Alice woke with a start. She didn’t jolt up in bed, didn’t cry out or scream. But her eyes snapped open, and she gasped, and then lay there, eyes wide, taking in the waking world.
That was… different.
She rolled over, feeling her bed, her abundant pillows, her blankets and their comforting weight and softness. She stared at the ceiling of the tent, grounding herself in the moment, breathing in, out, in, out.
It hadn’t been like her usual nightmares. Those were enough of a mystery, but also far more frightening than what she’d just dreamt.
There was… someone else.
It was fading already, like ordinary dreams, and that frustrated her. She wanted to hold onto this, to understand this frightening mystery. But after only a few moments, all she was left with were fragments.
A shadow upon a chair. A masked stranger with red hair. A frightened scream on the air. Tears, falling, everywhere.
“It felt like… a cry for help,” Alice said softly.
If only I could hold onto the entire dream. If only…
“But for now, it’s a new day!” she said. She sat up, looking around. No Flynn this morning. That was unfortunate, but understandable. “He needs to look after Tobias, too, after all.”
And after yesterday, it was likely Tobias needed the extra comfort.
Alice put herself together and headed out. It was later than she’d awoken the previous morning, and she’d expected that — she’d slept quite heavily, and quite well, aside from the mysterious nightmare. But it was still early — dawn was only just beginning to give the world a pale illumination, the sun not yet rising above the horizon.
Tobias was awake. That was the first thing Alice noticed. He was sitting against a tree trunk, an open book in his hands, his sheathed sword not attached to his belt but resting in the grass right beside him. Flynn was curled contentedly in his lap, but perked up when he saw Alice.
“Good morning!” Alice said, strolling right over to them. She cast a glance at Guinevere, sprawled as much as possible in her sleeping bag, hair a mess, drool wetting her pillow. Ava acknowledged Alice with a look, but otherwise remained happily curled up with the Promised Queen. “What are you reading?”
“The Canticos,” Tobias said.
“Oh, I see,” Alice said, peeking at where he had it open to. “Original Elysian, at that. The Song of the Promise, hmm? Curious about our resident queen?”
If Tobias was impressed by her being able to read Elysian, he didn’t show it, but Alice was used to his guarded expressions. “It’s just where I am in my current reading,” he said.
“So you read it quite regularly,” Alice said, earning a nod from Tobias. “I forget — what hope is there for the Promised Queen if the Promised King is slain? Is there still value in Guinevere retaining her title?”
“She will always be the Promised Queen,” Tobias said. “As for the King… there are uncertainties.”
Hmm? There was something there, just for a moment. What interest do you have in this, Tobias?
“But if I remember correctly, the Promise is about the King and Queen together reclaiming lost Elysia, isn’t it?” Alice asked. “That… would be a challenge, given the current state of affairs. Yet you claimed you had leads on reaching Elysia.”
“And I do,” Tobias said. “There’s more to the realms than what we know, and there are mysteries beneath what we’ve been able to understand in this.” He gestured with the Canticos.
“That’s a very humble way of thinking about life,” Alice said, smiling. She looked around. “Where’s Sheena?”
“I saw her head off with Akko quite a while ago,” Tobias said. “She said they were going to do their morning training.”
“Ooh, I want to go see!” Alice said. She started off, but only took a few steps before stopping, eyeing Tobias with expectancy.
Tobias, to Alice’s delight, actually smiled just the tiniest bit. “I’m not going to try to stop you,” he said. “Curiosity isn’t a terrible thing. And if she doesn’t want you to watch her, you won’t find her.”
“We’ll see about that,” Alice said. She started to take another step, but then Tobias pointed in the opposite direction.
“She went that way,” he said.
“How accommodating of you,” Alice said. She thanked him and headed in the direction indicated.
We’ve seen what Tobias gets up to on his own with Flynn — and it’s adorable. What are Sheena and Akko like when no one’s watching? I simply must know! Guinevere tries to curb my curiosity, but there’s nothing better for bonding traveling companions than knowledge.
