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CHAPTER 1
“Minions!” Mabel yelled, her voice high-pitched and commanding. “Line up before me and kiss my feet!”
She swished her royal robe for maximum impact and then stood up straight, adjusting her crown.
“Your queen is waiting,” she said, tapping her foot impatiently.
But her minions were not behaving. Some of them lay down, staring up at the sky. Others were scattered on the rug like they’d just exploded out of a tiny volcano. Some had their backs to her and others had their faces in the dirt.
“Not good enough,” she said, stifling a smile.
Of course, she wasn’t really angry. But then, she wasn’treallya queen. And her minions weren’t really people either. They were toy soldiers. And this was just a game.
Mabel sighed, stooping to pick up her soldiers and place them in a line before her. Even though she was pretending to be annoyed, she was loving every minute. Ever since Winter had given her the robe and crown from her dressing up box, Mabel had been in heaven. Turned out, pretending to be a queen was her favorite kind of game.
It’s a job I could really get behind, she thought.Nothing to do all day except order people around.
Probably queens had other duties, too. Attending royal banquets and parties thrown in their honor. Shaking hands with important people and waving at unimportant ones. All of those things seemed fine, but bossing people around was the bit that seemed most fun.
Mabel wasn’t like other Littles. She’d been in Liberty a couple of months now, and it was obvious to her: other Littles were so submissive. Even the ones that pretended to be in charge from time to time. Deep down, they all loved to be bossed around by their Daddies, to be given a set of rules and to behave or face the consequences.
Mabel was not like that.
Mabel was a Little, that was for sure, but she was a Little who would never submit. Never ever. She didn’t need some Daddy in her life, ordering her around and telling her how to live. No. What she needed was plenty of time in Little Space, and to always be in complete control.
“What I’d like,” she told her minions, as she lined them up perfectly, “is to be a movie director.”
Recently, something very exciting had happened in Liberty. A Hollywood movie director named Brandon Marshall had come to the town to shoot a movie here. It was a Western movie, which meant that the once abandoned mining town of Liberty was the perfect setting. Dusty, rugged, and dotted with cacti. Currently, there were lots of trailers set up near the old silver mine, and there were all kinds of people running around building fake buildings and making Liberty look even more “authentic” than usual.
Up until this point in her life, Mabel had never even considered a career in the movies. She wasn’t much of a movie buff at all. But seeing Brandon Marshall marching around with his megaphone, shouting out orders to all the people working for him, had inspired her.
“Why can’t a queen also be a movie director?” she asked her minions, who were now too busy kissing her feet to answer. She put on a stuffy, British accent. “Why shouldn’tonebe able to do whatever one wishes with one’s own life?”
Just then, there were three loud knocks at the door.
“Urgh,” she muttered. Then, still in her less-than-perfect British accent, she asked, “Who would dare disturb Her Majesty the Queen?”
Mabel lived in one of the most rundown huts in Liberty. She guessed that it was an old blacksmiths. It wasn’t far from the farm, and it had double doors that opened up, presumably to allow in big pieces of machinery. There was an anvil in the corner, and a bunch of discarded iron tongs and various other tools. There was a pit at the back that could have at one time been a forge. The whole place was so dirty, rotting away inside and out, that Mabel was too embarrassed to ask anyone around to have a look. In fact, this was her first visitor.
Mabel ensured that her crown was straight on her head, with the sparkling red jewel at the front placed at the very center, then she boomed out: “YOU MAY ENTER.”
The door didn’t so much swing open as it creaked, spluttered, and almost splintered in two, as Haze pushed his way in.
“Careful!” Mabel screeched. “That thing is very delicate.”
Haze looked around in disgust. “You’ve been living like this?” he asked. “Why haven’t my builders fixed up this place for you?”
Mabel shrugged. “Guess everyone’s been a bit preoccupied with the movie.”
Haze shook his head. “You can’t live like this, Mabel. You don’t even have running water.”
Mabel smiled. “It’s really not that bad. I’m something of a survivalist.”
“I don’t want the inhabitants of Liberty to simply survive,” said Haze. “I want them tothrive.”
Mabel looked long and hard at Haze. He was a funny sort of character. A billionaire, apparently, although it was hard to believe. Winter’s Daddy. But he wasn’t like any of the other Daddies here. He wore Hawaiian shirts and pink chinos and looked kind of like a flamboyant flamingo. He was the most extravagant dresser around. He made an interesting pairing with Winter, who was a goth — but somehow, it worked. They worked.
“Iamthriving,” Mabel replied defensively. “I get water from the river. I have a campfire outside for cooking. I have a sleeping bag to keep me warm at night.”
