{"id":1616,"date":"2024-02-01T19:58:47","date_gmt":"2024-02-01T19:58:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/?page_id=1616"},"modified":"2024-02-05T17:46:03","modified_gmt":"2024-02-05T17:46:03","slug":"majestica-excerpt","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/majestica-excerpt\/","title":{"rendered":"Majestica Excerpt"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t<div data-elementor-type=\"wp-page\" data-elementor-id=\"1616\" class=\"elementor elementor-1616\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<section class=\"elementor-section elementor-top-section elementor-element elementor-element-515d5975 elementor-section-full_width elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"515d5975\" data-element_type=\"section\" data-settings=\"{&quot;background_background&quot;:&quot;classic&quot;}\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-background-overlay\"><\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-container elementor-column-gap-no\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-100 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-3945d088\" data-id=\"3945d088\" data-element_type=\"column\" data-settings=\"{&quot;background_background&quot;:&quot;gradient&quot;}\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-background-overlay\"><\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-3d3ce61 elementor-widget elementor-widget-heading\" data-id=\"3d3ce61\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"heading.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<h1 class=\"elementor-heading-title elementor-size-default\">Majestica<\/h1>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-4a770d68 elementor-widget elementor-widget-heading\" data-id=\"4a770d68\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"heading.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<h1 class=\"elementor-heading-title elementor-size-default\">z<br><\/h1>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-20460be elementor-widget elementor-widget-spacer\" data-id=\"20460be\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"spacer.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-spacer\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-spacer-inner\"><\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<section class=\"elementor-section elementor-top-section elementor-element elementor-element-7cf93a50 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"7cf93a50\" data-element_type=\"section\" data-settings=\"{&quot;background_background&quot;:&quot;classic&quot;}\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-container elementor-column-gap-default\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-100 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-6466534a\" data-id=\"6466534a\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-7cffc8f elementor-widget elementor-widget-image\" data-id=\"7cffc8f\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"image.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<img fetchpriority=\"high\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"826\" height=\"738\" src=\"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Hattie-chapter.png\" class=\"attachment-full size-full wp-image-1650\" alt=\"\" srcset=\"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Hattie-chapter.png 826w, http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Hattie-chapter-300x268.png 300w, http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Hattie-chapter-768x686.png 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 826px) 100vw, 826px\" \/>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-b7c39a2 elementor-widget elementor-widget-spacer\" data-id=\"b7c39a2\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"spacer.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-spacer\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-spacer-inner\"><\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-2e86db88 elementor-drop-cap-yes elementor-widget__width-initial elementor-drop-cap-view-default elementor-widget elementor-widget-text-editor\" data-id=\"2e86db88\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-settings=\"{&quot;drop_cap&quot;:&quot;yes&quot;}\" data-widget_type=\"text-editor.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 13\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>The dead dragon glared at Hattie from empty eye sockets. As she gripped her dust rag, the ladder wobbled alarmingly under her feet. She reached into the bony mouth, between a sea of teeth, and wiped the spiderwebs away.<\/p><p>The skull hung over the lobby of the Hotel Majestica, following the guests with its eerie gaze. It was so large she could have climbed inside with room to spare. Hattie threw a hasty glance at its fangs. It\u2019s been dead a hundred years. It can\u2019t bite you. Still, she dusted a little faster than usual.<\/p><p>Snatching her arm from the dragon\u2019s mouth, she announced, \u201cDone!\u201d<\/p><p>Mrs. Galliforma, the hotel housekeeper, squinted up at the skull. A stout woman with a brown complexion, her hair was drawn into a no-nonsense bun. Hundreds of brass keys\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">dangled from her waist. You always knew Mrs. G was on her way because of the jingling.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 14\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>The housekeeper studied the dragon skull critically. \u201cVery good.\u201d<\/p><p>Hattie stepped down the ladder, hiding her smile. Mrs. G never complimented anybody. She must be in a good mood today. \u201cI always feel like it\u2019s going to come alive and grab me.\u201d She wiped her hands on her apron. \u201cI don\u2019t see why we can\u2019t just use magic to dust it.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cMagic,\u201d Mrs. G said sternly, \u201cis no substitute for good old-fashioned elbow grease. And none of the other girls are small enough to fit in its mouth.