As her thoughts went to Guinevere, she reflected on their most recent escapades together.
She finally got her chance to defend me. And she performed admirably! I must admit, I was worried she wouldn’t hold up under pressure. But she’s quite competent. And her improvised teamwork with Ava was a rousing success. Clever, skilled, flexible, calm in a crisis…
Yes, the Promised Queen is much more than she first appeared. I hope her wrist heals quickly.
Alice strode through the woods, singing a song in her heart without making a sound. It was important to be stealthy now, if she was going to get to see Sheena as honestly as possible, without any thought of hiding her true self in front of others. The trees around their clearing were even more thick and dense than their last campsite, which only served Alice’s purpose even better — assuming she could find where Sheena had gone.
But just as she was wondering if she was losing her way, she heard a voice a little ways ahead.
No, not a voice. Voices. Multiple.
Alice crept slowly forward, just enough that she could overhear the conversation. The first voice she could make out clearly was Sheena’s — and not in standard Albian. She was speaking Kisetsugo, the beautifully lyrical language of her homeland. Alice understood enough to follow the conversation, though not in perfect detail. Sheena was delivering a firm, resolute refusal to the stranger. It was delivered with honor, though, using linguistic honorifics unique to Kisetsugo to denote respect to the one she was speaking to. And along with her refusal, a commitment to never return home “as long as you continue to hunt…” who? Alice couldn’t catch exactly who or what was being hunted.
The other voice responded, the voice of a man, musical and deep, but with a hard edge. His meaning could not be mistaken — Sheena was in danger, if she continued along her present course. He used a very strong word for “traitor,” full of dishonor. An insult that Alice would never expect Sheena to accept.
She did not. She responded with the same measured, firm dignity of before, affirming her honor and pride as a “Daughter of Haruo,” and reaffirming her commitment to her cause — even if she had to walk her chosen path alone.
The stranger scoffed, then said, in no uncertain terms, “Come back to us — or the next time we meet, we will come to blows.” There were footsteps on the grass, and then silence.
Alice crept closer, until finally she could see into the clearing where Sheena stood. Akko came out from the folds of her layered shirts — he must have been taking shelter during the tense exchange — and perched on Sheena’s shoulder, nuzzling against her cheek. Sheena reached up to pet him with one hand, but her expression was hard, and hurt.
Her other hand was at her side, clenching the hilt of her sheathed sword.
A moment later, without turning to look elsewhere, she said, “It isn’t polite to eavesdrop, little one.” The firmness and conviction was gone from her voice, and she spoke the admonishment gently and calmly. Slowly, she released her grip on her sword.
Alice emerged from her hiding place with a smile. “You’re perceptive,” she said. “But I only came to look for you. Do you really think I’d eavesdrop?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Sheena said, finally looking at Alice. Her expression softened, but the hurt still remained, under the surface.
Alice giggled. “So you knew about Guinevere and I watching Tobias and Flynn, did you?” she asked. “And here I thought we’d been clever.”
“Just not clever enough,” Sheena said. A long pause stretched between them. “Was there something you wanted to ask?”
“Oh, no,” Alice said, shrugging casually. “If you have nothing to share willingly, we can leave it at that. For now. But I was curious about your morning routine. Do you and Akko exercise together?”
“Akko is an excellent observer,” Sheena said. “He gives me a different perspective on my exercises, and helps me improve. But we’ve already finished training. It’s time for Akko’s breakfast.” Akko let out the tiniest little sound, a soft, high-pitched chirp of sorts, the first vocal sound Alice had heard from the squirrel-rabbit creature.
Cute.
“Then let us return to camp!” Alice said, happily leading the way. For a while, at least — at one point Sheena gently redirected her, and then took over leading the way through the dense trees. Alice was startled at first — she prided herself on her sense of direction.
But that’s all right. After all, this is only the first time on this adventure when I’ve struggled to know where I am. I’ll blame it on my stomach. I am rather famished.
