“I know what happened is my fault,” Girtha said softly. “But I—”
“No,” I said suddenly. The clenches loosened, as I’d feared. My conscience couldn’t stomach suppression of the truth any longer.
Girtha blinked.
“It’s not your fault. It’s mine and the lot of you have been too nice to say it.” I swallowed hard and my face elongated with so much guilt that I wondered if it would hit the floor. “I’m the reason Crisa’s not with us anymore.”
I shook my head and sighed dejectedly. “I threw all the blame on you and Chance because your actions created the need for someone to absorb the Shadow and then caused Crisa to get trapped in Nightmare. But while both those things matter, there is a step in between that series of events that does too.”
I paused. My body trembled with nerves. “I was the only other person there eligible to take the Shadow. I should have insisted Crisa let me do it. I should have moved faster. Then I would have gotten trapped in Dreamland, but it wouldn’t have mattered so much. The antagonists weren’t interested in capturing me; they only care about Crisa and turning her dark. I get why she did what she did, but it should have been my sacrifice. I should’ve been the martyr.”
“Blue . . .” Chance started.
I held up a hand. “And then I abandoned her. Like I said, you guys haven’t known her as long as I have. We’ve been roommates and best friends for five years. We have a greater responsibility to each other. Despite that, when she said we should go because the antagonists wouldn’t kill her, but wouldn’t hesitate to kill us, I listened and left her there. What kind of best friend does that? I didn’t even pay attention when she first started contacting me in her dreams. How could I not see that it was her calling out for help? How much pain could I have saved her if I’d realized sooner?” I plopped to the ground and hung my head. “No wonder the Guilt Hounds swarmed me. I’ve been throwing dirt at you two for weeks when I have way more sins to atone for.”
No one said anything for a full minute, and I couldn’t bring myself to look up and meet their eyes. Then, much to my surprise, Girtha sat down across from me. “Blue, I feel guilty too. I never fought you on the mean things you say because part of me believes them, and believes that I have them coming. I screwed up. And it eats at me every day.”
Chance squatted down. “It’s the same with me. I haven’t been able to forgive myself for what happened. And it feels way worse because prior to Dreamland I was trying to show that I could be good enough for Crisa, and good enough to fit in with you guys as a hero and a friend. I dropped the ball majorly on both fronts so I get why you make the comments that you do. I messed up hard and I haven’t proven myself to be worthy of your graces. I never have. Before any of this stuff with Dreamland, I was a jerk to you all, and most people at school for years. I acted like a bad person and forced my way into your lives without really earning a place there. I’m truly sorry for that.” He looked at me specifically then the others. “I’m sorry to all of you—for losing Crisa, and for everything else I’ve done.”
“I’m sorry too,” Girtha said.
“You guys,” Jason said, sighing. “You genuinely don’t need to apologize to us. Chance, Girtha, you’re heroes and we’re friends in success and in failure, whether you were later additions to this story or not. I don’t care about the mistakes you’ve made; you’re trying to fix them and that’s what matters. The only forgiveness I think you need, honestly, is from yourselves. The same goes for you, Blue.” He glanced at me. “I’ve known Crisa for a long time too, so I can tell you she doesn’t hold anything against you. You’re risking your life on an hourly basis for her; you’ve enacted more self-sacrifice since our quest began at midnight than most heroes do in a lifetime. She knows how much you care. We all do.”
I sat there in silence for a moment—marinating—then abruptly stood. “No,” I said again. I looked at Chance and Girtha. “Jason’s right about you guys, but not me. Maybe it is time I forgive myself. But I also need that from the both of you.” I straightened up, feeling more humble and vulnerable than I had in a while.
“I’m sorry, Girtha. I’m sorry, Chance. I’ve been mean and unfair, and I’ve treated you pretty badly. If you can spare it, I would like your forgiveness . . . even if I don’t deserve it.”