\u201d<\/p><p>Hattie was used to odd jobs. Feed the pixies! Polish the wineglasses! Run this down to the lobby, will you? There was always something to do at the hotel. But Mrs. G wouldn\u2019t let her become a real maid until she was fifteen. Hattie dreamed of the day she would finally put on that black dress and ruffled apron. She wanted to giggle in the maids\u2019 dormitory at night and line up for uniform inspection in the morning.<\/p><p>To be part of something.<\/p><p>But thirteen was all about being stuck in between.<\/p><p>Mrs. G noticed her sulky look. \u201cDon\u2019t pout, my dear.\u201d<\/p><p>She tucked a flyaway piece of hair behind Hattie\u2019s ear. \u201cWe all must do our part. Our guests are here to see the rarest magical creatures in the world, not a dusty lobby.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cBut I do want to do my part!\u201d Hattie said eagerly. \u201cLook how good I am at dusting. Maybe I could help Maude on the third floor?\u201d<\/p><p><span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">Sixteen-year-old Maude was the youngest chambermaid. They were both orphans, but unlike Hattie, Maude thought it was glamorous. \u201cHaven\u2019t the foggiest idea who my parents were,\u201d she\u2019d say, sweeping her feather duster dramatically. \u201cI could be anyone, you know\u2014even a princess!\u201d<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>Hattie usually stayed silent. There was no point in pretending she was anyone special. Both her parents had worked at Majestica, but she didn\u2019t mind. The hotel was the most magical place in the world. Who would want to be anywhere else?<\/p><p>Mrs. G touched her cheek. \u201cMaybe next year, my dear.\u201d<\/p><p>Hattie bit her lip to keep a sigh from escaping. Well, it had been worth a try.<\/p><p>Mrs. G\u2019s voice turned brisk. \u201cNow, go fetch the dirty tablecloths down to the laundry. Lickety-split!\u201d With a wave of her hand, the ladder\u2019s legs snapped together and it whooshed into a closet.<\/p><p>As Hattie scuttled out of the lobby, she couldn\u2019t help looking back at the dragon skull. Dusting it always made her feel a strange whisper of regret. Once it had been the king of the skies. Now it was nothing but a gruesome curiosity for the hotel guests to take photographs with. Dragons were rare in the world these days. Even Majestica only had one.<\/p><p>She saluted it respectfully. \u201cTill next time, sir.\u201d<\/p><p>Hattie wheeled her laundry cart into the breakfast room. The sun filtered through the glass ceiling onto the tables and potted plants below. An orange dragomander crawled up the inside of the window with sticky feet. When it saw Hattie, its mane stood up. Breathing a tiny poof of fire, it zoomed out of her reach.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 16\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\">\u00a0<\/div><\/div><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>The breakfast room was empty except for one table, where four people sat drinking tea. Hattie immediately recognized the man with the distinguished gray sideburns and polka-dot bow tie. Mr. Ridgewell owned the Hotel Majestica. Next to him sat a young man with ink-stained fingers. His sandy hair flopped roguishly to one side, and his eyes twinkled at Hattie in a way that made her blush. On his other side was a woman in a plaid jacket and spectacles, a book primly propped in front of her.<\/p><p>But most interesting to Hattie was a girl her own age, silk ribbon perched on her perfect brown ringlets. She kept sneaking grouchy looks at everyone else.<\/p><p>Hattie bobbed a curtsy. \u201cMorning, Mr. R.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cWhy, good morning, Hattie.\u201d He lifted his teacup toward her. \u201cHow are you today?\u201d<\/p><p>She gave him a smile. \u201cVery well, thanks . . . sir,\u201d she added hastily.<\/p><p>A green pixie jumped on the table, a tray balanced on his fingertips. He was ten inches tall and had a wizened, grumpy face that made him look like an old man. With a bow, he set down a plate of chocolate pancakes.<\/p><p>\u201cOh, how cute!\u201d the girl exclaimed.<\/p><p>She wouldn\u2019t think so if she knew how hard pixies could bite. But Hattie held her tongue, remembering what Mrs. G always said\u2014the guests must never see through the magic.<\/p><p>\u201cIt\u2019s all so orderly.\u201d The young man gazed up at the lush vines crawling across the skylight. \u201cHow do you keep these magical plants from taking over the place?\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cThat\u2019s all thanks to the Caretaker. My greatest invent<span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">ion, you know,\u201d Mr. Ridgewell said. \u201cRuns the entire park.\u201d At the next table, Hattie concentrated on the salt and pepper shakers. Maude had taught her a spell to move small objects. But the shakers only gave a feeble wiggle. Hattie wrinkled her nose. She could light candles with magic, but t<\/span><span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">hat was about it.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 17\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>She moved the salt and pepper by hand and tugged off the s<span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">ticky tablecloth. The breakfast room had eight tables across and six tables down. Hattie tossed the tablecloth in her cart. Only forty-seven more to go.<\/span><\/p><p>\u201cI understand your magical machine is a Majestica secret.\u201d The young man lowered his voice. \u201cSo you don\u2019t let anyone see it\u2014not even your staff?\u201d<\/p><p>Mr. Ridgewell sipped his tea. \u201cThat\u2019s right.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cHaven\u2019t you ever thought about showing it to the public? It would make a big splash. Front page, for sure!\u201d He made a grand gesture. \u201cPicture the headline: Ridgewell\u2019s Magical Invention Revealed at Last. By yours truly, Jasper Foxfire. Give the readers something new.