Seconds later a shape moves in the imperial grand hall. The figure looms above the rows courtiers as it makes its way towards us, scales shimmering in the sparkling light filtering through the stained glass arches, monstrous claws clacking against the tiled floor.

The dragon pulls himself up to his full height, sending a lethal glare across to the Queen, who doesn’t look nearly as imposing with her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

“I believe those are my jewels,” he repeats, staring her dead in the eye.

“I…” For once, it’s the queen stuttering, but she regains her composure quickly. “How dare you accuse me of thievery!”

The dragon gives her a placid stare, “It seems you are the one accusing someone of thievery.”

The Queen’s eyes widen, “She is your thief,” she spits, pointing a long, manicured nail at me.

The dragon shakes his head and states, “Thievery is to take property unlawfully from a person or place, stealthily, without force or threat of force. This girl has not taken your property. I believe you have the wrong word.”

The Queen takes a sharp intake of breath, as she stabs her finger at the wooden chest of jewels, “How do you explain that then?”

The dragon blinks, “I never said she didn’t take those jewels. I simply said that girl has not stolen your jewels. She’s retrieved my jewels from you.”

“Tha-” she begins to protest but the dragon interrupts.

“I grow bored,” he says blandly.

He takes a step forward, opens his colossal maw, and eats the Queen. The great beast didn’t bother with chewing. With a casual, almost lazy surge of his head, the Queen was no longer there, simply gone. It was like watching a frog catch a fly.

The courtiers gasp, wasting no time to file in a thick stream out of the room. I stay where I am, frozen, as the royal advisor kneels and offers the jewels to the dragon.

He takes them with a swift swipe of his talons.

The dragon then turns to me in the empty hall, winking.

“Plan worked pretty well, ay?”

I roll my eyes, “You weren’t supposed to eat her, but yeah, apart from that, it worked fine.”

He shrugs his shimmering scaly shoulders, “Eh,” he says with a casual air, “at least we got my jewels back.” He pauses, “But the fact that I had to save you makes me wary to hire you again. And I’m only going to pay you half.”

I glare. “You wanna play it that way, huh? Maybe I’ll just quit,” I threaten.

“You know we make a great team,” he holds up a clawed hand at me, waggling his eyebrows.

He knows I hate highfives, but I relent, smacking his hand. The sound echoes satisfactorily.

We reach the high wooden doors dominating the end of the hallway, but before I can open them, the dragon holds them shut.

He passes my mother’s chest to me, shimmering jewels and all, then announces, “Your payment.”

Cassandra rises to her feet, her face purple with rage, and bellows, “GUARDS!” Two of them lunge forward, but I’m already sprinting towards the royal advisor. He yelps when he sees me bearing down on him and raises the chest like a shield in front of him. Big mistake. That just makes it easier for me to grab it, spin, and run towards the door. 

“For the true Queen Eliza!” I shout, tearing from the room. The air fills with the battle cries of all Eliza’s allies as the room explodes into chaos. 

“I’m coming for you, traitor!” Cassandra screeches. I glance back and see her forcing her way towards me through a sea of battle. I don’t wait to see if she reaches the door; instead, I run. 

I charge down countless corridors, my heart thumping in my chest. I reach a door at the top of a flight of stairs before sounds of pursuit reach my ears – footsteps moving towards me; Cassandra’s, no doubt. I throw open the door and dart through onto a balcony, slamming it shut behind me. I press my back against it as Cassandra marches nearer. I’m so close to fulfilling my goal, restoring the kingdom, and overthrowing an evil usurper of the throne. I can’t fail now!

Cassandra stops at the bottom of the stairs – and then begins to ascend them. My blood turns to ice in my veins. What do I do? 

The door handle rattles, and suddenly the whole door shudders as Cassandra throws herself against it. No! Hope flutters before me, darting between my fingers, slipping away, as Cassandra slams into the door once again. I reach out with my heart, grabbing at the single flickering flame of hope – but then the door shudders, splinters, and hope flees.

The impact of Cassandra barrelling through the collapsed door throws me to the ground, punching all the air out of my lungs. The chest flies from my hands and clatters to the floor. I force my arms to reach for it, but Cassandra beats me to it. She scoops it up and flips open the lid, running her fingers through the swathes of jewels with a greedy smile. That smile rekindles the barely smouldering embers of my strength into a roaring blaze. It’s time for that greed to end. 

A battle cry tears from my lungs as I lunge across the balcony and tackle Cassandra’s legs. Time seems to slow as she topples over and the chest flies from her hands. She twists in mid-air, her arms flailing for it, but it’s too late. 

Someone’s already caught it.

Eliza stands on the tower roof above the balcony, an open trapdoor beside her, the chest held aloft in her hands. In a split second, the air feels warmer, the sun brighter, and I realize that I’m finally safe. 

“Eliza…? How DARE you! I hate you!” Cassandra spits out. She launches herself off the floor towards Eliza, but three villagers burst from the stairwell and, assessing the situation in a moment, hold her back. 

