The Prison Commissary: Morning:

Prince Alva returned with a gold crown on his stupid head. His skin appeared to glow, and he tucked his addictive Magical Chewie Stick into the side pocket of his uniform but kept taking it out periodically to suck in the enchanted vapors.

Prison workers in green or orange jumpsuits helped officers pack commissary boxes with ramen, honeybuns, bags of popcorn, and other items for weekly delivery.

Alva tried to knock over a heavy metal rack bolted to the floor. While the rack didn't budge, a pallet of corn chips fell to the cement floor. "Pick that up!" he yelled at a prisoner. "You're lucky you're allowed to shop here."

The prisoner set the basket on the floor and slowly reached for the first bag.

"Not fast enough!" Alva picked up a pot from another rack and tossed it at the man's head.

An officer yanked the prisoner out of the way before it crashed into him. "I'll clean this up, and you finish your shopping, okay?" She picked up the bags within a minute.

"I need a favor," Prince Alva asked her. "Did you toss Florence's half-brother, Edgar, out? If I find him back in jail, I'll kill him and you."

The woman spoke. "Your Highness, I kicked him out twice. Because I'm loyal to you."

Alva scratched his face with his Magical Chewie Stick. "I don't want Florence to return. That freak is terrifying."

Another prisoner looked up from the counter as he packed deodorant into a box. "What if the cops loyal to you held Edgar longer and arrested Florence when she came to bail him out? I can gather enough prisoners to help, and she'll go down fast. The pro-Blackstone coppers will be too scared to help."

"Do it! If you slaughter Florence, I'll make sure you're released early." Alva tossed a box of cheese crackers at the man. "My treat." He walked out.

"You did good." The officer stuffed chips, snack cakes, and tuna packets into the prisoner's basket.

"I'd do this for free because of how much I hate that little punk, but I'll still eat the snacks," the prisoner said. "A man like Blackstone doesn't deserve this." The prisoner opened a bag of chips. "Blackstone, cooked for us during the holidays for the last two years. Being fed like we matter means something. No one ever made me a Christmas dinner before."

~ ~ ~ ~

Queen Petunia's Troops:

The Alewife hung a broom in the doorway to announce that her home was open for business. She helped Edgar sneak in through the back door and into her steamy kitchen.

She spied out her serving slot while she cooked to watch the bustling dining room.

While the alehouse wasn't an inn, a sign for boarding rooms hung near the stairs.

Thrift store art and children's drawings decorated the plaster walls. Her furniture was salvaged from other people throughout, and each misshapen table was recently repainted with petunias.

The Alewife stayed in the kitchen, making ale, bread, root beer, and soup. She stirred her cauldron. "It's nice to see you sober," she said.

He handed her a fistful of rubies and coins and bought the older troops rounds of cider and wine. For the children, he ordered them actual food. Most were interested in the creamy potato stew, to fill their empty stomachs.

A maid brought the bowls out to the children.

"I'll make sure the children are fed breakfast too, on me." She opened her food service window to spy.

The children marched upstairs with their bowls of potato soup and slept on the floor.

Queen Petunia and her adult troops partied. Her men chugged jugs of the lowest-quality spoiled ale, prepared with fermented swill, boiled swamp water, and bootleg honey, to become drunk.

"A fan of the queen bought four more rounds," the Alewife shouted from her service window. She counted the money again. "No! Seven rounds of the good stuff, with free boarding, and steak for breakfast."

Edgar gave her more money. "When Alva comes, give him your hardest ale."

"They'd steal if you didn't pay," the lady whispered. "But Alva or Victor leave the kids to go hungry. It's why Petunia is leading the band of robbers. For as terrible as she is, she wouldn't starve a child."

"The officers, and even half of the prisoners, chipped in. I want you to know where this money is coming from. Thank you for your help." Edgar tipped his hat, staggered outside, sat on the broken sidewalk, and waited until the six unicorns pulled the police wagon beside him.

An officer pointed at Edgar. "Step into the drunk tank. You're too heavy for me to lift."

"Whatever you say." Edgar climbed inside.

A prison officer sat by him. Drunks slept in the back of the cart. It began to move again.

