The Library’s Long Room was, rather paradoxically given its name, full of all sorts of much smaller rooms. Its main hall was a grand yet cozy domain fit for the name, but also the first impression any newcomers get of the Library. And many who enter the Library come as weary travelers. So shooting off from the Long Room were all manners of rooms — baths, dining halls, kitchens, private reading rooms, and, of course, bedrooms. The travelers had all picked out bedrooms for themselves, and some of them had gone to sleep already.
But Guinevere couldn’t sleep. And it wasn’t for lack of trying — or lack of options. She’d first made an attempt in a luxurious four-poster bed with downy covers and an abundance of soft pillows. But being in a room, no matter that she could open the door whenever she liked, was too restrictive. It was too much of a reminder of what she’d run away from.
So she’d come out here, into the Long Room’s main hall, with the marvelously frescoed ceiling high above her, with huge open space all around her. She lay back on the comfiest couch — she knew, she’d tested every single one in the miles-long hall — in the comfiest blankets, her head on the comfiest pillow, Ava curled up behind her knees, her head on her legs.
And she couldn’t sleep.
I can’t sleep if I can’t see the sky.
It was a problem she’d never had before. She’d always been able to sleep — and often oversleep — back at home in her beautiful cage of a bedroom.
But ever since she’d escaped the manor, ever since she’d left Ars Moran and all of Albia behind, ever since she’d been on the road, sleeping under the stars…
Everything had changed.
Must freedom be such a fleeting thing?
I’m still free, technically. The Library is a safe haven, and I can still make my own choices, and we’ll soon leave in pursuit of a real, proper lead on Elysia.
But… being indoors doesn’t feel like freedom. No matter how vast the space.
“Oh, it just won’t happen, will it?” Guinevere asked, sitting up, flinging off her covers. Ava sat up on the couch, watching Guinevere with kind, patient eyes. “Come, Ava. Let’s see if we can find somewhere we can actually sleep.”
Guinevere left her covers and pillows on the couch and hefted her rucksack over her shoulders, which had her boots tied to the side of it. She trod barefoot through the Long Room, looking for one of the directory stations that Alice had shown her and Sheena earlier that day. She hadn’t studied the directory much before, so she wasn’t sure what else there was to find in the Library beyond dining rooms, bedrooms, and reading rooms.
Rooms, rooms, rooms. A long room, full of more rooms. All indoors, confined, boxed in.
She needed the sky! The stars had become such a soothing sight to help lull her to sleep over the past several days. Nothing else would do.
Ava padded along beside her, ever content, ever patient, ever calm and sweet. The perfect dog, really. Guinevere quite liked Flynn, but at twenty-something pounds (Tobias said twenty-five, but Guinevere suspected he was several pounds less) he was a bit too small for her tastes. And Hector, well — for a Knight’s dog, he was rather unruly. And he was too big. If he wasn’t careful, he could knock Alice off her feet with a casual movement. That was just too much.
Ava was thirty-five pounds of absolute perfection.
Guinevere rather enjoyed wandering the Long Room by herself. She took her time, letting her eyes wander up, down, all around. There were marvelous sights everywhere she looked, and the Long Room was astoundingly vast. She wouldn’t be surprised if it were endless, despite Alice implying otherwise. She had yet to find actual endings to the Long Room aside from the great door they had entered the Library from. The aisles of books that flanked the main central hall, while seeming simple and uniform at first, turned out to be a dense labyrinth if one wandered in to explore. New aisles were around every turn, the wealth of literature going on and on, deeper and deeper with every step.
En route to the directory, Guinevere paused. There was a song in the air — faint, barely perceptible, but as she took the time to listen, it was unmistakably there. And it seemed tied to a strange feeling Guinevere had had ever since she’d set foot inside the Library. The song, faint and distant though it was, sounded like a lullaby, soft and slow and dreamlike, beckoning Guinevere to its source.
“And why shouldn’t we explore?” Guinevere asked softly, looking down at Ava, who regarded her calmly. “We’ll find a place where we can actually sleep in time. But while we can’t, we might as well make the most of being awake.”
Ava gave her leg a soft headbutt, and Guinevere smiled. She stroked Ava’s ears for a moment, flexed the aching, wrapped fingers of her injured hand, and then started into the labyrinth of bookshelves, listening closely for the song, trying to follow it to its source. She took numerous turns, and then stopped in her tracks.
