The Conceited

Sage

Linnea Stevens

The Conceited Sage

Linnea Stevens Silhouette Publishing House

2011

Published by:

Silhouette Publishing House

19 Fernwood Dr.

Taylors, SC 29687

Copyright 2011 Silhouette

Publishing House All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of

America.

First printing May, 2011

Dedicated to

To whoever received my hair from

Locks of Love, and to my cat,

Oreo, who was a great inspiration.

Acknowledgements

There are a great many things

to which this book owes its life,

but I'd like to mention my parents

first. Without them, I would not

exist. Special thanks to my mother

who used to read me fairy tales at

night, kindling the flame of my

love for them.

Thanks also my writing

teacher, Mrs. Husman, and the

Director of HRC Homeschool Co-op,

Mrs. Wong, as well as to Riverside

Baptist Church, which let use

their facilities.

Sloppy kisses to my sister,

Brynna, and my good friends,

Jonathon and Gabrielle, for their

ideas and input. This book

wouldn't be the same without them.

Admirations extended to: Gail

Carson Levine, E.D. Baker, Vivian

Vande Velde, and Roald Dahl. Your

books were such an inspiration for

this story.

And finally, from the bottom

of my heart, all glory to God, for

giving me a passion and a talent

for writing and illustrating.

Let's see where these skills take

me and your guidance, eh?

Table of contents

Postponed Plans

Portia the Parent

The Fun Gets Cut Short

A visitor for Sage

A One-sided Reunion

This Spells Disaster

Robert and Reunions

Packing

6

Chapter 1 Postponed Plans

Portia stepped out the door, her heart

swelling with anticipation. She was going back at

last. After years of hard work, years of saving, years

of worry, she was going back to the Fairy Academy.

She walked down the cobble-stone path, past her

red rose bushes, past all the things that had been her

life for the past several decades. Oh, she would be

back, but she would be back a new woman. She

would return as a fairy. Well, that had been the plan

anyway. What she hadn't planned on was... well, it's

kind of sad really, but here it goes. Suddenly, there

was a dull thud behind the wall to her herb garden.

A muffled grunt reached her ears -- thieves? She put

down her trunk and peered over the low brick wall.

There, on his hands and knees, rummaging around

in her patch of sage, was a stranger. He was thin,

with ragged clothes and a mop of stringy black hair.

"Hey!" Portia cried, "What do you think

you're doing?!" Oh, why did he have to come now?

She had to be at the Academy by tonight!

7

The man yelped and jumped a foot in the air.

When he stood up, he was stooped over, and he had

a pointy face and eyes the size of saucers.

"Oh," he pleaded in a quivering voice,

"Please, don't hurt me!"

In all honesty, Portia really didn't want to

hurt him; however, she was a W.I.T.C.H., which

meant that if anyone caused her any type of grief,

she had to curse them. But, she didn't have time to

curse him! Portia tapped her foot impatiently.

"Please!" the man squeaked. "I- my wife,

she's just had our baby, and she told me she'd die if

she didn't have any sage! The market is such a long

walk… You don't know what she'll do to me if I

return empty-handed!"

This took Portia aback -- a wife threatening

her husband? That was unusual. "I-" she started.

"I'll tell you what!" he clapped his hands,

and chortled nervously, "I-I'll give you the child!

Yes, I'll give you the child. My wife won't mind:

one less mouth to feed. I'm sure...yes, I'll give you

the child, if you'll let me have this sage."

He held out a bony hand, and frowned when

Portia didn't take it. "What's the matter? Don't

witches like children? You could use her to test

spells or something."

Portia was appalled. If he considered the life

of his own baby to be something so trivial, she had

to take it. No child should have to grow up with

parents like that!

She shook his hand.

***

True to his word, there was a knock on the

door that night. Portia pushed the heavy wooden

door open and smiled sadly. There, on the front

step, was the baby, crying up a storm to equal the

8

one going on outside. She scooped the child up and

brought it inside.

Portia could not go back to school after all --

she had a child to rear! It was a girl, by the looks of

her. She was pink, with big blue eyes and wispy

golden hair. Portia's heart melted. The tiny baby

was still howling, but she was Portia's. Portia had

always wanted to get married and have a family, but

due to some unwise decisions, that had never

happened. A lot of things had never happened

because of those foolish choices. I guess you could

sum them all up in one big mistake: dropping out of

fairy school and becoming a witch.

Portia walked to her parlor, where the candle

light glowed cheerfully. It was a nice room, with

red velvet wallpaper, dark wood furniture and gold

accents. Portia's collection of Romance novels

perched neatly in a bookshelf on the far wall. The

beauty of the room seemed to soothe the girl, and

her crying lessened. Portia sank into her red

armchair by the fire and started singing a lullaby. It

was one her mother had sung to her a long time

ago…and what a long time ago it had been since

she'd seen her mother.

Sleep little one here in my arms

Let the wizard of dreams cast his charm

Thunder clapped outside, and the glistening rain

streaked the window.

Rest dear child, next to my heart

Let Sleep's arrow meet its mark

The girl's screaming stopped, and gentle tears

flowed down her fat cheeks

9

Slumber darling, please be mute

The star fairy waits for you

The baby was asleep now. Portia smiled at

her, then noticed something. There was something

green clenched in her little fist. Portia pried it open.

It was as single sprig of sage. That was an

appropriate name; her name would be Sage.

10

Chapter 2 Portia the Parent

Then next morning Portia awoke in her

armchair, Sage still sleeping in her arms. Gently,

she arose and set her down on the cushions. If Sage

was to live here, she had to have a suitable

bedroom. To find just the right place, Portia spent

the next hour searching her well-lit castle. During

her search, she recalled the first night she had come

to her home.

