Chance cringed.
“Chance Pants?” Blue repeated.
“It’s his nickname,” Sammi replied.
“Sammi,” Chance said through gritted teeth.
Ivy Lynn locked eyes with me and grinned wickedly. “See, when Chance here was a little prince, he had a real problem keeping dry, if you catch my drift. Every time a nanny would check his pants, there was a solid chance that he—Ow!”
James had thrown a dinner roll at Ivy Lynn’s head that connected perfectly with its target. Thank goodness; Chance looked like he was about to die of mortification. I didn’t think my resurrection powers would’ve saved him from that. I did wish I could save him from this though.
“James, we do not throw food at the table,” the king said disapprovingly. “Ivy Lynn, your mother is right, exercising a bit more kindness, not to mention discretion, would suit you. And, Chance, don’t look so distraught. It’s only a bit of ribbing, son. You go to a school for heroes; surely you can take some sibling jest.”
“Yes, Father,” all three kids replied begrudgingly.
Daphne looked at her brother with empathy, then turned to us. “The five of you head upstairs. I will ask the kitchens to send food.”
“Thanks, Daphne,” Chance responded. He moved for the door without making eye contact with us; we followed.
“Looking forward to getting to know you guys better!” Trenton called as we exited.
My stomach curled from the awkwardness. Now I understood why SJ seemed so uncomfortable when we had brought up Chance’s siblings.
I didn’t like seeing Chance so miserable. At the same time, I found it morbidly fascinating. I’d never seen him look so inferior—a boy so far from the character of cocky, confident prince I’d come to know.
“Yikes” was Blue’s simple reaction as we moved down the corridor.
Chance didn’t respond and continued not looking at us. Embarrassment yanked his eyes forward and he focused on the floor. We paused when we came to a flight of stairs. “I get it now” was all I could say to him.
Chance glanced at me for a moment, but he couldn’t hold my gaze. We ascended the stairs in complete silence.
“Do you think she’s having sweet dreams?” Blue asked.
She, Jason, SJ, and I were in a well-guarded tower of Darling Castle. Chance had shown us where our rooms were (our luggage was already there) before excusing himself and telling us he’d see us in the morning. He vaguely claimed he had “things to do,” but we knew he needed to wash away his humiliation in private. We’d only recently accepted him into our group of friends and he’d been utterly chagrinned by his family in front of us.
SJ had escorted us to Mauvrey’s tower so we could have a look at our sleeping former nemesis and classmate. The room had been emptied out of most things. Its stone walls were circular and there was a window that let natural light stream in.
Mauvrey lay on a bed with both hands folded over her chest. They were no longer wrapped in bandages like the last time I’d seen her. They must’ve healed since I crushed them a couple of months ago in battle. Other than that factor, the princess looked much the same since our last encounter—right down to the outfit of sleek purple jacket with purple heeled boots. An SRB was clasped around her wrist, compliments of SJ, so she was clean and unwrinkled too. Overall, aside from the shallow breathing and the unconsciousness, Mauvrey seemed perfectly fine. I wondered what kind of intense sleeping curse could’ve put her in such a deep, long-term slumber.
“My mother says she does not remember much from her time under a sleeping curse,” SJ responded to Blue’s comment. “But she has fearful recollections of a dark, shadowy world. So Mauvrey could be dreaming about anything, but it likely is not pleasant.”
“I hope it’s not too terrible,” Jason said. “If Tara has been inside Mauvrey for years, then real Mauvrey being lost in curse-generated nightmares that whole time would be awful.”
I watched how Mauvrey’s chest rose and fell ever so slightly, then huffed with moderate frustration. “I can’t believe we have the potion we need to get answers and we have to wait another two days to use it.”
“We’re already going to be using the potion without Gordon, Marie, and Divya present,” Jason said. “We have to wait for the others, if for no one else then for Daniel. “The five of us make up the original crew and our team deserves to find these answers together.”