\u201d<\/p><p>Mr. Ridgewell waved his hand. \u201cIf it\u2019s new you want, our gardener has built a brilliant maze\u2014the pathways change every five minutes! I myself was lost inside for three hours. I completely missed lunch.\u201d<\/p><p>Before the reporter could reply, there was a crash.<\/p><p>A wide-eyed creature with a striped tail appeared, knocking over the teapot. When he saw the strangers, he let out a screech. Hopping over the puddle of tea, he scrambled onto Hattie\u2019s shoulder. He chittered angrily to himself, shaking out his wet feet.<\/p><p><span style=\"color: var(--ast-global-color-3); font-style: inherit;\">Hattie sprang into action to stop the spilled tea from spreading. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry, sir!\u201d she babbled, piling napkins on the table. \u201cHe didn\u2019t mean\u2014 He was just\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>Mr. Foxfire inspected the animal. \u201cWell, I\u2019ve never seen anything like this fellow before.\u201d<\/p><p>Hattie winced as his paws dug into her neck. \u201cThis is Jeffers, sir. He\u2019s a leaping lemur.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cA jumper, eh?\u201d Mr. Foxfire tentatively touched her pet\u2019s bushy tail.<\/p><p>Hattie shook her head. \u201cNot a jumping lemur. A leaping lemur. Like this.\u201d<\/p><p>She snapped her fingers, and with a pop Jeffers vanished. A second later, he reappeared on the ceiling chandelier.<\/p><p>\u201cMarvelous!\u201d Mr. Ridgewell clapped his hands. \u201cWell done, Hattie. I see you\u2019ve made some progress with him.\u201d<\/p><p>Hattie\u2019s cheeks warmed. Mr. Ridgewell didn\u2019t always notice her. She would treasure his words of praise all week.<\/p><p>Nobody would have blamed him if he\u2019d sent Hattie to an orphanage after her father died. But he had given her a home at the hotel. It was part of why she was so eager to do a good job. She wanted him to be proud of her.<\/p><p>Mr. Foxfire rummaged under the napkins for his notebook. \u201cWhat a fascinating creature.\u201d He began to write as he talked. \u201cIs he rare? What\u2019s his scientific name? Are there more of them here?\u201d<\/p><p>Jeffers was Hattie\u2019s pet by accident. Dowson, the gamekeeper, had purchased him two years ago for the park, but he\u2019d soon found that magical fences were useless against a\u00a0<span style=\"color: var(--ast-global-color-3); font-style: inherit;\">lemur who could pop in and out whenever he wanted. On one of his adventures, Jeffers had met Hattie and decided he liked her. And that was that.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 19\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>\u201cA bit of a troublemaker, that one,\u201d Mr. Ridgewell said. \u201cSupposed to be an attraction for the guests, but he was . . . hard to keep track of.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cIt\u2019s true.\u201d Hattie smiled. \u201cWherever you put him, he always gets loose. So now I take care of him. When he\u2019s here, anyway.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cWhere do you suppose he goes,\u201d Mr. Foxfire mused, \u201cwhen he\u2019s not here?\u201d<\/p><p>Hattie had spent a lot of time thinking about this question and never came up with a good answer. Jeffers could teleport up to a hundred feet. He could leap through walls, but only if he knew what was on the other side. But where did he go? She still had no idea.<\/p><p>She shrugged. \u201cIn between, I guess.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cIntriguing,\u201d the reporter murmured. \u201cIn my days at the Orrery, I studied a bit of magical theory. I wonder what the professors would think of this little fellow.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cAre you a magister?\u201d Hattie asked. The Orrery was a famous magical university.<\/p><p>Mr. Foxfire flashed her a grin. \u201cOh, I dabble.\u201d<\/p><p>He spun his fingers, and a sparkly green ball appeared. With a flick, he sent it floating up to the chandelier, where Jeffers began to bat it around. Hattie couldn\u2019t help laughing.<\/p><p>\u201cUncle Clive,\u201d the girl piped up, \u201cI want a leaping lemur.\u201d Hattie\u2019s heart leaped into her throat. Jeffers reappeared\u00a0<span style=\"color: var(--ast-global-color-3); font-style: inherit;\">on her shoulder, his cool black nose snuffling her hand. She clutched his paw. He was her best friend. Mr. Ridgewell wouldn\u2019t take him away from her, would he?<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 20\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>\u201cSorry, my dear,\u201d Mr. Ridgewell told the girl. \u201cI\u2019m afraid this is the only one at Majestica. They\u2019re very rare.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cThey can\u2019t be that rare,\u201d she complained, \u201cif you\u2019re giv- ing them to servants. Oh, please, can I have one?\u201d<\/p><p>The woman across the table lowered her book. \u201cEvelyn, really.\u201d<\/p><p>Evelyn narrowed her green eyes at Hattie, and the two of them sized each other up. What Hattie saw didn\u2019t make her feel any better. The other girl\u2019s dress was prettier. She didn\u2019t have an apron or dust on her nose. In fact, her creamy skin looked as if it had never been touched by the sun, and her smooth hands looked like they\u2019d never done a day of work.<\/p><p>Hattie swallowed. Now she understood how the creatures in the zoo felt when people stared at them. Jeffers curled his tail around her neck like a scarf. She would never let him go. Never.<\/p><p>\u201cThis is Hattie Swift,\u201d Mr. Ridgewell explained. \u201cHer father was the best gamekeeper I ever had, rest his soul. So you see, being good with animals runs in the family.\u201d<\/p><p>Hattie\u2019s father had been killed in a dragon accident when she was six. She didn\u2019t even remember her mother, who had died when she was just a baby. Hattie had been raised by the hotel staff. Mrs. G had taught her to read. The maids had taught her how to play cards, though that was supposed to be a secret. And Morsewood, the gardener, had shown her t<span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">he three most foolproof ways to escape a poisonous people-eater flower.