Back at camp, Tobias was tossing a ball across the clearing, and Flynn kept chasing it down and running it back with an endless wellspring of stamina. Alice asked if she could throw it with him for a bit, and Tobias kindly accepted, handing over the ball. And Alice had so much fun.
There’s nothing quite like playing with a dog.
While she played with Flynn, Tobias returned to reading the Canticos. So when Guinevere stirred, wiping at her face and groggily rising to join those in the waking world, Alice had the Song of the Promise on her mind — and that led to a sudden realization. With the way Guinevere reacted to Saoirse’s title, and Saoirse’s tauntings about her being just a “princess,” about a promise that will never be fulfilled, the facts added up to a clear conclusion.
“I know your wish!” she said, tossing Flynn’s ball to Tobias and rushing over to Guinevere.
“And how could you possibly know that?” Guinevere asked in her raspy, groggy morning-voice, blinking half-closed, bleary eyes.
“It’s elementary, of course,” Alice said, beaming. “You want to resurrect the Promised King! Without him, you can’t have the throne that is rightfully yours, and then you have to deal with more insults from Saoirse, and you can’t stand for more of those.” Guinevere’s eyes narrowed in a particularly venomous glare, but Alice was already used to such looks from her. “You’ve been lost and struggling this entire time since the Promised King’s death, haven’t you? But Elysia is the solution! One wish to revive your long-lost love and heal the Promise — it’s romantic, isn’t it?”
Guinevere shot to her feet with such speed that even Alice was caught off-guard, eyes widening slightly. Guinevere, hands clenched into fists at her sides, snapped, “Don’t act like you know everything!” Her voice was harsh, harsher than Alice had ever heard from her before. Rage and pain were intermingled in a potent brew that came out scalding, and Alice had flinched back a step before she realized it. “You horrible child!” Guinevere turned on her heel and stormed off into the woods, Ava padding after her.
Alice stood watching her go with wide eyes.
I’ve struck a nerve in her before, but this was… deeply personal. And I don’t think she was trying to hide the truth. Bringing back the Promised King… that’s… not her wish.
But if that’s not it, then what is?
——
Guinevere marched through the trees heedless of branches that sliced at her arms, or at the occasionally sharp grass and often uneven ground that was rather painful under her bare feet.
She didn’t notice the pain, paid no heed to the discomfort. There was a storm in her heart, and she needed distance and solitude — and perhaps some pain — to quell this rage.
Because it wasn’t anger. Not really. Her sword instructor Tycho’s words came to mind, no matter how much she wanted to stew in anger right now.
“Anger is often a defensive scramble to guard our pain. And you, Guin, are especially prone to anger when you are cut to the heart of your sorrow.”
Guinevere finally stopped, breathing heavily, glaring through the trees. Ava stopped at her side and rubbed gently against her leg.
“He’s not dead,” Guinevere said softly. “He’s not dead. He can’t be.”
It wasn’t just a determination, and it certainly wasn’t denial. Since the day the news had come of the attack on the Wonderian compound where Artorius had been secreted to for his protection, Guinevere had felt it in her heart, and declared it to all of the naysayers: He is not dead.
I would know it in my heart. I would have felt it.
She was drawn back to the past. To happier times. To memories of life alongside her dearest friend in the entire world…
It was spring in Ars Moran. Fifteen years ago, months before the first attempt on Artorius’ life that would result in him being sent to Wonderia, five years before his supposed “death” that would leave Guinevere caged in her own bedroom, never to be free again.
It was a time of freedom. Of joy. Guinevere and Artorius, ten years old — born on the exact same day, at almost the exact same moment, they’d been inseparable ever since — were out on their own. Yes, there were Knights watching over them. There always were. But they kept to a great distance, blended with the crowds and surroundings, were as inconspicuous as possible.
Ten year-old Guinevere and ten year-old Artorius were in Rondo Gardens, a sprawling, hilly landscape with winding paths dense with flowers and flowering trees of all kinds. It was easy to get lost, if one didn’t know the way.
