"Karma is a witch."—Rowen Keckilpenny Brown

You know that moment in The Wizard of Oz where Dorothy picks up a bucket and tosses the water at the scarecrow to save him from burning to a crisp, but ends up accidentally melting the Wicked Witch of the West instead, and at first the queen's crew of green-faced minions seems kind of upset, but then they yell: "Hail, Dorothy, the Wicked Witch is dead," and they bow and victorious music plays, and then the locals pretty much give Dorothy whatever she wants?

She asks for the witch's broom, but while she had their appreciation, she could've aimed higher, in my opinion! Who hasn't always secretly dreamed of owning a pet flying monkey?

Anyway, that was what I was thinking about when I gently lowered my sister to the floor and stood, ready to bask in the gratitude of my future subjects.

It never occurred to me they'd be anything but grateful because the alternative, evil Olivia, had threatened to turn them into statues for her garden. Who wouldn't be happy not to spend another five hundred years under the oppressive thumb of a despot?

Certainly, they'd kneel, shout: Hail Rowen, the Wicked Witch is Dead!!! Can someone get her a sparkly crown, a throne, and maybe a bucket of French fries with ranch dressing? (I was starving. Also, ketchup sucks as a French fry dip.)

But that's not what happened—another example of how Hollywood has recklessly misrepresented the world of fantasy.

So, what did transpire?

Patience!!!

Here we go ...

Everyone pretty much just stood there, mouths (or, in some cases, what I assumed were mouths) hanging open. You could feel the questions hanging in the air. Also, you could see questions hanging in the air, like literal questions in gold letters with golden question marks. Sadly, they were in another language, so I didn't know what they meant.

With all those eyes on me and no clue whether they'd turn into an unruly or even a ruly mob, my neck heated, and I secretly scanned the ballroom for possible exits. Why weren't they asking me if I wanted fries with that throne? Instead, they waited. For what?

Blade sidled up beside me (in human form and fortunately—or unfortunately—in his usual minion robes) and whispered in my ear: "You should probably say something?"

I spun on him. "You!" I yelled. "I have plenty to say to you! You, you, you, cat! Luckily, you have nine lives because you're about to use up so, so many of them!"

"Maybe we should have this conversation later? I mean, not with an audience that might turn unruly without a queen," he whispered.

"Ugh!" I said, clenching my fists so hard my nails would leave marks. The only thing worse than a boy who was a cat who knew all your secrets was a boy who was a cat who knew all your secrets and was also right that now wasn't the time to punish him. That's okay. Taking my time to devise the best and most painful punishment was probably better. "Fine! Let's do this oath."

"Could someone clean this up?" I said. "I mean, move Olivia somewhere she won't get stepped on," I added quickly. Wow, trying not to be overly evil was a full-time job!

A crew of minions hustled over with a handy stretcher and picked up Olivia.

"Where do you want her?" they said.

"Take her to my room for now. I'll figure out what to do with her later." I wasn't sure if Olivia was dead or alive and patiently waiting for me to revive her so she could plot against me yet again, but I'd made that deathbed promise to Petronella about forgiving my sister. Not that I forgave her, but I needed time to decide whether to attempt to bring her back to life or just feed her to Nellie. Feeding her to Nellie would be simpler and probably better for the world as a whole.

See? Evil tendencies are impossible to break.

The minions trotted off, Olivia's gown sweeping along the floor.

Okay, I teared up a little, not because I mourned evil Olivia, but because I lamented what might've been if she'd been a real sister. At least soon, I'd have my dads back.

Wiping away the tear with the sleeve of my silver jumpsuit, I made my way toward the stage in the front of the room. Now that I had a second to think about it, the setting was identical to what I saw in my prom dream. A massive stage with a shimmery black curtain in the back and a throne in the center woven from the clawed branches of a rowan tree, dotted with clusters of blood-red rowanberries. Only instead of me wearing a black Cinderella gown, I was in a somewhat soiled silver jumpsuit. Apparently, prophetic dreams weren't a hundred percent accurate.