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 21\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>Mr. Ridgewell went on. \u201cI\u2019m sure the lemur is quite happy where he is.\u201d<\/p><p>Relief trickled through Hattie. She found her voice. \u201cYes, sir. Thank you, sir.\u201d<\/p><p>When in doubt, curtsy and leave. That was what Mrs. G always said. Heart thumping, she wheeled her cart to the next table before that awful Evelyn could say anything else.<\/p><p>The reporter seized his opportunity.<\/p><p>\u201cLook here, you have to give me one little tidbit about the Caretaker,\u201d he pleaded. \u201cMy boss said you promised us something new for the paper.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cThe maze is new!\u201d Mr. Ridgewell said in a grouchy voice. \u201cThe petting zoo is new!\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cYes, but\u2014\u201d<\/p><p>Mr. Ridgewell cut him off. \u201cThe Caretaker is out of the question, I\u2019m afraid.\u201d<\/p><p>Mr. Foxfire was awfully persistent. \u201cIf I\u2019d built a machine that could control the lights, the trains\u2014all of this? I wouldn\u2019t keep it a secret. I\u2019d want everyone to know that I was the greatest inventor in Ruava!\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cMaybe so,\u201d Mr. Ridgewell said, \u201cbut then everyone would want a Caretaker. And we can\u2019t have that, can we?\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cWhy not?\u201d Mr. Foxfire pressed him. \u201cJust imagine\u2014 a whole factory churning out magical machines! You could modernize the world and become a wealthy man.\u201d<\/p><p>Hattie didn\u2019t like the greedy tone of his voice. If everyone\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">had a Caretaker, then Majestica wouldn\u2019t be special anymore. It would be just like everywhere else.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 22\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>\u201cHe\u2019s already a wealthy man,\u201d Evelyn muttered around her pancakes.<\/p><p>Mr. Ridgewell smiled. \u201cMy niece is right.\u201d<\/p><p>The reporter looked deflated, like a popped balloon. He tapped his pen in annoyance. He was getting nowhere.<\/p><p>Mr. Ridgewell pulled a gold watch from his pocket. \u201cLook at the time! You\u2019ll excuse me if I end the interview. The wilderness tour embarks soon, and I still have arrange- ments to make.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cDo you mean to say you\u2019re going on the tour, sir?\u201d Mr. Foxfire had an eager glint in his eye. \u201cSomeone told me you never go out into the park anymore. Not since\u2014\u201d He gulped and went silent.<\/p><p>Hattie cringed, guessing what he\u2019d been about to say. Everyone knew the hotel owner had lost his leg in a dragon attack years ago\u2014the last time he went into the wilderness. Hattie gripped a tablecloth to her chest. Oh yes, she knew that dark story . . .<\/p><p>Her father had died saving Mr. Ridgewell\u2019s life.<\/p><p>The others at the table politely tried not to look at the reporter, except Evelyn, who smirked at his discomfort.<\/p><p>But Mr. Ridgewell only said, \u201cIt\u2019s my niece\u2019s birthday. Of course I shall be going on the tour.\u201d His wooden leg creaked as he got to his feet. \u201cThe hotel manager, Mr. Bailgrave, will answer the rest of your questions.\u201d<\/p><p>Leaning on his cane, he left the breakfast room. The\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">reporter trailed after him. Hattie exhaled. The awkward moment was over.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 23\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>The woman at the table clapped her book shut. \u201cOh, Evelyn, when will you learn to mind your manners?\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cI don\u2019t have to listen to you,\u201d Evelyn muttered.<\/p><p>\u201cI am your chaperone. I\u2019m here to make sure you act like a lady.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cMy mother never acted like a lady,\u201d Evelyn said in a sour voice.<\/p><p>\u201cAnd she came to a bad end.\u201d<\/p><p>Hattie realized she was eavesdropping. Mrs. G would definitely not approve. She wheeled her cart around to start the third row of tables.<\/p><p>A flash of motion caught her eye.<\/p><p>Quick as a wink, Evelyn\u2019s hand darted out. Hattie saw something white and powdery drop into the chaperone\u2019s drink. Or at least she thought she did. It happened so fast, she wasn\u2019t sure if she had imagined it. The chaperone, who had returned to her book, did not notice.<\/p><p>Evelyn Ridgewell screwed her lips to one side. She gave Hattie an arrogant look, as if challenging her to say something. Hattie didn\u2019t know what to say. Mr. Ridgewell\u2019s niece wouldn\u2019t really poison anyone . . . would she? While Hattie gathered the rest of the tablecloths, her conscience nagged her. Shouldn\u2019t she tell someone? She could report it to Mrs. G, but then she would have to explain that she\u2019d been spying on the guests. The housekeeper wouldn\u2019t like that. Nor would she like it if Hattie caused a ruckus that turned out to be over nothing.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 24\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>She glanced over her shoulder. The chaperone was sipping her cup of tea, while Evelyn pushed her pancakes around her plate, looking bored. It isn\u2019t my business, Hattie told herself, shoving her guilt away. Anyway, she seems perfectly fine. Maybe I was wrong.<\/p><p>The wheels of the laundry cart squeaked as she pushed it into the lobby. The hotel was more crowded now. Guests clustered at the snack bar, while bellhops wheeled carts of luggage across the floor. Down at the lake, the eleven o\u2019clock mermaid show had begun. Mermaids performed leaps and tricks in the water, to the music of a live band. People were gathering at the floor-length windows to watch. Hattie could barely hear the sweet sound of violins over the chaos. The hotel manager, Mr. Bailgrave, surveyed the lobby from the balcony, a teacup and saucer in his hand.