Sheena was there, down the aisle, the long-eared squirrel-like Akko perched on her shoulder, a book open in her hands. Guinevere almost said something, almost apologized for disturbing their peace, but…
Sheena didn’t seem to notice her. She was so wrapped up in her reading, she didn’t have any attention to give to Guinevere’s presence. And Guinevere, realizing the song was beckoning her away from Sheena, decided…
Let’s just leave them be.
Down another aisle she and Ava went. At times Ava led ahead of her, pointy ears perked up, sensitive for the song they pursued. After numerous twists and turns, the song growing steadily louder, Guinevere took another turn and paused.
The song was softer here.
She took a step back, and the song was louder again. Looking around, she noticed, tucked at the end of an aisle of shelves, a door that stood slightly ajar. Its wooden surface was painted with looping whorls that seemed like waves, or clouds, or flowers depending on how Guinevere looked at them. It blended in easily with the bookshelves on either side. Or…
Guinevere cocked her head to the side, gazing at the painted door more closely. “Keys,” she murmured, seeing a pattern to the painterly strokes, to the graceful, elegant lines. They weren’t keys like she’d ever seen before, but now that she saw them, she couldn’t see otherwise. Not a single painted key was like another, each one linking to the next, to a brand new design, over and over, down the door. Infinite possibilities.
Guinevere approached the door, but paused on the threshold, her fingers a whisper away from the doorknob. There was another sound to go with the lullaby: a tiny voice, murmuring softly. Like the speaker was talking in their sleep.
Guinevere opened the door and entered the room beyond.
It was a smaller room than Guinevere had expected. To her left and right were small bookshelves with very tiny books, like they were made for tiny hands — books for babies, perhaps? But they had thin, paper pages, not at all like the durable wooden construction of baby books. Atop one of the bookshelves was an elaborate music box. It was the source of the lullaby, a sleepy, comforting song that played in time with a figurine of a mouse ballerina spinning on a stage that changed through the seasons, from spring to summer to autumn to winter.
Across from the door was a large bay window, with a nest of cushions and small pillows on the ledge. And in that nest, resting her head upon a tiny pillow, with several tiny blankets draped over her… was a mouse.
She was a cute little mouse. Around her neck was the tiniest golden chain, bearing the tiniest golden key.
A room for a mouse.
The thought made Guinevere smile.
Not at all what I expected. But I suppose we should leave the little mouse be.
But as Guinevere turned to go, a soft whisper of laughter floated through the air. She shivered, then turned back to the mouse, and —
“Agh!”
She gave out a rather undignified yelp at the sight of the Cheshire Cat, floating in the air mere inches from her face, grinning at her. She flailed backwards, grasped the frame of the doorway to keep from falling over, and righted herself — with the aid of a gentle shove from Ava. Glaring at the Cat, she placed her hands on her hips. “What are you doing, surprising me like that?” she asked.
“Is it such a surprise, to be surprised?” the blue-and-silver Cat asked in his dreamy, lilting voice.
“Yes,” Guinevere said. She couldn’t stand the Cat, not one bit. He spoke in circles, asked questions and made statements that made no sense. Alice rather liked him, and that was fine for her. But Guinevere had no patience with him. “What do you want with me?”
“You followed the waking tune,” Chesh said, doing a lazy flip in the air. “To the sweet mouse, always happy to talk to strangers.”
“What are you on about?” Guinevere asked. “Speak plainly, cat! And more quietly.” She spoke those last three words more quietly herself, realized she’d been making a bit of a ruckus. But peering past Chesh she saw that the dormouse slept on, undisturbed by the disturbance.
“Dormouse is keeper of the keys,” Chesh said, grinning at the little mouse, apparently named Dormouse. “Keeper of dreams, and stories, and worlds. All the same, really, aren’t they? You would know.” Chesh flipped over, grinning at Guinevere upside-down.
“I wouldn’t,” Guinevere said, trying her best to terrify the Cat with her glare. She’d been told quite often she had a very effective, even “imperious” glare. But the Cat, as with everything else, was unperturbed.
“You, too, dream the Deep Dreams,” Chesh said. A chill fluttered down Guinevere’s spine. “When Dormouse sleeps, she’ll help you understand.”
“She’s already asleep,” Guinevere said. The fire had gone out of her, though, and her words came out thin, hollow.
“When she wakes, then,” Chesh said, spinning a slow circle. “If there’s really such a difference. Good morning.”
And then the Cat was gone.
“Infuriating feline,” Guinevere muttered. But she couldn’t get over the Cat’s assessment of her. And…
Could this little mouse… help me understand?
Do I want to understand?
