Curse of the Dream Witch Read Online Free PDF Page B

wits.’
    ‘It’s all right.’
    The queen shook her head. ‘No. These last few weeks . . . as the curse gets closer. . .’ She looked away.
    Olivia took her hand. ‘I know.’
    Her mother hugged her tight. But instead of holding her to her chest, as she’d always done, she rested her head on Olivia’s shoulder.
    Olivia knew she should do something, but she wasn’t sure what. Slowly, she began to stroke her mother’s hair. Before either of them knew it, they were asleep and it was morning. 

7
Back in the Bottle
    The Dream Witch reared her nose and loosed a blast that shook her underground study. Her spell books cowered. The creatures on her living portrait froze on their pins. ‘I offered you freedom for a favour, but you failed.’
    Milo pressed his hands against the glass walls of his grinder. ‘I did my best.’
    ‘If that was your best, what use are you? Farewell.’ The witch gave the top of the grinder a twist. The floor of metal blades spun beneath Milo’s feet.
    ‘No wait,’ Milo yelped. ‘I can do better.’
    ‘That’s my boy,’ the witch cooed. ‘If bringing the whole girl is too hard, just bring me her heart.’
    Milo shuddered. Before his visit, the witch had made his task sound noble. Olivia wasn’t human, she’d said, she was a curse: The cause of the Great Dread, the kingdom’s misery, the missing children, their weeping parents. But Milo couldn’t think that now, not now that he’d met her. The princess was a child like him, only nicer. She wouldn’t hurt her parents like I have , he thought. She wouldn’t say things to break their hearts .
    Milo filled with shame. ‘Please, let me get you the heart of a sheep instead.’
    ‘For that I could go to the market,’ the Dream Witch laughed. ‘Or save the bother and pluck your heart.’
    ‘Why don’t you then?’ Milo blurted. ‘You’ve taken everything else I care about.’
    The Dream Witch arched an eyebrow. ‘You’re a little too young to play the hero.’ She scraped her fingernails down his grinder. The glass shrieked. Milo covered his ears.
    The witch held his jar in front of her face; Milo sweated from the heat of her red coal eyes. ‘If you can’t stand the squeal of glass,’ she purred, ‘how can you stand the howls of your mama and papa as they die of grief? Bring me the princess, or it shall be so.’
    ‘If I do what you want,’ Milo whispered, ‘who says you’ll keep your promise? Who says I’ll be free and my parents safe?’
    ‘How dare you question my honour? You deserve a good shaking. That’ll knock the insolence out of you.’
    The witch gripped the grinder with her nose and shook it for all it was worth. Milo bounced from top to bottom and back again.
    What should I do? he wondered in horror. What?  

8
The Toad Prince
    Prince Leo and his uncle, the Duke of Fettwurst, arrived at Olivia’s castle at noon with two hundred of their most battle-hardened soldiers. They were greeted at the gate by the queen and introduced to the king, who’d been transported from his sickbed in a ceremonial litter.
    Olivia watched the proceedings through a spyglass from her turret window. She took particular interest in Prince Leo, the fifteen-year-old who was apparently to be her new friend, and in his uncle, the Duke of Fettwurst, who was to escort her to Pretonia.
    Leo wasn’t exactly a toad. All the same, he was slimy with spots. Sweat dripped from his pasty cheeks, while his pimples glistened like ripe cherries. The duke was worse; a walking sausage of cysts, his hands and neck matted with hair as thick as sauerkraut.
    Olivia hoped they’d bathe before lunch. They didn’t.
    While their soldiers set up tents in the castle courtyard and servants brought their luggage to their guest quarters, Leo, his uncle, and a rumble of bodyguards were escorted directly to her cell. When they entered, the room filled with the stink of old cheese.
    The queen slipped a perfumed handkerchief into Olivia’s hand. ‘Our guests