Guinevere and Artorius did not know the way. But then, they enjoyed getting lost.
“If we ever truly can’t find our way back,” Artorius said, “then our faithful Knight-protectors will guide us home. So we have no need to worry.”
He said this with that boyish, cheerful smile that came to him so easily. His golden-blonde hair caught the rays of the sun and seemed to glitter, and his eyes, blue eyes like a cloudless summer afternoon, were full of light and joy.
“It’s important to give them work to do, now and then,” Guinevere said, nodding sagely. “After all, it’s not like anyone will ever actually try to harm us.”
“Even if they did,” Artorius said, “I’d protect you.”
“Or I’d protect you,” Guinevere shot back. They both burst out laughing.
Rounding a corner, they found a hilltop ringed by spherical topiary, intermingled with delicate blue myosotis flowers, tiny, lovely blossoms that clustered together. In the center of the hilltop sanctuary was a bubbling fountain, with an intriguing design that reminded Guinevere of an hourglass.
“Did you read Gadrick Gorensell yet?” Artorius asked. He led the way, walking with her around the edge of the circular hilltop, nearest the flowers. Their fragrant yet delicate scent mixed nicely with the distant birdsong.
Guinevere sighed. “I wish you hadn’t lent it to me,” she said. “It’s just one misadventure after the next! And the rhyming schemes are silly without substance. I don’t get what you see in it.”
“It’s hilarious!” Artorius said, laughing. “Father says there’s a deeper symbolism behind each misadventure, too. I haven’t figured them out, yet.”
“And he’s remaining tight-lipped as always, I’m sure,” Guinevere said, smiling. “Fine, then. I’ll read it more, but this time with an eye for deciphering the deeper meaning. If you can’t solve this puzzle alone, then we’ll solve it together.”
“Ah,” Artorius said, and there was a mischievous gleam in his eye. He turned and walked backwards as they finished their first time around the hilltop.
Guinevere knew that mischievous look all too well. “This was your intent all along, wasn’t it?” she asked. “You were just trying to rope me into helping you crack the code. You could have just asked me outright!”
“I didn’t want your reading of it to be biased,” Artorius said.
“Too late for that now, isn’t it?” Guinevere asked.
Artorius gazed skyward, still walking backwards. He bobbed his head from side to side, considering. “I suppose so,” he said, then grinned. “But it’s better this way. You weren’t enjoying it before, but now you have a mystery to solve!”
“Ulterior motives do not suit a future king,” Guinevere said, tossing her head haughtily. “I don’t think this bodes well for your eventual crowning.”
“Speaking of which,” Artorius said, and sighed. He stopped suddenly, then turned and fell right onto his back, sprawling in the grass. He gazed up at the sky with an annoyed expression. “I ran into another romantic today.”
Guinevere lay down on the grass next to him, watching the clouds drift lazily through the sky. “I’m sure they’re only going to become more commonplace the older we get,” she said.
“Mother and Father both tell me to try to understand,” Artorius said. “It is rather the usual arrangement that a King and Queen who rule together over the same domain are married, after all.”
“But there’s nothing ‘usual’ about the Promise,” Guinevere said. She rolled over to look at Artorius, and he rolled over to meet her gaze.
He grinned, and Guinevere grinned, too, sharing that conspiratorial smile. “We’re as unusual as they come, aren’t we?” Artorius asked. “And that’s never going to change.”
“I was just re-reading one of your father’s books the other day,” Guinevere said.
“The Complexities of Love?” Artorius asked.
Guinevere smirked. Of course he’d known what she was thinking. “That’s right. I particularly enjoy the chapter on friendship.”
“So do I,” Artorius said. He reached out and held Guinevere’s hand. “Friendship is love, too. Just as strong as romance.”
“Sometimes stronger,” Guinevere said, raising an eyebrow.
Artorius laughed. “All too true,” he said.
