Back out in the Quarter of Order, Guinevere breathed a sigh of relief at the clear sky overhead and the grand, open space around her.
No more cramped corridors or underground catacombs for a long time, please.
“I should rejoin my squad,” Rosalie said. “Where will you sleep tonight?”
“I’m sure there are some nice camping spots outside the city,” Guinevere suggested.
“Oh, no!” Alice said. “We can’t do that. I just had the best idea.” She beamed a bright smile. “You can all come to my house!”
“Your house?” Guinevere asked, staring. And then she realized… she didn’t know where Alice was from. Whether she had any parents still living, what her living situation was, what path had led her to Wonderia… none of it. She knew nothing of this girl before they had met.
“Yes!” Alice said. “Oh, it’s been so long since we had guests. Forever, actually. Mister Carrol will be so pleased!”
“Your… nanny?” Guinevere asked, remembering Alice referring to a “Mister Carrol” in the past as such.
Alice burst out laughing. “Oh, yes. He’ll be very pleased if you call him that.”
“You’re sure it’ll be all right?” Tobias asked.
“Absolutely,” Alice said. “We have more space than we know what to do with. You will want for nothing.”
“Excellent,” Rosalie said. “I’ll leave you, then. Guin — I’ll try and see you tomorrow?”
Guinevere nodded. “I’ll let you know where I’ll be in the morning,” she said.
Rosalie nodded and headed off with style. She ran to the edge of the Quarter of Order, then leapt in a single, glorious bound to the top of the high wall around the Quarter, and then from there to the high roofs of the city, darting across rooftops in the moon’s pale glow.
“Wow,” came a starstruck voice behind them. They all turned to see Elliot, Hector, and Ninian standing there, Elliot watching Rosalie’s departure with awe.
“Nice timing,” Tobias said. Flynn trotted over to Hector, and the two sniffed each other, tails wagging happily. “Learn anything?”
“I… yeah,” Elliot said, shaking himself out of amazement and turning a more grave expression onto Tobias. “A squad of delvers found a shaft leading down to the bottom of the palace’s collapse. There were… signs.”
“Signs of what?” Tobias asked, his voice sharp, his eyes searching.
“Saoirse had been there,” Elliot said.
“Had?” Tobias asked.
“If the fall did kill her, then someone took her body away,” Elliot said. “But from what they could tell… well. They don’t think it killed her. They think she found a different way out from the way they found in. It’s a labyrinth down there. A search is beginning, but it’s too dangerous for them to move quickly. They don’t know where she is, but one thing’s for certain. Dead or alive, she’s long gone.”
Tobias met Elliot’s gaze, taking in the information in silence. Guinevere could see sharp anger and worry intermingled in his eyes, their summer-sky blue turned liquid silver in the moonlight.
But his response was guarded. “Fine,” he said, turning on his heel and starting away. “Let’s go.”
“Oh,” Elliot said, blinking surprisedly. “Where are we going?”
“To my house!” Alice said. “We’re having a slumber party! The three of you are invited, of course.”
“A…” Elliot started, then smiled. He looked at Ninian, who smiled, too, and then said, “That sounds wonderful. Thanks for having us.”
“How far is your home?” Sheena asked as they started off, Tobias and Flynn leading the way.
“It’s up on the hill,” Alice said.
“Up on the…” Guinevere started, about to reprimand the child for her vague, unhelpful directions. Until she realized where they were, and what direction they were going in. “Ah. I see.”
She’d long wondered about the “manor on the hill,” several blocks north of the Quarter of Order. It was oddly conspicuous, and yet practically invisible, a mysterious contradiction that had captivated Guinevere’s curiosity ever since she was a child. She could remember two outings with Artorius when they’d slipped away from their bodyguards — Artorius had always had an uncanny knack for such mischief — and approached the manor on the hill, ostensibly to investigate. And yet, when they got close, and it was time for someone to go up and knock on the door… they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.
Other times, they’d asked Artorius’ parents (not Guinevere’s parents, they didn’t have the requisite curiosity or imagination, and certainly weren’t ones to indulge childish adventures) about the manor on the hill. Neither Artorius’ father nor his mother knew anything about it. “Whoever lives there doesn’t interact with the rest of society,” his mother had said. “From what I’ve heard, invitations do get sent there, though they are not addressed to a particular name. It seems no one knows who lives there. But more than just you are curious about it.”