<\/p><p>Majestica was like a big clock, and the staff were the intricate pieces inside that made it tick. They bustled around in an exhilarating dance\u2014a dance the guests could only see half of. But Hattie knew how it all fit together. How it all worked. It was a different kind of magic than Mr. Ridgewell\u2019s machine, but it was magic just the same.<\/p><p>\u201cHattie Swift!\u201d Mrs. G said sharply. \u201cYou still haven\u2019t taken those tablecloths down to the basement? Stop dawdling!\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cYes, ma\u2019am!\u201d Hattie gasped. \u201cAt once, ma\u2019am!\u201d<\/p><p>The laundry was in the basement, where only the Majestica staff were allowed. As she hurried the cart toward the elevator, someone beckoned with a feather duster from across the lobby.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 25\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\">\u00a0<\/div><\/div><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>\u201cPsst! Hattie!\u201d It was Maude, Hattie\u2019s maid friend. Her auburn curls were stuffed under a ruffled uniform cap.<\/p><p>\u201cWhat?\u201d Hattie asked curiously.<\/p><p>\u201cHeads up\u2014there\u2019s a fellow asking questions! Says he\u2019s a reporter.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cOh! I met him in the breakfast room.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cWell, don\u2019t talk to him, whatever you do!\u201d Maude warned her. \u201cMrs. G is liable to skin you alive!\u201d<\/p><p>Then she scurried off.<\/p><p>Sure enough, before Hattie could press the elevator but- ton, a voice came from a potted plant.<\/p><p>\u201cMiss!\u201d Mr. Foxfire\u2019s head poked out between the palm fronds. \u201cHey, miss, wait a moment!\u201d<\/p><p>Her pulse fluttered nervously. \u201cDo you need something, sir?\u201d<\/p><p>Hattie glanced doubtfully around the lobby. Mrs. G had disappeared into her office, but still . . . If you get caught, you can say goodbye to being promoted to chambermaid.<\/p><p>Mr. Foxfire popped out from behind the plant. \u201cSay, why don\u2019t I come down to the laundry with you? You can give me a little behind-the-scenes tour.\u201d He gave her a friendly wink. \u201cYou look like a girl who really knows her way around this place.\u201d<\/p><p>Something about his voice made Hattie wary. He was being almost too nice.<\/p><p>\u201cGuests aren\u2019t allowed down there,\u201d she said cautiously.<\/p><p>\u201cOh?\u201d He raised his eyebrows. \u201cWhy not? It\u2019s just a laun- dry, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 26\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\">\u00a0<\/div><\/div><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>The back of Hattie\u2019s neck tingled. She realized what he was trying to do. What Mr. Ridgewell had said about the Caretaker was true. No one\u2014not even the hotel staff\u2014was allowed to see the machine. But deep below the Hotel Majestica, Hattie knew there was a door.<\/p><p>A door no one ever, ever opened.<\/p><p>When she was little, Hattie used to sneak down the corridor, past the laundry and the lost luggage room, and gaze up at that secret door. That part of the basement had been built under the lake. The air smelled like wet dirt and something slightly animal\u2014fish or maybe snakes. Drips of water collected on the stone walls. There was even condensation on the fancy gold plaque that read caretaker.<\/p><p>Only once had she dared to set her hand on the doorknob. The latch caught with a thunk. It was locked, just like every- one said. A soft whisper slithered through the empty corridor. The air began to hum ominously, and the doorknob went cold in her hand.<\/p><p>Hattie had never touched the Caretaker\u2019s door again.<\/p><p>\u201cSorry, sir.\u201d She tried to sound innocent, but her heart raced under her pinafore. \u201cI don\u2019t have time for a tour. Mrs. Galliforma will be mad as a hopper if I don\u2019t get these chores done.\u201d<\/p><p>Jeffers chittered in agreement from his bed in the dirty linens.<\/p><p>The reporter lowered his voice to a whisper. \u201cThe Caretaker\u2019s down there, isn\u2019t it? In the basement?\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cWho told you that?\u201d Hattie pretended to be shocked.\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">\u201cBelieve me, I\u2019ve been down in the basement hundreds of times, and I\u2019ve never seen anything.\u201d<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 27\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>She wasn\u2019t sure if he was going to buy her lie.<\/p><p>\u201cBut I bet you have an idea where it is. I\u2019m a reporter for the Basillica Daily Star, you know!\u201d Mr. Foxfire said in a wheedling voice. \u201cWouldn\u2019t it be fun to have your name in the paper?\u201d<\/p><p>That was absolutely the last thing Hattie wanted. \u201cI\u2014I have to go now.\u201d She gripped the cart, her fingers suddenly sweaty. \u201cIt was nice to meet you.\u201d<\/p><p>Mr. Foxfire\u2019s lips parted in a devious grin. \u201cFine, Miss Swift. You go ahead and keep your secrets. I can tell you\u2019re a loyal girl.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cYes,\u201d she said. \u201cI am.\u201d<\/p><p>Before he could say anything else, she spun her cart around and wheeled it across the lobby. Luckily, there were other elevators.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<section class=\"elementor-section elementor-top-section elementor-element elementor-element-6502c63e elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"6502c63e\" data-element_type=\"section\" data-settings=\"{&quot;background_background&quot;:&quot;classic&quot;}\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-container elementor-column-gap-default\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-100 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-3be1f2a2\" data-id=\"3be1f2a2\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-8b0097d elementor-widget elementor-widget-image\" data-id=\"8b0097d\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"image.