It had been a stormy night, much like last

night. Rain pouring down on her, Portia had shoved

the vast door open and stepped inside her new

home. It was dark as ink, so she pulled a candle out

of her bag. With a flick of her fingers and a

muttered word, she lit it. Her black cat, Jingles, had

peered curiously from his cage, his black nose

quivering in the odorous air. It smelled of mildew

and rat droppings. Wet and shivering, Portia sighed

and dropped her bags. The thud echoed throughout

the chilled hall, where dust had fallen on everything

11

like a blanket of gray snow. Momentarily, lightning

flashed, sending everything into harsh brightness,

and she could barely make out the faded reds and

greens of the tapestries. They clung to the walls by

mold fibers, and there were gaping holes in the

designs. Portia bent down to open Jingles' cage, and

he dashed out, having caught sight of a particularly

fat rat. Portia shivered again, but not just from the

chill. There seemed to be a presence, a whisper of

past lives that had trod these very floors. Hints of

splendor and gaiety long past nudged the back of

her brain. She had imagined noble ladies and

gentlemen arrayed in fine robes and equally fine

lives. Did she deserve to come here and remake that

for herself? She hadn't felt so. Not after all that she

had done. Regardless, she had set about reciting

cleaning spells and renewing charms, making the

castle seem friendlier little by little. She would live

to deserve her new home. The King of Light would

help her.

The King of Light, the God of Besterra, had

found her only a year ago. She had always felt His

presence, pursuing her relentlessly. She had always

run from Him, though, desperate to flee her guilt.

You see, when she had dropped out of school to

become a witch, she had been a terrible person.

Sadistic and mean, she'd reveled in her ability to

hurt people. Becoming a witch had appealed to

Portia. She loved mischief, and witches caused

trouble for a living. Being a fairy held absolutely ne

appeal. Can you believe it? Fairies were forbidden

to cause undue harm to anyone. Those frivolous

pixies just didn't know how to have fun!

But a year ago that day, she had witnessed

one of her witch friends do something so horrible to

an innocent human, and she at once turned from her

12

wicked ways. That didn't mean she wasn't bound to

hurt anyone. In fact, it was the law, according to the

Witches' code, section one paragraph seven, that,

"In the event that someone should do you wrong, it

is your duty as a witch to curse him. This includes,

but is not limited to: trotting on your toe, insulting

your grandmother, stealing your goat, and harming

a family acquaintance."

So that she could avoid hurting people as

much as possible, though, she had moved into this

abandoned castle. She knew the King of Light didn't

want her to cause any more harm, and she had

agreed.

Presently, Portia was climbing some

polished stairs into a tower where she kept some old

books. She inserted the brass key into the door and

stepped inside. It was a mostly bare room, but it was

pretty. It was round, and since it was the highest

room in the tower, the ceiling was domed like the

roof. Yes, this would make a fine room for Sage.

After conjuring a few cleaning spells and

seizing furniture from other rooms, it was nearly

done. All it lacked was a crib. She'd send for one

immediately, but first she had to check on Sage, so

she went back to the parlor. The baby squirmed

awake and started crying again. Maybe she was

hungry. Portia went to her icebox and pulled out a

pail of milk and a mug from her cabinet. Then she

stamped her foot and winked, and a mug turned into

a bottle. She filled it with milk and fed it to Sage.

The milk seemed to do the trick, but only for a

moment. Sage started to cry again.

Portia tried everything. More milk didn't

help. Neither did a lullaby, funny faces, Portia's

makeshift rattle of beans in a can, or her old rag

13

doll, Lucinda. Pleading in desperation didn't work

either.

Finally, she braced herself for the worst, and

checked to see if Sage had soiled herself. Yes, there

was a smelly package in Sage's wrappings. Portia

vaguely remembered some cleaning technique from

taking care of her cousin, but the more she tried to

recall the specific steps, the more elusive they

proved. Finally, she just improvised. By the end she

was smelly, and a heap of dirty rags sat in the

corner, but at least Sage was clean. She finished

wrapping her up, and collapsed into her red chair.

She really needed a nurse or something. She

needed help. But what she needed most of all was a

bath, a meal, and a nap.

Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door,

and jerked awake. Apparently she'd fallen asleep.

She walked across her parlor, hoping it wasn't

anyone too important. She hadn't bathed yet, and

the room smelled of… well, what comes out of a

baby.

Oh, what a relief. It was her best friend,

Noxia. Noxia was tall and lean, with long straight

brown hair, a mousy face, and spectacles. A fairy

school graduate, her wings were blue with gold

veins. She wrinkled her nose.

"Hello, Noxia," Portia smiled.

Noxia gave a half smile, half grimace back,

"Hello, Portia dear," she sniffed, "Did Jingles have

an accident?"

"No, Sage did."

"What?"

Portia sighed and told her the whole story of

her strange encounter with the odd thief in her

garden, and how he traded his daughter for a

handful of leaves.

14

She showed Noxia the girl, who had dozed

off peacefully in another chair.

"She's beautiful," Noxia smiled and kissed her

forehead."

"I know. I just wish I had some help. I've only

been up for four hours, and already I'm exhausted!"

Noxia patted her shoulder, "It will get better.

Human children grow very rapidly. She'll need less

attention in only ten years.

"Oh, good," Portia sighed with relief. Fairy

children took centuries to mature. Portia thought she

could barely tolerate baby Sage for more than a few

minutes!

15

16

Chapter 3

The Fun Gets Cut Short

And so, Sage grew. She grew into a

beautiful girl, with big, bright blue eyes and thick,

golden hair. Her smile would melt a warlock's heart,

and her laugh was like a bird singing. Well, that's

what strangers told her. But Portia knew better. The

sad truth was, Sage was a vain little thing. Although

she was loved and spoiled by all, no one loved her

more than she loved herself. Even from a young

age, all she thought about was the latest fashions.

Her favorite thing to style, by far, was her hair. It

was her pride and joy. Everyday it was different.

Sometimes it was high, sometimes curled, other

times low, straight, braided, or whatever struck her

mood. Like all children, Sage had schoolwork. She

had mathematics, history, Magic Study, and art. She

excelled in none of them. The only thing that

appealed to the girl was fashion.

"Mother, is this the bush you want me to

trim?"