And yet, even Artorius’ parents had never actually gone to check. No one ever went up to that door, no one knocked on it, no one asked after its occupants. Lights shone through the windows; there was clearly activity going on inside. And yet that activity, and its participants, remained a tantalizing mystery.
It was Alice’s house, all along? But… it couldn’t have been. Not all that time ago. She’s only… eight? Nine? She’s a child. Younger than Artorius and I were on our second “recon” expedition.
But there have been… oddities.
Guinevere realized now, as they walked, the numerous pieces of evidence that had arisen along their journey that Alice was far more than she appeared. And plenty of those hints pointed to her being much longer-lived than her physical age would suggest.
It’s absurd. Isn’t it? And yet…
She recalled Lairah’s reaction to Alice. She’d been shocked, called her “My Lady” in deference, and then realized she had misspoken.
“No. You’re not her. But you aren’t Lacie, either. Who… I see.”
What had she meant? She knew about Lacie. And her “Lady”… that must also be a girl who looks just like Alice. Does Alice have more than one sister? Are they triplets?
Lairah was from Elysia. As was Ninian. But the way Lairah looked at Alice… the deference she holds towards another girl who looks like her…
Could Alice be from Elysia, too…?
But if she was, why wouldn’t she say so when we were talking about Ninian and her departure? And Alice didn’t seem to know Ninian, nor Ninian Alice. There was no connection there, as far as I could tell.
But Alice is connected to this somehow. She’s part of something so much bigger than any of us realize. She keeps so many secrets… I wonder why?
She watched Alice as they walked. The bounce of Alice’s steps, the trundling of her trunk beside her, and her cheerful, loose posture. She was such a child, and despite how grating her taunts and teases had been early in their relationship, Guinevere found her quite endearing now.
She must have her reasons. And there are things about how she talks sometimes, how she acts sometimes… as if… she knows only part of what is spinning around her.
She may have as many questions as the rest of us.
They turned a corner and passed under a flickering gaslit lamp. There, up on the hill, sweeping gothic arches framed countless tall, curtained windows up the dark, looming face of the mysterious manor. Silver lanterns hung above the main door and several high balconies, shedding an ethereal light. Corner towers topped with high, conical spirals drew the eye towards the centerpiece, a huge central tower with a great illuminated clock displaying the late hour.
“This is your home?” Elliot asked, staring in amazement.
“It is!” Alice said. “Come on. Mister Carrol will be so surprised to see me again so soon!”
She led the way now, up the stairs to the main door. The large silver knocker on its front was shaped like the top of a chess queen. And the door itself was engraved with a chessboard pattern, many spaces etched with stylized renditions of chess pieces. Alice knocked three times, a clear, sturdy sound that resonated strongly, but not unpleasantly.
Three seconds later, there was the soft click of a lock being undone, and the doors swung inward. Standing in the doorway was a rather dapper gentleman, tall — even taller than Elliot — and rail-thin. A tall forehead met a dark widow’s peak, his hair slicked back expertly, streaked lightly with grey. Angular, intelligent eyes peered at them from behind a pair of pince-nez perched on a sharp, narrow nose. He was dressed impeccably, in white shirt and black tie under wine-red waistcoat, black slacks, and shiny white shoes. His cufflinks caught Guinevere’s attention — on his left wrist was a silver looking-glass, and on his right wrist, a silver book, with lettering too small to be read without a magnifying lens.
“Welcome home, Alice,” said the man — who must be Mister Carrol — in a clear tenor, his accent the unmistakable musical lilt of Wonderia. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly at the entourage behind Alice, but otherwise he remained composed, immune to surprise. “You have brought guests.”
“As observant as ever, Mister Carrol,” Alice said brightly. “It’s so good to see you!” She hugged Mister Carrol around his waist, and he gently hugged her back, a surprisingly tender gesture from a man who seemed otherwise stoic and reserved.
“It is good to have you back, Alice, safe and sound,” he said.
Introductions went around after that, and if Mister Carrol was surprised by the Promised Queen walking through his door, he didn’t show it. Mister Carrol then invited them to have tea before bed, and Alice happily accepted the offer on their behalf.
So they properly entered the manor and continued further in, and Guinevere gazed in awe at this place that had so long seemed out of her reach, elusive, enigmatic. It certainly was a grand, opulent manor, one that would be the envy of numerous families in high society. And yet, for all its space and grandeur, for all that it seemed designed to host great parties and balls, it never had, and perhaps never would. Which made it seem suddenly very lonely to Guinevere. Looking up and around, at huge staircases leading up to high halls with endless rooms, and continuing along the main floor through a grand library and a lavish dining room before being served tea in a cozy, smaller sitting room, Guinevere was struck by the strangeness, the melancholy of this place.