Chance and Girtha stared at me as my comments hung in the air. After a pause, Chance rose to his feet. Girtha followed his lead. Then Chance moved directly in front of me so we were barely two feet apart.
“Blue,” he said. “Jason’s been trying to get us to act like a team. Maybe we should listen and do this as a team. Forgiveness all around seems like a good, clean slate for us. Don’t you think?”
I smiled modestly. After so much time harboring hate, burying guilt, and throwing blame, now that I’d aired it out, I felt lighter. I felt like the person I used to be before Dreamland, rising from a long slumber. I missed her. And I forgave her for leaving.
“I would like that.”
Chance stretched out his hand and offered it to me, and I took it.
izard vehicles. That’s a new one.
The four of us had napped briefly at the B&B, woken early, and asked Grandma Hilde to convince several of her grandchildren to let us take their work shifts. Standing at the TRAM depot waiting for our ride to the Giant King’s castle, I had been expecting some sort of train, subway system, even a monorail to show up. Nope.
“TRAM,” Jason read the embroidery on the saddle of the lizard parked in front of us. “Trained Royal Amphibians.”
An enormous iguana—larger than a dragon to us, but surely normal size to the giants—had just pulled up to the platform. A man sat on the creature’s neck holding reins. The bright green amphibian had orange ridges decorating its head, a striped tail, and dark, narrow eyes.
The ten other kids on the platform hopped on board the lizard’s saddle like it was no big deal. Grandma Hilde’s grandchildren had been strangely vague about what our responsibilities would be at the castle, but we’d agreed to follow their lead. We did so now, clambering aboard alongside them.
“I can’t decide if this is cool or terrifying,” Jason said.
All passengers aboard, the driver signaled for the iguana to take off. We bolted off at a high speed in a zigzag pattern, the iguana darting across the pre-dawn world.
We clutched the edge of the saddle. “I think I’ve decided!” Girtha called as the iguana aimed for a cloister of trees.
Girtha’s plan did have merit. The TRAM took us to the front steps of the Giant King’s giant palace. It was so big I couldn’t see the top of it even when stretching my head all the way back.
A giant palace servant met us at the entrance and set a colossal serving tray on the ground—the kind you’d use to bring your mom breakfast in bed on her birthday. We stepped aboard. When she lifted the tray, we were a good two hundred feet above the floor.
Our transport migrated through the castle, allowing my friends and I a tour of the layout. It was a beautiful place, particularly when you looked up. Every inch of ceiling featured a mural of the sky, but during different weather and atmospheric conditions. We passed through a hall with a mural of the sky at twilight, another that featured a lightning-heavy storm, and a third that mimicked the sunrise we’d been immersed in outside.
I kept an eye out for any sign of a treasure room. We walked by the kitchen, wine cellar, laundry room, ballroom, throne room, and war room before we were taken up stairs with rich purple carpeting and golden railings. On the second floor we moved past a music room, a couple of bedrooms being cleaned by giant housekeepers, a library, and then—
BINGO!
I slapped Chance on the arm and pointed. Another servant was exiting a room on the right. Before she closed the door, I spotted shining piles of gold and a podium with tiny jeweled figurines on top of it.
“That has to be the treasure room,” I whispered to the others. Our transport turned and took us into a sort of sitting room. Inside there wer
e several decorative plants, a single bookshelf, a record player emitting classical music, and a giant with a crown on his head who sat in a cozy, black leather chair.
“Oh, good.” He lowered his newspaper to reveal a mustache, beard, and thick, wavy black hair that went down to his shoulders. He set the newspaper on a table and picked up a steaming cup of what smelled like coffee. The cup was big enough for any of us to drown in.
The giant servant curtseyed before setting our tray on the ground in front of the Giant King’s feet. We disembarked and she took the tray away. An enormous, pure white Westie Terrier with a bright red collar sat in a basket next to the giant, watching us but not getting up.
