Mirrors and Magic Read online

  Mirrors And Magic

  Grimm Academy 4

  Laura Greenwood

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Author Note

  Also by Laura Greenwood

  About the Author

  © 2019 Laura Greenwood

  * * *

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission of the published, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address; [email protected].

  Visit Laura Greenwood’s website at:

  www.authorlauragreenwood.co.uk

  Cover Design by Design By Definition

  Mirrors and Magic is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Blurb

  What some might call a fairy tale, others call a curse.

  Snow has spent her whole life waiting for her fairy tale to begin. But when she meets a foreign Prince, she discovers the true magic of Grimm Academy, and all it can do to stop her prophecy from coming true.

  With a newborn unicorn, a handsome Prince, and the local dressmaker on her side, Snow has a chance to overcome the nerves that have ruled her life.

  So long as she doesn't take a bite of a poisoned apple...

  Welcome to Grimm Academy, where fairy tale characters go to escape their foretold fate.

  -

  Mirrors And Magic is the fourth book of the Grimm Academy series and is based on the fairy tale of Snow White.

  Chapter One

  I should feel safe here. But I don't. A lot of the people around me are the subject of a prophecy, just like I am. It should make me feel better that I'm not the only one fighting my demons. As much as I keep telling myself that's the case, I can't make myself believe it.

  Grimm Academy is supposed to keep us safe. My parents sent me here because they felt like the academy could stop my worst fears from happening.

  Yet I'm still terrified of apples. And corsets, and combs...the list is almost endless.

  "Princess Snow!" the teacher calls out.

  "I'm so sorry," I blurt instantly. "Can you repeat the question?"

  Around the room, students giggle. I retreat within myself, not wanting them to know they've got to me. No one is ever mean to my face, but I know what the whispers say.

  Snow White is scared of her own shadow.

  The worst part about the rumour is that it's true. Or I feel it is. I don't want to be the girl everyone talks about.

  "What is the best way to greet someone if you're unsure of their rank or station?" the teacher repeats, a slight hint of annoyance in her voice.

  I smile as sweetly as I'm able. "Politely. A small bow or curtsy isn't likely to insult, especially if you're a member of the upper nobility or royalty. If you're lower down and they're dressed similarly to you or richer, then you should bow a little deeper."

  She nods in approval and moves on to the next thing.

  "That was a good answer," the boy next to me whispers.

  "Thanks." I meet his gaze and melt a little. He's cute, but I don't know his name. I'm not sure I dare ask either. I'm fairly certain he's new, but I don't want to risk insulting him if he isn't.

  "You're Snow White, right?" he checks.

  I nod.

  "I'm Edward. It's a pleasure to meet you." He holds out his hand.

  Reluctantly, I take it, noting that he's putting me more at ease than most people I've met here.

  "You probably don't want to be seen talking to me," I whisper.

  He frowns. "Whyever not?"

  "I'm weird. Everyone says so."

  He chuckles, making me look around to make sure the teacher hasn't noticed. Luckily for us, her attention is elsewhere.

  "Maybe I like weird?" His smile is genuine, which only serves to confuse me more.

  "I'm not the heir to my throne," I remind him. That sentence alone has gotten rid of any boy who has ever shown an interest in me before.

  "Does that matter?"

  I open my mouth to respond before shutting it again when I realise I have no words to. Why does it matter? The only thing it means is that I won't run a country. I'm still a princess. Which means I'll do all the things that princesses usually do.

  "I suppose it doesn't." I glance away and back down at my notes on diplomacy.

  "Can we get dinner some time?" he blurts.

  "No." The word flies out of my mouth like it has a thousand times before.

  "Oh." He sounds disappointed and begins to turn around.

  Despite my better judgement, I reach out and catch his hand. "I'm sorry, reflex. Are you serious?"

  "Why wouldn't I be serious?" He looks back at me before pushing a strand of light blond hair away from his face. It just falls back down, not long enough to be tucked behind an ear.

  "Most people aren't," I admit, still keeping my voice low and one eye on the teacher. She seems to be grilling Gretel though, so I don't think she's caught on to our conversation.

  "But why? You're clearly intelligent, not to mention beautiful..."

  A blush rose to my cheeks. One that will be annoyingly noticeable against my pale skin and dark hair. Genetic gifts I wish I didn't have, they make me stand out.

  "I don't know. I don't live in people's heads."

  But I know what they're thinking. Imagined snippets of words fly through my mind.

  "I prefer to make my own opinions of people," Edward says.

  "People won't want to be your friend if you spend time with me."

  "Then I don't want to be their friend either. I don't like people who judge based on company alone," he insists.

