The Caterpillar had parting words for the others, but Guinevere wasn’t paying attention. She had so much to consider, so much to reflect on — and so much ahead of her, too. She had her Word: Aurora. But what that meant for her was still a mystery. And ahead of her lay mysteries of songbirds, and what that title meant for her.
And the Song of Elysia residing in her heart. The song she still feared, despite all the assurances that she should not.
“Guin?” Alice asked, shaking Guinevere out of her reverie. “You coming?”
And she realized that the Caterpillar was now asleep atop his mushroom, and Alice and all the others were on the other side, at an archway with a sign that read in painted blue letters: “Exit This Way.”
“Yes,” Guinevere said, following after them. Dawn had come in the Inverse, inviting her back to the world, but once she passed under the archway and along the path through the dense Mushroom Forest, night closed in once more. And, after a while, they emerged onto a vast, grassy field, made all the vaster by their miniaturized states.
“Time to grow up!” Alice said with a giggle. She tore off a hunk of a mushroom cap and broke it into bite-sized pieces, handing them out to everyone. Guinevere was last, and Alice smiled up at her. “Ready to return to normal-size, Guin?”
“Definitely,” Guinevere said. And this time, she didn’t wait until everyone else had changed sizes. She followed after Alice almost immediately, chewing and swallowing her mushroom piece while Alice was still mid-growth.
And it was quite the startling, and unpleasant, experience. She shot up into the sky, headfirst — a bit too literally. Her neck extended before the rest of her, and she could feel the abnormal stretch, could feel the extended distance between her mouth and her lungs, could uncomfortably notice the length of time it took just to take a breath — and to let that breath out.
But when the rest of her body surged upwards to catch up, the collapsing of her neck, even as it grew in thickness to approach proper human proportions, was unsettling, and made bile rise in her throat. She fought that down as best she could, though, because as unpleasant as vomiting would be, vomiting while still in the process of returning to her normal size would be far worse.
For a brief, terrifying moment, she felt like she was going to just collapse — her body rising so fast to meet her head, too fast, like they’d crash into each other and shatter — but then things slowed, and settled. The world stopped spinning circles around her — when had that started? She breathed a heavy sigh, and then leaned over, resting her hands on her knees, taking a moment to get her bearings.
“Oh, you did excellent!” Alice said, beaming up at her. “I’m really impressed. It’s usually much harder for people on their first go-round.”
“Thank you,” Guinevere said, straightening up. “Still, I… I think I’d rather not do that again, if possible. I’m glad I got to experience that. But, um… never again.”
“Understandable,” Alice said with a shrug. Then she watched in eager anticipation as Tobias and Elliot grew to join them. Tobias, annoyingly, regained his normal size without showing a hint of discomfort. Meanwhile, Elliot bent over double as soon as he was re-grown, his face an uncomfortable greenish hue.
“Look at that, you made it,” Tobias said. He raised a hand as if to clap Elliot on the back.
“Don’t touch me,” Elliot said, before clamping a hand over his mouth, grimacing.
Tobias shrugged. “Just trying to be friendly,” he said. “You’ll be all right. Hector’s got your back.”
And, unfortunately, he meant that literally. Hector came happily barreling into Elliot from behind, knocking his legs out from under him. Knight fell atop dog, and while Hector rolled with surprising agility to avoid any pain and then was back on his feet in no time, Elliot lay flat on his back, gazing dazedly at the night sky. “I, um,” he said in a weak voice. “I think I’ll just, um… lie here for a while.”
“Might not be the best strategy,” Tobias said. Elliot opened his mouth to reply, and then yelped as Hector came trotting up to him and starting licking him all over his face.
“Hector!” Elliot said, shoving Hector’s face away — but Hector just kept coming back to give more kisses. “Come on! You… okay, fine!” Elliot sat up, then shoved Hector away when he went for more kisses. “I’m fine… ugh.” He bent over, clutching his stomach. But when Hector came back, tail wagging, tongue lolling, Elliot shot to his feet and turned his back on his big, midnight-blue canine companion. “You’re incorrigible.”