Alice and Mister Carrol, all alone in this massive home, for… how long?
Over tea, Alice evaded Mister Carrol’s queries about her adventures. “I’ll tell you all about them later,” she said. “We really need to rest. But I can get you up to speed on the basics, I suppose.”
So she gave him a shockingly brief summary of some of the main points. They’d gone to the Library (she skipped over Saoirse entirely), gained important clues to Elysia that led them back to Ars Moran (she likewise skipped over Lacie, the Fracture, Mad Hatter, the Caterpillar, and Loch Reòsair), found a ruined lighthouse underneath Ars Umbra, and retrieved a focusing stone. She showed it to Mister Carrol, who looked it over closely.
“Do you know where we might find a modulator?” Alice asked.
“I might,” Mister Carrol said. “Let me make a few inquiries. If I can find it, I’ll know by tomorrow evening.”
“You’re always so dependable, Mister Carrol,” Alice said, beaming at him. Then she stretched, and yawned hugely — rather over-dramatized, Guinevere thought. “Well, we should get to bed. Are guest rooms made up?”
“Of course, Alice,” Mister Carrol said. He stood and led them out of the sitting room and up the main stair, to the third floor. They turned left, and at the entrance of this hall, Guinevere noticed a small golden bell attached to the wall, with a pull-chain dangling low, well within a child’s reach. They passed several doors before stopping at a white door, on which was a silver plaque which had engraved: Alice.
“This is my room!” Alice said happily, and a bit wistfully. “We can all sleep in this hall. There’s rooms enough for everyone. Tobias and Flynn will be across from me, of course. And Guin, you can be right next door!” She pointed to the door to the right. “It’s my favorite of the guest rooms.” She pointed out where Sheena, Elliot, and Ninian could all sleep as well.
And then they bid each other goodnight. Guinevere headed into her room, and closed the door, and stood there for a moment, feeling rather like she’d been in a boat on a rushing river, pulled along down its length at rapid speed, unable to ever pause to take anything in.
Maybe Alice was being considerate of how late it is, and how tired we are. And if I’m being honest…
She then yawned, a very large, undignified yawn for royalty. She looked down at Ava, who was eyeing the four-poster bed in the center of the room longingly. It was a spacious bedroom, even larger than Guinevere’s own bedroom at home — which was surprising, given she was the Promised Queen, while Alice was… well, Alice, and this was just a guest room in her home. There were numerous bookshelves stacked with books, and a sitting area in the corner, with two chairs on facing each other across a small table with a chess set laid out on it. At the far side of the room, glass doors opened onto a spacious balcony, bathed in moonlight.
Guinevere yawned again, stretched, then resigned herself to her situation. “All right, Ava,” she said. “Let’s go to sleep.”
——
Alice bid the others goodnight, stepped into her room, set her trunk against the wall, and stared.
Home.
I hadn’t planned on coming back so soon. I was sure Tobias was the one to take me to Elysia — and he will be. I wasn’t wrong. But…
It’s odd. It’s not like I’ve never left home before. I’ve had enough adventures with failures of knight-protectors. But being away, and then coming back, it always feels…
Odd.
She couldn’t put her finger on it. There was a gladness to be home, to be sure. She loved the arrangement of her bedroom, the bookshelves full to bursting, and then the numerous stacks of books around the floor, organized just as she’d left them. She loved the toy chest, and the comfy furniture, and her grand canopy bed covered in pillows.
But it was also… odd. Being here, instead of on the road. Being here, instead of…
She sighed. Bowed her head. And then she blinked at sudden tears, and hastily wiped her eyes. Not a single tear fell. She took in a deep breath, then raised her head, composing herself.
“Right, then,” she said softly. And then she turned around and opened the door, walking out of her bedroom.
She headed downstairs, and found Mister Carrol in the sitting room, in his favorite wingback chair in front of the fireplace, a well-read book open in his hands.
“Adventures Through the Looking-Glass again?” Alice asked.
“Correct,” Mister Carrol said. He closed the book and turned his attention to Alice. “Excellent guess.”
“It’s your favorite,” Alice said. She hopped into the chair beside his, and cast a glance at the cover of the book in his hands. On it was a precocious-looking blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl reaching through a looking-glass, through which was a fantastical world beyond the one she was about to leave behind. It was a marvelous storybook, and one of Alice’s favorites, too. She then looked at Mister Carrol, and saw the calm patience in his eyes.
