The Princesses of Gavaldon

Chapter 4

Sophie wasn't sure why six wolves needed to punish her instead of one, but
she assumed it was to make a point. They bound her to a spit, stuffed an apple in
her mouth, and paraded her like a banquet pig through the six floors of Malice
Hall. Lining the walls, new students pointed and laughed, but laughs turned to
frowns when they realized this freak in pink would be one of their bunk mates.
The wolves towed whimpering Sophie past Rooms 63, 64, 65, then kicked open
Room 66 and flung her in. Sophie skidded until her face smacked into a warted
foot.

"I told you we'd get her," said a sour voice.
Still tied to the spit, Sophie looked up at a tall girl with greasy black hair
streaked red, black lipstick, a ring in her nose, and a terrifying tattoo of a buck-
horned, red-skulled demon around her neck. The girl glared at Sophie, black
eyes flinting.
"She even smells like an Ever."
"The fairies will retrieve it soon enough," said a voice across the room.
Sophie swung her head to an albino girl with deathly white hair, white skin,
and hooded red eyes, feeding stew from a cauldron to three black rats. "Pity. We
could slit its throat and hang it as a hall ornament."
"How rude," said a third. Sophie turned to a smiley brown-haired girl on the
bed, round as a hot air balloon, chocolate ice pop in each stumpy fist. "Besides,
it's against the rules to kill other students."
"How about we just maim her a bit?" said the albino.
"I think she's refreshing," said the plump one, biting into the ice pop. "Not
every villain has to smell and look depressed."
"She's not a villain," the albino and the tattooed girl snapped in unison.
As she wriggled from her ropes, Sophie craned her neck up and had her first
full view of the room. Once upon a time it might have been a nice, cozy suite be-
fore someone set it on fire. The brick walls were burnt to cinders. Black and
brown scorch marks ripped across the ceiling, and the floor was buried beneath
an inch of ash. Even the furniture looked toasted. But as her eyes searched,
Sophie realized there was an even bigger problem with the room.
"Where's the mirror?" she gasped.
"Let me guess," the tattooed girl snorted. "It's Bella or Ariel or Anastasia."

"It looks more like a Buttercup or Sugarplum," said the albino.
"Or a Clarabelle or Rose Red or Willow-by-the-Sea."
"Sophie." Sophie stood in a cloud of soot. "My name is Sophie. I'm not a 'vil-
lain,' I'm not an 'it,' and yes, I clearly don't belong here, so—"
The albino and the tattooed girl were doubled over laughing. "Sophie!" the
second cackled. "It's worse than anyone could have imagined!"
"Anything named Sophie doesn't belong here," the albino wheezed. "It be-
longs in a cage."
"I belong in the other tower," said Sophie, trying to stay above their catti-
ness, "which is why I need to see the School Master."
"'I need to see the School Master,'" the albino mimicked. "How about you
jump out the window and see if he catches you?"
"You all have no manners," snarfled the round girl, mouth full. "I'm Dot.
This is Hester," she said, pointing at the tattooed girl. "And this ray of sunshine,"
she said, pointing at the albino, "is Anadil." Anadil spat on the floor.
"Welcome to Room 66," said Dot, and with a swish of her hand swept the
ashes off the unclaimed bed.
Sophie winced at moth-eaten sheets with ominous stains. "Appreciate the
welcome, but I really should be going," she said, backing against the door.
"Might you direct me to the School Master's office?"
"Princes must be so confused when they see you," said Dot. "Most villains
don't look like princesses."
"She's not a villain," Anadil and Hester groaned.
"Do I have to make an appointment to see him?" pressed Sophie. "Or do I
send him a note or—"
"You could fly, I suppose," Dot said, pulling two chocolate eggs from her
pocket. "But the stymphs might eat you."
"Stymphs?" asked Sophie.
"Those birds that dropped us off, love," garbled Dot as she chewed. "You'd
have to get past them. And you know how they hate villains."
"For the last time," shot Sophie, "I'm not a vill—"
Sounds rang in the stairwell. Sugary jingling, so dainty, so delicate it could
only be—
Fairies. They were coming for her!
Sophie suppressed a scream. She dared not tell the girls her rescue was im-
minent (who knows how serious they were about making her a hall decoration).
She backed against the door and listened to the jingles grow louder.
"I don't know why people think princesses are pretty," Hester said, picking a
wart on her toe. "Their noses are so small. Like little buttons you want to pop
off."