“As always,” Tobias said, grinning.
It’s… odd, watching those two. Tobias shows a different side of himself with Elliot around. And I’d think he was mean-spirited, except I know he wouldn’t treat the rest of us like that. Despite Elliot’s complaints, it’s as if he knows that Tobias will give him grief over this, and he isn’t breaking their friendship over it.
I never would have expected to see Tobias acting like that from my first impressions.
And she thought back to those first impressions, when she’d just tumbled out of the door to Wonderia, and found herself facing a black-clad Knight who she couldn’t believe even was a Knight, until she saw his Chivalric Marque. He was so stoic, so reserved. She’d rather resented him, until…
Until I saw him playing with Flynn. It was Alice’s fault — a proper, upright member of society should never spy on someone — but… I’m glad I saw that.
Come to think of it, I can’t imagine their first impressions of me were all that positive, either. We are all of us more than we appear to be at first glance. And under different circumstances, we show different parts of ourselves. Jumping to conclusions is never a good way of approaching new encounters.
While Ninian checked on Elliot with gentleness and grace, and Tobias tossed a ball for an eager Flynn, Sheena joined Guinevere and Alice. “Shall we set up camp for the night?” she asked. “It didn’t feel like we’d spent so long in the Caterpillar’s woods, but there was an unexpected magic at work in there. We won’t be going much farther tonight.”
“Where’s a good spot to set up?” Alice asked, looking around. Behind them was the dense forest, impenetrable to anyone normal-sized. But ahead, it was all vast, spacious fields of grass, with only occasional low, rounded hills. No real cover or natural protection.
“We aren’t in Saoirse’s lands,” Guinevere said. “So… we don’t need to be as wary as we did before, do we? We could just… sleep under the stars, out in the open. Couldn’t we?”
“We’ll still need a watch, just to be safe,” Sheena said. “I’m sure Tobias and I can handle that in shifts, though. What about —” And then she paused as Akko clambered to her shoulder and brushed his ears against her face, communicating something to her in body language unreadable to the others. “Ah. Over there?” Sheena asked, her eyes only glancing in a direction for a moment, too quick for Guinevere to know where she was talking about. Akko’s left ear dipped slightly, then flicked back up, and his nose twitched. Sheena smiled. “That’s an excellent idea.” She pointed out across the fields. “That hill over there has a good view of the surroundings. When we don’t have natural barriers, elevation is the next best advantage.”
“Now if we can just get the others on the same page as us,” Alice said, hands on her hips, smirking at the Knights, their dogs, and Ninian.
It took a bit for Elliot to get his bearings again, but once he did, they all checked in and agreed the hill was the best spot. Alice ran ahead, and Flynn ran with her, with Tobias keeping an eye on them. Guinevere took her time, relishing in the walk through the cool night air, Ava at her side, the soft grass beneath her feet, the night sky glowing above.
And what a night sky it was. She’d read all about it — in Artorius’ letters, from the five years he’d spent in Wonderia — but seeing the Cúplach, the cerulean twin moons in the sky, slightly overlapping each other, was a sight to behold. And the stars! What she’d only ever seen as twinkling motes of white light, tiny and distant in Albia’s night sky, here were so vibrant and colorful, painting the sky in long, nebulous trails of every color imaginable.
She’d seen Wonderia’s night sky before, of course. But it was so dramatically different, everywhere they’d gone. If she didn’t know better, comparing this night sky to the one over Saoirse’s domain, she’d have believed she’d walked into a whole different realm entirely.
Up on the hill, Alice happily tossed out her magical sheet of canvas, which inexplicably transformed into a cottage-tent with hardwood floors and a fully-functioning kitchen. Tobias, Sheena, and Elliot set up sleeping bags outdoors, but — much to Alice’s delight — Ninian took the girl up on her offer to sleep inside the tent with her. “Finally!” Alice cheered with overdramatized emphasis. “A true friend to join me on my travels!”