One of the guards wrapped his arm around his friend. "Edgar, we hate arresting you again, but you're my favorite drunk, and thank you for helping us."

"Better than your least favorite." Edgar belched.

"At least you never tried to drive a carriage," the guard said.

"I gave up my unicorns." Edgar pretended to fall asleep.

Fifteen minutes later, he strutted inside the prison.

"I'll work off my debt in the clinic. Call my sister and tell her you'll sneak her through. I want the prince to be able to die in his own bed." His eyes shifted to Blackstone's cell.

~ ~ ~ ~

Movie Theater Basement:

Florence practiced with a wooden ax and then switched to a laser sword in the basement before her dad called her upstairs.

He held a bag of food. "I'll take you to the station."

She entered his carriage.

"Wendy says, I might be the lucky person who wins a solar car built this year. I'd rather someone else receive the blessing. Getting parts from The Lyric Kingdom or Earth is next to impossible."

The driver sat up front and, in three minutes, they stopped at the train station.

Her dad walked to the front window and purchased Florence a yellow ticket.

He frowned at her, and he handed her the food. "You have to waste another day retrieving that lazy brother of yours. His talents are wasted. I worry Edgar will reveal your secrets."

"Edgar only talks about losing his wife when he's drunk." She entered the train, and an attendant dressed in blue showed her where her seat was located.

The S Train was a beauty forged from red, black, and silver steel.

Artisans spent months sewing the images of roses and swords sewn into the black leather, a year before the late queen's death.

A slightly faded grandeur. Visible tracks glowed under the translucent walkway.

Florence unpacked her lunch and ate her cheese scones with dried fruit and popcorn.

Vendors walked around, selling high-priced shots of chocolate or ginger soda.

The scenery outside didn't interest her. She performed leg exercises and read a short story.

A young man sat next to her. His fingers rested on her leg and moved upwards.

Florence flipped him onto his back.

"You need to ask a lady before you touch her," she said dryly.

His face turned red, and he lunged at her. "You hurt me!"

She tossed him like a rag doll. "You and your friends planned to beat me up if I didn't allow you to come on to me. People talk."

"That wasn't me," he stammered.

A group of men giggled.

"Little man, if you attacked any other woman here, she couldn't have fought you off. I can bench press three of you." She flexed her arm and gave them the dreaded-mom stare. The type of stare women give when you disappointed them for the last time.

Florence shoved him into his seat. "Sir, who dared you?"

He pointed to his friends.

"I know all of your mothers." Her eyes became slits full of rage. "Are you going to be disrespectful to women from now on, or do I have to drag you to your families and let them know about your behavior? I'm heading to bail my brother out of jail. Would you like to replace him?"

"No, mam," the grown men said in unison.

One of the men spoke. "And we're not the ones who smacked that girl around. Prince Alva did." He held up the phone. "We were making an online prank video."

"Never do that again! You might end up in the hospital." She stomped back to her seat.

The train stopped, and she hopped out and entered the small local prison.

Florence handed the money to an officer. "Next time, have my brother scrub the cells and place him on garbage duty," she said.

The officer laughed. "No, we need an extra doctor until the new one comes in next month."

Her brother sat in the corner. "The officers are fake arresting you." Edgar's eyes were red, and his lips trembled. He took green pills to fight the withdrawals.

Another officer took Florence's mugshot.

"We'll show it to Alva when he returns," the officer said.

They walked past the cells.

"You're not here to help save The Damsel, but to help him die in peace," Edgar said. "I consulted three other doctors and none of them can help."

~ ~ ~ ~

Blackstone's Cell:

The prince reached for her auburn-colored ringlets and her muscular arm. "Thank you for coming to my little party," he mumbled.

"Is he being fed at all, or is this from a spoiled truth potion?" Florence examined his bruised arms.

Edgar read over a handful of notes. "How did you know what he took? Yes, it's from a poorly formulated truth potion, and none of the medical staff has ever treated this successfully."

Florence tied her hair back and examined him. "We'll treat him. I was an army medic and—"

Edgar cut her off. "Don't you understand? We want you to bring him home, to die in comfort."