Eliza cocks an eyebrow and says, “Now, now, sister. You wouldn’t want to make a scene in front of all these people, would you?”
She gestures over the edge of the balcony, and I look down to see a courtyard of allies and enemies alike below us, drawn to the commotion. 

“Take her to the dungeons.” Eliza flicks her hand at Cassandra, whose darting eyes remind me of a caged animal. The villagers bow and drag her, kicking and scratching, down the stairs and out of sight. 

“Citizens of the Empire,” Eliza calls out, turning to the congregation below us. “You have long been deprived of the truth, so now you shall have it.” 

A heavy silence hangs over the courtyard as Eliza flips open the chest and picks up the jewels, so thick with tension you can almost taste it. Everything depends on this final test; an ancient ceremony that Cassandra overlooked, which has proved to be her downfall. 

For a second, nothing happens – but then, starting soft but growing stronger, a warm glow pulses from the jewels, lighting up the castle with hope.

“How dare you?” She stands, her dark dress billowing out and caressing the cold tiled floor.

“Guards,” she says. She locks eyes with me, her lips pulling into a slow smile, “Seize her.”

I’m grabbed roughly by two of the queen’s guards. I give them what they want – I thrash and I scream and I plead for mercy, for another chance to prove my innocence.

The expressions of the men carrying me don’t change. I could lash out at them, kick them in the knees, but I don’t. I just scream and yell until my voice sounds hoarse.

I’m in a cell now. There’s a small, scratchy bed I’ve seen all too many times, and a slot in the iron door through which stale food can be shoved at me. Grime has been smeared on my face and clothes. ‘Immediate Execution’ has turned out to be code for ‘Delayed Death In A Dirty Cell’.

Minutes pass. I always feel on edge, like too many people are watching me.

Footsteps –

In a flurry of skirts, with her head held arrogantly high, the queen sweeps into the dingy hallway. A crown rests on the black waves of her hair, elegantly designed with what looks like pure gold.

The queen stares down her nose at me and smiles.

“Hello, traitor,” she whispers.

I dip my head. “Your Majesty.”

She laughs, a sharp, harsh sound. “So now you’re using formalities, are you? Just half an hour ago, you were accusing me of thieving my own priceless possesions.”

“I apologize, Your Majesty.” I say. My voice sounds flat – I force more emotion into it. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You don’t know what you were thinking,” she repeats, “well, my darling, it’s done now.”
I know where this is going, and yet my heart still picks up its pace.

She leans in close, her nose nearly brushing the bars of my cell.

“I have special plans for you, my little thief,” she says. “You know, I didn’t think it would come to this, but what can I say? Traitors – thieves – deserve to be punished. And that’s what you are. A dirty, lowlife -”

Her crown falls to the ground with a dull thud.

Silence.

Someone yells:

“Cut!”

Black clad figures peel themselves from the shadows of the dungeon hallway, with cameras perched on wheeled platforms. A familiar man strides forward, with sunglasses atop his golden curls.

I stand and brush invisible dirt off of my costume. The man reaches us, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers before looking up.

“Really, Lauren,” the director says, clearly frustrated, “how many times do we have to film this before you get it right?”

The queen – Lauren – flushes with anger. “It’s not my fault the stupid thing fell off! I’ve already told you, it’s too heavy -”

“I’ll have you know that crown took eight weeks to make, so don’t you start with me, not again -”
“I quit! I’ve had it with you, thinking you know everything about everything, like you’re oh-so perfect -”

“Oh, like I haven’t heard this before, this complete nonsense. I’ll just call your agent, and you’ll come crawling right back, just like other every other time I’ve heard this garbage -”

“I mean it this time!” She yells.

“That’s what you said the last time!”

At this rate, I think I might prefer to be tortured and executed.

Lauren picks up the crown and lobs it at the director. He ducks, then comes up shouting at her – she shouts back, gesturing wildly, and he spreads his arms and shouts some more.

I sigh, as if it can somehow stop their bickering.

It looks like it’ll be a long day on set.

“True strength?” I scoffed. I knew a power she couldn’t understand. “That comes from defeating your enemies and finding how to use their past strengths for yourself. Not that I would expect you to understand that. You’re only a cleaning maid, and a treacherous one at that.”

“Oh, but I do understand.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.” The fear left her face as she added, “I know the words.”

“Impossible!” I declared, gripping the arms of my throne. “I alone know!” Surely…she did not mean those words?

“Is that so?”

I had worked so long to keep this secret, and I would not let go of it! “Bring the prisoner to the dungeons!” I declared, gesturing frantically at the guards. “Clap her in irons! Keep her in solitary confinement! Do not let her speak!”

But it was too late.

“Legends speak of wishes granted,” recited the girl, speaking the words quickly but distinctly. “Spoken to the jewels enchanted.” The soldiers had grabbed her arms. They pulled her toward the door. Her voice rose high above the babble of the Throne Room. “He who grants these year by year shall now come forth! Now appear!”

The jewels, still held by my advisor, began to shine with an eerie red light. A hissing sound filled the air, and they fell from the advisor’s shaking hands.

I directed a scathing look at the thief. “How did you know those words?”