“I suppose we should talk,” Alice said softly.
“The choice is yours,” Mister Carrol said. “But know that I am always happy to listen.”
“I know,” Alice said. She took a breath, and cast her mind back over the fullness of her latest adventure. The terrors, the hardships, the things she’d never wanted to face again. Slowly, she said in a tiny voice, “I met Lacie.”
Mister Carrol was silent for a moment. “She is awake?” he asked.
“It doesn’t appear so,” Alice said. “She wasn’t there physically. She was projecting herself wherever she wished. And Dormouse — I met Dormouse again, by the way, and she’s as sweet as ever — mentioned that dreams can be Lacie’s avenue to power. ‘Waking has its benefits. But sleeping is not powerlessness. Not for one like Lacie.’ She said that Lacie’s slumber restricts her, but that she is waking.” Alice shivered, despite the warmth of the fire.
“I see,” Mister Carrol said.
“This shouldn’t be happening!” Alice said, leaning towards Mister Carrol. “It can’t! After everything she sacrifice for us, to keep her asleep, to save the realms —!” She shook her head, blinking at new tears. “It can’t be for naught. This can’t happen. How do we stop it?”
“Elysia,” Mister Carrol said. “If Lacie is waking, then something may have gone wrong with the Hymn itself — or its singer. You must continue your journey, and put what is wrong to right.”
“Me?” Alice asked. “I… you mean make a wish, of course. I can do that much.”
“If something has gone wrong at the source,” Mister Carrol said, “then a wish may not be possible.”
A chill ran down Alice’s spine. “You can’t be serious,” she said, her voice nearly failing her at the end as a sob burst forth.
“We cannot know until Elysia is reached,” Mister Carrol said. “Tell me — was Mister Mallory with her?”
Alice shook her head. “No,” she said. “And… when I asked about him, she… she asked me who I was. Like she didn’t even know me.”
Mister Carrol looked at her intently. “Tell me every word,” he said.
Alice wiped away tears. She didn’t want to relive this. But she had to, if answers were ever to be found. “She asked ‘Who are you?’ And when I told her I was Alice, she asked again. ‘Really… who are you?’ And I said I was me, and she said, ‘Yes, you’re you. But Alice… hmm.’ I don’t… I don’t understand.”
“Continue,” Mister Carrol said gently.
“I told her,” Alice said, “to stop. I said ‘I don’t understand you at all.’ And she said… ‘That’s rich, coming from you. Oh, the scream did a number on Alice, didn’t it? To think you’d be all that’s left.’ And I… I tried to get her to explain, I don’t know what she’s talking about, what does she mean? But Chesh pulled us out of the Fracture, then. That’s where we left it. Please — what is she talking about? Aren’t I… I mean… who am I?” She gazed pleadingly at Mister Carrol, who met her gaze with unrelenting calmness.
“You are Alice,” Mister Carrol said. “You were hurt by the events of the past, of course. We all were. And we know that your memories are not what they were. There are things you have forgotten that we have not yet been able to reclaim. Lacie could have used that realization to try and toy with your sense of self, to make you believe you are more broken than you really are.”
“But… I am broken,” Alice said softly. She flinched at a memory, of shattering glass, and a terrified scream that went on, and on, without end.
“The nightmares persist?” Mister Carrol asked. Alice nodded, not trusting herself to speak. There was a silence for a moment, then Mister Carrol continued, “You met the Librarian. Tell me about him.”
It seemed a strange change of subject, but Alice told him everything. The entire story of the Library, and the gift that he had left her with. A gift she still hadn’t opened. A gift she feared to open.
“I believe this belongs to you, when you are ready for it.”
“It seems you and I have something in common.”
Faint, vague clues. But they were enough to send a spike of fear into her heart.
“If you are up to it,” Mister Carrol said, “I would be glad to sit with you when you open it. To help you with whatever it may reveal.”
“I… will consider it,” Alice said. “Thank you.” She looked at Mister Carrol, studying his face. He had always been her stalwart companion, a constant presence in her life. He was the only one who really knew her, and all that she had lived through, all that she had faced. He likely knew her even better than she knew herself.
And yet he could be so hard to read. So mysterious. He held things back, she knew that, and she didn’t begrudge him for it. She knew the oath he had sworn, and he had done his utmost to fulfill it at every turn. Even so…
“You don’t know what’s become of Mister Mallory?” Alice asked. “You don’t know why my question to Lacie about him would have inspired her questioning of my identity?”