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<img decoding=\"async\" width=\"786\" height=\"748\" src=\"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Evelyn-chapter.png\" class=\"attachment-large size-large wp-image-1651\" alt=\"\" srcset=\"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Evelyn-chapter.png 786w, http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Evelyn-chapter-300x285.png 300w, http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Evelyn-chapter-768x731.png 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 786px) 100vw, 786px\" \/>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-be5179c elementor-widget elementor-widget-spacer\" data-id=\"be5179c\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"spacer.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-spacer\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-spacer-inner\"><\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-1b226638 elementor-drop-cap-yes elementor-drop-cap-view-default elementor-widget elementor-widget-text-editor\" data-id=\"1b226638\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-settings=\"{&quot;drop_cap&quot;:&quot;yes&quot;}\" data-widget_type=\"text-editor.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 28\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>Evelyn Ridgewell\u2019s chaperone hadn\u2019t thrown up yet, and Evelyn was annoyed about it.<\/p><p>She fidgeted, pushing her pancakes around her plate. The d<span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">ose she\u2019d slipped into Hawkins\u2019s tea should have taken effect by now. Yet there she sat, spectacles perched on her pointy nose, reading her exceedingly dull book.<\/span><\/p><p>What if the powder didn\u2019t work? The alchemist had absolutely insisted it would make someone sick to their stomach within half an hour. Evelyn bit her lip. She\u2019d been looking forward to this trip for almost a year, and she couldn\u2019t bear to have it ruined. Uncle Clive had promised her a luxury tour of his park for her thirteenth birthday. But what would he say when he learned she\u2019d failed out of Basillica City\u2019s finest magical academy for girls?<\/p><p>Honestly! It wasn\u2019t Evelyn\u2019s fault she was a dunce at magic!\u00a0<\/p><\/div><\/div><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>Not everyone was born with talent. She swallowed bitterly. Well, most people had a little bit. But those with enough tal- ent to become magisters were rare. I don\u2019t care. I hated that school anyway.<\/p><p>She had tried to tell her uncle not to send her.<\/p><p>\u201cI can\u2019t even light a match,\u201d she\u2019d protested. \u201cYou know my\u2014my mother didn\u2019t have any magic.\u201d<\/p><p>She winced, uncertain if mentioning her mother would make him angry.<\/p><p>But it didn\u2019t. \u201cNonsense!\u201d Uncle Clive had waved his hand. \u201cThere\u2019s no reason you won\u2019t take after me! Most of us Ridgewells are magical. You\u2019ll be fine. Not everyone\u2019s power manifests before the age of twelve.\u201d<\/p><p>But Evelyn\u2019s hadn\u2019t manifested at all.<\/p><p>Would Uncle Clive be angry enough to take away her birthday tour? It was impossible to be sure. Hawkins, one of the small army of staff hired by Evelyn\u2019s uncle to look after her, was the only one who knew she had been kicked out. If she was too sick to tattle, then with any luck, her uncle wouldn\u2019t find out\u2014until much, much later. Her chaperone had intended to tell him at dinner last night, but to Evelyn\u2019s relief, something had come up, and Uncle Clive had not been able to join them.<\/p><p>He was so sure I would turn out to be a magister like him. He\u2019s going to be so disappointed.<\/p><p>She watched Hawkins out of the corner of her eye. Nothing yet. That was the trouble with poison. You had to wait to see if it worked.<\/p><\/div><\/div><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>Evelyn was not good at waiting.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 30\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\">\u00a0<\/div><\/div><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>\u201cI\u2019ve finally gotten rid of that fellow,\u201d Uncle Clive said when he returned to the table. \u201cHe\u2019s been pestering me all morning. The moment he got here, he latched onto the idea of the Caretaker and hasn\u2019t shut up about it since. I wish I\u2019d never agreed to the interview.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cWhy is he so interested in the Caretaker?\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cBecause, my dear, people just can\u2019t stand a secret,\u201d he replied.<\/p><p>Evelyn glanced at Hawkins, who was pretending not to listen, like a good chaperone. Evelyn stifled a dramatic sigh. She didn\u2019t want a good chaperone\u2014or any chaperone at all! She was old enough to look after herself.<\/p><p>She checked around the dining room. That awful girl was gone. Evelyn had seen her eyes widen. She just knew the maid had caught her slipping the powder into Hawkins\u2019s tea. Well, what was she going to do about it? She was a servant, and Evelyn was a Ridgewell. No one would listen to her.<\/p><p>\u201cSir!\u201d Hawkins turned to Uncle Clive. \u201cIf I might have a private word?\u201d<\/p><p>Evelyn\u2019s breath caught in her throat. This was it\u2014the moment she had been dreading. Her chaperone was going to ruin everything.<\/p><p>And then\u2014with a thump and a clatter\u2014Hawkins dropped her book. Her face went from pink to green, and she clasped both hands to her mouth. Unsteadily she lurched from her seat and ran out of the breakfast room.<\/p><p>\u201cGoodness!\u201d her uncle exclaimed. \u201cShe looks positively ill, doesn\u2019t she?\u201d<\/p><p><span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">Evelyn went limp with relief. The poison had worked just in time.