Florence placed her hand on her hip. "Alva used truth potions on the troops before, and I can save Blackstone, but we can't move him, yet. We need to keep the goons out. That includes Griffin. After the prince is strong enough, we'll leave."

Edgar spoke. "I was a capable surgeon, but I am not qualified anymore because I'm broken."

Her eyes twinkled. "Don't give up on him or yourself. This is now a rescue mission. He'll heal, and we'll sneak him by train, not by carriage or foot."

"Like how?" Edgar asked. "They're searching the trains for Tribeca."

"Either we alter my dress or get one from the staff. William Maxwell, Earl of Nithsdale's wife, Winifred, snuck him out of the Tower of London, dressed like a woman, and I think we can do the same, and I'll hide Blackstone. He's not being sent to the castle to die."

"That won't work," the female officer said. "There is a lovely set of gowns in the evidence room. But they were owned by a prisoner who attempted three escapes last week, and I caught him."

"Well, you won't be catching Blackstone." Florence winked at her. "He'd be stunning, dressed as any gender, and my brother and I can disguise ourselves as well. We'll ditch the capes right before we leave the train. The Damsel would never be strong enough to take the journey through the woods, even before this happened to him."

"He's been tortured, electrocuted, and starved, and I would've died already," Edgar's voice shook.

"The first thing we can do is call Alva's secretary and trick her into rearranging his meetings for him. Petunia or Griffin still might come, but we'll handle that when it happens."

"Wendy, I need to talk to her," Blackstone cried out.

"Not yet," Edgar whispered. "But tomorrow."

~ ~ ~ ~

The Castle:

Tribeca and Astrid emerged from the secret room behind the bookshelf, and they shoved the heavy fake door behind them. A few dusty books leaned over from their spot, and the sisters arranged them in proper order.

Prince Thackeray guided them to the bathroom. "I was right. Petunia and Victor didn't notice you were here. They're out causing havoc, but you need to leave before they come back."

He took them to the small bathroom, and he dyed their hair a matching brown.

Astrid and Tribeca resembled a mother and daughter.

"Wow, you're so good at this." Astrid stared at her wide eyes in the mirror. "My sister looks amazing."

Thackeray grinned. "I taught Cora and Florence how to disguise themselves, and I'll help you as well. There is more than one way to be a revolutionary." He ran back and gave them new cloaks, a handful of coins, and train tickets under other names. "I have one more thing."

"What?" Tribeca asked. "You've risked your life for us."

He grabbed books off the shelf and handed Astrid a book and an empty diary. "It's an apology for what Alva stole, and the diary is magic. No one with evil intent can ever read it, but Tribeca can."

"Thank you." Astrid hugged the diary.

Thackeray lowered his head. "Make sure you get to the trains before three because they'll search for them unless Victor lied to me, which is a possibility," he said. "And Tribeca, if you find Blackstone, tell him his father loves him."

"But Victor doesn't..." Tribeca paused and her eyes widened. "Okay, I'll tell him."

Tribeca snuck out of the castle basement before the drunken troops awoke.

Alva's men searched the trains, so Astrid and Tribeca fled into the woods.

"Seeker will help, but I don't want to risk her safety."

"Your perfect daughter won't save us." Astrid gagged to herself. "Use your magic."

"I can't right now. I can't transport myself like an object unless we're both in a magical sleep and Griffin lost his powers—" Tribeca clutched her stomach.

Her magic didn't work like that, and she didn't want to frighten her sister, Tribeca's hand shook. No magic emerged. Her stomach growled.

She'd need a token to pay for the subway wisp train. The mostly tall, furry wisps who ran the subway tunnel deserved to be paid, if not with tokens, then with blood.

The sisters waited in a shadowy place in the woods. Footsteps crunched on branches inches away from them.

"I can smell your fear, and I'll feed you to the Wasteland dragons and rats if you don't help me murder Wendy. You know her weakness!" Prince Alva yelled in the darkness. "Blackstone will be dead before morning."

Astrid shoved him from behind and knocked him into a bush.

A glowing door formed from nothingness and opened inside the ground.

"We have been granted passage." Tribeca opened it.

Astrid and Tribeca entered, and the door disappeared behind them.