He was right, of course. I just hated that we had to delay while Javier took one full day to fly back to school and then another to return here. Looking out the window at the gray, cold skies, our friends on campus felt a million miles away.
“Perhaps taking our minds off it will help,” SJ suggested. “The food that Daphne sent for us should arrive in my room any minute.”
We followed our princess friend through the castle to her dormitory. It was spacious and lovely with a fireplace, a big quilt on the bed, illuminated sconces, and plenty of gold decorative touches. Even better, a table of food with cloches covering plates was set up in the corner. We elected to grab our plates and eat on the plush rug in front of the roaring fire, picnic style.
“So have the Darling kids always been like that?” Blue asked SJ as she picked up a leg of mutton.
“I am afraid so,” SJ replied. “I hated coming here when I was younger. It is too bad my parents did not begin conceiving my flock of baby brothers until I was nine. I could have avoided things like winters at Darling Castle.”
“You handled Sammi like a pro,” I commented. “I love when you get sassy.”
“You know as well as I do that this aspect of my personality was not a developed characteristic when I was younger though,” SJ replied. “Chance kept to himself, like they say. Cereus and Daphne are fine, but much older—I hardly saw them. Sammi, Trenton, and Ivy Lynn, on the other hand, bothered me relentlessly. The worst was when they would throw snowballs at me and call me Frosty.”
“Frosty?” Jason repeated.
“Because my given name is Snow White Jr.,” she responded bitterly. “The well-groomed hyenas used to constantly sneak up on me and hit me with snow, including indoors. Even now, they still periodically refer to me as Frosty, the same way they call Chance by his awful nickname.”
“I’m sorry, what?” My mouth hung agape. No one tormented my best friend. The idea of it happening before I knew her and had the opportunity to defend her filled me with outrage.
Jason’s eyebrows narrowed. “Do you want me to have a word with them?” he said, obviously feeling the same way.
“Do you want all three of us to have ‘words’ with them?” Blue asked, using air quotes.
SJ smiled. “Some things never change. Like all of you wanting to help me fight my battles. It is appreciated now as it ever was, but I do not need it.”
“Because you believe in catching more flies with honey?” I teased, recalling an incident like this from the first day of the school year.
“No,” SJ said simply. “Because I have grown fond of fighting them myself.” She bit down on her own mutton leg as Blue, Jason, and I exchanged approving glances.
“Well, okay then,” I said, raising my mutton leg in toast. “Here’s to the things that never change and the people who do.”
My friends raised their respective mutton legs in appreciation as the fire crackled, cold air rapped at the window, and friendship embraced us in this interesting new place.
It was late. And I heard music.
I’d stayed up well past midnight, despite being tired from the long journey. There was too much on my mind to sleep, and I was afraid that my dreams would only add to the load. Cuddled in a warm sweatshirt, I’d wandered out of my room to explore Darling Castle. The occasional guard on patrol passed by me in the hall, and each one asked if I needed something. I felt like I wanted to say yes each time, but never could. I didn’t know what I needed. I didn’t know what I was looking for.
When I reached a lower level of the castle, the sound of a piano caught my a
ttention. The notes drifted up the hall, wrapping me in as much comfort as my sweatshirt, but also a touch of sadness. The music radiated pure emotion and remained in deeper notes. I followed the music through the dimly lit halls; the gold of the castle was mysterious and entrancing in this low light. I arrived at a closed door that the melody seemed to be drifting out of. Slowly, carefully, I pushed down on the handle and peered inside.
It was a music room. A cello, harp, and several kinds of guitars sat in stands along one wall, but the most notable instrument was a solid gold piano at the back of the room by the windows. Every curtain was pulled back, giving view to a perfectly black night. At the piano, playing away to the dim light of the chandelier overhead, sat Javier. He didn’t notice me at first, so I watched in silence as his hands created some of the most hauntingly beautiful music I’d ever heard. After a minute, instinct allowed him to detect my presence and he pivoted on the bench.