Portia sighed and stood up from her crouch

in the tulip garden and walked over to Sage. This

was the seventh time the girl had asked the same

question. "Yes, dear," the witch answered, in a tone

she hoped didn't sound too frustrated. Sage was

17

twelve years old, and Portia had finally convinced

her to take an interest in gardening. Sage was afraid

of getting her nails dirty, so she wore thick, clumsy

gloves that were much too large for her. It was a hot

day, so her pink sleeves were rolled up, and she had

a straw hat perched on her head.

"Okay!" Sage chirped, swatted a mosquito,

and started hacking away at the bush like a wild

woman.

"No! Wait!" Portia seized the clippers. "Like

this." She snipped, carefully shaping the bush into a

perfect sphere.

"Okay, I get it now!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She flashed a brilliant smile.

"All right," Portia sighed hesitantly, and

gave Sage back the clippers. "I'll be back in ten

minutes to check your progress."

Portia went back to her tulips. When the ten

minutes were up, she walked back over. The poor

rose bush had been reduced to the roots with a few

twigs sticking out at random.

"What do you think?" asked Sage, oozing

with pride at her work.

Portia bit her lip. "Um, Dear, don't you think

there should be some roses on the bush?"

"Welllll, I thought about that, but I've been

wanting some roses in my room, so I decided I

would just collect some--"

"But why didn't you ask me, Sage?"

Hearing the disappointment in Portia's

voice, Sage began to cry," You- you don't like it? I-

I can fix it--"

She turned to face the bush, and her long

braid swung between the clippers' blades.

"Wait, Sage-"

18

Oblivious, Sage made one last snip. The

braid fell to the ground with a dull thump.

"Oh, Sweetie..."

Sage looked down and screamed. "MY

HAIR!" She started to bawl, her big blue eyes

pouring tears like a watering can.

"Oh, honey, it grows back!" Portia pleaded.

"It's not fair!" Sage cried "You don't like my

bush and next I got my hair cut off!"

***

A few weeks later, Sage's 13th birthday

party rolled around, and Portia had invited all of her

fairy friends. Sage didn't really have friends,

because Portia had always been afraid that one

would smart mouth her and then she'd have to curse

them. The only reason she hadn't cursed Sage is

because the witches' rules don't necessarily apply to

family.

"Portia dear, how are you?" Loretta, a

flower fairy, shook Portia's hand as she entered

through the front door. Stooped with age, she

looked at Portia through semi-circle spectacles, her

wrinkled mouth quivering into a smile.

"I'm doing well, very good to see you!"

"Portia!" Another fairy called. Carmella,

another of Portia's close friends, waved from the

front lawn. She was a bit shorter than Noxia, and

much curvier. She had long, wavy brown hair and

bright caramel-colored eyes. A Bovinian, she also

had a thick accent.

By the time all the guests had arrived, there

were exactly five of them sitting around a table,

since Noxia had come early to help with the food.

19

Sage sat prettier than ever in a sugar blue

gown, her short hair tied up and hidden in a coned

hat. "Where are my presents?" she asked, frowning.

"Well, Sage, dear," Noxia soothed, "We

decided that we would give you one very special,

very magical gift."

"Oh." Sage's disappointment chilled the air.

"Um," Portia tried after a few awkward

moments, "I think it should be about time to present

it, don't you think?"

"Si, bien idea," Carmella stood up from her

chair. The other fairies followed suit.

"Sage," Noxia smiled, "What is the one

thing you want most in the world? Wish for it, and

we will give it."

Sage's blue eyes went bigger than Portia

thought possible.

"Anything?" she whispered.

"Anything," Loretta beamed at the girl's

enthusiasm.

"Hmm..." Sage tapped her chin in thought.

After a few minutes of deep soul-searching, her

eyes lit up. "I know!" she smiled from ear to ear. "I

want hair that grows a foot every day!"

The fairies glanced quizzically at Portia. She

shrugged.

"Because-" Sage continued, "Because I love

to try new haircuts styles, and I can't do that every

day with normal hair! And, if I have any more

accidents-" she whipped off her hat- "it will just

grow back!"

Carmella chuckled, "Le Niña makes sense."

For once, thought Portia.

"She does," Noxia agreed.

The three fairies put there heads together for

a few minutes. After figuring out how they could do

20

this, they recited a spell. Sage started to giggle as

her golden hair shot from the roots. "It tickles."

Although it only grew a foot longer that day,

it made a huge difference. Sage spun around,

giggling with glee at how it flew. She fingered it,

pulled it, twirled it, and felt it until she was

satisfied. "Oh hair!" she sighed, "I missed you!"

Carmella choked up, Loretta wiped her eyes

with a leaf, but Portia just started to laugh.

Of all things, her daughter had wished for

hair.

21

22

Chapter 4 Sage's Suspicions

"Mother?" Sage asked when she was about

fourteen years old. "Can I read one of these?"

She beamed sweetly, holding one of Portia's

romance novels. It had a portrait of a mermaid

swooning in a wizard's arms on the cover. It

happened to be one of Portia's favorites, and Sage

was fourteen. Portia figured the girl was old enough

to handle it. No harm in reading, right?

Dead wrong. From that day on, Sage glued

herself to more and more of those books. She

wouldn't tend to her studies or her chores; she

would only read. Once in a blue moon Portia pulled

her away, but all she would do was stare off into the

distance with a dreamy expression on her face. If

Portia miraculously got a word out of her, she

would talk about the handsome wizard she would

marry someday, or the dashing prince who rescue

her from her prison, wherever that was.

Like all adopted teenagers eventually do,

Sage began to wonder about her true parentage. She

had always known that Portia wasn't her real

mother, but who was?

The answer seemed to leap out at her from

one of Portia's love novels. The story told of an

23

enchanted princess, who was being held prisoner in

a tower by an evil witch. Stolen from her royal

parents at birth, all she had known was the

miserable tower, until a handsome prince set her

free.

Sage found great connection to this

story. They had so much in common! But did they

have more in common than she originally thought?

Who were her parents, and why did Portia never

speak of them? Could it be, perhaps, that Portia had

stolen her from nobility?

Sage pondered this. Soon she began to think

on this theory more often than not, until if finally

morphed from a theory in her mind to a reality. She

was being held her against her will! And her

parents, the poor creatures, were probably broken-

hearted for their long-lost daughter. What would a

witch want with a noble daughter, anyway? Was

she planning to eat her? Or hold her for ransom?