“I don’t,” Mister Carrol said. “He should be by her side, wherever she goes. Perhaps he remains over her physical, sleeping self. But you asked about that, and that made her question you… as if you should know. Perhaps I should, too.” He stared into the flames, and Alice saw the genuine confusion in his eyes. He was as concerned about these questions as she was — and had just as few answers.
“I also… heard about Mister Merlin,” Alice said slowly. “He is not where he should be.”
Mister Carrol looked at her. “Where is he?” he asked.
“He’s… in Wonderia,” Alice said. “He saved Tobias when he was attacked, when his parents were killed. He trained Tobias and Elliot in swordsmanship. And though they’ve been away from him for some time, Tobias says he knows where Mister Merlin is, and that he will still be there.”
Mister Carrol’s brow furrowed slightly, and she could see him working over this new revelation. “Why would he leave?” he finally said. Softly, as if to himself. “Did he leave to save Tobias? Or was his purpose something else, and Tobias a fortunate coincidence?” He studied Alice for a moment. “What do you know of Tobias?”
“He keeps a lot of secrets,” Alice said. “But he’s a good man.” She smiled, and for a moment just the thought of his summer-sky-blue eyes, of him and Flynn, of their stalwart defense of her and their delightful companionship, chased the worries and fears from her heart. “He’s perfect. He really is. And so is Flynn! They’re the best pair. I couldn’t ask for better. Whatever his secrets… he doesn’t keep them out of malice. He’s…” and she bowed her head, realizing what she had seen in him, and him in her, “…broken. Deeply, tragically hurting. He tries so hard not to let it show. I think he’s even deceived himself, in some ways. To protect himself.” She looked up, meeting Mister Carrol’s questioning gaze. “But I trust him. More than anyone.”
Mister Carrol raised an eyebrow. “More than me?” he asked, and Alice heard the faint mocking hurt in his voice, and laughed.
“It’s a tie!” she said, shaking her head. “And so you should trust him, too. He’s the first person I’ve ever been able to trust as much as you.”
“Then I am glad you two found each other,” Mister Carrol said. “You should sleep, Alice. I shall make some inquiries — and see if I can discover more about Mister Mallory and Mister Merlin. But I don’t think there is any question: something has gone wrong in Elysia.”
That sent a new shiver of dread through Alice’s veins. “But… it can’t,” she said softly. “Elysia… she sealed it away to protect it. To protect the Song, and the wishes, and herself. How could something go wrong?”
“How could Lacie be waking?” Mister Carrol asked. “How could Mister Merlin be in Wonderia? Terrible evils are stirring, Alice. I am glad you’ve found yourself such stalwart companions — and so many. Keep them close. You will need all their strength to face the trials ahead. And they will need you, in turn.”
“Need me?” Alice asked. “I’m just… me. The only time I ever fought for something, I…” She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “I’ve never been able to do a thing. Not when it really counts.”
“You are more capable than you know, Alice,” Mister Carrol said with a kind smile. “It has ever been, and always shall be, my greatest honor to serve you, and to be your friend.”
“Oh, you don’t have to get quite so dramatic!” Alice said, wiping at her eyes. “Honestly. I’m glad to have you, too, you know. All right!” She hopped off the chair. “I’m going to bed. And hopefully, I’ll even sleep.” She smiled at Mister Carrol. “Thank you. For everything. Good night.”
“Good night, Alice.”
——
Guinevere’s dreams brought her back to the past. To brighter days — and brighter nights, in this case — when the world was open, the future full of possibility.
When Artorius was still in her life.
This particular dream-memory brought her to a full moon’s night, when Artorius’ parents had taken her and Artorius on an outing to the southern countryside, where bold cliffs overlooked the sea separating the Leucen Kingdom from the Continent. It was an autumn night, and quite chilly, but they’d gone prepared, bundled up in coats, hats, scarves, and gloves. Artorius’ parents had brought crystal-powered heaters for the campsite, rather than relying on building a real fire. And attached to the heaters was a symphonic crystal-powered stove, on which they made hot chocolate.
Here they set up camp beneath the stars, and Guinevere and Artorius walked out towards the cliffs, the height bringing harsh winds that whipped frigidly at them. And yet, Guinevere never remembered being cold. She just remembered smiling with her favorite people in the world, basking in this moment of peace.
Nights at home were never like this.