In the Mirror she’d faced her terrible dream — for a moment, before Saoirse had stepped in and rescued her from that. Because apparently Saoirse dreamt the same dream.
But since then, she’d had that terrible dream again. The shadowy threat upon the throne… the mask covering her own face… the terror, sheer terror, as she felt her whole self unspooling, unmooring, drifting, fragmenting…
Being unmade.
She shivered, and shook her head violently. “No,” she said quickly. She looked at Dormouse again. The tiny little mouse slept peacefully, muttering softly under her breath. Guinevere leaned close, carefully, wondering if she could make out any of the words.
“Don’t be afraid of the dreams, songbird,” she heard a tiny, sweet voice say. “Fear only emboldens the Nightmare King.”
“The Nightmare King…?” Guinevere asked in a taut, hollow voice. She looked at Dormouse, but the little mouse wasn’t awake. “What do you mean? Dormouse… help me.”
The mouse breathed softly, and then spoke anew, and Guinevere leaned close to listen: “Mother, I didn’t mean to eat the last cookie. Won’t you forgive me? I’ll bake some more, just for you.”
Guinevere stepped back, letting out a sigh. “Just sleepy murmurings,” she said. “But then, what do you expect, asking a mouse for advice?” She looked down at Ava, who gazed lovingly up at her. “Oh, Ava. Let’s get back to what we were trying to do in the first place. Let’s find us a way outdoors, to sleep under the stars.”
They left Dormouse’s room behind. But as Guinevere gently shut the door, she couldn’t help but glance back at the mouse one more time.
She was just sleep-talking, wasn’t she? Just her own mutterings, of her own dreams. It didn’t have anything to do with me… did it?
“Fear only emboldens the Nightmare King.”
Guinevere saw in her mind’s eye the shadowy terror upon his throne.
She shook her head hard, shut the door, and strode away.
——
“Yes, Akko,” Sheena said softly, as Akko nuzzled her neck with his head. “I noticed them. But they chose not to disturb us. So let’s remain focused on our own task.”
She’d frozen up a bit when Guinevere and Ava had shown up at the end of the aisle of bookshelves where Sheena had been reading. She’d hoped they wouldn’t approach, tried to make it seem as if she hadn’t noticed them.
It had worked.
Sheena didn’t dislike the Promised Queen. She could be rather arrogant, but who wouldn’t, when brought up to be a queen? And beneath the fiery pride, there was a dignity, and a kindness, too. She could be a good friend, if given the chance. Sheena had rather enjoyed growing closer to her in the short journey so far.
But right now, she needed to be alone. With Akko, of course, because Akko was never a nuisance, never unwelcome.
Her reading about fyouwa, or “Dissonance,” the infection that had taken hold of her brother, was something private. She had shared her brother’s condition with the rest of the group, but investigating it was still something she thought of as her task alone. And…
She didn’t really expect to find a cure. She knew only a wish, only Elysia, would save him. But reading about it helped her turn her thoughts on the encounters over the first leg of her Wonderian journey, encounters she’d largely been able to keep secret from her traveling companions, saying that she’d been off training by herself, or chasing off wolves from their camp.
In truth, she was confronting others from Haruo, friends and allies once upon a time — now bearing warnings. They were not pitting themselves against her in violence. Not yet. But they hunted her brother, to kill him rather than save him. If they persisted…
Well. Warnings had been exchanged on both sides. They all knew where they stood — and what they were willing to do, if pushed.
I just need to find Asbel first, and see that he’s safe, and can stay safe until I’m able to wish him to health once more.
And there’s what I heard in the Mirror. Beyond my own torments, Guinevere…
She was faced with a dream. A dream that threatened to unmake her.
Guinevere… do you…
But, no. Surely she would have said something about that, after I’d told my brother’s story. Surely, if it was as similar as I fear, she would have noticed, too, and shared those concerns.
Sheena sighed, and shut the book. “We’re not getting anywhere like this, are we, Akko?” she asked. Akko curled up on her shoulder, his bushy tail wrapping around the back of her neck. Sheena smiled, and stroked his long ears. “You’re right. Let’s go to bed.”
——
Alice’s thoughts were a swirl of chaos, a storm of memory. She and Tobias, Guinevere, and Sheena had found refuge in the Library — but physical safety was not enough. Comfort for a troubled mind was not so easily found here, even in one of Alice’s favorite places in all the realms.
The Library! The grand archive of all knowledge and stories, known and unknown, a beautiful multi-level labyrinth of books that moved throughout Wonderia, never staying in one place for too long — could anything be more wonderful? And on its first level, its welcoming Long Room, there was such a cozy warmth, how could anyone be troubled here?