Of course, all these ideas sound very silly.

But that's the thing about ideas and suspicions.

Unless they are taken captive and dismissed, and

especially if they are dwelt upon, they can grow and

grow until a preposterous notion becomes, in the

thinker's mind, a truth.

From then on, she avoided Portia like the

plague. Portia was concerned, of course, being a

good mother. But whenever she tried to ask Sage

why she was being so cold, Sage would snub her

and run off.

Finally, Portia managed to corner her.

"Sage, what is going on? Did I say something? Why

are you giving me the cold shoulder?"

"Oh, like you don't know," Sage laughed

scathingly. "I know all about how you stole me

from my parents."

24

"What?" Rescued was more like it.

"Don't act dumb! I know that I am a child of

royalty and you stole me from my parents! You're a

mean, cruel person, and I hate you! I never want to

see you again!" And with that, she turned on her

heel and locked herself in her tower.

Of course she did have to see Portia again.

How else would she get food? But because her door

was permanently locked (and Noxia had stupidly

given her a lock that was magic-proof for her

birthday) Portia had to develop a rather queer way

of getting into Sage's room.

Because she was a witch, and witches do not

have wings, she couldn't fly up to Sage's window.

She didn't like using her broom either, because it

was very awkward, so she hadn't used it for some

years, and she didn't want to relearn. Instead, she

used Sage's long, long hair as a rope. But there was

a method to it. First she had to go outside, stand at

the foot of Sage's tower and call, "Rapunzel,

Rapunzel, let down your hair."

"Rapunzel" was Sage's new name that she

had given herself, to show her independence of her

captor.

Then in a whirl of gold, Sage's hair erupted

from her window, brushing the ground below.

Portia tucked the Sage's lunch basket under

her arm, seized handfuls of hair, and started to

climb. Although she had more than her fair share of

pudge, she had good muscles as well. Hours of

pulling tough weeds and holding paint brushes at an

angle can be a good workout.

Finally, she reached the window and hoisted

herself into the tower room. It was a small but

lovely room, with pink wallpaper and white

furniture. The circular room had a tall ceiling that

25

domed inside like the room.. As soon as Portia let

go of the hair, Sage walked away from the window

and sat down at her vanity, brushing her locks with

an ivory comb. Her eyes never ceased to be cold in

Portia's presence, and they never looked at her.

"Roasted pigeon, spinach salad, and grapes,"

Portia set the basket on the delicate table next to

Sage's canopy bed.

"Thank you, Portia," Sage chirped. Not

"Mother", not "Mum".

"See you for dinner," Portia tipped her hat in

a mocking fashion and climbed back down.

And so this continued for about two years.

Luckily, Portia kept an eye on Sage without having

to be in the room. She had a spy. Portia could talk to

animals. It was a side-effect from a childhood

incident. Her older brother, Brushman, had turned

her into an eel as a prank. Ever since then, she could

speak the tongue of animals. Most of them didn't

have much to say; just things like "food" and "kill",

but cats, however, were very intelligent creatures.

Portia had one: a black cat named Jingles. Oblivious

to Portia's ability, Sage permitted Jingles into her

room through the cat door.

"It'll keep out evil wizards and rogue

raccoons," Noxia had boasted. The cat door

happened to be another of Noxia's presents.

So Jingles played spy for Portia, and kept a

watchful, slit-pupiled eye on things. Nothing much

seemed to happen. It was actually a pretty boring

job, and Jingles spent most of his time sunbathing in

the window. However, when Sage turned seventeen,

things began to get very interesting; very interesting

indeed.

26

Chapter 5 A Visitor for Sage

Sage looked out the window, her heart

aching with sadness. Why was she being trapped in

this tower, away from the world? Why had Portia

kid-napped her? What made her so special? Well,

besides her good looks and stunning intellect.

She sat at her vanity, filing her long,

beautiful nails. Oh, when would her prince come?

They always came in the books! She'd been stuck

up here for two years! He sure was taking his sweet

time. Was he with another princess? Oh, he had to

come soon! It was so boring up here!

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"

Oh, there came that terrible witch now. She

sighed and walked over to the window, her hair

glistening in a pile beside it. With all her strength,

she lifted up the mound and thrust it over the edge.

The familiar weight of Portia tugged on her

scalp. It didn't hurt anymore, not after the special

balm Noxia had given her.

When the fat witch finally finished climbing

over the edge into the tower, Sage turned away and

went back to the vanity. Her left pinky fingernail

was a little rough around the edges, and she had to

fix that.

27

Her captor deposited her lunch on the table,

bowed, and descended the tower.

After pulling her hair back into the room,

Sage walked over to the table and peered inside her

lunch basket. A watercress sandwich with the crusts

cut off, a pomegranate, and a freshly baked loaf of

bread.

Sage sat on her bed with the sandwich, took a bite,

and chewed slowly. For a horrible old hag, Portia

sure knew how to cook.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"

Sage rolled her eyes. The witch must have

forgotten something. She let her hair down out the

window again, and sat back on the bed, taking

another bite of sandwich. She squirmed to get a

better position, then grabbed a paperback off her

table and started to read. Prince Edwin was about to

propose to Lidina, she just knew it! He'd take her in

his arms, look into her eyes, and tell her she was…

"…the most beautiful girl in the world!"

Sage jumped and looked up at the window.

There he was! Her prince! The one she'd been

waiting for all these long, miserable years!

"Prince!" She jumped from the bed,

beaming. "Oh, you've finally come."

"Was I supposed to be here earlier?" he

asked quizzically. Then he smiled and hopped from

the window sill. He swept off his feathered hat,

bowed deeply, then stood and squared his

shoulders. "Of course I should have been here

earlier. I have never been happy until I met you."

Sage fainted.

***

28

Jingles sat up. Where had this man come from?