  I sigh loudly. "It's your risk to take."

  "Prince Edward," the teacher's voice cuts through our conversation. "Can you explain to me the proper etiquette for asking a Princess for her hand in marriage."

  Wait...Prince? Maybe that's why he doesn't need to worry about my throne. He has his own he's the heir to.

  I should tell him no for dinner. I don't want to get involved with that kind of politics. There's too much room for disappointment and hurt.

  Edward clears his throat. "The proper way to ask her is in private if she'd like a date first."

  Whispers start throughout the classroom. No one ever speaks like this.

  "I'm not sure how they do things in your Kingdom, Your Majesty, but that's not how we teach things here." The look she gives him is so stern I want to hide from the world.

  "The official way is to ask her father's permission and not give her any choice in the matter." While none of his words contradict the way it works, I can tell from his tone that he believes what he's saying is wrong.

  And so does everyone else.

  The teacher narrows her eyes, but doesn't say anything else. She can't. He's a royal, and even if they have some power over us as the teaching staff, they're lim
ited. The moment their punishments get too harsh, royal houses from far and wide will start pulling their children out of Grimm Academy, and this place can't run on the scholarship kids alone.

  She turns to one of the other girls, I think it's Princess Briar, and asks her a question. The other girl's voice shakes as she answers, but I don't pay enough attention to work out what she's saying. I'm more interested in Edward's clenched fist.

  Despite it not being anything I've done before, I reach out and cover his hand with mine. "I think you're right," I whisper.

  "You do?" He raises an eyebrow.

  "Well, I am a Princess." I pull my hand back but he's quicker than I am and catches it with his.

  "That doesn't mean you agree automatically. You're entitled to your own opinion on the matter."

  "I'm well aware of that." Just like I'm well aware of the feel of his hand in mine. His hands are calloused, probably from years of training with a sword. I take back my former assumption of him having a throne waiting. This is a second or third son who constantly needs to prove himself.

  The bell rings, saving me from having to say anything else. His hand slips from mine.

  Everyone stands up and starts to talk at once. Or speak louder, anyway. This is one of those lessons where barely anyone pays attention, hence the constant questions from the teacher. The majority of us have royal or at least noble blood, we've been schooled in etiquette since we were old enough to walk.

  I follow everyone else's lead and stuff my books into my bag, throwing it over my shoulder and turning towards the door.

  Edward catches my hand again. "I didn't mean to insult you..."

  "You didn't," I respond evenly. "But it's not a problem I have to deal with. My father would never let me marry someone I didn't want to."

  "Then you're lucky."

  Yes. Lucky. That's one word for me. He doesn't know that I'm one of the students with a prophecy hanging over my head. Not everyone is, some are just here for the great education. But for others, this is our chance to escape the things that have hung over us since birth. Grimm Academy is the place for that.

  "Perhaps."

  "I meant what I said, about dinner."

  "I know."

  "When would you like to go?"

  "Lunch is happening now?" I suggest, though even I can hear the hesitation in my voice. I'm not sure what to make of someone having this much interest in me.

  "I can't now, I'm sorry. I have jousting practice."

  I raise my eyebrow. He doesn't strike me as one of the Lances, though it explains the callouses I felt.

  "We have a match coming up, and..."

  "You don't need to explain." My voice shakes. I've blown it. Though I'm not clear if that's a good thing or a bad thing at the moment.

  "How about Friday? We can go down to the village and visit the market?"

  "All right." The word slips out before I've fully processed what he's saying. I've wanted to go to the market for ages but never plucked up the courage to actually go. This can be my chance to face the uncertainty and go.

  "Good. I'll pick you up at six?"

  I shake my head. "I'll meet you in the entrance hall."

  To my surprise, he nods. A part of me expects him to take back everything and anything he's said so far. But that's not fair to him. He's been nothing but kind to me so far, and I need to realise that.

  "That sounds like a plan. I'll see you soon, then?" He flashes me a bright smile, one I can't help but return.

  Despite it all, I find that I like him. I need to keep that in mind. I can like people. Not everyone is there to hurt me.

  I reach down and start to fiddle with the bracelet around my wrist. The one I keep there for just this reason.

  "See you soon," I mumble and give an awkward half-wave. If he still wants to spend time with me after this shambles of a meeting, then maybe I should question what's wrong with him.

  Chapter Two

  I fiddle with the hem of my scarf, trying not to give in to the nerves and run back to my room. Edward deserves better than that, doesn't he?

  But if he's nice, then where is he now? I should go. Being stood up isn't going to be a good look. No one will take me seriously then.

  A small laugh escapes me. No one takes me seriously anyway. They all know I'm a nervous wreck and don't want anything to do with me as a result. I'm not foolish enough to think any differently.