And yet…
The trials of the Mirror were not so easily forgotten. And the things Alice had faced there — and after — weighed heavily on her mind.
So Alice sat alone. In a reading room off from the Long Room, legs tucked underneath her on the couch, a book open atop a pillow on her lap, she should be the happiest girl alive. But she wasn’t reading. She couldn’t focus on the words before her, nor linger in the joy of the pleasant dinner she’d shared with Tobias, Guinevere, Sheena, Elliot, and Ninian.
They had all retired to sleeping quarters. Night closed in, and sleep beckoned.
But not for Alice. The Mirror still haunted her — and confused her.
Memories the Mirror plucked out of my head. “Memories,” and yet I don’t remember them. I don’t recognize them.
Pieces of a past I don’t know. Fragments from a mind I don’t understand.
In them were echoes. She didn’t know these memories, and that in itself spoke to a truth she’d run from, a truth she couldn’t face, not now, not yet — maybe not ever.
“Who is Alice?” the Mirror had asked.
Who… am I…?
And then seeing her in the real world, taunting and tempting Guinevere in the woods…
She can’t be here. She can’t. It’s impossible. And wrong. And…
I can’t…
Then there were the revelations about the villainous organization sponsoring the assassins who had murdered Tobias’ parents: Zweitracht.
“It is an ancient word meaning ‘discord.’”
Discord…
Alice shuddered. No, nothing that was happening should be possible. And if it was truly happening…
Then something terrible was brewing. Something worse than anyone could imagine.
“Your experience suggests that Zweitracht has taken an interest in your activities.”
Of course she’s taken an interest in me. But why the others? And how… how has she gained followers, an organization at her beck and call?
“To penetrate the veil of the Mirror, without the Mirror’s knowledge, should be impossible.”
I’m sure it should. But she always endeavored to defy the possible.
And she relived that moment, of the girl who looked just like her, the girl with the black butterfly barrette in her hair, inside the memory of the Fracture in the Mirror. And the girl held her finger to her lips, giggled, and said, “Impossible things happen every day.”
Alice’s mouth started to hurt, and only then did she realized she’d clenched her jaw tightly with tension for far too long. She let out a soft breath, tilted her head back, eased her mouth slightly open. Her mind went back to the clearing, to the real world, to Guinevere and the girl in the black dress.
If she really was there… but she disappeared. She can’t do that. So then how…?
She was definitely there. Guinevere saw her, and when I asked Flynn… he said he saw her, too. I could understand if she could fool a person, but Flynn as well? No.
She was there. And she wasn’t there for me — she was there for the Promised Queen.
Alice didn’t know what to think of that. Part of her was relieved that the girl in the black dress hadn’t come after her. But another part of her — the more responsible part of her — felt awful that she was relieved about it, and terrified for Guinevere.
She really was quite the arrogant, posh little princess when we first met. She still is, honestly. And while it’s fun to tease her, and so easy, I think we’re starting to be friends. There’s something rather endearing about her. And she’s starting to like me. She even lets me call her “Guin.”
I don’t want anything to happen to her. I wish I knew her wish. I know we all have secrets — I shouldn’t begrudge others for holding secrets when I… probably have more secrets than all of them combined. But I just…
I can’t help wanting to know. And I can’t help wanting to… help.
The Librarian is finally getting us on track towards Elysia. We must reach it soon. Only a wish — my wish — can set this right.
Alice let out a soft sigh. And then she looked down, because all of a sudden she heard little footsteps on the carpeted floor. A moment later, Flynn leapt up beside her on the couch, curled up, and placed his head in her lap.
“Hello, Flynn,” Alice said, smiling right away. Flynn was such a lovely little sweetheart, always able to brighten her day. “How’d you find me? And how’d you open the…”
She looked at the open door, and saw Tobias standing there, and felt instantly conflicted. She’d come here to be alone. It was one thing if Flynn was here — he would always be welcome — but Tobias, while a very dependable Knight-protector and quite a lovely person overall in Alice’s estimation…
Well, he was a person. And people could be complicated. And complications were unwelcome when one wanted to be left alone.
“I’m sorry,” Tobias said in that surprisingly youthful, boyish voice of his, despite his reserved, serious tone. “Flynn wouldn’t let me sleep, he said he needed to go somewhere. I’d let him wander on his own, he knows the Library, but he insisted I come, too. I can —”
“Don’t go,” Alice said, making up her mind. “You’re here, aren’t you? Then sit with us.” She stroked Flynn’s head, and he let out a contented sigh. “If Flynn insisted you come, then I can’t well argue, can I?”
