"The true villain in Snow White was the mirror."

As I limped, utterly lost, through the dark, dank, stony dungeon, I felt the gazes of the inmates staring at me from within their darkened cells.

At first, I was a little freaked out by the array of magical creatures in Petronella's little dungeon/zoo, but I reminded myself I'd already met a skyscraper-sized dragon, an evil witch with pearls, a stuck-up high school fairy, and a slew of cannibalistic talking rats. Just bring on the weird at this point!

I even tried asking a few of them the location of the bathroom, but to no avail.

Still, I wished I could walk faster, not only because I didn't want to get caught, but also because of my legs. Evidently the combination of dragon riding, being frozen on the floor of a rat-infested cell for hours, and the stupid amount of running I did yesterday, made my legs stiff and tight as new winter boots.

I scampered past more and more cells, each bearing a wooden sign that had been affixed to the bars with twine listing the creature imprisoned within, its crime against the evil queen, and the length of their sentence. Honestly, I tried not to even look at them, because it only slowed me down even more, but curiosity, you know. A force mightier than the instinct for self-preservation.

Ask any cat.

A few examples:

Dragon - Flying with an expired license - Twenty-six years

Unicorn - Coat too shiny and impressive - Eternity

Minotaur - Bullish attitude - Ten months

Troll - Foul body odor in the presence of the Queen - Three months

Gorgon - Turning favorite minion into stone without permission -Twelve hours

Fairy - Crimes against fashion - Three years

Ghost - Inappropriate haunting of royal emissary - One fortnight

Minion - Pedicure failure - Fifty-two years

Witch - Faulty beauty potion - Until such time as Her Highness's scars, both emotional and physical, subside - tbd

(And before you say anything like, "Hold up, Rowen! Did you say pedicure infractions come with a fifty-two-year sentence? How could you leave Blade to this fate? Have you no conscience?"

Well, it weighed on me a little, but not enough for me to give up my bathroom quest! You ought to feel sorry for me! Here I was in this maze of a dungeon, my arms positively covered in goosebumps with my bladder about to explode.

It seemed there were many rules to be broken in Petronella's castle, including existing or annoying her for the smallest reason. I had to get out of this place, or I could end up incarcerated for years just for breathing the wrong way.

If you think I was exaggerating, the sign on a cell I had just passed:

Mermaid - breathing the wrong way - One year

At least I hadn't come across any toads, although they probably weren't great candidates for cells because they could easily slip through the bars. Where was Petronella keeping my dads? I would find out soon enough. And if she hurt one little wart on their heads, I'd lock Petronella in her own dungeon for eternity! Maybe I'd give her a special pedicure first! One that would leave her toenail free! Look, I'd be doing her a favor!

"Oh, come and free me, little queen, and I shall fulfill all your dreams." A stunning mermaid with long green hair and a shell bra bobbed inside an enormous fish tank singing her siren song.

For a second, I found myself edging toward her, but managed to stop myself. "Nice try, mermaid!" I said.

"Oh, come on! You must have the key, or you wouldn't be out there," she grumbled.

"Not listening," I said, slinging the basket handle over the crook of my elbow and plugging my ears. She splashed me, as if that would help change my mind! I hobbled out of hearing and splash range as fast as my aching legs would allow.

After that, I got better at ignoring (or at least pretending to ignore) the plaintive bleating, crying, whispering, hissing, moaning, neighing, and ear-splitting screeches of the inmates.

The end of the dungeon hallway seemed to move further and further away. Or maybe I was losing my mind? Or going in circles?

After I passed the gorgon three times, I was betting on the circle option.

Crap!

My bladder, legs, stomach, and conscience all vied for my attention.

Find a bathroom! Demanded my bladder.

Do some yoga! Suggested my legs.

Feed me! Insisted my stomach.

Go back to the cell and release Blade, you brute! Berated my conscience.

Even worse, I was beginning to worry old castles didn't come equipped with bathrooms. Maybe the residents used chamber pots or outhouses or wore magical golden fleece diapers. I wasn't an expert on life in magical castles, and fairy tales were of no help. Have you ever noticed that they stay mute on this very important topic? Apparently, witches, ogres, princesses, wolves, nor noble steeds ever had to pee.