Also on the dais was a giant grimoire on a wooden stand, another stand with a golden fillagree crown set with black diamonds and pearls, and my teachers—Doryu, Zara, Frekvic, Ash, and Triton, all grinning, except for Zara, who had a goth girl face. You know the type? Lots of thick eyeliner. Black lipstick. Straight black bangs. A pale face that looked like it might crack if she attempted a smile. At the back of the group was a rippling shadow, the Shadowling, with a pink skirt peeking out from behind it.

"Tyra!" I barked. "I know you're back there."

The pink skirt disappeared entirely behind the Shadowling. I rolled my eyes. There was no hiding from my wrath! I would make her suffer and wouldn't go easy on her. She helped kill Petronella and sucked the magic out of many other witches, embarrassed me in front of my classmates at Coffin Ridge High, flirted with Miles, but worst of all, she her subjected me to a criminal amount of pink over the last month! Punishment schemes ran through my head. The problem would be which to choose; there were so many excellent options. But before I could move ahead with Tyra's demise, the back curtains rippled, and a minion came through, rolling a cart that held my dads in a terrarium to the middle of the stage. Thank goodness Olivia and Tyra hadn't harmed them yet.

"Dad! Papa!" I cried, rushing toward them, my heart lifting. They looked up at me with solemn eyes (I mean, sure, it's hard to tell solemn from cheerful with toad eyes, but they seemed solemn.) "Soon you will be human again!" I decreed. "Just let me get this oath-taking over with, okay?"

Dad and Papa sprang up and down inside the terrarium, sending rocks flying and knocking over a plastic palm tree. I'm pretty sure that meant, "Do not take that oath, or you'll be grounded for the rest of your life, young lady," but I ignored them because they couldn't speak English. I couldn't change them back until I was queen; ergo, I had to queen on up!

Speaking of which, everyone in the room was staring at me.

The orcs, the fairies, dragons, unicorns, and all the other creatures.

The orchestra and conductor, all in tuxedos, sat poised behind their sheet music.

The servers.

My teachers.

All waiting.

Doryu stepped toward me, sweeping his hand toward the carved wooden stand bearing the ancient grimoire. I could feel the heat emanating from his very presence. "If you'd like to recite the oath? I've taken the liberty of opening it to the correct page."

"Thank you, Doryu," I said, and gathering all my dignity, which, let's be honest, wasn't much, I strode over to the book. It smelled of mustiness and age and earth and decay. I ran my finger down the thick vellum, tracing the giant gold-leafed calligraphed "I" at the beginning of the oath.

It was several times larger than the other letters on the page. Snakes and vines wound up the I; it was hard to tell whether they were protecting it or choking. I shivered. It was sinking in that I was the I here.

But I was standing up on a stage, elevated over my subjects, but I didn't feel more significant or prominent. It's hard to feel overly large and prominent when some of your subjects were actual giants, but hey, I was a lot bigger than the mushrooms. As I gazed at the audience, I wondered if the creatures assembled here wanted to support or crush me. I searched for Blade, though I didn't know why. I was still angry with him, but somehow, I needed to see his face.

I swallowed, my throat thick with trepidation. What if it didn't work? What if Olivia was the rightful heir?

Poppycock! Said a voice in my head.

"Who's in there? Petronella? Get out of my brain!"

At that moment, Dad distracted my internal dialogue by slamming into the terrarium wall. Fine. I better get on with it before Dad damages himself or the palm tree irreparably. I nodded sagely at my soon-to-be subjects and caught a welcome glimpse of Blade, making his way through the crowd to the foot of the stage, so close I could reach down and hold his hand that I totally didn't want to hold. He smiled and nodded at me. It wouldn't have affected me, except at that moment, that ridiculous and adorable curl flopped over his eyes, and my heart twisted. I cleared my throat and read:

I, [Insert name here],"

"You're supposed to say your name," Doryu interjected, smoke coming from his ears. I mean literally. He wasn't mad; he was just smoking.

