One

"No one is going to find out, Kira." Corrie rubbed her magical blue dye into my hair as I rested the base of my skull against the back of the hardwood chair. My father's farm cat, Ginger, purred on my lap. I dragged my nails through his soft fur. He yawned and clawed my skirt, kneading it with his paws.

"And even if they figure it out, I've got your back. I'll blast them with amnesia magic," Corrie continued.

"You can't control your magic well enough to dye your own hair," I teased.

Corrie began her transition, like all immortals, at eighteen. At the academy, because she was a faerie, she would learn to fly, to access her magic affinity, and to value the arts above all else. If she excelled, she'd take a place at the faerie court. If not ... well, she would still be my best friend for eternity.

"I can too. I just can't dye my hair pink. Neon green is a breeze," she said.

I laughed, reaching a hand back and ruffling her pink pixie haircut. Corrie was Rapunzel's daughter; therefore, much to her chagrin, her hair grew incredibly fast and was in regular need of maintenance.

An icy spring breeze blew through the window, carrying the scent of dirt and hay, and ruffling her black feathers. Pink faerie glitter covered the floorboards of my father's cottage. Corrie bought the magical stuff in bulk from the Kingdom of Towers. Why she insisted on dusting her wings with it was beyond me.

It wasn't unheard of for some immortals to begin their transition after their eighteenth birthday, but mine was two months ago and so far, my siren hadn't shown even a hint of awakening. It would not do for it to become well known that I, Princess Kira, heir to the Glass Throne, was—possibly—not an immortal siren like my mother, but a mere mortal like my father, Charming. If the other kingdoms ever discovered the truth—that my siren had yet to awaken—my life would be in danger. And if my father's genes did prevail, my mother would cast me aside just as she had him.

"Maybe you'll find a harem of shifters to protect your secret until your awakening." Corrie said, making me think of the raggedy shifter guards who protected the Glass Palace. She chuckled at my horrified expression. "Anyway, the point is—no one is going to know you're not an immortal yet, so don't get your feathers in a twist."

She did have a point. Out of all the immortals, sirens physically resembled humans the most. No tell-tale wings, fangs, pointy ears, or shifting. As long as I didn't have to demonstrate my powers, or lack thereof, they wouldn't be able to tell the difference between an un-awakened siren and a possibly mortal princess.

I nudged Ginger off my lap and flipped through the academy guide. I paused to read one of the class titles aloud, "Etiquette Basics for Immortal Nobility."

Corrie and I groaned in unison.

"Speaking of torture ... you realise, Ruby will be there too?" Corrie asked.

I let the guide fall to the floor with a soft thud. Little Red Riding Hood's granddaughter and I had a history, which was where I wanted to keep our relationship—well and truly in the past.

"There will be hundreds of immortals living on campus. What are the chances we'll actually run into her?" I asked.

"I don't even care if we see her. I just can't wait to get out of my tower." Corrie let out a wistful sigh.

The faerie kingdom was known as the Kingdom of Towers. Corrie's mother had a strange relationship with the tall structures. She'd lock herself in for weeks at a time. Corrie wasn't a fan of the towers that made up the majority of her realm. I once overheard Rapunzel tell Corrie that she, Rapunzel, had grown up in towers and look how well she turned out. But that's the thing—I don't think Rapunzel turned out fine at all. Immortals were plagued by PTSD. You can't live forever and not get a little messed up in the head, even if your trauma has been immortalised in a cute little collection of children's stories.

Corrie lowered her voice to a whisper. "I bet you can't wait to get away from Cinderella either."

"You know she can't hear you," I mockingly whispered back.

"We don't know that. Your mother is pretty scary. Sometimes I think the only reason she's tolerated me all these years is because I'm not a political threat ... and I can't get you pregnant."

I laughed. "Joke's on her." I puffed out my food baby belly. Dad's apple cake was just about the best thing in the seven kingdoms. It made sneaking out to his farm on the border between the Glass Kingdom and the Kingdom of Towers so worth it.

"There." Corrie finished and handed me a mirror. I shook out my waist-length hair, the blue streaks peeking out from under my dark brown locks.

"I love it! It's subtle but different."

"You look good enough to seduce a nymph," Corrie said, helping me plait the long locks into a braid that trailed down my back.

I giggled. "Or a fanger."

"Why are you talking about seducing vampires? You know your mother would never approve." My father ducked under the doorframe, pulling off his straw hat and wiping the sun-bleached hair from his forehead with a calloused hand.