A smile tickled the corners of Tobias’ lips, twinkled in his summer-sky-blue eyes. “I suppose not,” he said. He joined her, sitting on the other side of Flynn. Flynn’s fluffy tail wagged a few times, and then rested across Tobias’ lap.
“You say he wouldn’t let you sleep,” Alice said, eyeing Tobias. “But you couldn’t sleep anyway, could you?”
Tobias raised an eyebrow. A subtle motion — he rarely over-emoted, save when he was playing with Flynn — but noticeable. “You’re perceptive.”
“You’re only just now noticing?” Alice asked, puffing up a bit with pride.
“I noticed it from the start,” Tobias said. “It just… hasn’t stopped being impressive.”
“You’re perceptive, yourself,” Alice said. She eyed him, and he met her gaze. And just like when they’d first met, Alice saw all the incongruities in him, the hints of secrets beneath the surface. And she also saw…
A kindred spirit.
Whatever had set him on his path as this mysterious Knight Jouerve, whatever inspired him to so closely guard his heart…
Alice felt she could relate. What little she had learned about him during their struggle against the Queen of Hearts and afterwards had only further confirmed that.
So many people would say he’s wearing a mask, or several masks. But that’s not it at all.
He’s wearing armor. Guarding a fragile heart.
I wish my own armor was even half as effective.
“You don’t mind just sitting with me, do you?” Alice asked, tilting her head back, gazing at the ceiling.
“Not at all,” Tobias said. He had a nice voice, Alice thought. Not at all what you’d expect from his appearance, so much brighter and lighter than the black hair, stern gaze, and dark attire would suggest. And that was a good thing. Coupled with his ease and comfort with silence, he had a soothing presence. And when their eyes met, the way he looked at her…
He wants to help me. To do more than just physically protect me. He’s far more than an improvement over previous Knight-protectors. He’s the only one who could possibly fit what I needed. He…
He sees me.
Just as I thought when we first met: he’s perfect.
——
Guinevere finally did find a door on the second floor of the Long Room that led to a spacious outdoor garden. And she had to do a double-take, because the view here was completely incongruous with the outside they’d come from.
Where are the high cliffs, the gorgeous waterfalls? This isn’t where we came from.
The railing on the edge of the spacious garden gave her a view of a wide, wild land sprawling out as far as the eye could see, far below her. A tangled wood was shot through with a sinuous, snaking river. Birds flitted here and there, singing their evening songs. The wood stretched on to the horizon, unending. It didn’t rise up high, didn’t descend far. All of it lay below Guinevere, with no mountains or great buildings to match the Library’s height.
“We’ve read, and been told, that Wonderia is a land of impossibility,” Guinevere said, wandering the garden with Ava. She really could put down her sleeping bag anywhere — it was all so lovely here, beneath a starry sky. But she was restless after meeting Dormouse, and anxious with worries of nightmares.
Wandering here, thinking about Wonderia, helped direct her thoughts in a different direction.
Towards Tobias.
A Knight Jouerve. This whole wide world, this boundless freedom, is something he knows, he lives, every day. It’s…
Beautiful.
But he… never talks about home. Other than the murder of his parents, he doesn’t talk about it. Does he have a home, anymore? Knights Jouerve don’t have a cathedral like the other Knightly Orders, they don’t have a home base with sleeping quarters, and they rarely put down roots of their own anywhere. They’re meant to journey, everywhere they go. To always be on the move, always be looking to help others, wherever the call takes them.
It really is astoundingly beautiful.
And her thoughts turned along that line, from Tobias to the past, to that shining light that shone forever in her memories.
To Artorius.
It had been a few months before the first assassination attempt on Artorius, the Promised King. He and Guinevere were both oblivious to the threat that would soon come and tear them away from each other. It was a rainy day, which kept many people indoors. But not the young Promised King and Queen. They loved the rain, and they had numerous places they loved to go on rainy days like this.
One of them was the Garden of the Blessed, a memorial garden to the Saints of old, located a stone’s throw from the Quarter of Order in Ars Moran. There were numerous stone gazebos here, each one with painted fresco ceilings and austere stone statues depicting the Saints of a specific era. They were wonderful places to sit on rainy days, letting the sound and smell of rain lull the young visitors into a meditative mood, thinking back on the heroes that had come before their time.