“It’s a nice change of pace, isn’t it?” Artorius asked. He turned to smile at her, his summer-sky-blue eyes turned liquid silver in the moonlight.
“It is,” Guinevere said. She didn’t smile back, though. She knew what he meant, and it only brought her closer to the place she’d come here to escape from.
“You should talk to them, Guin,” Artorius said. He turned away, looking out over the sea. “I bet they don’t even know how their antics make you feel.”
“Antics?” Guinevere asked. “That’s a gross understatement. Father just gorges himself on whatever money can buy, basking in the privilege that my station brings him. And mother…” She shook her head. “ ‘Guinevere, darling,’ ” she said in a mocking imitation of her mother’s placating tones. “She talks to me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world, but does she actually look at me? Actually care about a word I say?” Guinevere pouted fiercely. She didn’t like complaining, not about her parents. At only ten years old, she was already sick of it.
“They seem rather oblivious,” Artorius said. “At least, that was always my read on them. Caught up in the high life, enjoying material indulgences and connections with the big names in society, they’re just enjoying what they have too much to have any self-awareness.”
“You’re too gracious,” Guinevere said.
“Maybe,” Artorius said. “I’m just saying: they’re your parents. You should at least try to make it work. Help them understand you.”
“I prefer being with someone else’s parents,” Guinevere said. She cast a longing look over her shoulder and Artorius’ mother and father, dancing by the heater. There was a picture of real joy, humble pleasures… and love. Just the joy of being with each other. No need for money, or power, or fame.
“I’d like having you as my sister,” Artorius said, smiling. “But I don’t think your parents would let mine adopt you. And I feel like my parents would tell you the same thing: that you should try to make it work with your parents. They’re not bad people. They’re just…” He trailed off, and Guinevere looked at him and saw him earnestly thinking of what to say.
“See?” Guinevere asked. “You can’t even come up with one genuinely nice thing to say about them! They’re greedy, self-indulgent, lazy, pathetic leeches desperate for any taste of power or wealth they can get. And desperate to use whatever they get, no matter if it’s at someone else’s expense — even their own daughter’s.” She glared at Artorius. “Not everyone has parents who love them.”
Artorius wilted. “Yeah, I guess we should change the subject,” he said.
“Exactly,” Guinevere said. “And we should definitely do that over some hot chocolate.” She shivered to make her point. Artorius didn’t shiver — he never was much bothered by extreme temperatures. He so loved being outdoors, and often being a dangerous risk-taker — he would climb the highest trees, dive from the tallest cliffs, swim in the choppiest waters, without a hint of fear or worry. But he smiled and agreed with her, so they headed back to the heater and picked up their steaming mugs, sitting side-by-side in the cozy warmth.
“What dance was that?” Guinevere asked as Artorius’ parents finished. “I’ve never seen those steps before. It was lovely.”
“Twilight’s Nightingale,” Artorius’ mother said. “I can start teaching it to you in your next lesson, if you wish.”
Guinevere and Artorius both said eagerly, “Yes, please!”
They actually would have started learning that very night, if the memory continued. But Guinevere was drawn out of the past, out of sleep, waking with a shiver. She rolled over, burying her hands in Ava’s soft fur. But her warmth wasn’t enough. It was awfully cold, out here on the balcony. For Guinevere had chosen to sleep outside again, despite the lovely bed inside. Sleep eluded her if she didn’t have openness, the sky above, a lack of walls around her and a cage closed overhead.
This is going to be quite the problem in wintertime.
She shivered again, and couldn’t stay here, despite how tired she was. She pulled herself out of her sleeping bag and headed into the bedroom, rubbing bleary eyes. There were numerous downy comforters on the bed. She started to grab them all, bundling them up in her arms to take outside, when she stopped in her tracks.
Something was not right here.
Suddenly she turned, grasping for the sword at her hip — but her sword wasn’t there. It was with her belt, laid out beside her sleeping bag on the balcony.
A familiar giggle was Lacie’s first response to Guinevere’s actions. “Come, now,” the girl said, smiling. “You don’t want to hurt me.”
“How did you get here?” Guinevere asked, glaring at the girl standing in the center of her bedroom. The door was closed, and locked — the deadbolt was still latched, too, just as Guinevere had left it.
“I go where I wish,” Lacie said. “You don’t really think locks can keep me out, do you?”
“Why are you here?” Guinevere asked.
“Now you’re asking the good questions,” Lacie said, beaming. “Oh, hello, Ava. It’s nice to see you again.” Ava came padding in, and started over towards Lacie right away.