Guinevere rolled her eyes and picked a spot to set up her own sleeping bag and arrange her belongings, setting out dinner for Ava, who ate happily. Alice and Ninian cooked dinner for the people of the group, while Tobias, Elliot, and Sheena all fed their animal companions, and then they all sat together around a campfire, eating a hearty meal beneath the most beautiful sky Guinevere ever could have imagined.
But the spell had to break eventually. Guinevere noticed Alice and Ninian glancing at her now and then, and as soon as she was done eating, she braced herself.
“Well, Guin?” Alice asked. “Now that all is set well in regards to your dreams, it’s about time we start discussing what it means to be a songbird. If you’re ready. Which, well, I rather hope you’re ready, because the longer you put this off, the harder it’s going to get, and the more the Song of Elysia inside of you is going to grow and conflict with your own resistance. But of course, it’s your choice.”
Guinevere frowned at her, and then let out a sigh. “Yes, of course,” she said. “I need this, after all. And you’re going to help me, so… I don’t have to face this alone.”
Ninian sang, and Guinevere’s heart and spirits were lifted even before Alice translated. “There’s no need to be frightened, Guinevere. Ninian’s walked the path you’re about to start on. And Sheena will join us, too. Let’s head inside, shall we?”
And so the ladies left, convening inside the cottage-tent. Alice set up a bunch of cushions on the floor of the master bedroom, and they sat in a circle, with Ava curling up beside Guinevere, and Akko nestling onto Sheena’s shoulder, leaning into the arc where her neck met her shoulder.
Guinevere noticed a little white gift-box on Alice’s bedside table — the one the Librarian had given her. It was still wrapped, with no sign of having been opened. She thought to ask about it, but changed her mind. Alice couldn’t have had time to investigate it, yet. And Guinevere’s curiosity towards the box, towards anything other than what they were about to discuss, was just a shield, she knew. A shield that needed to be dropped.
“So,” Alice said. “We gave you a brief explanation back at the Library, but let’s refresh, shall we? Elysia’s Song lives inside your heart, calling out to you. That’s what makes you a songbird — you’ve been chosen by Elysia. Just like Ninian! But the Song of Elysia is something that the hearts of the world, in its post-Fractured state, instinctively reject. And it is a powerful Song, so you think it’s going to overtake you, to unmake you.”
“Why does it feel that way, if it isn’t going to?” Guinevere asked. And then she sat back, realizing she’d come out far more harshly than she’d intended.
I’m on edge. I’m… really…
She bowed her head. “Why is it so frightening?” she asked in a tiny voice.
Ninian sang, a song of kindness and reassurance. “Because you do not understand it, and never could have expected or prepared for it,” Alice translated. “And understanding will take time. You must start at the beginning: with your Song.”
“My Song…” Guinevere murmured. If anyone had ever told her to think of her Song before today, her thoughts would have instinctively gone to the Song of the Promise, declaring the purpose and power of the Promised King and Queen, and the golden age that they would bring back with the reclamation of Elysia. But now the Caterpillar had shifted her perspective. Because the first word of her Song, that she’d found with the Caterpillar’s help — Aurora — was decidedly not the first word of the Song of the Promise.
“I have a Song of my own,” Guinevere said, looking up at Ninian. “A Song that lives in my heart. That… defines me.”
Ninian smiled, and her smile was warm and gentle, full of understanding and assurance. “Your Song,” Alice translated as Ninian sang, “and the Song of Elysia can coexist within your heart. The Song of Elysia doesn’t seek to overtake your Song. It seeks to be part of it. To harmonize with it.”
“Harmonize?” Guinevere asked. “But it’s…” She shuddered, thinking on those brief glimpses she’d had as a child, and then again in the nightmares that Lacie had brought forth. “It’s so overpowering. All it took was the tiniest hint of its melody and I was terrified.”