The colors of daybreak spilled through a big window. The giant servant went to a cabinet in the corner and, with her back to us, started gathering materials. I gazed at the Giant King’s shoe. Forget getting squashed by his whole foot—a single one of his toes could have crushed a person like a grape.
“Can he hear us?” I asked the other workers, pointing at the Giant King.
“Nah,” one of the older boys responded. “In order to hear us, the giants have to bring us pretty close to their faces.”
“Okay, good,” I responded. “Now then, on to business. You were pretty ambiguous when we asked you about the full job description this morning. What are we in for?”
A couple of the kids exchanged grins. A boy with brown hair shrugged. “Like we said at the inn, the job doesn’t really require instructions ahead of time. We thought it’d be fun for you to find out firsthand.”
“Fun for who?” Chance asked.
“Us.”
“Okay, all set,” said the giant servant, returning with a basket of supplies. We backed up as she knelt and proceeded to remove the king’s shoes and socks. I almost lost my breakfast taking in his bare feet—dark hair curled on the knuckles, various sores and blisters sprung up from his skin, and we were hit by an overwhelming smell that reminded me of the last time I ate my mom’s goat hoof stew.
Then I took a gander at the basket of giant-sized supplies the servant had brought over. Nail file, clippers, cotton balls, a nail buffer, callous removers, various lotions—all the equipment you’d need for a full pedicure.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.
The others chuckled. “The Giant King likes pedicures,” a mid-twenties girl answered. “It’s how he starts every day. They’re not super fancy—no foot soaking or massages thankfully. And the pay is great; you just have to be okay with feet.”
I turned to Jason. “If you see me put my neck between two of his toes, don’t stop me. It means I am hoping he snaps my neck because I am ready to kill myself.”
“Morbid much?”
“I can see a giant sesame seed trapped under his big toenail,” I replied, pointing dramatically. “How would that even get there?”
The giant servant finished laying out the equipment and removed the basket. “Your Majesty,” she curtseyed again, “I will be back in fifteen minutes to take Conqueror for his walk. Please ring the bell if you need me before then.”
The Giant King returned to reading his newspaper. The other workers began rolling up their sleeves and selecting tools. A kid with more freckles on his face than constellations in the sky pointed at the nail file. “The four whose shifts you took are usually on file duty. You guys can start on the left foot while we handle blister and callus care on the right.”
“Oh, yay,” I said.
Girtha waved us into a huddle. “Let’s do the work for about ten minutes.” She pointed at an elaborately carved wooden clock on the wall high above. “Then two of us can hide in the dog’s collar. When the servant comes back to take him for a walk, that team can ride out and slip out of the collar when the dog passes the door to the treasure room.”
“Why only two of us?” I asked.
“The Giant King gets a pedicure every day. He’ll notice if the job isn’t done properly. The other two of us should stay and keep filing his nails.”
“Good point,” I said.
Girtha blinked twice and stared, as if waiting for me to say something more.
I tilted my head at her. “That’s it. No mean comment attached.”
“Well, isn’t that a nice change of pace,” Jason said. “I didn’t know you had the capacity.”
“Ha, ha,” I said dryly. “So who’s going and who’s staying?”
“I vote for you and Jason to go,” Girtha said. “I’m bigger than you both, so the Westie might get irritated by my presence hiding in his collar. You have your powers, and Jason is sort of connected to this place because of Jack, so it seems right.”
“No.” Jason shook his head adamantly. “I don’t want any part of stealing from this giant. I don’t want to be associated with my brother at all. Chance can go. I’d rather file toenails.”
“That’s a weighty declaration,” I said.
“You don’t understand how much I hate that we’re doing this at all,” he replied.
I only now noticed how conflicted and frustrated he looked. My heart went out to him. Last year I’d had a major self-esteem and identity crisis when I’d walked in my sister Red’s shoes—getting captured by a bunch of hungry wolves in the Forbidden Forest. Jason had as many issues with his brother as I had with my sister, except now he’d learned how much Jack’s actions had negatively impacted this realm. The added weight of that knowledge had to be crushing him.