I should've asked Blade about the bathroom thing before I imprisoned him. Important lesson on timely interrogation learned!

My bladder, legs, stomach, and conscience were absolutely losing it at this point, so I balled my hands into clawlike fists and yelled at them, "Quiet! All of you!

I'm looking for the bathroom, bladder.

Yoga? Seriously, legs! I thought you knew me better!

Food is coming, stomach! Toilet first. You know the operational order of bodily functions!

Shut up, conscience! I am never ever, ever returning to that cell! Over my dead body!"

"Did someone mention th' deid?"

"Who said that?" I spun, heart stampeding against my ribs.

Malcolm, Blade's phantom dueling partner, floated a mere six inches away, which was a flagrant invasion of my personal space. I stepped back three paces. "Ah, it be you! But whatever are ye doin' out here, lassy?"

If he knew I'd incarcerated Blade, Malcolm wouldn't take too kindly to me, so in these circumstances, I decided that the best defense would be a good offense. And if there was anything I was good at, it was being offensive!

Wait, maybe that didn't come out right.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, forcing maximum imperiousness into my tone.

"This be my hall," Malcolm puffed out his chest. "Been mine for a century or so. Got t' watch for escaped prisoners. Like you, mibbie?"

"I am out for a stroll," I said. "Simply enjoying the, um, general splendor."

Maybe that last line was a little too much because Malcolm raised a translucent eyebrow, scrutinized me, then lifted his sword from its ghostly scabbard. "Time to go back to yer cell, lass."

"Look, ghost! I earned my escape," I said, trying for the truth, since of all creatures, the transparent one saw through my lies.

"First, we prefer corporally challenged. Second, if ye are caught, ye haven't officially passed yer test. Unless, o' coorse, ye have a hall pass." Malcolm looked up at me, hope shimmering in his wispy eyes. He didn't want to turn me in. I could tell.

"Er ... hall pass ..." I said. What were we in high school? "Right. I think I put it in the basket." I set down the basket and opened the lid. Inside was a mound of shimmery flouncy fluff made from the same material as Olivia's dress. I pretended to search, really trying to buy time to come up with a brilliant new strategy. Unfortunately, all strategies, brilliant or otherwise, had dribbled out of my head.

"Mibbie it disappeared? Sometimes hall passes do that. Pesky buggers," Malcolm said.

"Yes, it must've." I said, keeping my face as innocent looking as possible. Lying for a good cause. Not peeing in my pants was that cause.

"It'll probably reappear," Malcolm offered, "but in the meantime, I'll be walkin' ye back to yer cell." He flourished his sword, swiping it elegantly in the air.

"Malcolm, the truth is, I really need to use the bathroom. Do you think I could, even without a hall pass?"

Malcolm cocked his head. "Bathroom?"

"Uh, yeah, to ... you know ..." How to explain a bathroom to a centuries-old Scottish ghost? I pantomimed the process.

"Ay, lass! You need the cludgie."

"Er, yeah, that's it." I hoped he understood, as I was desperate.

"Let me show you," he said, floating away at speed. I race-limped after him, trying to hold my legs together, and eventually we arrived at a wooden door with a sign reading "Lassys," nailed to the center.

I nearly cried with relief. "Thanks, I'll take it from here," I said, pushing on the door, which didn't budge.

"Dussna get a lot of use."

"I can see that." Desperate, I shouldered the door and leaned into it. Finally, it began to creek open. A snickering sound came from inside accompanied by a whiff of a kind of carnival smell—cotton candy, livestock, oil and grease, and unwashed masses. Weird. My stomach grumbled in protest. I loved cotton candy.

Once I had the door open enough to enter, I squeezed through into the darkness. I could just make out a modern-day toilet and a sink. (Yay) Very anachronistic, but maybe it was like the Room of Requirement in Harry Potter. I needed a bathroom and one appeared! Or maybe it was just a bathroom.