“Because it is powerful,” Alice said, leaning forward. “Elysia is the hope of this world, the House of the Creator’s Light that once shone so clearly, for all to see. Elysia’s Song is an echo of the Creator’s very first Song, the Song that brought the world into being, that set down the foundation upon which all that followed would be established. And it’s chosen you, Guin! It’s exciting! And — it’s also a bit deceptive.” Ninian sang a gentle correction, and Alice nodded. “I know it’s not an intentional falsehood, not that kind of deception. I mean it’s deceptive in that it seems more overpowering than it actually is. Actually, let’s use Asbel as an example.”
“He wasn’t overcome by the Song of Elysia,” Sheena said thoughtfully. “No echo of the Creator’s voice would turn an innocent boy into a monster.”
“Precisely!” Alice said, smiling. “Oh, you’re very perceptive. There are two routes before one who is chosen by the Song of Elysia. They can either resonate with the Song, or reject it. Resonance, harmony, is a path towards resolution. It’s a wonderful thing. Just look at Ninian! Isn’t she simply radiant?”
Ninian smiled beautifully. There wasn’t a shy or embarrassed bone in her body, it seemed.
“But if one rejects the Song, they become sick, corrupted, transformed into a monster,” Sheena said grimly. “Fyouwa. Dissonance. But…” She bowed her head. “My brother, he… none of us knew what was happening. It just seems as if he wasn’t given a chance.”
“I don’t know why that happens sometimes,” Alice said sadly. “I don’t know why the Song of Elysia comes to people who can’t possibly know what’s happening to them, who don’t have anyone around them with knowledge that can help guide them. But… yes. Rejecting the song entirely — recoiling in fear, over and over — that’s what will unmake you, Guin. In the worst way imaginable.”
“But that isn’t fair!” Guinevere said. “I never could have known if I hadn’t met you! That would have been my fate, and it wouldn’t have been my fault!”
“I wish I had all the answers,” Alice said softly, staring at the floor. “But even fyouwa isn’t the end. Elysia’s wish-granted power can cure Asbel, can save him from what he’s become. No one’s ever… too far gone…” She trailed off at the end, with a distant, uncertain look in her eyes.
And Guinevere realized she was thinking of Lacie. Of her sister.
“I’m sorry,” Guinevere said. “I didn’t… well, I meant what I said. But… I shouldn’t have lashed out like that.” She took a deep breath, reminding herself for the seemingly hundredth time of her Teacher’s words about emotions. “Right. So, the first step is for me to begin harmonizing my Song with the Song of Elysia within me, yes? How do I start?”
Ninian sang, and Guinevere could feel the instruction even though she couldn’t understand the words. She closed her eyes, and though Alice was translating, Guinevere didn’t hear it. She just heard Ninian. And the song that she sang, the song of a songbird who had found resolution, reached into Guinevere’s heart. It showed her the way to go, and when Guinevere opened her eyes…
She was somewhere else entirely.
Fields of golden grass, rippling in a warm breeze. In the distance, trees with golden leaves, and beyond, a stone promenade leading up to a golden city, shining beneath a brilliant sky. It was all gold and white, brightly shining, and yet it wasn’t gaudy, it wasn’t blinding. There was a softness, a warmth, to this golden landscape, that made her want to stay forever, basking in this warmth.
And yet there was also a strange melancholy. Her heart ached, and when she looked closer at the distant city…
She saw it lay in ruins. Towers were sundered. Turrets crumbled at the tops of walls. Some roofs had caved in, and there were pitted cracks in the streets. The highest landmark, a great clocktower rising up over the city from its center, was oddly silent, its clock face cracked, its hands frozen at 1:15.
“What…” Guinevere started, and was startled to find that her word came out in song, a sustained note rather than speech. She clamped a hand over her mouth. But Ninian’s voice floated on the breeze, and when Guinevere turned…
Ninian was there. Standing beside her, her dress and feathered ear ornaments fluttering in the wind. The songbird gazed with sorrow at the ruined city. But her voice sang to Guinevere with encouragement.
This is a land of song. Don’t be afraid to sing.