Their favorite gazebo was the one dedicated to the Reconstruction Era, that chaotic, nebulous time shortly after the Fracturing of the world, when the peoples who remained were trying to put the world back together. The Saints of that era had been beacons of hope, kindness, and wisdom in a time of terrifying uncertainty, where violence had come so easily, and no clear order existed in the broken world.
The two ten year-olds had been talking for quite some time, as well as reading — they’d brought their favorite books with them — and just sitting on the gazebo’s floor, enjoying the sound and smell of the spring rain and each other’s company. But then Artorius had asked her a question, one that she’d never forget.
“What would you do if you weren’t the Promised Queen?”
“What?” Guinevere asked, staring at him. His thick blonde hair was characteristically unruly, his summer-sky-blue eyes bright and cheerful, his smile easy, with a hint of mischief.
“If you could choose what you were,” Artorius asked, sitting back, pressing his hands against the stone floor, “if you could decide your life’s direction, what would you do with that choice?”
“Why would I want to be something else?” Guinevere asked. “I…” She hesitated. She’d been about to say “I have all I could ever want,” but that wasn’t precisely true. With Artorius, and his parents, yes. With her own parents, on the other hand, and their predilections… She shook her head. “What would you choose, then, silly?”
“I’d be a Knight Jouerve,” Artorius said, breathless with awe, a grin breaking out on his face that dispelled all hints of mischief, beaming with joy and wonder. He tilted his head back, gazing up at the frescoed ceiling. “They’re the ones who help anyone in need. It doesn’t matter their nationality, their allegiances, their wealth, their status. After the Fracturing… they’re exactly what the people would have needed most. Journeying heroes, traveling far and wide, helping everyone they see. And they’re still what we need, I think. To help those beyond Ars Moran, beyond the Kingdom, the people who no one cares about, who no one knows, who need help and kindness the most. A King has to mind his own subjects, his own borders, his own lands. He has to have strict allegiances and responsibilities only to a specific group of people. Knights Jouerve… they help everyone.”
“The Promised King would be the King of all, though,” Guinevere said. “So all people would be your subjects. All lands would be your responsibility.”
“I… suppose,” Artorius said. He chuckled, and rubbed the tip of his nose, sniffling slightly. He’d had a mild cold for over a week now, though he kept insisting he was perfectly healthy. “But there’s a freedom to being a Knight, don’t you think? And that freedom is…” he breathed a wistful sigh, “so beautiful.”
“You’ve thought about this a lot,” Guinevere said, staring at him. And she’d felt, for a moment, like something was coming between them. Like her best friend was slipping away. She’d never known he desired such freedom, never imagined he desired anything other than being her friend, and the Promised King. They’d already come up with their own plans for how they would rule, how they would help all the realms together when the time came for them to take the thrones and restore the Golden Age of Elysia. But… was what he really wanted…
“What’s that look for?” Artorius asked, catching her gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.” He turned to face her, and took her hands in his. His fingers were cold from the stone floor, but Guinevere didn’t pull away. “Come on. It’s just a thought exercise, right? I know our plans. We’re going to be amazing as the King and Queen. I just…” He looked down, sniffled again, and his smile softened, something wistful again in his voice and expression. “I like to dream, sometimes.”
“Don’t we all?” Guinevere asked. And she smiled, then, and gave Artorius’ hands a squeeze. “Fine, then. In our dreams, you’ll be a Knight Jouerve, and I’ll be a Knight Aurora.”
“A Knight Aurora?” Artorius asked, looking up at her. “So you’ll battle the creatures of the night that plague our fair city, while I’ll go travel the world — and keep coming back to you. We’ll share so many stories together, of all our grand adventures!”
“Quite right,” Guinevere said, nodding firmly. “Or,” and she leaned towards him, eyeing him seriously, but with a bit of mischief of her own, “we can make our own rules as King and Queen, and go on Knightly adventures anyway. Together.”
Artorius grinned, that beaming smile that lit up her life. “We can be the very first Promised Knights! And we’ll always be together. No matter what.”
A moment later, he’d broken that beautiful moment by sneezing right in Guinevere’s face. They’d gotten back to Artorius’ home soaking wet from the rain, and in the end, they both were bedridden with severe colds for an entire week.
And it was one of the most fun weeks of their lives.
Guinevere was brought back to the present. To the starry sky, with not a cloud in sight, not even a hint of rain. To the garden of flowers, not of memorials. To just her and Ava.
No Artorius.
Maybe he got what he wanted. Maybe he’s a Knight Jouerve, too. Or maybe he’s just out there, journeying.
Free.