Realizing it would be impossible to open it from the inside and the only light available came from the lantern in the hall, I used the basket to prop open the door. Malcolm floated eerily through the wall, giving me a start.

"Hey, you can't come in here," I said.

"Why not? I have to guard ye."

"Because you're not an ... er ... lassy." Also, because I want to be alone and figure out an escape plan. People were always escaping through bathrooms in movies, which meant shaking off my guard.

"Verra well. Careful of the mirrors, mind. That's a sleekit bunch."

"What does that mean?"

"Don't trust the mirrors."

"Everyone knows mirrors are the worst," I said, mostly to get him to leave but somewhat because, let's face it, when you look like me, mirrors are best avoided.

"I'll be outside waiting to escort ye back."

"Over my dead body," I whispered under my breath as Malcolm vanished through the wall.

From behind me, I heard a chorus of mean girl titters.

"Who's there?" I said.

No one answered. A dark, cold, silent fear prickled down my neck. Something was very wrong with this bathroom. But I had no time for fear! (I shall give you a moment to admire my bravery while I use the toilet!)

(You're still here! Excellent.

Needless to say, I felt much better.)

As I washed my hands with warm water and soap, I breathed a sigh of relief that the bathroom wasn't scary at all. It was totally normal! But of course, the minute I allowed myself this thought, the basket that I used to wedge open the door rolled inside; the door clanged shut with a loud boom, leaving me in complete darkness.

This time, my heart didn't even bother trying to thump wildly, instead, it tried to wriggle up my throat and exit my body entirely. Not that I could blame it.

"Malcolm?" I called.

"He can't hear you," came a voice. My voice!

"Certainly not," a second voice chimed in from the other side of the room. Also, my voice.

"But we can," said a third me brightly.

"Can someone turn on a light?" said a fourth Rowen.

"I'll do it," grumbled the fifth.

Huh? And before you think I was talking to myself or had developed a sudden onset of multiple personality disorder; strands of fairy lights strung along the ceiling lit up, revealing five wavy funhouse mirrors on the walls surrounding me, each one with a different undulating blurry image of me. The room had an overall carnival/Renaissance Faire/crumbling castle vibe; the walls decorated with clown masks, crossbows, swords, and assorted stuffed animals. I guess that explained the carnival smell.

But the weirdness of the room and the existence of five too many Rowens weren't the biggest issue. The problem was the door had entirely disappeared! Not fair! I thought there was no magic allowed in the dungeon!

The injustice of the situation pushed my fear aside, replacing it with burning anger.

"Stop being all blurry," I commanded the mirrors.

"Aw, come on. You're no fun," said one of the Rowens as all the reflections settled into five, not blurry versions of me.

Terrific. I preferred the blurry ones to these! There was:

1. Princessy Me, wearing a red ballgown. My hair was super pretty. Like it wasn't in real life. Long red ringlets. My eyelashes were dark, not green, and there was a rose gold crown on my head set with rubies and garnets. I kept smoothing my hair and winking.

2. Fully Evil Me, with a wrinkled face covered in hairy warts, wearing a black shapeless smock with black shoes, their tips curled like lizard tongues.

3. Science Me wearing a lab coat and glasses with two lifeless dad-like toads on a table covered in sharp instruments. Ick!

4. Popular Me, wearing expensive jeans and a crop too, surrounded by cute boys kneeling and offering me various flowers.

5. Me Me. My hair was a rat's nest; eyes framed with dark circles; the shabby fleecy horse costume as threadbare as an overly loved stuffed animal.

"Hilarious," I said, gnashing my teeth. "I assume this is part of my test? Fine, I'll play along. How do I get out of here?"

"That's easy, silly," simpered princess me, adding a twirl that made her dress flare out like those brushes at the car wash.

"I like easy," I replied.

Evil me grinned evilly. "You're going to have to choose."

"Choose?"

All the Mes began shouting at the same time. "Pick me! Pick me!"

I clasped my hands over my ears. "Will you shut up? How can I possibly think straight with you all yelling?"

Shockingly, they all went silent.

I pointed to Science Me. She seemed safest. I mean, except for the sharp instruments. "You, explain."