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 31\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>\u201cTerribly ill,\u201d she said, trying not to grin.<\/p><p>\u201cWell, I hope she\u2019s not too sick to go on the tour. The train leaves soon.\u201d He stood. \u201cSpeaking of which, I still have packing to do. You\u2019ll excuse me if I leave you, Evelyn, dear.\u201d<\/p><p>Hawkins had already packed Evelyn\u2019s luggage. She smirked. That had been quite clever, hadn\u2019t it? Waiting to poi- son her chaperone until after all the tedious work was done. She picked up her sun hat, a wide-brimmed straw concoction with an enormous pink bow, and set it on her head. Now she was ready for the wilderness tour.<\/p><p>Evelyn wandered into the lobby. The train had pulled up in front of the hotel, its tracks gleaming silver between the cobblestones on the driveway. It had nine cars with long open windows. A dragon was painted on the side of the bright red engine, lifting its golden wings. When she saw it, Evelyn\u2019s mood lifted too.<\/p><p>With Hawkins out of the way, she could finally begin to enjoy her holiday.<\/p><p>There was so much more to Majestica than just the hotel grounds. The really rare animals lived far out in the wilder- ness preserve\u2014fierce griffins, three-headed trigers, and even a dragon. Who cared about the petting zoo? It was full of boring, harmless things like rabbits that could change color. The tour was the true highlight of the Majestica experience. But the last time Evelyn had visited the hotel, she had been too young to go.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 32\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\">\u00a0<\/div><\/div><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>For years she\u2019d been writing letters to her uncle, begging him to take her, but he\u2019d always had some vague excuse. People whispered that he hadn\u2019t ventured out into the park since the dragon incident. Evelyn had been shocked when Uncle Clive suggested they finally go this year.<\/p><p>Turning her gaze back to the lobby, she almost jumped. A dragon skull was mounted on the wall overlooking the hotel desk, its teeth frozen in a leering smile. The empty eye sockets stared right at Evelyn.<\/p><p>It did take you by surprise, didn\u2019t it? Her uncle had hung it there because he thought it was funny to scare the guests.<\/p><p>A sharp-nosed young woman stood under the skull, wearing an ugly brocade dress and a jacket with elbow patches. She had golden skin, snappy dark eyes, and black hair in a long braid. A straggly tassel hung from her velvet cap.<\/p><p>\u201cQuite an impressive sight, isn\u2019t it?\u201d She peered at Evelyn through a monocle. \u201cI am Prunella Nightingale. From the look of your hat, I deduce you\u2019re about to go into the great outdoors.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cI\u2019m going on the wilderness tour,\u201d Evelyn said.<\/p><p>At the lobby bar, a group of rough-looking men burst into rowdy laughter. They wore camping clothes, and next to them was a pile of muddy duffel bags. The annoying reporter from breakfast had joined them.<\/p><p>One of the men stepped backward without looking, bumping into Evelyn.<\/p><p>\u201cWatch it, kid!\u201d he bellowed.<\/p><p>Miss Nightingale nodded at them. \u201cIf those fellows\u00a0<span style=\"color: var(--ast-global-color-3); font-style: inherit;\">give you any trouble, let me know. I\u2019ll turn their ears into daffodils.\u201d<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 33\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>\u201cYou\u2019re a magister?\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cA professor at the Orrery. I\u2019m writing an important paper about the magical properties of night wisps. A week in the park should allow me to finish my research.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cI didn\u2019t know night wisps did anything useful,\u201d Evelyn blurted out. But she was impressed in spite of herself. The woman looked too young to be a professor.<\/p><p>Miss Nightingale regarded her sternly through the monocle. \u201cClearly you have not read widely on the subject.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cSorry. I thought they were just balls of light that bobble around.\u201d<\/p><p>Evelyn knew she sounded stupid. It was her bad luck that the only nice adult she\u2019d met so far turned out to be a teacher. She tilted her head up at the dragon skull and hoped the professor didn\u2019t ask her any questions about school.<\/p><p>\u201cWonderful specimen,\u201d Miss Nightingale murmured. \u201cI wonder where they managed to get their hands on it . . .\u201d<\/p><p>Evelyn shrugged. \u201cIt came from a natural history museum or something.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cDid it?\u201d From Miss Nightingale\u2019s sharp tone, Evelyn thought she disapproved. \u201cThat\u2019s a shame. Don\u2019t you think it ought to be where everyone can see it? Not just rich people who can afford to come to the hotel?\u201d<\/p><p>Evelyn shifted her feet uncomfortably. Uncle Clive could collect old animal bones if he wanted. Who did this lady think she was, going around lecturing people?<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 34\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>\u201cIt\u2019s my uncle\u2019s skull,\u201d she said stubbornly. \u201cHe can do what he likes with it.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cExcuse me\u2014your uncle?\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cHe owns this hotel.\u201d Reluctantly, Evelyn stuck out her hand. \u201cI\u2019m Evelyn Ridgewell.\u201d<\/p><p>Miss Nightingale gave her a firm handshake. Then her eyes widened. \u201cOh. I take it your mother is Jane Ridgewell, then. The famous adventurer.\u201d<\/p><p>Abruptly Evelyn let go. She knew how this part went. She bit her lip, staring down at the marble floor. Now Miss Nightingale would start asking pesky questions.<\/p><p>But to Evelyn\u2019s surprise, she did not. \u201cWell!