They lay like that a moment longer, gazing at each other, holding hands. It was Artorius who broke the silence. “I suppose we should stand back up like boring friends,” he said. “If anyone were to see us like this, they’d get the wrong idea.”
“And the papers would be running the story for weeks on end,” Guinevere said with a groan.
“Try months,” Artorius said, making a face. Guinevere matched it, both of them expressing their disgust with the people’s preferred narrative — and then they both burst out laughing.
Artorius sat up, still shaking with fading laughter. “It’s up to us,” he said. “Promised King, and Promised Queen. To restore what was lost.”
“To make things how we want them to be,” Guinevere said, sitting up with him.
“Not how we want,” Artorius said, but he was laughing again, and Guinevere with him. “How they should be. We must wield our power responsibly, after all.”
“Oh, we will,” Guinevere said. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your delusions of grandeur in check.”
“And I yours!” Artorius said.
Guinevere gave Artorius’ hand a squeeze. “We’ll make our wish come true,” she said.
Artorius nodded. “No matter what,” he said.
Guinevere sighed. Because memories were just memories. They could only capture the moment so well, could only captivate the mind’s eye for so long before the present broke back in.
She was in a dense, dark wood, not the Rondo Gardens. She was twenty-five, not ten.
And it had been a very long time since she’d heard Artorius laugh. Since she’d held his hand, since she’d walked with him, since the two of them had reaffirmed the promise they’d made to each other so very long ago.
He isn’t dead. But that’s… almost worse, isn’t it? Because if he isn’t dead…
She stared at her left hand, her wrist and middle of her hand wrapped tightly, securely, helping her injury heal. And she felt it, even with the poultice Sheena had applied to the site of the injury, just like she felt the bruise on her chest, and the ache in her arms. Reminders of what she’d fought through.
Where are you, Artorius? Why did you disappear? How could you? That wish… we were supposed to carry it to Elysia together. We were supposed to see it fulfilled together.
Guinevere knelt and petted Ava, who had stood faithfully by her side, a comforting presence, asking for nothing. “You never even got to meet him,” she said, her voice breaking. There was a heaviness in Guinevere’s heart, an ache that would never fade, a tightness in her throat, and yet…
She couldn’t cry. Not for him.
“We… have to head back, don’t we?” Guinevere asked in a small voice. She didn’t want to face Alice again, didn’t even want to look at her, let alone hear her annoying, arrogant voice. But…
“But I ought to be the adult,” Guinevere said. “I ought to rise above this. And… we are both rather hungry, aren’t we, sweet girl?” Ava’s tail wagged, and Guinevere laughed softly, stroking Ava’s face.
They spent a moment longer in solitude, and then made their slow way back to the camp. Guinevere took this chance to smooth out her messy hair at least a little. She would attend to it properly after breakfast, but she could at least make herself slightly more presentable. When they returned, Alice and Tobias were just setting out breakfast. Flynn was over by Tobias’ sleeping bag, eating his own breakfast, and Sheena and Akko were just finishing up that hand-game that they liked to play. Guinevere took in a deep breath, let it out, and went to join the others.
“Oh, are you eating with us?” Alice asked. She spoke slightly differently, a bit more subdued, almost… gentle. And she didn’t draw attention to Guinevere’s storming off.
“I thought I’d try it,” Guinevere said. Looking at Alice, she realized she really was just a child. An arrogant, know-it-all, overly mischievous child, but even so.
“I’m… sorry,” Alice said after they’d all sat down to eat. Guinevere stared at her, blinking. “I jumped to conclusions. You’re right that I don’t know you, and don’t know what your story truly is. I should have been more sensitive.”
Well. As far as apologies go, that was… surprisingly kind.
Guinevere didn’t fail to catch that Alice shot a quick glance at Tobias, though. And she fought back a sigh.
He suggested she apologize, didn’t he? This wasn’t Alice’s idea. But…
…even so…
If that was a forced apology, it’s better, and seemed far more genuine, than any forced apology I had to deliver when I was her age.