"Oh, right. Thanks." I cleared my throat again and began: "I, Rowen Keckilpenny Brown, in the presence of the esteemed representatives of the realms to bear witness, do hereby take this binding oath to serve as your queen for the next five centuries.

"I solemnly swear to distribute the magic impartially among the lands and peoples under my dominion. With a just and equitable hand, I shall ensure that the gift of magic is shared, and peace shall be maintained between the realms, in accordance with the Monarchy Ceasefire and Harmony Act of 4023 B.Q."

I paused, silently reading the next bit of the oath, taking deep breaths to stave off a full-blown panic attack. Here was the part where I renounced love. I gripped the sides of the grimoire, barely able to stop from tearing out the oath and zapping it into oblivion. After all I'd been through! I knew my dads loved me, okay; they extended it in super annoying ways, but you cannot choose how others show their love. You must just accept it for the magical gift it is. And Blade? Cal? Whoever he was! What might happen if we had a chance to be together? After I took this oath, I'd never know.

Olivia had no love, and look what happened to her.

Petronella gave up love and lived a life of bitterness.

But you know what they both gave me? The greatest gift of all. Because finally, after all, I'd been through for the past month, I'd learned to love myself. Accept myself, warts and all. (Well, let's hope I can keep the warts at bay. Not only were they unsightly, but they were also a total witch cliché.)

So here I stood, after working so hard to find love, to love myself, and now I was going to swear it off?

The crowd grew restless. I looked back at Doryu, and he nodded as if urging me on.

Then I looked at Ash and Xiri, who were totally making out right in front of everyone. My face heated. (Geez, guys, get a room. We're in a castle! There are like a thousand bedrooms!) We'd have to discuss later the proper way for demons to behave at my coronation!

Or maybe not!

Last, I glanced down at Blade, who met my gaze and held it there. "You got this, Rowen," he whispered. "Remember, you were born to rule. And you have a keen legal mind." He winked at me.

What was he trying to tell me?

Keen legal mind.

How many people had pointed out that I would've made a brilliant lawyer?

I scanned the oath. What was an oath but a legal contract? A lightbulb went off in my head. I winked back at Blade and continued, my heart a thousand pounds lighter.

"In no event shall I renounce the bonds of love, for they shall not sway my judgment nor obscure my path. I shall stand alone, a guardian of the delicate equilibrium I seek to maintain.

"So be it, sealed in the presence of the ancient powers, the elements, and the ethereal witnesses who mark this irrevocable agreement, that I, Rowen Keckilpenny Brown, hereby acknowledge my birthright and accept my duty to serve as your queen."

For a moment, nothing seemed different. I was still regular old Rowen Keckilpenny Brown, master hacker, gifted lawyer, hater of yoga and smoothies, chosen by magic to rule.

But then a golden light flashed from the I in the book, fanning out to surround me. My entire body broke out in a sweat, and the back of my throat itched from thirst like I had been doing hot yoga for six hours straight. (Not that I would ever do hot yoga, because it's basically yoga in hell, and yoga on earth is bad enough!) Then the room seemed to shimmer and morph through the veil of light. The light spun around me faster and faster, closer and closer, until it seeped into my skin, and there I stood, on the stage, in an enormous shimmery black Cinderella gown with long red curls spilling over my shoulders.

The gown from my dream.

Apparently, dreams do come true when you're living a fairy tale, just not the way you expect.

Hello, lovely readers! So ...

I wanted this to be the last chapter, but as I was approaching 5,000 words, I realized I needed to split it up. I have most of the rest written, so I'll post it as soon as I am done. I wanted to give Rowen's first dance with Blade plenty of time.

What do you think Rowen did to the oath so she could keep love in her life?

Thanks again for reading. It means the world to me. And thank you for voting, commenting, following, and being part of this process over the last year.