Free from responsibility, free from danger, free…
From me.
Guinevere swallowed hard, blinked at the first hints of tears. She wouldn’t cry. Not again. She’d wasted enough tears on Artorius.
You’re out there. And I’ll find you, one way or another. Not with a wish, no — I have a wish of my own. But…
“What if… he’d been alive, all this time, and never told you?”
“I’d celebrate. …I’d have plenty of questions. But mostly… I’d just be happy to see him again.”
Her conversation with Elliot about his brother, a victim of the same attack that had taken Artorius’ parents, and supposedly Artorius himself, rang out in her mind. And while his response had been so light and hopeful, so inspiring…
Guinevere couldn’t share the sentiment.
Oh, I’ll have plenty of questions. And I’ll be happy to see him again… eventually. But I need to know. I need to know…
So much.
She looked down to Ava, and found her curled up beside her. “It… is about time we tried to sleep again, isn’t it?” Guinevere asked slowly. She sat down, set down her rucksack, and spread out her sleeping bag. “This is an excellent spot. Well done, Ava.” She snuggled into the sleeping bag, rested her head on her pillow, and draped her arm over Ava, stroking her gently behind the ears. “Good night, Ava.”
She fell asleep beneath the stars.
——
“We should have heard from him by now, shouldn’t we?” Guinevere asked over breakfast.
Alice shrugged. She really wasn’t bothered by the wait, though she understood why others might be impatient. “The Librarian wants to make sure we’re as prepared as possible,” she said. “We gave him a brand new lead on this ‘Intersection’ business, so I’m sure he has a lot to investigate.”
“What we seek are manmade keys to Elysia,” Sheena said, “and… some sign or clue to Elysia itself.”
“Maestro Brahe mentioned a lighthouse in her notes,” Tobias said. “It’s not much to go on, and she didn’t know much about it. But it should at least serve as a start.”
“Ninian, do you know anything about this?” Alice asked, eyeing the elegant songstress.
Ninian sang her response in beautiful true Elysian. But it was a crestfallen response, full of regret. “Oh, no, don’t be sorry!” Alice said, waving her hands. “It’s all right. We can’t expect anyone to know everything. And of course, if you knew the way to Elysia already, you would have told us. I was just curious.”
“She seeks Elysia as earnestly as the rest of you,” Elliot said. Hector sat beside him, his big midnight-blue head in his lap, eager for even the slightest scraps from the table. Alice smiled. For a Knight’s canine companion, Hector wasn’t nearly as well-behaved as Flynn — or even Ava, who hadn’t had the same strict training — but he certainly did his best, and was incredibly charming. “This is just the kind of lead we’ve been longing for, too. I hope you don’t mind us continuing on with you further?”
“Of course not,” Tobias said.
Elliot smiled his warm, gentle smile. “We always said we’d work together when our separate investigations finally brought us back together,” he said. “Looks like our time has come.”
“Three dogs, the Cheshire Cat, and an Akko, all in one traveling party!” Alice said, beaming. “Could there be anything better?”
“We could be on the road again already,” Guinevere said. She ate slowly, having to use her left hand. Her right hand was seeing significant improvement, according to Sheena, who had wrapped it fresh this morning, but it would still take a few more days to heal. And Alice thought some of Guinevere’s impatience also owed to tiredness — she didn’t look like she’d slept nearly enough last night.
“We will be soon,” Tobias said. He finished his eggs, set his plate aside, and then, at Flynn’s hopeful gaze, gave Flynn a treat, rather than any human table scraps. Flynn happily crunched it down, tail wagging, while Tobias stood and spread some maps across the table. Hector was held back from rushing to Tobias for treats by Elliot’s hand on his collar, and then Elliot finally gave in and gave Hector a few treats himself. “For now, at least,” Tobias continued, “we can look at what we know from Maestro Brahe’s notes. A pair of keys were forged, and there’s a lighthouse that can point the way towards Elysia — and hopefully provide more clues about the twin keys.”
“And our journey begins at an Intersection,” Guinevere said. “But what does that mean?”
“It’s still a theoretical term,” Tobias said, “but Maestro Brahe’s done a great deal to prove the theory.” His voice took on a hint of youthful wonderment, an excitement that made Alice smile. “There are points in Wonderia and Albia that are linked, connected more closely than anywhere else. These are places where the realms bleed into one another, as if they are physically touching one another — Intersecting.”
“So you wouldn’t need a door to travel between realms, or a key to choose your destination,” Alice said, leaning forward eagerly. “That would be fascinating.”