“Thank you,” Guinevere said. “It’s quite all right. I just needed to cool off. And… for the future, do try not to antagonize me when I’ve first woken up.”
“Because you have a sword, and you know how to use it,” Alice said, eyeing her with just the slightest hint of teasing playfulness.
Guinevere almost smiled. “Precisely,” she said.
Tobias pulled out a map after he was finished eating, and showed them their path for the day. “Assuming no further complications,” he said, “we should leave Saoirse’s lands behind in time for dinner.”
Guinevere bit back a sharp retort. She’d seen more of Tobias yesterday than she’d ever expected from him. There was a deep pain in his heart, a tragedy that shaped him. And he really was quite heroic, giving everything he had to save perfect strangers.
If the four of them really could bring an end to Saoirse’s reign, then Tobias wouldn’t hesitate to take the fight to her. She had to believe that.
And… perhaps it’s for the best. I have a greater goal to aspire to, after all. Elysia… and my wish. It’s such a long road yet to reach the wish-granting land. I can’t get wrapped up in wild detours. Tobias has called for the greatest Knight he knows to bring an entire battalion. Saoirse’s reign will end. These lands will be made safe.
And I will reach Elysia.
Their journey that day took them across a rolling expanse, through such varied topography that Guinevere was constantly amazed. From rugged glens, to impeccably-manicured rose gardens, across train tracks and through the hollow husks of abandoned factories they went, seeing the beauty and ugliness of Saoirse’s domain in equal measure. What could no longer be used, what no longer served its function, wasn’t repaired or restored or salvaged, no. It was abandoned. There was an entire twenty-seven car train in a valley, having lost its grip of the tracks and fallen to a violent demise. And it must have happened ages ago — rust was rampant across the cars, and nature was beginning to reclaim it, vines embracing wheels and doors, rose bushes creeping up and through the engine.
It was just left here. Bereft of purpose, it was abandoned.
She’s willing to slaughter an entire town of her own productive people for not meeting her steep quotas — but what’s the point in that? Killing workers goes against your actual goals and reduces your workforce. What nonsensical logic drives such tyranny?
They ate lunch in that valley with the abandoned train, and then climbed their way up and out to a high road. They didn’t stick to the road long, however, veering off into country once more. Alice hummed a jaunty tune at times, never daunted by the long hours of walking, wheeling her enormous trunk behind her with ease. She was often towards the front of the party, with Tobias and Flynn, who led the way. Sheena tended to drift towards the back, but it didn’t seem to be out of any antisocial tendencies. She was alert and aware, watchful their backs.
And along their journey, Guinevere mostly walked with Sheena. They talked about sword combat, and Guinevere relayed the details of her clashes with two card soldiers in the Fourth. She had numerous questions, and Sheena was more than happy to answer them for her.
“The best thing you can do against a group of enemies is to be mindful of positioning,” Sheena said. “Fighting a single foe isn’t as different from fighting multiple foes as it seems. The difference comes from how many things you need to keep track of. Be mindful of your position, and the position of all of your enemies. Never lose track of them. Particularly if you are defending someone, you must be mindful not to overextend — and most groups fighting against a lone defender will try to bait you into overextending.”
“That was exactly my mistake in our first encounter with card soldiers,” Guinevere said, reflecting ruefully on that catastrophic failure.
“You’ll learn,” Sheena said, offering her a reassuring smile. Guinevere was struck again and again by how composed Sheena was, by the serenity that showed in all of her expressions and actions. Just being around her was soothing. “Experience is the greatest teacher.”
“I’m realizing just how much I have to rethink my way of fighting,” Guinevere said. “Against lone foes, I can still rely on all of my training. But I’ve never even sparred against multiple opponents.”
“Tobias and I could help you together,” Sheena offered.
Guinevere narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps,” she said, though she had no intention of actually taking her up on that offer. She had developed a new empathy for Tobias and the pain that had forged him, but she still didn’t want to spend too much time with him. “How do you fight against them so easily, without being overwhelmed by their strength?” she asked. She kept flexing her hand, testing her range of motion in the tight bindings.