“What is this place?” Guinevere asked, her notes shaky, uncertain. She was an able singer, and quite enjoyed song — but she’d never tried to transform conversation into song on a moment’s notice, without any accompaniment to help guide her.
It is a vision of what is, deep beneath what is portrayed to the wider world. A vision for songbirds alone. But more than a vision.
Ninian held out her hand, and Guinevere took it without question. Ninian’s touch was warm and soft, and yet there was a strength there, a steadiness. Confidence in her Song, and the Song of Elysia, and the Truth beneath it all — these things kept her steady and solid, even in a place where sorrow could cause the stoutest hearts to crumble.
You needn’t worry about the full nature of this place. That will be revealed in time. Right now, it is a meeting place. For you… and the Song.
Ninian turned away from the city, guiding Guinevere, and Guinevere gasped. Behind them, on golden shores bordering a golden sea, floated a shimmering orb of golden light.
“That’s…” Guinevere started, shaking her head. Ninian held her fast, though, and sang, and Guinevere’s initial fear faltered. She planted herself solidly. Faced the light.
Faced the Song.
For from that orb of light came music. The music she’d only heard faint snatches of on a few brief occasions, but those little glimpses were enough to strike abject terror into her heart and make her run as far away as possible.
She remembered fifteen year-old Guinevere, the one she’d seen in the nightmare Lacie had conjured up. Her voice, so full of fear and sorrow: “Someone, help.” “What do I do about the song?”
Now, ten years older, Guinevere echoed her childhood sentiments, but without tears. “Please, help me,” she sang to Ninian. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore. What do I do about the Song?”
Let it sing to you. Face it, without fear. It will not overwrite who you are. It wants to be known — and to know you. This is where it begins.
Ninian took a step forward, and Guinevere stepped with her. Then Ninian let go of her hand — and Guinevere knew. The next step was hers alone to take.
She took it.
The golden orb bobbed up from the sand, expectant, hopeful. Looking at it now, really taking it in, Guinevere thought it looked frightened, too.
“I… hurt you, didn’t I?” Guinevere asked. “By running away. By shutting you out. By letting the Phantom hide you away. I’m… sorry. Please… help me understand. I’m not ready for everything, but… I’m ready to listen.”
The orb floated towards her, tentative, careful. It came very close, then, and Guinevere almost took a step back.
But the orb didn’t touch her. The light only came close enough so that Guinevere could hear it sing. Because unlike previous times, it didn’t sing loudly, boldly, triumphantly.
It sang softly. Sweetly. Gently.
The Song of Elysia, singing to Guinevere’s heart. Just to be heard. Just to be understood.
And Guinevere closed her eyes, and didn’t run away. She stood her ground…
And listened.
——
Tobias sat against a tree, Flynn curled up beside him, his head in Tobias’ lap, dozing contentedly after a long, joyous play session. In Tobias’ hands he held the Canticos, studying its Songs, listening intently, seeking greater understanding with every new reading.
Footsteps sounded on the grass. Guinevere had been in with the others for a long time, so when Tobias looked up, he was expecting her.
But it was Alice approaching him. Alone.
“Is everything all right?” Tobias asked.
“Yes,” Alice said, smiling. “Ninian really is an expert at this. I helped them get started, and for the moment, Guin doesn’t need a translator.” She stopped a few steps away from Tobias. “You know, I really think she’s going to be a natural at this.”
“Good,” Tobias said. He had plenty of questions, but he didn’t want to press, not right now. Alice, despite her smile, seemed rather tired.
And then Alice’s smile faded. She glanced at Tobias, then looked away. “Tobias…” she began tentatively, “when the Caterpillar drew us all into the dreams with Guin, we saw and heard a lot of things. But there was a moment… I’m fairly certain we saw you, shortly after you’d escaped from that horrific night, when your parents… Well. You were cradling Flynn. And you were all alone. But then a man approached you, and held out his hand, and offered his help. That… was your memory, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” Tobias said, wondering where Alice was going with this.
Alice hesitated. Took in a soft breath, let it out even more softly. She looked aside, then fixed her gaze on Tobias. “The man who offered you his help,” she said. “What is his name?”
