by Emma Savant
“You’ll have to stay to dinner here,” Mom said.
“That’s okay,” Lucas said. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Nonsense,” Mom said.
She glanced at Daniel, who was standing behind the counter with a bowl of whipped cream and nothing to mix it with.
“I think we have things taken care of here,” she said. “Olivia, did you finish the potatoes?”
“And got halfway through the yams,” I said. “But I think I burned them.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” she said. She dusted her hands off on her apron, which was patterned with tiny dancing gingerbread men. “I can finish up here, if you two want to go hang out.”
In other words, it was time to get the Humdrum out of there.
Lucas followed me out of the kitchen, past my dad’s open office door, and upstairs. Dad didn’t glance up from the book he was reading. I wondered how he’d react when he learned Mom had invited a Hum for dinner, then decided he was too mellow with wine to care.
I led Lucas to my room. Imogen wasn’t allowed to have guys alone with her in her bedroom, but that kind of rule had never come up at the Feye house. There had never been a reason.
“Have a seat,” I said. Lucas took the chair by my desk. I sat on the bed.
The plants on my windowsill seemed to be waiting, counting the seconds until one of us spoke. I’d insulated them from the window drafts with a small shielding spell, and their green leaves seemed out of place on such a cold day.
“Sorry your mom had to work,” I said.
He shrugged. “I’m used to it. She works a lot of holidays. Everyone else has little kids at home.”
“And you’re a big kid who doesn’t mind celebrating Christmas late.”
He grinned. “Everything goes on sale the day after Christmas.”
“Mercenary reasons!”
“Basically,” he said. “But listen, I actually have something to tell you.” He glanced at the door. I’d left it cracked. He lowered his voice. “I ran into Imogen at the hospital.”
I leaned forward. My heartbeat seemed to trip over itself. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine,” he said quickly. “Sorry, she’s not there for herself. She was bringing presents to sick kids.”
That didn’t seem like the Imogen I’d known the last few months. I felt my eyebrows crinkle into a question.
“She’s doing a service project for something called the Rose Galas,” Lucas said.
“Oh,” I said. “I forgot about that.”
He shrugged. I tried to explain.
“They’re parties,” I said. “Every June, around the time the Humdrums celebrate the annual Rose Festival, the Glimmering world has a celebration, too. They’re called the Rose Galas, and it’s a series of events that happen throughout the week. It’s one of the only times we can really share our world with Humdrum relatives.”
“And friends?” he said.
It hadn’t occurred to me before now. I grinned back at him. “Yeah, and friends,” I said. “Anyone important to us who knows about our world. You’re definitely coming with me next year. After I come up with a story about why you know about us, anyway.”
It was too easy to lose track of the conversation while I was busy grinning at him.
“At every Gala, a bunch of Glim teenagers are part of what’s called the Rose Court,” I said. “There’s a whole process to apply—you have to submit an essay and plan service projects and stuff. And the rule is that your service project has to serve the world you’re not part of. Hum kids serve Glims, and Glims serve Hums.”
“Which is why Imogen was at the hospital,” Lucas said.
“It’s a nice tradition,” I said. “It’s one of things I think we got right.”
“I like it,” Lucas said. “Imogen must have really impressed them if she’s going to be the Empress.”
I frowned. “She can’t be the Empress,” I said.
He shrugged. “That’s what she said.”
“You must have heard wrong,” I said. “The Rose Empress is always a Humdrum. It’s a gesture of respect.”
Lucas frowned. He got a tiny dimple on one side of his chin when he frowned. I’d never really noticed it before.
“She definitely said Empress. She said she’s a lady-in-waiting now, but that will change in… May?”
“That’s when they announce the court,” I said. “But that’s against all the rules.”
But then, Imogen had stopped following the rules. Especially when it came to the Humdrums.
“I hate the Oracle,” I said. My voice was soft, and the words felt like they were inviting doom down on my head. But our house was safe. There was no clear water sitting around, and even if there had been, I’d covered my room with a dozen enchantments.
I could be honest here.