“Experience, once again,” Sheena said. “However harsh your duels in the training hall, there is always more physical violence and brutality in a real fight. You were unprepared for it, and yet you still prevailed. As long as you can avoid serious or recurring injuries, you will grow stronger, and be able to bear up better under the force of your foes in the future. But experience isn’t all. When next we stop, let me see some of your sword forms. We can find out what specifically went wrong with some of your blocks and parries, and work on improving your technique for the future.”
“Thank you.” Guinevere smiled, looking forward to the lessons. She had a long journey ahead of her — she couldn’t afford to get complacent.
Tycho, you taught me so much. Now it’s time for me to expand my knowledge, and rise as high as you always believed I could. Perhaps you won’t even recognize me when next we meet.
Their path in the late afternoon took them through some winding forest trails, led by Flynn and Akko. “Don’t you know the way from traveling through here in the past?” Alice asked Tobias.
“It’s been three years,” Tobias said. “And Flynn has the better memory.”
Tobias and their animal guides had confidence in this path. Even Sheena seemed unperturbed. But something didn’t feel right to Guinevere. Walking in this dense forest, following narrow trails, never able to see far in any direction…
It would be awfully easy to be taken by surprise.
She couldn’t help but think back to their first encounter with card soldiers. They’d been so well-hidden in tall grass that even Flynn had failed to notice them until it was too late. And that was just in grass, atop a hill! Here in this forest with its dense foliage, anything could be lurking, waiting for the right opportunity to strike.
Please be wrong. We’re almost out of these cruel lands, almost free in wider Wonderia!
As she often did when she was nervous, Guinevere went over her studies in her mind. Glyph artes — which she still hadn’t had an opportunity to use since her daring escape from home — were a complex magic, one she’d taught herself from her most treasured book. As far as she knew there was no one, save her best friend Rosalie, who knew that she could use glyph artes. Turning her mind to their complex sigils and applications always helped calm her nerves, and reminded her of what she still had available to her.
I stole the light from the entire manor. I’ve been carrying it this entire time, looking for an opportunity to use it. I wonder…
“Can the card soldiers be blinded?” she asked. “By a powerful burst of light, for instance.”
“Their optic nerves are extremely sensitive to bright light,” Tobias said. “They were designed to be able to see in the dark as well as operate in ordinary daylight, but that’s left them vulnerable to brighter than normal lights or sudden bright bursts. If we had flares or other light-based weapons, they’d be very useful against Saoirse’s soldiers.”
“Interesting,” Guinevere said. Alice was looking back at her, puzzling out the meaning beneath the question, but Guinevere ignored her. “What about changes in temperature?”
“You’d think so because they’re made of metal,” Tobias said, “but ruby ore is surprisingly adaptive. Fire- and ice-based artes just wash over them.”
“So sound and light are their primary weaknesses,” Guinevere said, nodding. She couldn’t generate the right resonances or harmonics on a whim like Tobias and Sheena, which ruled out using sound against the card soldiers. But light… now there was a new opportunity for her.
She looked down at Ava, padding along calmly beside her. There were signs that she was somewhat alert, little twitches of her nose and ears, but Guinevere didn’t know how much that meant. It was clear that Flynn had extensive training in a variety of skills, including using his senses to pinpoint danger. Ava had none of that.
She was always a companion, first and foremost. And she was so smart, took so easily to all of the commands and etiquette training she required to follow me everywhere in or outside of the manor. Though I imagined going on this adventure, and I prepared myself for it… I didn’t think to give Ava more complex training as well. I’m not sure I would have known where to start. I don’t even know what her senses are honed towards. Is she more apt to notice things through scent, or sound, or sight? What kinds of things does she focus on, and which observations does she ignore as irrelevant?
Once we’re safely out of here, I…
She looked up, staring at Tobias’ back.