“Hey, Crisa.” Javier was surprised but not overly flustered by my unannounced arrival.
“Javier, that was amazing. I had no idea you could play the piano.” I stepped into the room gradually, closing the door behind me.
“Most people don’t,” Javier said. “At Lord Channing’s protagonists get credit—both academia-wise and popularity-wise—for being good at the strength and athleticism stuff. Despite a few electives offered to encourage well-roundedness, we’re not supposed to put a lot of emphasis on things like the arts.”
“So how did you get so good?”
“I have a piano at home. That’s what my mom does. She builds pianos and sells them to music shops in the city, and she also does custom work. At school, I go down to our music room when everyone is asleep so I can practice in peace.”
I cracked a light smile. “I’ve snuck out late at night over the years to practice too. Though in my case it was to train in combat, which is not encouraged for my kind of protagonist.”
Javier mirrored the smile. “I guess we have opposite problems.”
“I guess we do.”
Javier started to stand, but I held up a hand. “Don’t get up on my account. I’ll leave you alone.”
“You don’t have to,” Javier said. “I don’t mind the company when I’m dealing with a non-judgmental audience.”
“You’ll get no judgment from me on anything, Javi,” I assured him. “I’m a walking wreck of a person, so it would be silly of me to give anyone else grief.”
Javier scrunched his face. “You don’t really think that about yourself, do you?”
“It depends on the day if I’m being honest . . .”
Javier gestured to a couch next to the piano. I walked over and took a seat. That’s when I noticed that there was no sheet music on the piano. There were so many bookshelves lining the walls, I assumed he was playing something from a music book he found there. “You were playing from memory?” I tilted my chin toward the piano.
“Actually, I wrote that,” Javier said.
My eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Yup. I like to wing it. Like you do.”
“I assume you mean in Twenty-Three Skidd, since I have the musical ability of a blind cat?”
Javier let out a huff of amusement. “Actually I was talking in generalities. I know you and I haven’t spent much time together off the field, Crisa. But what I’ve taken away is that you’re not afraid to take risks. You push yourself without believing in limits, and you don’t hold back any part of yourself. All of you is improvisation.” He touched one deep note on the piano. “You do enough of that . . .” He continued to play one disconnected note after another. “And with some trial and error, suddenly you have something.” At that, he put both hands on the piano and played a series of chords that sounded perfectly linked together.
“Javier Marcos,” I said. “One of our first, not school-related interactions and I’ve learned you’re a savant of piano and metaphors. We really should hang out more.”
“I’m up for it any time,” Javier said. “You, Blue, Girtha—all the girls in our gang are good people. If our schools didn’t separate us, I bet we’d hang out all the time. I guess that’s a cool consequence of us all being here for the summer.”
I nodded thoughtfully.
A moment passed. In the silence, gazing out at the blackness beyond the windows, I felt something creep into my chest. It wasn’t violently painful, but it was heartache—the kind that lingered like residue from the things that haunted you at night in the quiet.
Javier noticed and his eyes took on more empathy. “Now that you know why I’m down here,” he said. “Anything you want to share about your late night activities? I assumed everyone was tired after today’s travel.”
“You went to bed early for that same reason,” I pointed out. “And yet, here you are.”
“Music relaxes me. You don’t exactly look relaxed.” He gestured at me and I glanced down at my arms crossed tightly across my chest, hunching me forward like an old witch.
I sighed and tried to loosen my arms. “I don’t know if I remember how to be relaxed, Javi. Even with the magic, and the trial, and the genie cuffs, I thought I was finally starting to scratch happiness and confidence. But then Emma happened, and Jacqueline, and Nadia . . .”
I stopped. After the attack on our school, I’d told my friends about Emma, but I explained it so brusquely that, past a few hugs, I hadn’t let them express much empathy and I hadn’t over-shared my mourning. It wasn’t a healthy move, but I needed to process that loss on my own. They were already dealing with Jacqueline’s demise and I felt selfish making things more about me than her.