Tobias stared at her. She stared right back, a cloud of confusion and questions all over her face.
“Merlin,” Tobias finally said.
“I see,” Alice said, and immediately looked away. She seemed to be wrestling with something.
“How do you know him?” Tobias asked.
“He’s… he was… an old friend,” Alice said softly. “He helped you?” She looked at him, this time earnestly, hopefully.
“Yes,” Tobias said. He looked down at Flynn, and stroked his dog’s face. Flynn’s ears twitched, but his eyes didn’t open. “Flynn… saved my life, that night. But when we escaped, he was on death’s door. I couldn’t save him. But Merlin… he found us. He saved Flynn. And me, if I’m being honest. Elliot and Hector, too.”
“Elliot’s met him, as well?” Alice asked. “Where is he?” She looked around for the Knight and his big dog, but they weren’t anywhere to be found.
“Off looking for firewood,” Tobias said. “And scouting the area, just to be safe.” He took a deep breath, then decided to continue with his story. There was no need to hide these things, was there? “He took us in,” he said. “Nursed us all back to health. And helped us through… everything.” He winced inwardly at that word, that word that couldn’t really convey anything. But there was too much for words, too much of an open wound when he thought back to those first days, in the immediate aftermath of that horrific night. “He trained Elliot and me, when we were well again. Helped us hone our swordsmanship, and other skills. He helped me… figure out what to do.” He glanced aside, unable to meet Alice’s eyes, intently hanging on every word. “Elliot was spared tragedy that night. His parents weren’t there. They’re still alive and well, in Corwindale.”
“A lovely town,” Alice said, smiling.
“It is,” Tobias said. “I… I was lost. Merlin helped me find my way. He put in a good word with Captain Lécroiers, got him to accept my application when the Knights Jouerve weren’t taking on any new members. I had to earn my way from there, but Merlin got me in the door.”
“Where is Merlin now?” Alice asked.
“At home,” Tobias said. “Elliot and I… we made a promise to him. We had our journey to go on, and he said he couldn’t accompany us. But we promised to return to him when we found the full truth behind what happened that night. Auge Gerecht, and why my parents were targeted, why… why all of this… happened.”
“Home…” Alice murmured. There was something strange in her eyes again, a conflict Tobias couldn’t make sense of. “Where is his home?”
“Northern Wonderia,” Tobias said. “I couldn’t point it out on a map — he’s secreted himself away expertly. But I could take you there. If you wanted to go.”
Alice looked as if she was considering it. But then, after a while, she shook her head. “Not… right now,” she said softly. “But someday. Promise me.” She held out her hand. “Promise you’ll take me to Merlin someday. Whenever I ask. No matter what else we have at hand, if I ask you to bring me to him… promise you will.”
Tobias didn’t hesitate. He took her hand in his own. “I promise,” he said.
Alice stared at him, gauging him with those big, inquisitive blue eyes. “You have many questions,” she said.
“It would be strange if I didn’t,” Tobias said.
There was a brief pause, and then Alice cracked a small smile. “It would,” she said. She shook his hand once, twice, thrice, than released it. She came around to sit on the other side of Flynn, and started to pet him in soft strokes down his back. “I trust you, Tobias. I really do. It’s just… there’s… a lot about me. Things that I shouldn’t say, not yet. And things that I… can’t say. I’m… trying to make sense of a great many things.”
“If you ever need my help,” Tobias said, “It’s yours. I’m not just here to take you to Elysia and keep you safe. If you have questions, if you have trouble understanding something, if you want the truth about things, too — I’ll help you, in any way I can.”
Alice smiled. “I know you will,” she said. “And I thank you for that. Perhaps, someday…” She looked up, across the campsite, and sighed. Then she turned, and held her hand out to him again. “One day, there will be no secrets between us. No stories left untold, no questions left unanswered. Promise?”
Tobias did hesitate this time. He knew she saw more than she let on. She was clever, observant, and wise far beyond her years. How much did she already know?