“Ava, come,” Guinevere said, her voice sharp-edged in her tension. Ava responded without question, striding over to her and taking her place at Guinevere’s side.
“You’d deny me a few pets of her soft fur?” Lacie asked, pouting. “Oh, well. I suppose you’ve been given a few reasons to distrust me. I never meant for you to get hurt, though. I really thought you’d be able to conquer the Nightmare King on your own. I’m sorry I put you through that, Guin. I’m glad the Caterpillar was able to sort it out.”
“Have you been watching my every move?” Guinevere asked.
“Not every move,” Lacie said, laughing. “I have plenty of other things to do, of course. But I do like to keep an eye on the songbirds in the world. And you’re the most special songbird of them all, Guin. The Promised Queen! I’m so glad you’ve come around to the song inside of you. Ninian really is quite the teacher, isn’t she? Though I’d be happy to take her place. Or even just give you a few lessons on the side. There are things about songbirds even she doesn’t know.”
“I don’t want your help,” Guinevere said. “Please leave. Or allow yourself to be taken captive, so we can properly question you.”
“Hmm,” Lacie said, tapping a finger to her chin. “You drive a hard bargain, Guin. Leave, or be captured… no, I don’t think I’ll do either.” She grinned. “I’m like you, Guin. I do what I want, and I want the freedom to continue to do what I want. Freedom is why you left home, after all. It’s why you can’t sleep indoors anymore. Your cravings are normal, Guin. I just want the rest of the world to embrace the same desires as you and I.”
“Our desires are nothing alike,” Guinevere said, glaring daggers at the girl. “You burned down a school. You killed someone!”
“He killed himself, really,” Lacie said. “The headmaster made sure to get everyone out. He was a hero. Aren’t sacrificial heroes supposed to be lauded? You’re acting like he’s just another murder victim. He deserves more respect than that.”
“How can you be so callous?” Guinevere asked. “You’re just a child! What evils can twist such a young soul into something so rotten?”
“Callous?” Lacie asked. “Rotten?” Guinevere was shocked to see what looked like tears glistening in her eyes. “You don’t mean that. You’re just angry, that’s all. You would never say something so cruel. We’re friends, after all.”
“You are not my friend,” Guinevere said.
“Oh?” Lacie asked. The tears vanished. “But I made you a promise, Guin. A promise I intend to keep, if ever you are willing to ask it of me. And I ask nothing of you in return. Because friends don’t owe friends any debts.”
Guinevere blinked in confusion. “What promise?” she asked.
Lacie cocked her head to the side. “Don’t you remember?” she asked. “I told you: follow me, and I’ll take you to him. To Artorius.”
At the mention of his name, the fire went out of Guinevere. “How can you know where he is?” she asked in a tiny, hopeful voice. “How could you know, when no one else does?”
“Oh, others do,” Lacie said. “The Librarian knew — he just couldn’t tell you. Artorius asked him not to tell a soul, and the Librarian promised. Lairah knows — though she only just figured it out. Clever girl. I always liked her. There are a handful of others. Some in your company know, right now, as we speak. They know exactly where Artorius is. But they won’t tell you. Don’t you think that’s rude?”
Something twisted in Guinevere’s heart. “What… the ones I travel with… they…” She couldn’t complete the thought. Why would they say nothing, if they knew? Keep such a secret from the world, certainly, but not from her! Was she not able to be trusted with his location? With his fate? The fate of her best friend?
“I’m sorry,” Lacie said. And she genuinely seemed sorry. “I don’t mean to sow doubt amongst friends. It’s just always seemed odd to me. From the moment you met. Why not tell you, of all people? But that’s not the point. Guin — I’ll take you to him. Then you won’t have any more questions, any more doubts. No more secrets.” She held out her hand.
Guinevere stared at that small hand, so full of promise. And she couldn’t resist. Lacie asked nothing in return. No strings attached. An end to all the secrets, to all the questions, and all Guinevere had to do was go with her. What did she have to lose?
But then there was the sound of a sword being drawn, and Guinevere, Ava, and Lacie turned to the balcony. There, standing in the open doors, was Sheena, azure katana in hand, gleaming in the moonlight. “Leave her in peace,” Sheena said, calmly, but with steel in her voice.
“Ooh, you jumped from your balcony, didn’t you?” Lacie asked, batting her eyelashes adoringly. “That’s quite the leap! And rushing to her defense — what a hero! Only —” and here she cocked her head to the side, confused, “what are you trying to defend her from? I’m no threat.”
