Daisy was used to working hard. Hard work meant good profit. Good profit meant her family ate well, her baby brother didn’t get sick, and her parents didn’t work all night. And who doesn’t love the jingle-jangle of coins in your pocket on the way home? Daisy did. She’d snap her fingers and dance to the music of the money as she walked.
Her father sold delicate, exquisite paper lanterns. Sometimes he went with a traveling circus or a carnival, but most of the time he sold them in the market. Occasionally, a wealthy family would come by and then he’d sell for an exorbitant price. But far too often he pressed them into the grubby hands of poor children, refusing their feeble pennies.
“Keep it. Buy yourself a pastry,” he’d say.
The result of this was, his earnings were barely more than the cost of a pastry. So it was a very good thing that Daisy could work, delivering fruits and vegetables to the castle. The castle. If only Daisy knew how much trouble the place would bring her. Because all castles have a secret, and all of them come out eventually.
And this castle was practically bursting with its.