“You are not overly careful, Your Majesty, about what your servants hear,” she responded quietly. Her slumped shoulders indicated fatigue, but her face shone with triumph. “Once I knew the truth of those jewels, I had to take them.”

“And for that, you have my thanks,” a thunderous voice rumbled. “Now, O Speaker of the Magic Words, what is your command?”
I turned slowly. I knew what I would find behind me. But I could not hold back a gasp when I saw towering over me, an expression of hate in his fiery eyes, my genie.

“I have granted your wishes long enough,” he fumed. “Now, I have a new allegiance. No longer will you torment me with your petty desires.”

I took a shaky step back. “How dare you steal my genie?” I demanded, looking over my shoulder.

The young woman stared back at me calmly. “You cannot keep someone trapped in your jewelry simply to grant your own desires. I would not have stolen the jewels if you had not first stolen his freedom.” She strode across the room until she stood beside me, looking up at the genie.

“You may go free,” she said. “I wish that you may be released from your imprisonment by this queen.”

A noise like fireworks filled the air. Sparks danced above the jewels, and I knew that my hold on the genie was gone. The jewels began to rattle, clattering together like windchimes.

The thief looked over at me, her gaze regretful but resolute. “And for the good of our land, I also wish that this queen be imprisoned in those jewels, nevermore to tyrannize over her subjects.”

“No,” I gasped, backing away. “I forbid it!”

The genie picked me up in one hand. His grip fairly pulsed with power. I struggled, but I could do nothing against this vast strength, now free from human control.

“Release me!” I ordered desperately.

The genie laughed. “I am not a monster, little mortal. I do not do this from revenge, but from wisdom. I have met your demands for far too long, and I know your yearnings for power.” He held me above the jewels. “Mercy,” I gasped. “Please.”

The genie shook his head. “I thought mercy was for fools.”

The world shook around me as the jewels sucked me in like a whirlwind. As I disappeared into the sparkling prison, the irony filled me with bitterness. I had learned the meaning of mercy too late.

“Yesterday, you were having lunch with the Duke of Torlingbugh in the dining room. It was a Tuesday yesterday, your majesty, the second one of the month.”

A wave of chatter comes from the crowd, and the Queen scowls. “If this is your defence, I find you guilty.”

The girl ignores her. “There was plenty of time for someone to slip in your chambers and take your jewels. Of course, it would have to be someone who already had access to the castle, perhaps even knew the patrols of the guards.”

“My Queen,” interrupts the royal adviser, and his tiny moustache wriggles like a worm on his lip. “This girl is obviously guilty. Is she not among the servants who clean those same hallways that pass your chambers? The executioner’s on his way, let us end this game right here.”

The servant girl is silent, but her lips quirk into a smile that whispers I have more to say. Will you let me speak?

“The executioner has not yet arrived. She will speak,” snaps the Queen.

“I share chambers with fifty other servants, your majesty. I am not the only one who keeps a small wooden chest. I’m not even the one closest to the door. Yet I’m the one who cleans those hallways, the one whose chest has been brought before you today.” The girl takes a breath. “I kept a handkerchief in it, your majesty. A red one that belonged to my dead pa. It’s all I had left of him.” The servant girl’s voice wobbles a bit.

“And?” The Queen scowls.

“Well, anyone who wanted to fit all those jewels in my chest would need to have taken it out first. But it’s not a very good handkerchief, your majesty. The dye has always bled and stained at the slightest touch. My pa didn’t use it much.” A pause. “You majesty, may I request that everyone in your court today holds out their hands?”

“Do it,” the Queen’s words are taut, a quiver in the air. Slowly, nobles and courtiers and guards and servants raise their hands. One by one by one by one. The Queen glares pointedly at the royal adviser, and he frowns in return. He raises his hands, his movements smooth, unimpressed. On the tips of his fingers are five bright red stains. His eyes bulge. “B-but, I—”

“Silence!” The Queen’s voice rings out again. “Guards, seize him!” She sighs, and her voice lowers a few tones, almost a whisper. “Why would you do this to me?”

“I believe, your majesty,” interrupts the girl, “that if you look through the jewels in that chest, you would find one missing. Something small maybe, but with value, one that would be worth framing a servant to escape with.”

“The Pearl of Avirith,” mumbles the Queen, and the servant girl watches as she goes pale. “Guards, search the box.”

Jewellery jangles as it is shaken about, rings, necklaces… but no pearl. The Queen goes paler, and her voice sounds like a thunderstorm as she faces her now ex-adviser. “WHAT DID YOU DO WITH IT?”

“Excuse me,” says the servant girl in a quiet voice. “May I please have my chest back?”

“Take it and leave.”

The servant girl scurries off, chest clutched to her chest. A few fields away, with the chaos of the courtroom behind her, she flicks open the lid and expertly runs her hand over the bottom of it until she finds a slight raise in the wood. Something clicks and a small draw pops out the side. Inside a shimmering orb sits, brilliant in the fading sun. There was no red handkerchief, never had been. Just a liar with nothing to lose and a pouch of red dye. The thief rubs the pearl with her thumb and smiles. Perfect.