My phone call with Nadia, on the other hand, hadn’t been part of that report. I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone because her appeals about leaning into my hatred and anger had bothered me in a different way. It was the same reason why I never told anyone that the Lady of the Lake appeared to me when I woke the dragon in Century City. It felt like my exchange with Nadia would lower me in their eyes—take down their belief in me and my future. I needed to have enough confidence in both before I shared things like this. Otherwise the people who had the most faith in me—Daniel, Blue, and so on—could grow to look at me the way Kai did.
That wasn’t regression, by the way.
At the start of the year I hid my weaknesses to preserve my image in my friends’ eyes. That was a dumb thing to do because weaknesses didn’t define you. But this wasn’t about weakness; this was about my genuine heart and character. I was shifting as a person. I could deny it, but it was true. Hatred and anger came to a boil inside of me faster. I felt less mercy where my enemies were concerned. The magic I had within was starting to make me more powerful and dangerous, and enough utilization and encouragement from the right people—Merlin, Lenore—was making me feel okay with that.
What if I was becoming a Crisa my friends didn’t like as a result? I’d changed drastically before and that went over really well. But now that I was changing again, there was no guarantee about the girl I’d morph into and how she would be received.
“Crisa,” Javier said. I glanced up. My eyes had fallen to the floor in my mental disgrace and reflection. “Like I said, you and I haven’t spent a ton of time together. Honestly, I think this may be our first one-on-one conversation. But I care about you, and about what happens to you. No judgment from me either if you want to talk, but also no judgment if you don’t want to.”
I studied his face. I trusted him. I trusted all the friends with us on this mission. Everyone from Divya to SJ to Gordon had been let in on our exploits for a reason. They were honorable, good people.
Maybe Javier was actually the perfect person to talk to. He was a hero and friend I cared about who also cared about me, but he hadn’t known me as long as some of my other companions, so perhaps I could risk letting him see past the veil of caution I donned these days to hide my changing face and spirit.
I sighed and took a chance.
“The queen of Alderon, Nadia, called me the o
ther day,” I admitted. “She got inside my head a bit. She’s so sure that I’m meant to use my magic for dark choices. I already have, so she’s not wrong; I accept that. And plenty of people have told me not to be ashamed of having a dark side because that’s human. But I am scared about how big that dark side is going to get, and if the people who matter will still like me when that’s decided.”
Javier nodded, expression thoughtful, but not judgmental as he’d promised. “I don’t have the answer to that. I wish I did, but I don’t. People change. Relationships change as a result. But maybe it’ll help you if I say this: who says you’ve made any dark choices?”
I blinked. “Javi, I killed a handful of people just the other day.”
“They were bad people, Crisa. You protected the innocent. Heroes do that. We use different tactics, but destroying the source is usually the most efficient.”
“You sound kind of like Lena Lenore.”
“Isn’t Lena Lenore the most trusted and respected higher-up in the realm?”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “But her methods are far from admirable.”
“I know,” Javier said. “Based on everything I’ve heard from you guys, she’s a piece of work. But that doesn’t change the fact that she has maintained order in our realm for over a century. There haven’t been any wars or famines or major threats against Book until now. So even if we don’t agree with her, and even if we don’t like her, there’s no denying that what she’s done has allowed goodness and peace to reign for a long time. Maybe you should give her a chance.”
I gave him an, Are you serious? look. “Javi, I don’t know if that’s the best plan. Lenore isn’t a bad guy, but she has a lot of darkness inside her.”
“Maybe you should stop looking at darkness in the traditional way,” he retorted. “After all, your whole thing is about breaking tradition and getting people to look at archetypes, decisions, and preconceived notions in different ways. If you don’t want darkness to define you so much, change your perspective on what you view as dark. Listen to your heart and your head, and when you make a choice, don’t stress over whether it is morally light or dark, or what other people may say or think about it. Just make the choice because you believe in your soul it’s the right one. That, I think, is the most heroic thing a person can do.”
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