"It's only logical," said Science Me, waving her scalpel super close to the dad toads. I really hoped those weren't my real dads.

"Put that thing down before someone loses an eye," I said. Science Me obeyed, but I was losing patience. It was like I was Alice in Wonderland trying to get a straight answer out of a Mad Hatter. "That was not helpful. Anyone else want to try explaining?"

"Oh, let me, let me!" sang Princess Me, adjusting her crown, which had shifted on her head during her massive twirling session.

"No!" I said, because I couldn't even look at Princess Me without wanting to punch the mirror. She pouted.

Me Me cleared her throat. "The only way out of here is through one of us. You'll enter a mirror, and your life will follow the chosen path."

"Which is why you should choose me," said Popular Me, who was gathering the flowers into a bouquet.

"Why exactly?"

"Because you'll have all the boyfriends you've ever wanted. And endless flowers!"

Who needed that many boyfriends? It honestly sounded like a nightmare. "I'm allergic to brightly colored objects."

"Obviously you should choose me," Science Me said, "because your future beyond my surface will give you all the intelligence you ever wanted."

"I have all the smarts I need, thanks."

"Choose me," rasped Evil Me. "Revenge shall be ours!"

"I love revenge, but I don't want it as a lifestyle choice. Sorry."

"Choose me," said Princessy Me. "You will be beautiful and rich beyond your wildest dreams."

"You're hilarious. Guys, I'm done with your game. So, if you wouldn't mind putting the door back, I'll be on my way."

"But, you have to play," Princess Me's glossy lower lip trembled.

"No."

"Then you'll never get out of here," cackled Evil Me.

Someone knocked on the wall. "Help!" I cried.

"He can't hear you/ We told you that," Science Me said. "Maybe you're not as smart as you think you are."

Despite Science Me's insult, the door reappeared and opened a crack. "Lassy," said Malcolm. "You all right?"

"No!"

"Whit's wrong?"

"The mirrors won't let me out."

"Aye. You have to choose."

"But you said not to trust them."

"Ye canna trust 'em."

"That's not helpful."

"Juist choose. Yer almost late for dinner. Th' lest body wha shawed up late for the queen's banquet ended up on the menu. Poor laddie."

"Yuk. She's a cannibal like the rats? Ew. Just ew."

"No, lass. She turned him into a pig first. Ate him with a bottle of chianti and a dash of barbecue sauce"

"Ew. That doesn't make it any better."

"You may be right. But 'tis no matter. Choose."

I exhaled in resignation. "So, how does this work?"

"Just walk into a mirror," Malcolm said.

"All right. But this is crazy." I glanced from one mirror to the next. What did I want? Beauty, intelligence, revenge, popularity?

I chose.

Myself.

Me Me.

I grabbed the basket because seeing myself in the horse costume was more than I could tolerate, and I had to change into new clothes ASAP, then put my foot on the glass. My reflection's foot touched mine. I pushed in, and my foot disappeared on the other side, toes tingling. Exhaling, I took a full step into the mirror. The world spun. My stomach rose into my throat, making it impossible to scream. I spun faster and faster, in a void of eternal darkness.

There was a flash of light, then everything stopped. I fell to my knees on a cold stone floor; the basket tumbling out of range, and immediately threw up on a pair of tall, shiny boots.

"You came back for me!" Blade said.

I know I said I'd never return to this cell unless I was a dead body, but wishing I was dead was almost the same. 

Hello, lovely readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  I had so much fun with the mirrors and the creatures imprisoned in the dungeon. I promise it will all play out in the story later.

What do you think will happen now? Will Rowen make it to the banquet in time? Will she tell Blade she didn't really come back for him? Find out in next week's installment!

Thanks for reading, voting, following, commenting, and all that! Love you!

Dedicating this chapter to SabrinaBlackburry. Just love this tremendously talented author and highly recommend you read her work! Her book Dirty Lying Fairies is available for sale through Wattpad Books, and she has more titles to come. If you like funny, sexy, fantasy (which I assume you do because you're here!), go check out her profile asap! You can thank me later!