Portia would certainly want to know about what

was going on. He crawled through the kitty door

and went in search of her. He walked the hallways

slowly, his joints creaking. He was an old cat,

almost twenty. Half his teeth were missing and one

of his eyes was blind, and he constantly found

himself in the embarrassing state of having his

tongue sticking out. And to make matters worse, his

breath could curdle milk.

He bumped into a wall and then wondered if

there was such a thing as spectacles for cats. He was

sure Portia could make them. Portia could do just

about anything, even love Sage. Not that Jingles

didn't like Sage, but he usually spent his time with

her asleep. He couldn't understand a word she said,

since she couldn't speak to animals. Besides, she

would probably only talk about herself. Boring.

Oh, where was Portia? He felt like he was

walking in circles. Finally, he found the kitchen,

where Portia was preparing Sage's dinner. Jingles

thought, She's too good to her.

"Portia!" he stalked up to her, panting

slightly.

"Oh, hello Jingles," she beamed at him.

Portia was so nice. "Would you like some beef?"

She cut into a particularly succulent looking roast.

Jingles' mouth watered, but he swallowed it,

"Portia, there's a man in Sage's tower."

She just looked at him. "What did you say?"

"There's a man in Sage's room. A prince, he

says."

"Where did he come from?"

"I have no idea, but he's there."

"Jingles," Portia put down her knife and bent down

to his level, "I want you to keep a very close eye on

29

him. If he starts to go too far, or his character seems

shady, then hiss, scratch, bite, do whatever you have

to do to get rid of him."

Jingles stretched, flexing his seldom-used

claws. It'd be nice to give them a little exercise. He

saluted her, and then walked back to Sage's room.

There didn't seem to be any mischief going on,

except they were holding hands and declaring their

love for each other. He rolled his eyes and stretched

out on the pink rug. He remembered how he'd fallen

for this gorgeous calico longhair once… but that

had been a long time ago.

The prince, whose name was Cedric, came

every day. And for some reason, every time he

came he brought a handkerchief with him. In

between naps, Jingles noticed how Sage was tying

all the handkerchiefs together to make a rope. Was

that their plan for escape? Then why didn't he just

bring a rope? But then… it was Sage's rescue. She

wouldn't think of a simple thing like a rope. No. She

had to do the romantic thing and make a line out of

hankies.

***

Portia lay in bed, worrying about Sage. So

far, Jingles' reports had been good. The man hadn't

pushed himself upon her, and he'd seemed very

kind, if a bit dense. What would happen if they ran

away and got married? Portia sat bolt upright,

making her mattress creak. If Sage left, she'd be free

to go back to school. She wouldn't have to worry

about taking care of her anymore. As long as the

prince proved a good man, Portia would approve of

their union.

Even though she no longer worried, Portia

thought about Sage and this "Cedric" character all

the time. It reminded her of happier times, when she

30

had had a beau. Then she had chosen to become a

witch, and she had left him. The last she'd heard he

had become some brilliant scholar. This brought

back a wave of sadness and regret, so she grabbed a

love novel from her collection and went to the

parlor to drown her sorrows.

Alone, Portia sat by the warm fire, sipping

raspberry tea and nibbling chocolate cookies. The

cookies spilled crumbs on her black blouse, so she

dusted them off with her fat little hand. She

squirmed in her big red velvet chair, and settled

back down to continue reading her latest novel of

interest. It told of a fairy trapped by an evil ogre,

and how only the dashing young wizard could help

her. The colorful illustrations showed the beautiful

fairy, blonde hair streaming behind her, as a scream

escaped her lovely face. Portia sighed and looked

in the mirror on the opposite wall .There was no

way she had ever, or would ever, be lovely. She was

fat and short, with wild black curls and frumpy

clothes. Not even the daisy perched in her black,

pointed black hat did any good. Portia was just plain

ugly.

Not to me.

Portia heard the King of Light speak to her.

His voice was distant, yet rich and soothing.

To me, Portia, you are beautiful.

"How am I beautiful?" Portia demanded.

"I'm a mean old witch, and I used to scare off boys

when I was a child."

Do not let people's opinions of you pervert

your worth. To me you are more precious than any

treasure.

"I'm a witch! I hurt people! And when I tried

to go back to school and be good, like I know you

want me to be, I ended up stealing a child instead!

31

And now she doesn't even want to talk to me! Why

is all this happening? Why is it that every time I try

to be good, something bad happens?"

You did not steal Sage. You have not disobeyed me

by staying here to raise her. You are doing exactly

what I want you to do. Trust me.

Portia sighed and shook her head. "Alright,

alright; I trust you."

32

Chapter 6 A One-Sided Reunion

Feeling a familiar sensation tug her gut,

Portia walked to her front hall to check the mail.

She had this knack for knowing when she had new

letters. Her mother called it "a feeling in her bones,"

but really it was just a magical ability that ran in her

family. Besides, she was expecting a letter. Sure

enough, floating in her front hall, was a purple

envelope emitting a glow of the same hue. Portia

grabbed it from the air and checked the address.

Yes! She tore through the seal and read eagerly. The

Fairy Academy had accepted her application. If all

went well with Sage and her beau, Portia would be

back to school that autumn.

She felt an irrepressible urge to dance, but

she had to get going, so she went back to her room.

Portia grabbed her satchel that waited next

to her bed, and turned on the spot. It was Noxia's

birthday, and Portia had invited her to tea. She was

going to the magic marketplace for Noxia's favorite

blend of tea, Spritely Spearmint. She appeared in

the middle of the courtyard and began to navigate

her way into the crowded alleys where the vendors'

tents fluttered. Weaving her way through the crowd,

she found the one she was looking for. She

33

approached the purple tent with its familiar, clerk,

Airibellum.

"Portia, my dear," she smiled a gap-toothed

grin. "The usual Magic Mulberry Mix?" she reached

for the tea that was packaged in light purple.

"Not today, Airibellum," Portia replied. "I

need Spritely Spearmint. It's Noxia's birthday, and

I'm having her over for tea."

"Oh... very good then," Airibellum put the

lavender bag back, and picked up a sparkly green

one. "That will be five silvers, and two copper."

The transaction was concluded. "Thank

you," Portia tipped her hat.