\u201d the scholar said. \u201cThat\u2019s probably the last thing you want to talk about.\u201d\u00a0<\/p><p>Evelyn gave her a smile of relief. \u201cYes, it is.\u201d She changed t<span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">he subject. \u201cAre you going on the wilderness tour?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">\u201cCertainly,\u201d Miss Nightingale said. \u201cIt\u2019s rumored there are clutches of wisps out in the savannah. It\u2019ll be a real treat t<\/span><span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">o study those.\u201d<\/span><\/p><p>Evelyn glanced up at the skull. \u201cI\u2019m surprised you\u2019re not m<span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">ore interested in the dragon.\u201d<\/span><\/p><p>\u201cOh, dragons. They\u2019re a very crowded field. No one\u2019s g<span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">oing to pay you to write a book on dragons these days. All the important work on the topic has already been done.\u201d Miss Nightingale\u2019s face crinkled in a smile. \u201cAre you excited for the tour?\u201d<\/span><\/p><p>\u201cVery,\u201d Evelyn said. \u201cMy uncle is taking me for my birthday. I\u2019m turning thirteen.\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cHow lucky for you! I\u2019d heard Mr. Ridgewell never goes out into the park anymore. Not since his accident.\u201d Miss\u00a0<span style=\"color: var(--ast-global-color-3); font-style: inherit;\">Nightingale cringed. \u201cSpeaking of, well, dragons . . . I\u2019ve heard Agatha is tricky. Is it true that ever since her mate died, she\u2019s become rather temperamental?\u201d<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 35\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>Evelyn winced. There used to be two dragons at Majestica. Alfred, the male, was the one who had eaten her uncle\u2019s leg. After that, they had to put him down.<\/p><p>But there hadn\u2019t been an animal attack since her uncle had invented the Caretaker. The park was the safest it had ever been. This tour would be exactly the kind of adventure Evelyn liked\u2014enough wilderness to make it feel exciting, but no real danger.<\/p><p>\u201cI\u2019m not scared of her,\u201d Evelyn blurted out. \u201cI can\u2019t wait to see a dragon up close!\u201d<\/p><p>\u201cThen I wish you the best of luck. A girl\u2019s first dragon sighting is always a magical experience.\u201d<\/p><p>Evelyn glanced up at the skull. \u201cI hope so.\u201d<\/p><p>A train whistle sounded, long and shrill.<\/p><p>\u201cWe\u2019d better get out there.\u201d Miss Nightingale gathered h<span style=\"font-style: inherit; color: var(--ast-global-color-3);\">er belongings\u2014a worn carpetbag, a stack of books, and a straw hat. She gave Evelyn a nod. \u201cA pleasure to meet you, Miss Ridgewell. See you in the wild.\u201d<\/span><\/p><p>See you in the wild. The words gave her a thrill.<\/p><p>She stepped outside onto the marble steps. People bustled around her, babbling excitedly. The hotel staff were loading the last of the suitcases onto the train. Evelyn spotted her pink luggage and new velvet hatbox.<\/p><p>The Hotel Majestica was nestled at the edge of a lake. In the other direction, the savannah stretched out for miles. Evelyn clasped her straw hat to her head, sniffing the fresh\u00a0<span style=\"color: var(--ast-global-color-3); font-style: inherit;\">breeze. It smelled like sweet grass. The land was all yellows and oranges and browns, but far in the distance, she glimpsed a rocky green blob rising up to touch the clouds. That was the jungle. And in the middle of it was the cliffside cave where the dragon made her lair. Even now, the elusive Agatha might be wheeling in circles above the trees.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 36\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>Evelyn closed her eyes and imagined herself with wings.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<section class=\"elementor-section elementor-top-section elementor-element elementor-element-6c64ab14 elementor-section-content-middle elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"6c64ab14\" data-element_type=\"section\" data-settings=\"{&quot;background_background&quot;:&quot;classic&quot;}\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-container elementor-column-gap-default\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-100 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-35fb518f\" data-id=\"35fb518f\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-40048548 elementor-widget elementor-widget-heading\" data-id=\"40048548\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"heading.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<h5 class=\"elementor-heading-title elementor-size-default\">\u00a9 Copyright 2021 Sarah tolcser - All Rights Reserved<\/h5>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Majestica z The dead dragon glared at Hattie from empty eye sockets. As she gripped her dust rag, the ladder wobbled alarmingly under her feet. She reached into the bony mouth, between a sea of teeth, and wiped the spiderwebs away. The skull hung over the lobby of the Hotel Majestica, following the guests with [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"no-sidebar","site-content-layout":"page-builder","ast-site-content-layout":"full-width-container","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"disabled","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"disabled","footer-sml-layout":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1616","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1616","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1616"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1616\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1667,"href":"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1616\/revisions\/1667"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/sarahtolcser.com\/wp2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1616"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}