“Jason—” Girtha tried.
He waved her away. “Forget it. I’ll be fine. Let’s get to work.”
I stood next to Girtha while the boys moved to the opposite end of the file.
“On three?” I suggested. We bent our knees and gripped the heavy file, preparing to carry the weight as a team. “One, two, three! Core strength!”
When it was almost time for the Westie to go on his walk, we signaled to the other workers that we wanted a word.
“Look,” Chance said. “We didn’t volunteer for this job for fun. Two of us have a job of our own to do, and we are going to sneak out of here for a little bit.”
“You cannot do that,” the freckled boy replied, arms folded. “As shift leader, I forbid it.”
I turned to Chance. “Permission to be mean?”
“If it’s for a good cause.”
I got up in the shift leader’s face and poked him in the chest. “Well, I forbid you from stopping us. Do I make myself clear?” I called on my powers—turning on my Questor Beast eyes and releasing a puff of fog for effect. It was one of my favorite intimidation tactics.
The boy’s eyes grew big and he nodded. Then he signaled the other workers to get back to their jobs. Jason and Girtha hefted the nail file and returned to their posts as well.
Chance and I approached the Westie. We clambered up the basket and sat on the top edge. Conqueror stared at us, head cocked and eyes unblinking. Steadily we neared him then climbed up the dog’s fur to his collar, wedging ourselves beneath it on the underside of his fluffy throat. Conqueror didn’t seem to mind our weight. The collar secured us at the waist like a massive seatbelt, our arms hanging over it and our legs swinging beneath.
“This is an interesting way for us to hang out for the first time,” I commented.
Chance scoffed. “It’s certainly an improvement from our recent time spent together.”
“I’m sorry again.”
“You’ve already been forgiven. And actually, though your impulsiveness can be frustrating, I want to thank you for pushing us to make such bold moves and being brave enough and crazy enough to insist on them. They don’t always work out, but we need heroes like you—heroes who aren’t scared of anything. Not heroes like me, who are scared of basic things like being alone, failing, and coming up short when things get hard.”
“I’m scared of plenty of things, Chance.”
“Not when it comes to matters of self-preservation. You decided to give Rumpelstiltskin your name without a second thought. That was nuts.”
Chance looked behind him melodramatically and got a face full of fur. “Are you talking to someone else?”
“No, your highness. I’m trusting you here—believe it or not—as a friend. Call it an act of good faith, or a testing of the waters.” I sighed. “It was easy for me to give Rumpelstiltskin my name because I always knew I would have to. It’s in my prophecy.”
“What?”
I nodded. “There’s a line in my Author prophecy that says, ‘Rumpelstiltskin will trade for her name.’ It was the same thing with the Questor Beast in Camelot. There was a line about that in my prophecy too, which gave me advanced notice that one day I would fight the monster. So you see, I am brave and bold, and I make hard choices, but I’m human. If I wasn’t forewarned, I may not have had the same nerve to face that monster in Camelot or Rumpelstiltskin. Also, for the record . . . we need heroes like you too. Heroes who can change, who own their mistakes in order to become better, and who patiently put up with those of us who have trouble with those things.”
Chance didn’t say anything else. I didn’t either. But we did exchange something more meaningful than words—a genuine smile. Possibly the first one shared between us. I could see warmth in his eyes where I had previously only seen a reflection of my own anger and guilt. I could finally accept the person he’d become in the last few months.
The door opened and the giant servant girl returned, leash in hand.
“Your Majesty.” She curtseyed before patting her hands on her thighs. “Come on, Conqueror! Here, boy.”
The Westie leapt to his feet and scurried over to the girl.
WHOA!
We clutched the collar with our whole bodies as hard as we could. It was lucky that neither Chance nor I got easily nauseated. This ride was five times bumpier than our travels by iguana this morning.
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