And how much was he willing to share? There were things… things he’d left behind, things he’d cast off, things he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to go back to.
But…
“You’re allowed to refuse,” Alice said. And there was no hurt in her voice or expression, no disappointment.
Tobias took a breath. And then he looked down, and saw that Flynn was awake, now. He was looking at Tobias, a question in his eyes.
Tobias met that gaze with a question of his own. Flynn’s right ear did a little clockwise flick, and he let out a short, compressed sigh. One little nudge against his leg.
You think so, huh? Well… I’d be a fool if I ever doubted you.
And… yeah. I was leaning the same direction. Just trying to talk myself out of it. But I guess I shouldn’t have tried.
Tobias took Alice’s hand, and shook it once, twice, thrice, then released. “One day,” he said. “No more secrets.”
They were heavy words. And he realized, with no small amount of surprise, that he couldn’t have said those words so easily to anyone else. Maybe no one at all.
But he had no qualms about saying them to Alice.
“So,” Alice said, assuming her usual bright demeanor, letting the sun shine through the conflict that had clouded her face and voice. “There’s something else we haven’t talked about, and I really think it’s about time we did. Considering it’s just the two of us out here.”
Tobias furrowed his brow, thinking hard. “What’s that?” he asked, having no idea what she was getting at.
Alice smirked up at him. “Guin,” she said. Tobias’ heart skipped a beat. “You called her that in the Library. Not Guinevere, but ‘Guin.’ Yet you haven’t since. What’s that about?”
Oh. Is that all it was?
“I… was being expedient,” Tobias said, taking a moment to recall the memory Alice alluded to. Yes, he had called her “Guin,” hadn’t he? Just for a moment, when he’d realized she was in danger in the Library. “We had to hurry.”
“Oh, don’t have boring answers!” Alice cried, throwing up her hands. She leaned against the tree, noticed Flynn was awake, and started petting him all over. “Flynn, tell him! Tell him he’s being boring, and he should be more honest about his feelings!”
“I was worried about her,” Tobias said. “That’s the truth.”
“But not the whole truth,” Alice said. “Ah, but what would be the fun in getting the whole truth all at once? I’m just glad I got to see the façade crack, just for a moment.” She smiled up at him, but the mischief was gone, replaced with sincerity. “You can let down your guard with us, Tobias. I know we’ve only been together a short while, but it feels like so much longer. Because we’ve been through so much together. And we’re all friends — all of us — aren’t we?”
Tobias looked up, and saw Guinevere, Ninian, and Sheena exiting the cottage-tent at last. Guinevere looked exhausted — but happy, too. Happier than she’d looked since arriving in Wonderia, he realized.
“We are,” Tobias said, turning his attention back to Alice. “And we all have our own ways of opening up, and our own pace, too.”
“True enough,” Alice said. She hopped to her feet, looked like she was going to run over to Guinevere, but then stopped and turned back to Tobias. “If you don’t mind me asking: what’s your wish? When we get to Elysia?”
Tobias smiled. “I don’t have one,” he said.
Alice stared at him for a long moment. “But you wanted to go to Elysia,” she said. “Even before you accepted the post as my Knight-Protector, you were searching for Elysia already.”
Tobias nodded. “I was.”
“I see,” Alice said. “And you’ll explain it all to me by the time we reach Elysia, won’t you?”
“I will,” Tobias said.
“Good,” Alice said. Then she turned and ran over to Guinevere, checking in on her.
Tobias leaned his head back against the tree, gazing up at the Cúplach, shining amongst the stars high above. He thought about Merlin for the first time in a long time, really thought about his Teacher, the man who’d saved his and Flynn’s lives ten years ago.
You had enough secrets for Alice and me combined. Would you make the same promise?
I know Alice won’t ask me to take you to her as soon as tomorrow. But I get the feeling I’ll end up seeing you again sooner than I’d planned.
And when I do, I’ll have plenty of questions in tow. I hope you’ll have answers for me, this time.