“This Intersection Maestro Brahe discovered is here,” Tobias said, indicating a point on the map of Wonderia.
“Loch Reòsair,” Alice said, breathless. “Oh, how long it’s been.”
“You’ve been there?” Tobias asked, eyeing her appraisingly.
“Long ago,” Alice said. She sighed, memories coming to mind of that beautiful lake, and the stunning treasure that lay within, untouchable by human hands.
“Where does it intersect with Albia?” Guinevere asked.
“Ars Moran,” Tobias said, and Alice noticed the tension in his voice — and the way Guinevere stiffened in her seat. Neither of them were keen on returning to the capital. Interesting. “It looks as if it Intersects near the Quarter of Order. Near…” He pulled out another map — how many maps did Tobias have stored in his pack? And they were all in such excellent condition, too. “Here we are. Looks like it Intersects closest to Ars Umbra.”
“The headquarters of the Knights Aurora?” Elliot asked. He perked up quite a bit at that, his deep blue eyes full of a childish delight. “But if we need to go in there, it won’t be easy. At least, not for the men in our party.”
“I can make it happen,” Guinevere said. “I’m good friends with the Captain of the Nocturne Special Investigations Unit. And she isn’t as opposed to the presence of males as her cohorts. If we need entry, I can ask, and she’ll help us get what we need.”
“You’re good friends with Captain Grants?” Elliot asked, and Alice thought she saw stars in his eyes. “She’s the youngest Knight ever to attain the rank of Captain! And her Nocturne Special Investigations Unit has been the best in centuries, keeping the populace safer than ever.”
“Yes, well,” Guinevere said, looking a bit put-off by Elliot’s enthusiasm. Alice thought it was rather adorable — he was a Knight Commander himself at a young age, and yet he turned into an awestruck fan at the mention of this Captain Grants.
“Before all that, though,” Alice said, “the first question is: what’s the best way to reach the Loch?”
“We can take a train to Thadheine,” Elliot said.
“Trains don’t go there in the summer,” Tobias said. “Fairy migration interferes with the rail realm. We could rent a coach out of Greiston, though. That could take us as far as the Thimble Treeline. We could manage the rest on foot.”
“I’ll leave Wonderian navigation to you, then,” Elliot said with a self-deprecating laugh.
“You’re just out of practice,” Tobias said with a shrug. There was something there, unspoken, that made Alice smile, a little inside joke between the Knights.
It’s so nice to see him with a friend who knows him well. It lets me see a new side to him.
“Alternatively,” said Chesh, making everyone jump a little — he’d been sleeping up in the rafters, silent so long that they’d all forgotten about him — “I could just pop you over to Thadheine. Or even Loch Reòsair. If you wish.” He drifted lazily down to the table, curling up right on top of the maps, as if Tobias had laid them out so nicely just for him.
“You’d do that for us, Chesh?” Alice asked.
“For you, dear Alice,” Chesh said, grinning at her, “anything.”
“Oh, Chesh,” Alice said, beaming.
“If that’s the case,” Tobias said, looking not even a little put-out by Chesh dozing on his maps, “then I guess we just… wait. For the Librarian.”
“How long should we wait?” Guinevere asked testily.
“If we don’t see or hear from him today,” Alice said, “then we should go searching for him, just in case. But I wouldn’t worry. He’s probably just checking, double-checking, and triple-checking every single scrap of information, with extensive cross-referencing as well, of course. He’s nothing if not thorough.”
“Can we do more sword drills, then?” Guinevere asked, looking at Sheena. Sheena nodded, and they headed off together.
“And Flynn and I can play!” Alice said. “Right?”
“In a bit,” Tobias said with a small smile. He looked down at Flynn, who, for the first time Alice had seen, suddenly looked a bit cagey, his tail drooping slightly. “Flynn’s overdue for a bath.”
“Hector would love to play, if you’d like,” Elliot said, holding Hector by the collar. It was just a light hold, enough to remind Hector who was in charge, but the big dog looked ready to bound off at a full sprint as soon as he was given the slightest ounce of freedom.
“That would be wonderful!” Alice said, hopping up from her seat. “I know just the place! And Flynn, you can join us after you’re all cleaned up.”
And so they headed off, all (except Flynn) full of smiles and joy. Yes, today was a grand improvement over the past few days. No danger, no fear, no threat. Just waiting. And when one was waiting, all sorts of fun could be had!
Alice could finally let herself loosen up, relax, and enjoy herself fully. And how could she not smile, when she had such lovable canines to pass the time with?