“I wish for a distraction!” cried Linda.
Flash.
Once again, Jon was left confused and alone on the patio, not quite understanding what just happened and utterly lost on what to do about it.
“A distraction,” he repeated, deadpan. “A distraction?! That could mean literally anything!”
Perhaps Her Majesty has a plan? asked the princessly impulse in the back of his skull. She’s versed in all matters arcane and otherwise, after all. She must’ve anticipated this exact outcome—
“Again. It’s mom. Not ‘Her Majesty.’”
Is too!
“No, it isn’t.” Jon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mom’s not a queen, she doesn’t want to be queen—hell, did you follow any of this? She was two seconds away from throwing her own crown off the balcony!”
Well, yes, obviously, said the voice. No good queen wants to rule. That’s what separates monarchs from tyrants.
“That’s… I don’t…” Jon gave a high-pitched huff. Where do you even begin with such a baffling statement? “No one wants a monarchy!”
Truly? Have you spoken to your citizens? Have they scorned your kingdom’s universal health care? The free education?
“We’re getting off topic—universal healthcare?”
And dental, followed the voice. Anyway. Mama and Her Majesty teleported without the stone. It’s over there, see?
Jon froze. His gaze slid to the patio table, where the wish-granting stone sat innocently by Linda’s abandoned teacup. It took several seconds for his brain to stop stuttering.
Impossible.
Did mom really plan this? Or was it a ridiculous stroke of luck?
He lunged for the stone, fingers trembling. “I wish, hmphm…”
His pretty little mouth snapped shut.
Of course, nothing was ever easy with this stupid thing, was it? Gritting his teeth, he tried again: “I… wish…
The words sat heavy in his throat, like a stone in a river.
“Ah, yeah, right. This bullshit.” First, a good little princess didn’t wish away her kingdom, and Jon was princess now, like it or not. Second, the offhand wish from yesterday—‘I wish Jon won’t use this without my say-so.’
No wishes at all until mom gave permission. He had no clue where she was.
Language, language, language! said the voice. A princess shouldn’t speak so crassly. I keep telling you!
Jon exhaled, forcing his grip on the stone to loosen. “It’s fine,” he muttered, spinning around. “Athena’s around here somewhere. She’ll make the—Sarah?”
Sarah McMillan stood right there, in her immaculate kinda-sorta-maid outfit, eyeing Jon and standing no more than a foot or two away. Her lips were pressed firm.
Sharp exhale. Wide-eyes. Panic. Jon considered making a run for it, but the freeze response won out. He settled for a surprised squeak instead.
“Princess,” Sarah said. “What an interesting use of magic. What school was all that?”
“School…?” he asked, failing to keep his time calm and even. How much did Sarah see? Why hadn’t she waited inside like he asked?
_
“I was surprised to hear you and the good queen arguing,” Sarah continued, her own words uncharacteristically formal. “Of course, as your lady-in-waiting, I felt obligated to check in on you.”
She took a step closer. Gaze focused and unwavering, voice slow and frigid. Jon couldn’t get a read—was Sarah angry? Looking for answers?
“So imagine my surprise, your highness,” said Sarah. “Hearing you and your mother speak of fixing our perfect little kingdom. Turning the king into a woman. Seeing our rulers vanish into thin air—”
In a quick, effortless motion, Sarah danced forward and pulled the stone right out of Jon’s grip.
“—I wish you would tell me everything you’re hiding. Right now.”
Flash.
“Mhmm!” Jon slammed his hands to mouth… But he could feel the pressure build. An intensity encroaching from deep in his stomach and crawling upwards. A light buzz around his lips, as they suddenly tried to pull open even under the weight of his hand. He managed for a good second or two. But then the stone flared even brighter, and Jon’s arms yanked to his side.
No, no, no, no…
And, despite himself, Jon told Sarah almost everything.