“You promise the world, when you only have discord to give,” Sheena said. She strode into the room, interposing herself between Guinevere and Lacie. “You say you ask for nothing in return. But if you truly cared for the songbirds, you would have reached my brother before he fell to his dissonance. You would have saved him.”
“I did try,” Lacie said. “It breaks my heart whenever a songbird is lost. But he isn’t dead — and I’m certain you’re the one to bring him back to himself. Which is why I came with a promise for you, too, of a similar vein.” She held out her hand to Sheena now. “Come with me, Sheena. I’ll take you to Asbel, straight away. No more searching without a clue. No more praying you find him before his hunters. You can be there with him, and seal him in safety, right now.”
Silence stretched taut in the room. Guinevere watched Sheena — the set of her shoulders, the tension in her posture, the tilt of her head. Lacie watched her, too, with an outstretched hand, asking nothing more. The offer had been made. It was Sheena’s turn to respond how she wished.
Slowly, Sheena sheathed her sword. The tension in her posture softened. She looked like she was about to take a step forward.
Then there was a rustling in her shirt, and Akko came up and out onto her shoulder. He then shocked Guinevere by biting Sheena on her earlobe. Sheena flinched, then took a step back, away from Lacie.
“Leave us,” Sheena said. “And don’t ever return.”
Lacie smirked. “Well, if you insist,” she said.
And she promptly vanished.
Her giggle echoed on the air, though, and her voice, soft as a whisper, had one last thing to say in her absence. “Think on my offers. I’ll return in time to make them again.”
Guinevere staggered suddenly, like she’d been frozen in place and hadn’t known it. She shook her head hard, and looked down at Ava, who was shaking herself vigorously.
It’s just like before. She has this powerful effect on me… like a spell. A charm I can’t escape. I…
I want to trust her. I want to give her whatever she wants.
She shivered, and this time not from the cold.
“Thank you, dear one,” Sheena said softly, petting Akko, who was now licking away the blood from her ear. She turned to face Guinevere, her gaze full of empathy. “When you spoke of your first encounter with Lacie, I asked Akko if he would help me, should she make me such an offer in the future. He was to stop me from accepting anything she offered, by whatever means necessary.”
“But why?” Guinevere asked. “You… you could have gone to your brother. You could have helped him, right now!”
“We cannot trust her,” Sheena said firmly. “She offers what we want most, while asking nothing in return. After what we’ve seen of her in the Fracture, do you truly not find that suspicious? Please, Guinevere — don’t give in to her.”
Guinevere fixed Sheena with a determined stare. “Do you know where Artorius is?” she asked.
Sheena shook her head. “I know nothing of the Promised King,” she said. “I heard what Lacie said to you. If I knew of his current whereabouts, I would not keep that from you. If someone in our party knows, and has kept it a secret, I don’t know why. I’m sure they have reasons that make sense to them, but I can’t think of what those would be. I wish they would just tell you. I’m sorry.”
Guinevere felt a sudden heavy exhaustion. She didn’t want to doubt her companions. Alice, Tobias… Elliot, Ninian… could one or more of them really know about Artorius, and be keeping that from her? Why would they?
She trusted Sheena, though. And that counted for much right now. “I know in my head that I shouldn’t trust Lacie,” she said. “But my heart… there’s something about that girl. I want to believe her, even though I know I shouldn’t.”
“Then let me help you,” Sheena said. “And you can help me. It seems that she wants both of us to take her hand. Then we should both stand together to resist these desires.” She held out her hand. “We’re in this together, Guinevere.”
Guinevere took her hand. “I’ll need your help,” she said. “Thank you.”
“If you need me, I’m just next door,” Sheena said. And rather than exit through the door, she went back out onto the balcony. Guinevere followed after her in a hurry, just in time to see Sheena step onto the railing and leap in a single bound over to her own balcony, a good twenty feet away. Guinevere’s heart leapt into her throat at the precipitous drop below, but Sheena had no fear — and needed none. She landed lightly on her own balcony, as if she could have leapt another twenty feet further in that one bound. She turned to Guinevere, offered her an encouraging smile, and then retired into her room.
Ava bumped up against Guinevere’s thigh, and Guinevere stroked her head. “Yes, Ava,” she said softly. “I’m glad she’s with us, too.” She gathered up her blankets, bundled up in her sleeping bag with Ava against her chest, and fell asleep under the stars.