I’m going to have to ask him for help, aren’t I? Or at least advice. While Ava can clearly function perfectly fine for this adventure…
I owe her more than that. She’s too smart to let her mind stagnate. Just as I have consistently chosen to challenge and push myself, I should do the same for her. And she loves a challenge! And through advanced training, I can learn so much more about her. We can become a much more potent team together.
I could talk to Sheena. But while Akko is charming and intelligent, he’s not a dog. Tobias and Flynn have been together for thirteen years. That experience speaks volumes.
So it must be Tobias.
She suppressed a sigh. It would only draw attention to herself, and there was no chance in the world Alice would ignore it.
“Hold on,” Tobias said, holding up his hand for the others to stop. Flynn, just ahead of him, was staring forward, tail up, ears alert. “There’s something up ahead. Not card soldiers. It’s…” He cocked his head to the side. “Well. It could be danger. Let’s approach cautiously.”
“What is it?” Alice asked quietly as they started forward.
“We’ll find out in a moment,” Tobias said.
“A moment” turned out to be almost five minutes, which only proved further Flynn’s incredible senses, noticing this new discovery from so far away. They finally emerged into a small clearing, and on the far side of it was…
A looking-glass portal.
Just like the one that had transported them to Saoirse’s palace, it was a tall mirror floating in space, its silvery rim glowing with a soft light. Its mirrored surface reflected them, but was slightly warped, like a ripple frozen in time, waiting to move again to reveal a new image.
“This is new,” Tobias said, eyeing the looking-glass with narrowed eyes. One hand went to his sword, just lightly touching it, prepared for potential danger, but not yet on high alert.
“If it’s here, then Saoirse can send her soldiers all the way out here,” Sheena said.
“Yeah,” Tobias said. “We’re safe right now, but if she does, we’d face serious pursuit, right on our heels.”
“But she can’t know that we’re here, can she?” Alice asked.
“Don’t be so sure,” Tobias said.
“Is there a way to destroy it?” Guinevere asked.
Tobias and Alice both turned to stare at her like she’d just suggested they throw a puppy off a cliff. “What?” she asked.
“You don’t break mirrors,” Tobias said.
“Ever,” Alice added.
Guinevere bit back a snide retort. She hadn’t expected them to be so superstitious.
“Let’s cover it,” Tobias said. “Alice, do you have —”
But before he could finish his question the mirror’s face rippled, and gleamed with light. Alice raced to open her trunk, but there was a shocking, high-pitched whistling — and then a crossbow bolt impaled the ground right in front of Alice.
All around them, emerging from the dense woods, were metallic card soldiers. Their red bodies were smeared with browns and greens, some kind of camouflage, and many of them were hefting loaded crossbows. Tobias and Sheena had their swords in hand, but it wasn’t looking promising — especially since they didn’t immediately leap into action.
From the looking-glass came a voice, before any person emerged. It was low, and smooth, a male voice that was all arrogant charm, like he was used to getting whatever he wanted. “Tut-tut, Tobias,” the voice said. “You’ve underestimated me once again.”
From the looking-glass portal emerged a man who instantly dwarfed Tobias, standing nearly seven feet tall with broad shoulders and a lean, muscular frame. Dark, smoldering eyes peered at them from a confident face with a chiseled jawline. Long, dark hair hung in a thick ponytail down to his waist. Around his neck was a strange scar, all the way around, as if he’d been decapitated and then had his head sewn back on. He wore all red and white, a heart sigil proudly displayed on his long coat, which was open to reveal much of his bare chest — a chest that was embedded with shards of ruby ore, looking rather like pieces of shattered swords. On his left breast was a red, metallic, heart-shaped emblem that looked as if it had been heat-fused to his skin, with ugly burn scars around its edges.
In either hand he held a curved ruby ore sword.
“The Knave of Hearts,” Tobias said, glaring up at the man.
“So you remember me,” the Knave said, flashing a cruel smile. “Excellent. Now, be a good sport and come without a fuss. My Queen awaits your return.”