"Never know when a bloodsucker alliance might come in handy," I joked. "I'm talking a purely academy alliance, of course ."

"No alliance is going to help us if you insist on challenging every shifter who looks at you funny," Corrie said.

Dad rinsed the dirt from his hands in his modest kitchen.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Okay, so I might have an idea what she was talking about. In my defence, I swear they always started it. I touched two fingers to the glass dagger sheathed at my thigh.

"Come on, Kiki. Every time someone pushes you, you always push back."

"Do not," I said.

"Do too."

"Do not."

Corrie arched her eyebrow. "If you want to fly through a flock of vultures, you don't spray your wings with blood beforehand."

"That's a super disturbing analogy."

Corrie laced her black boots. They had wicked-looking metal spikes on the sides. Coupled with her black jeans, leather jacket and wings, she looked more like a fallen angel than a faerie.

"I mean it. If we're going to make everyone believe you've awakened, then you can't go getting into fights with the other students. They'll be expecting you to use your powers against them. We need to fly low." She gathered up her hair dye, frowning.

"You worry too much. Plus, I don't need siren powers to win against a bunch of puppies, baby bears, and foxes." I didn't mention vampires because, well, you don't have to be the largest in the room to be the biggest monster. Fangers are freaky.

"I don't even know why you bother. Telling her not to do something just guarantees she'll try to do it." Dad grimaced. "But this time, I have to agree. Listen to your friend, Kira. You need to be careful. The queen won't be there to protect you."

"Thanks for lunch, Mr. Prince Charming," Corrie said, giving me a hug and pausing in the doorway.

"It's just Mr. Charming. I haven't been a prince for a long time."

"Sure thing, Mr. Prince." She smirked.

My father clicked his tongue as Corrie climbed into a pumpkin carriage parked out next to the vegetable patch. The faeries grew the giant pumpkins, used for carriages, as well as most of our food.

Corrie popped her head out of the fleshy orange window and yelled, "See you in a few days, Kiki."

It was getting dark when I headed inside to find my father lighting a candle on the table. He sighed at the crumbs of sugared apple left in his cake dish. Oops, probably should have left him a slice. I sat as he rummaged in the kitchen, returning with two bowls of stew and bread. He brushed pink glitter off the table to make room for our dinner.

"I don't care if it disappears at the stroke of midnight, I don't enjoy wearing magical faerie dust for dinner. Next time, tell Corrie to take her glitter home with her." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. More fine lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes than last time I'd visited. He looked so ... mortal. It was strange to see Mother frozen in youth, while Father aged. My stomach clenched. What if something happened to him while I was gone?

"I wish I could stay here on the farm." I scooped a spoonful of stew, only to let it drip back into my bowl.

"Your mother would never allow that. She might not be my wife anymore, but she's still our queen." He got that look in his eyes, the same one he always got when he talked about my mother, like he was trapped in some long-lost memory.

It was well known throughout the seven kingdoms that Cinderella had used her immortal powers as a siren to claw her way from poverty to the Glass Throne. It was also well known that her daughter had inherited those powers.

The other kingdoms would never question the enrolment of Cinderella's heir at the Academy of Awakenings. After all, it was expected that young immortals throughout the realms would enrol during their transition years to train and prepare themselves for positions of power in the seven kingdoms.

I dropped the spoon back into my bowl and pushed it across the table. "I'm not hungry."

"I'm not surprised after you ate all my apple cake."

"Dad."

Placing his own spoon down, he studied me.

"You can come visit me any time."

"Sure I can." I rolled my eyes. I wasn't a vampire, I couldn't just trace. Nor could I fly like a faerie. It wasn't like Mother was going to let me leave the academy whenever I got homesick or bored with training to be an immortal princess.

I clenched my jaw at the rhythmic tick tock of the clock. I wanted to tell Dad I was scared. Scared to go to an academy of immortals when I had no powers of my own, scared I might never have powers of my own, scared of how my mother would react to a mortal daughter. I wanted to tell him everything, but he was eating again, his eyes on the table. The clock chimed.

"I better go before it gets completely dark." I hadn't actually told the queen I was coming to visit my dad, but he didn't need to know that.

There was no telling how long it would be before I saw him again, so I took the opportunity to throw an arm across his broad shoulders, giving him a squeeze. He smelt like dirt and sweat and sunshine. I soaked it in. He raised a weathered hand and squeezed my arm. I walked to the door before I could do something stupid—like cry.