Airibellum waved, "See you next time, my

dear."

Portia went browsing. She wanted to get

something in addition to tea for Noxia. She was her

best friend, after all. She walked past animal stalls,

potion ingredients, magic swords... Aha! A book

tent! She went there and found a wonderful book of

spells about making research easier. Noxia worked

in the Fairy Archives building in central Unicopolis,

and this was definitely something she could use.

After purchasing the book she was about to say the

charm to go back home, when she froze in mid spin.

No. It couldn't be. Not after all these years.

Maybe it was just someone who looked like him.

She gave the wizard a closer look. No. It was him

all right. He still had the scar on his forehead from

the hex she'd used on him as a child. It was her

brother, Brushman.

Now Portia understood what it was like feel

her heart sink. It literally felt like her center of

gravity dropped a foot down her chest. He stood

there, ten feet in front of her. Would he see her?

Fear and panic filled her mind. She hid behind a

34

stack of books. Then... oh! A child ran up to him.

He lifted the boy up into the air, smiling.

"Rudy! There you are!" he said, "Where's

mum?"

Mum?

"Here I am," a flustered, but happy and

pretty woman appeared beside him. She had brown

hair and striking purple eyes that matched her

wings. They exchanged a kiss.

Portia looked closer at their hands. There

were rings on their fingers. Her brother was

married. He had a wife and child she'd never met.

How long ago had they wed? How old was this boy,

Rudy?

Whap! Portia's head spiked with pain.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't see you there! Are

you okay?"

Portia blinked through squinted eyes. A man

with a large crate of bottles had apparently hit her

head, causing her pain. Causing her...pain. Oh no!

Of all the times in the world, now she had to curse

somebody! Feeling guilty already, she said the first

spell that popped into her head: "Frog!"

The crate fell with a crash and fireberry

wine exploded with sparks of purple and red.

The spectacle caught everyone's attention,

including her brother's and his family's.

"Portia?" he said, gaping.

Tears breaking from her eyes, she spun on

the spot and vanished.

35

36

Chapter 7 This Spells Disaster

Portia appeared in her parlor and sank to the

rug, crying bitterly. Why had she ever become a

witch? She had given up her family, including

people she'd never even met. She'd given up the

freedom to follow her morals. She'd given up her

entire life, and for what? A few mischievous antics

and a trump card over her parents? And that poor

man. She'd just doomed him to the life of a frog!

What would happen to him? What would happen to

all the people she'd ever cursed?

Suddenly the door creaked open, "Portia?"

It was Noxia. Although it relieved Portia to see her

friend, she couldn't stop crying. Noxia walked

swiftly to where Portia sat and started to rub Portia's

back consolingly. "What's wrong dear?"

"I wish I wasn't a witch!" Portia sobbed. "I

wish for once I could be free to do good things for

people, and not worry about feeling guilty or

regretful or anything!"

They talked for a while. Noxia had heard it

all before, but Portia's emotions needed to bubble

over.

Suddenly, Noxia remembered why she had

come. She pulled some spell parchments from her

37

bag and began shuffling through them. She had

discovered the scrolls behind some old books in the

library and eagerly wanted to share them with

Portia. There was one in particular she thought

could help Portia at the moment. It was an ancient

body-switching spell.

Noxia considered herself a big spell buff,

and had made some improvements to the spell.

After testing it on a white mouse with a feisty

disposition and a brown mouse with a sweet

character, the results had looked promising.

"Portia," she said, "I have an idea."

They made a deal to switch places for

twenty-four hours. Noxia would stay in Portia's

house so that she would not have to harm anyone,

and Portia could taste goodness and go to help

someone.

As Noxia recited the spell, Portia began to

feeling uneasy. Something felt wrong... No, nothing

was wrong. In fact, the world was a perfect place!

Full of goodness and happiness and glitter! And the

glitter was coming from her wings, blue with

golden veins. She flapped them and rose off the

ground, skimming the floor with her rosy toes.

What a bundle of fun-fun-fun!

The small cry of a bird caught Portia's

attention. She looked out the window and saw a

poor baby bird who had tried to fly too soon, and

flapping its wings helplessly as it fell to the ground

below!

That wouldn't feel very nice when he got a

bumpy-wumpy on his head, now would it? She

mused.

Once Portia had saved the wee birdy, she

began to realize the forest animals were in so much

danger! Why, there was a beaver about to get a

38

splinter, a butterfly about to drink so much nectar

he'd get a tummy-ache, and a grasshopper about to

twist his ankle! Portia flew into motion, her mind

already abuzz with the heroic deeds that lay before

her.

Presently, the body-switched Noxia arose

from the floor, groaning. She stretched Portia's

stubby arms, and smoothed Portia's blouse. Noxia

looked around her and sniffed in disgust. Her sappy

friend had such terrible taste in decor. Bring in the

cob webs and grease stains for Pete's sake! Wasn't

this woman supposed to be a witch? Portia's cat,

jingles, stalked in, "Portia, the man in Sage's

bedroom just proposed."

"WHAT?!" screamed Noxia. "There will be

no loving in my house!" She stormed to Sage's

tower and blasted the door open. She found the girl

kissing her beau, their arms around each other. Sage

yelped in shock, and they leaped apart.

Noxia grabbed the scissors from Sage's table

and charged her, hacking away at her hair until it

only touched her shoulders. Noxia had always

despised little Miss Prissy's hair.

Then, with a flick of her fingers, she sent

Sage to the open desert of Serpentine, and with

another flick she blinded the prince and banished

him to wander the earth forever, never finding his

beloved.

All that magic can be very tiring, so after

filling Portia's cheery room with gloomy dust and

mold, she settled into the four-poster bed and took a

long nap.

Hours later, the switching spell had worn

off. Portia had experienced her quota of good-will

tenfold. There remained no single stubbed toe or

hangnail in the forest. Noxia had somehow

39

managed to do her fair share of mischief just from

within the castle. Noxia snorted awake and gasped,

as the memories of what had just happened played

back in her mind. Where was Portia? She had to

find her!

