans for MY AWAKENING BALL,” she emphasized the final words with her hands, her eyes alight with the prospect of all in attendance being unbearably jealous that she had gotten to spend the year under a curse.
“We will start planning without delay,” said the king, revitalized with his daughter by his side. “We must also think of your wedding preparations.”
“To whom are you getting married?” piped up Robin.
The king gave him a puzzled look. “Why, you, of course.”
Reeling from the announcement of the impending nuptials, Marianne silently tailed the rest of the group making their noisy way to the ballroom. A green-eyed shadow crept upon her and whispered poisonous thoughts in her ear when she saw that the princess was already holding Robin’s hand and jabbering on about how spectacular their wedding would be. The king had sent the housekeeper, still shaking in amazement, to fetch the gold, and he was now nodding vigorously at Penelope’s every pronouncement. Marianne had a weird feeling of being totally invisible. She pondered the future of such an unseen state.
The king complained that the ballroom door was locked. He flung his arms up and yelled at the door, but the door insolently refused to open. Marianne saw Robin gallantly step forward and offer his assistance. The king signaled his assent, and Robin kicked the door with his thick boot. The door stayed closed, and Robin shouted in pain. This fractured Marianne’s marzipan thoughts, and she hastened forward, but Penelope was already cradling Robin in her arms. “My brave little hero!” she gushed, ruffling his hair. Marianne rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as the housekeeper returned, ushering a wheelbarrow weighed down under a gargantuan sack, golden coins peeping from the bag. Upon seeing this, Robin appeared greatly revived, to the extent of even proposing to help with the treasure. The ancient housekeeper extracted from her pocket a ring of skeleton keys, each key seemingly identical. When she moved the bundle toward the lock, however, one key separated itself from the pack and pushed itself into the lock. Marianne slid behind the king.
The doors creaked open and Marianne coughed as puffs of dust billowed around the entrance. The ballroom was in a sad state of disrepair. A layer of grime covered the marble floor, which was blue in the areas where rats had disturbed the aged coating. “Father! How could you?” cried Penelope, pursing her lips, “It will take nearly a month before the servants can scour these grungy walls!”
“Ellie, my darling, you are just the same,” said the king, in obvious delight.
“But this room isn’t!” complained Penelope, rolling the pearls of her necklace in frustration.
Perhaps it was the way that Penelope clutched and gathered the necklace around her fingers that triggered Marianne’s memory. Her thoughts soared back to Jasmine’s Journal of Jewelry Jinxes, a book whose contents had long been etched in Marianne’s mind.
“Excuse me, Penelope, but may I please have a look at your necklace?”
Penelope turned sharply and burned Marianne with a caustic eye. “And who are you?” she demanded.
“I am,” Marianne was tempted to finish, “the girl who threw a rat in your hair, and am proud of it!” but instead added, “Robin’s sister, Marianne.”
“She really is,” said Robin earnestly, looking up from the bag of money. “She helped me save you.”
“Well, I can’t marry you, too,” said Penelope, taken by her own humor.
“But you can let me examine your necklace,” replied Marianne. “Better yet, lay your necklace on the floor.”
“I will not! You can’t order me about like a serving maid!” rejoined Penelope.
“Oh, lay it on the floor, Ellie. The worst that can happen is that it will get a bit dusty,” coaxed her father.
“Fine,” Penelope spat out, pulling the pearls over her head and flinging them to the ground.
“Robin, may I have your sword?” asked Marianne, watching the necklace scrape a path in the dirt as it traveled to her.
Despite being puzzled, Robin obeyed and handed her the weapon.
“What are you doing? Stop that!” cried the housekeeper, pushing forward. With a single motion, Marianne brought the sword’s tip level with the woman’s wrinkled throat. “Move back,”