"Be safe," I heard him murmur, just before the door clicked shut.

Azalea, my horse, nudged my shoulder in greeting.

"Hey girl. Ready to go home?" I rubbed her forehead, and her ears flicked above her golden mane. All the horses in the Glass Kingdom had gold thread woven into their manes and tails. What else would we do with all the excess gold?

The tall points of faerie towers stuck out over the horizon. Corrie was probably already home. Gripping Azalea's mane, I guided her in the opposite direction. For much of the ride, we followed the river upstream, avoiding the busy villages. The last remnants of winter snow crunched under Azalea's heavy hooves. I gripped her back with my thighs, feeling the cool air against my face.

Eventually, I could make out the moonlight reflecting against the palace's glass walls. Flaming torches flickered from brackets in the metal frame of the glass structure. Once I'd settled Azalea in her stall, I crouched behind an evergreen and watched the werewolf on guard duty. I waited until he was looking the other way before creeping to the glass wall and hooking my foot into the metal frame. I lifted myself easily, careful not to make any noise.

"You know, you could've just asked me to open the gate."

I looked down at the guard. "Aren't you too old for this job yet, Aidan?"

"I'm immortal. Age is merely a number—one I forgot many years ago. Now get back down here before you fall and the queen has my head," he grumbled, but I didn't miss the twist of his lips, nor the twinkle in his eye.

"Nah. I'm all right," I said with a smug grin.

"I swear you'll be the death of me." He shook his head.

"One minute you're telling me you can't die, the next you claim I'm killing you. I think you're getting confused in your old age," I teased.

He just turned and unlocked the gate. The metal frame creaked as the tall glass doors swung inward. "I'll just wait here until you are ready to go through the gate like a normal princess."

I grunted, turning stubbornly back to the task at hand. The walls loomed above me. I reached a sweaty hand to the next metal beam in the glass frame but couldn't get a grip. I tried to leverage myself with my feet, but my legs were tired from the long horse ride.

Leaves crunched under my boots as I dropped to the ground and strode past Aidan.

"On second thought, I think I'll just go through this open gate. How convenient."

The old werewolf chuckled. "Good night, Your Highness."

I held my boots loosely between my fingers while I slid in my socks down the grand hallway and past the ballroom. Only a ruler supremely confident in her own abilities would feel safe in a palace made of glass; glass floors didn't creak, and they made for excellent sneaking. The stairs proved to be a challenge without the grip of shoes, but I released a sigh of relief when I made it to the third level of the palace.

"They will bow to me."

I froze as my mother's voice cut through the silence. Other voices drifted from beyond the doorway to the queen's wing. I recognised the low whine of her adviser. It seemed Cinderella wasn't in the mood for listening, "They dare to question my rule? I will force them to slice the skin from each other's pathetic bodies to line the floors of my palace in immortal hide."

I wonder who, among the other six kingdoms' nobility, has offended her this time.

Wood panelling and cleverly placed curtains prevented the outside world from looking into the Glass Palace. I trailed my fingers along a crimson curtain and bent over to press my ear against the golden door, trying to hear better. The door gave way, and I stared at Mother's unforgiving glass slippers.

Daggers!

"And where, exactly, have you been?"

My mother paired her monstrously uncomfortable footwear with a flamboyant, feathered crown, a bejewelled gown that clung to her body, and a gold bracelet that wound up the length of her arm. Her hair fell in perfect blonde ringlets around her soft facial features and vibrant violet eyes. The perfect mask portraying innocence and beauty.

"Uh ... I was training. For the academy."

"What have you done to your hair?" She lifted my braid and frowned. "Did you say goodbye to your father?"

I sucked in a sharp breath. Of course she knew. She always knew. Apologising was not an option. One of Cinderella's rules was: Never apologise. It's a sign of weakness. I shuffled my feet. My mother never hurt my father, as far as I was aware, but she'd threatened to alter his mind to forget me if I didn't remain in the palace with her after their divorce.

"The life he has chosen is not the life for you." Her voice was pleasant, a soft hum. The perfect cadence for a siren. "My dear, you deserve the life of a queen. When your siren awakens, you will become the most powerful princess the seven kingdoms have ever seen. Together, we will take control of any kingdom we desire."

I stared down the hall, imagining myself in my bedroom.

She smoothed a cool hand down my face, cupping my chin and forcing my gaze back to meet hers. "Sleep well, my little heir. Tomorrow, we train."