40

Chapter 8 Maturity

Portia returned to the castle. She was just

wiping her feet when…

"Portia!" Noxia ran to her, her face twisted

with worry. "I- I sent Sage to a desert!"

Not exactly the first thing one wants to hear

when arriving home.

Portia blinked at her, "What?"

"The spell went wrong, and I became evil. I

sent Sage and the man in her room to separate

deserts!"

Luckily, there was a chair nearby that Portia

could sink into. Her hat went crooked on her head

and she looked up at Noxia with weary eyes. Saving

the entire forest's population from discomfort had

been very tiring work.

"Well," she said, "I guess we'd better get to

work."

Noxia and Portia went to Portia's crystal

ball. It resided in another tower, in a room with

green wallpaper and heavy purple curtains. Portia

blew the dust off the foggy sphere and placed her

hands on it.

"Show me Sage and the man that was with

her," she said in a clear voice.

41

A thick green fog filled the ball, and then

disappeared. A large, burly man was stooped over

in an unfamiliar garden, plucking at the sprigs of

green around him.

"Wrong sage," Portia sighed. "I haven't used

this thing in a while." She cleared her throat and

tried again, "Show me Sage, the girl under my care,

and the man who was with her yesterday."

Green fog filled the sphere again, and this

time there were two separate images side-by-side.

The right one depicted Sage, crying on the desert

floor, sand stuck to her clothes. The image on the

left showed Cedric, his eyes white from blindness,

stumbling through a dark forest, with twigs in his

hair and tattered clothes.

"Well, that settles it." Portia sighed, a

mournful expression shadowing her face.

"Settles what?" Noxia asked.

"It's time to start back again."

"What do you mean?"

To answer Noxia's question, Portia

reluctantly opened the closet in the corner of the

room, and pulled out a dusty broom. She still

despised broom travel, but she couldn't use her

usual travelling spell because she didn't know

exactly where they were going.

She swung her leg over the thick handle and

positioned herself for take off in front of the

window. She glanced at Noxia, "Well? Are you

coming?"

Noxia flexed her wings, flapping to warm

them up. Then with a whoosh, they were off into the

night. The sky was a deep sapphire, with diamond

stars winking in between gray clouds.

Portia hadn't flown in years, and the pain of

why came back almost immediately. The wind blew

42

into her face, making her cheeks flap. The broom

handle rested painfully between her legs, and

although she had great balance, she always felt like

she was seconds away from being blown off.

After several minutes and some simple

tracking spells from Noxia, and they finally found

their way to both the lovers and brought them back

together. Sage and Cedric were understandably

terrified of Portia because of what Noxia had done

in the witch's body. Sage began to rage at Portia,

saying how she'd always hated her, and wanting to

know how she could do this to her?

"Sage, you don't understand-"

"I understand perfectly! You can't stand to

see me happy because you're a mean old witch!"

"Sage, that's insane! I love you! I only want

to see you happy!"

"Then why did you steal me from my

parents, huh? Why did you keep me trapped in that

tower? Why did you rob me of my royalty? Why

did you send me to that desert?"

"Trapped in the tower -- You were in there

of your own free will!"

Sage scoffed and rolled her eyes, "I know

how you work, Witch. You're trying to make me

unsure of myself. Well, if I know one thing for sure

it's that I've always hated you! And another thing--

my real parents wouldn't have treated me like this!"

"You want to meet your real parents?"

Portia roared.

"Yes!"

"Fine! As you wish Your Highness! I hope

you find them to your satisfaction!"

With a swirl of stars, the party appeared in

front of a broken-down cottage. Portia stalked up to

43

the door, but before she could knock Sage pushed in

front of her and rapped on it.

They heard some scuffling, and then a familiar man

opened it. His face was old and pale, with gaunt

cheeks and wide, fearful eyes. He was stooped

lower than ever, and he was still scrawny. But, it

was still Sage's spineless father.

The one-room cabin was dark and dreary,

with only one small candle to break the gloom. It

smelled of body odor and animal fat. It wasn't long

before there was a shriek, and a large mass of

something moved in the corner. "Who's there?"

called a scratchy voice. It was loud, feminine and

demanding. "Is that you, Xavier, you miserable

snail? XAVIER!" the scratchy voice shrieked.

"Um-'" Xavier trembled from head to toe,

"It's- I- we have company, Love."

"Company?!" the mass shuddered, feeble

candle illuminated a large, pasty face. It was the

most horrible face Sage had ever seen. It was red

and puffy, with moles and zits. Her mother, for

that's who she was, had wiry, greasy brown hair.

Her porky body just managed to fit in the king-sized

bed, which had collapsed years before.

"Um, yes, my Love, company," his voice

broke.

"What do they want?"

"I-I don't know. What d-d-do you want-t?"

He said nervously to the small crowd.

"We-"

But before Sage could continue, Portia heard

a scuffle in yet another corner of the room. She set

her wand tip aglow and shined it in the direction of

the noise. There cowered a small boy. His clothes

were rags and his face as pale as death. He squinted

in the light and whimpered.

44

"SHUT UP!" The woman barked. "Xavier,

beat him! I told him not to make a sound, since he

ate a bite of my breakfast!"

"Yes, Dear," Xavier hobbled over to the

boy. Before anyone could react, the boy flinched, as

smack! his father's hand sent him reeling, and tears

broke on his face.

For a moment, no one breathed.

"You are horrible excuses for parents!"

Portia wheeled around to look them in the eyes.

The couple just stared blankly at her.

"What gives you the right to-" Portia

sputtered.

"If you think you could do a better job, go

ahead and take him. He's always interfering with

my food," Sage's mother droned, lazily.

Portia just gaped. She couldn't grasp how

someone could be so cruel and heartless.

Before she ran to the boy, however, she

hesitated. This would mean that she couldn't go

back to college for another ten or fifteen years. But

this boy needed her. Was she free to take him? She

glanced at Cedric. "Am I legally able to take him?"

she asked him.

"You're not taking him if they're giving him

to you," he said.

Portia ran to him and scooped him up. He

was quivering from head to toe, terrified.

"I wish you two all possible happiness,"

Portia said sarcastically, "You both deserve each

other."