  "You came," Edward says from behind me.

  I jump, not realising how skittish I've become during the couple of minutes alone. I turn around slowly, taking the time to make sure I put my mask in place. Father taught me how to do this at a young age, he says a ruler can never afford to show people what they're truly feeling. I always point out that I'm not meant to rule anyway. He then responds that I should be ready for anything.

  "Of course I did, Your Majesty."

  Shock crosses his face. "You don't need to do that," he insists.

  "Do what?" I cock my head to the side, running over the words and wondering which of them could possibly be wrong.

  "Call me Your Majesty."

  "But you are, right?" The teacher called him a prince, I'm just affording him the correct address, like I'm supposed to.

  "Well, yes. But it makes me feel like my father or older brother." He winces, as if remembering something that pains him.

  I long to step forward and comfort him, despite the fact I barely know him yet. Instead, I stay as still as I can and wait for the feeling to pass. I don't want to give him the wrong idea.

  "All right, that's no problem. I can call you Prince Edward." I hope I don't sound as awkward as I feel, though I'm almost certain I am.

  "Or just Edward?" he suggests. "Once we know each other better, perhaps you'd even like to call me Eddie."

  "I don't think that will happen Pr-Edward." My last-minute correction brings a smile to his lips.

  "In which case, I shall endeavour to get you to call me Eddie. What do you want to be called?"

  "Snow is fine," I blurt out quickly.

  "But you were going to call me Your Majesty?" He quirks an eyebrow.

  I glance away from him. The ground is so fascinating I can't tear my eyes away. He's got me with that one.

  "How about we just call each other Edward and Snow, and then we don't have to worry about any formal terms of address?" he suggests.

  I nod. "I'd like that."

  "Good. Now, if we don't get to the market soon, all of the good food will be gone."

  I stop staring at the ground and let a slight smile come to my face instead. It's only partly my mask, too. Something about this prince sets me at ease.

  "Do you already know what's good there?" I ask.

  "I have a whole list of things I want to try. Some warm bread with fresh goat cheese and honey."

  I lick my lips. That does sound good.

  Edward holds out his arm for me to take, and I slip my own through it, resting my hand on the crook of his elbow.

  "Are you going to be all right walking in that dress?" he asks, gesturing with his free hand to my voluminous skirt.

  "I've been wearing dresses like this since I learned to walk."

  "That's not a yes," he points out.

  I shrug. "I'm used to it and don't have any less fancy skirts." That's mother's doing. She refuses to let any of us step outside our rooms without being fully dressed. I used to kick up a fuss about it, but now I just see my clothes as another part of my armour. Something to protect me from the world at large.

  No corsets though. I'm too scared to put on a corset after learning one is involved in my prophecy.

  "I have to admit, the dresses are one of the reasons I'm glad I was born male," he says as we start our walk down into the town. I can sense one of the academy guards trailing along behind us, but don't pay him any heed. With so many royals in attendance, they have to be overcautious with student safety sometimes.

  "Are there other reasons?" It's something I've been curious about since I
was little, but my brother isn't the kind of guy to just ask those kinds of questions. He's the stoic ruler type I'm sure mother is thrilled about taking the crown.

  "The marriage situation is another," he says immediately. "I don't understand what's so wrong about asking a girl if she's interested rather than assuming she is because you're a prince."

  "I don't think that's fun for either side," I point out. "My brother got no say in the girl he's going to marry."

  "Isn't he angry about that?" Edward asks, guiding me around a surprisingly large puddle so I don't get my feet wet.

  "It's hard to tell with Gerard. He's not the feelings type." I repress a shudder at the thought. My brother is a cold man. I don't envy his betrothed even slightly.

  "I'm sure he has emotions."

  "He might," I admit. "But he doesn't show them to anyone." As far as I'm concerned, that's dangerous. Emotions are just as important as anything else when it comes to ruling a country. Without them, there's no way to have an understanding heart or a kind touch. Both important qualities in any king or queen.

  "Does it bother you?" Edward's question pulls me out of my thoughts.

  "That my brother doesn't like to show his feelings? Not particularly. He's always been that way."

  "I meant that you're not the heir to the throne."

  "Oh, no. I don't think I'd be a very good queen." I pick up the hem of my dress and hold it steady as I step over a small rivulet of running water. There must have been rain while we slept.

  "I think you'd make a great queen."

  I laugh lightly, forgetting my troubles for a moment. "You barely know me. I might end up being a tyrant."

  "You don't look like a tyrant," he counters.

  "If tyrants looked like tyrants, they probably wouldn't get into power in the first place."