And with that, they left the miserable house

forever.

As the sad party appeared back in Portia's

castle, Sage started to cry." I...I didn't realize... you

saved me, Port--Mother."

45

Sage's brother was getting heavy, so Portia

put him down on the oak floor and Noxia took his

hand.

"Thank you, Sage," Portia said. "I mean-

Rapunzel."

"No, call me Sage."

For the first time in a long time, Portia

opened her arms, and Sage ran into them, throwing

her arms around her true mother.

"Well..." Noxia said after a moment, wiping

her eyes with a handkerchief, "What's your name?"

All attention turned to the dirty little boy.

He looked up, his eyes fearful. "Robert," he

croaked. It sounded as though he hadn't spoken in a

long, long time. "Are… are you taking me away

from this place forever?"

Portia pulled out the Academy's registration

sheet. Once again, she couldn't go back; she had to

raise this boy. As much as she pitied and felt love

for this poor boy, she couldn't help feeling a pang of

deep disappointment. Nevertheless, this boy needed

her more than she needed school.

Portia crouched down to his level. "Forever

and ever."

Behind her back, she crumpled the lavender

parchment.

Sage noticed this and said, "You'll be

staying with me, Robert."

Portia looked up. "What?"

Sage led her aside. "You've done so much

for me, Mother. Now let me do something for you.

You go to college, earn your degree. Robert can

stay with Cedric and me. He'll be my responsibility.

He is my brother, after all."

Portia broke into tears. Sage had finally

grown up. She pulled her daughter into another hug.

46

"Thank you-" she choked, "this means- this means

the world to me."

"No, thank you Mother."

"I will visit you all often, count on it," Portia

dabbed at her eyes. "I want to be in his life too."

"Oh, of course."

47

48

Chapter 9 Packing

Portia felt a sensation, as the Gandeirians

call it, déjà vu, as she stood beside her bed, packing

what she would need for school. It was eighteen

years to the day since she had found that package on

her front step.

She glanced at her bedside table. There,

smiling brightly stood a framed picture from Sage

and Cedric's wedding. Portia smiled, remembering

how she, Portia, had caught the bouquet.

Beside the frame lay a portrait of Robert.

Upon being asked what he wanted to be

when he grew up, he had replied simply, "A

knight."

He was too young to start training right away, but,

according to Sage, he was treated like a prince.

Everyone treated him extra kindly, and the palace

kitchens had put quite a few pounds on him.

Sage, of course, was flourishing in "proper society".

She had taken it upon herself to be the fashion

expert of the kingdom. Portia constantly found

pamphlets sporting the current fashions on her front

stoop. Speaking of which, Portia felt the familiar

sensation that she had mail. She trotted through the

halls of her home, realizing this would be her last

49

day at home finally starting to sink it all in. Well,

her last day for a few years, anyways.

Glowing in her front hall two envelopes

floated. The pink one was obviously from Sage, but

who could have sent the other one? She wasn't

expecting any letters.

She seized them from midair, and they

immediately lost their purple haze. Putting the pink

pamphlet aside, she looked over the yellow

envelope. Seeing the return address, she dropped to

the floor, her heart racing. With fumbling but

speedy fingers, she ripped through the seal and

opened the letter.

She read the letter through twice, thrice, four times,

hardly believing the cursive words.

Dear Portia,

My dear, dear, dear, Portia. How I have tried time

and again to write this. I have always put it off,

trying to tell myself it wasn't necessary, but after

seeing you in the market three months ago, I could

not rest until I wrote to you. Portia, I miss you so

much. I want to see you again, regardless of what

you are. I want you to meet my wife, Clora. Can you

believe it? I'm actually married, despite what you

said. I have a son, Rudy. You'd love him the minute

you saw him.

Portia, please respond right away, or I might go

insane with regret. I love you, my dear sister.

With all,

Brushman

Portia sobbed and sobbed, until it seemed like her

body had run out of water. Yes, yes! She would see

him again.

50

"Oh, King of Light!" she cried, "Thank you,

thank you! This was your plan. Thank you!"

At that moment, she didn't need wings to

fly, as her feet barely touched the floor on the way

to the study. Precious letter in hand, she plopped in

front of her desk. Seizing quill and ink, she

scrambled for a sheet of parchment and began

writing furiously. A few ink splotches and tear

stains later, the reply was complete. She sealed the

envelope sloppily with hot wax and then recited a

spell that sent it on its way. She had written him:

yes, of course she would visit, but it could not be

until the Christmas holidays. As desperately as she

wanted to see her brother again, nothing was going

to stop her from going back to school this time. Be

it peasant, king, or wizard, nothing would stand in

her way.

51

52

About the author

Linnea Stevens has been drawing as long as she can remember, but became a dedicated writer when she was twelve years old. Her other hobbies include acting, basketball, and singing. She also enjoys long romantic walks in the park and salsa dancing. She lives in Taylors, South Carolina, with her parents, sister, brother, four cats, a dog, and a beta fish named Elrond.

53

"Oh, King of Light!" she cried, "Thank you, thank

you! This was your plan. Thank you!"

At that moment, she didn't need wings to fly,

as her feet barely touched the floor on the way to

the study. Precious letter in hand, she plopped in

front of her desk. Seizing quill and ink, she

scrambled for a sheet of parchment and began

writing furiously. Congratulations go to Linnea Stevens. You have embarked upon a career choice if you want it. You are a writer-- a distinction that few people can appreciate. Writers write, Writers have no choice in the matter; it is a God-given talent welling up inside and must come out. You have a unique voice, as unique and wonderfully made as God has made you. It is all about story! You have grabbed the reader and made them want to join Sage on her journey, all the way to some sort of conclusion. A fellow writer, R.K.

Fantastic! Inventive, yet completely believable, at least in the land of fairy tales. The conceited, vain Sage actually does have a heart and it leads her away from her dreams, yet she jumps into the newest situation with both feet, forgetting about herself. God is good, and He leads her bumpy path to a pleasantly surprising end. Readers are going to be spellbound by The Conceited Sage. M.B.Husman