And I could be honest with Lucas.
“I wish I knew more about her,” he said. He jostled his knee, bouncing the heel of his shoe up and down on my carpet. “I feel like I got sucked into all this stuff, but I’m clueless.”
“It’s a lot to learn,” I said. “I wish I could help, but I don’t know much more than you do. The Oracle is a mystery even to us. Queen Amani knows more than the rest, but…”
I trailed off. Lucas scooted his chair a few inches closer to the bed, so he could almost reach out and kick my foot if he’d wanted.
“She hasn’t talked to you much lately, has she?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know why,” I said. “She’s probably just busy.”
“She should be talking to you, though,” Lucas said.
There was nothing to say in response. She should be talking to me. There was too much I didn’t know and wished I could learn from her. But she was the queen. All I could do was send her updates and hope they were useful.
“This isn’t about the Galas, I know that much.”
Somehow, it was easier to talk about even Imogen and the Oracle than Amani’s silence.
“Imogen wanted to be on the court for the scholarship money, but she’s thinking about more than scholarships now.”
“She’s going to be the next Oracle, isn’t she?” Lucas said.
The words made the pit of my stomach crawl. That was the truth I’d been trying to avoid. But there was no way around it: Imogen would be the Oracle’s successor. And Queen Amani had probably stopped talking to me because I didn’t want to be hers.
“Pretty stupid, huh?” I said.
My phone beeped in my pocket. I reached for it automatically, my body ready for an escape from this line of conversation.
Elle: Aubrey’s back. Saw her when I went by to grab my extra house keys.
Elle: P.S. Merry Christmas. You’d think she’d have somewhere to be.
I sent her back a quick Thanks, Merry Christmas!, then clicked off the screen. This was my holiday, and I was going to enjoy it come hell or high water or Imogen or Aubrey or the Oracle or Amani or anyone else who wanted to get in the way of my peace of mind.
I stood up. “Dinner’s probably almost done,” I said. “You sure you can keep pretending to be a regular Humdrum clear through dinner?”
“It’s cool, I can play stupid,” he said.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” he said. He smiled, a look that was almost rueful. “It’s easy to get jealous of your life, you know?”
“No,” I said. “I seriously, seriously don’t. Come on, I can smell pumpkin pie.”
“Last one downstairs is a Christmas turkey.”
“Nice try,” I said. “We have ham.”
He rolled his eyes at me, then darted past me. I flung myself out the door and raced him down the stairs.
Chapter Ten
Music pulsed dully beyond the edges of the silencing bubble and shielding field that surrounded Isabelle and me. It was hard to believe Imogen had practically had to beg me to come to Gilt last year. I’d been here so many times since then that it felt almost
homey.
“She was selected as Rose Empress,” Isabelle confirmed. “I heard it from a friend on the Rose Galas committee.”
Isabelle was so dressed up for New Year’s Eve that I barely recognized her. That was good; maybe it’d be a little harder for the Oracle to realize she and I had met up again.
The official story—one I’d mentioned loudly in public a few times when talking to Lucas or anyone at Wishes Fulfilled—was that Isabelle was a hedge witch who’d agreed to mentor me in my gardening pursuits. But I wasn’t dumb enough to think that would throw the Oracle off for long, or even at all.
Isabelle ran silver fingernails through her curling, glitter-dusted hair. “It hasn’t been announced yet, obviously, but it’s happened,” she said. “Everyone on the committee agreed.”
“How?” I said. “It’s hugely offensive for us to just take that role. Rose Empress is for the Humdrums. Period.”
“Guess,” Isabelle said. She took a sip of her drink—pomegranate soda and black dragon tears, with not a drop of clear liquid in sight.
“Yay, Oracle,” I said flatly.
“The Oracle sent a sprite to speak with the committee,” Isabelle said. “The sprite told them Imogen was particularly qualified and was expected to be a ‘great leader of the Glimmering world,’ and that the Oracle strongly recommended she be given the honor this year.”
“The Oracle’s a moron,” I said.
Isabelle glanced nervously around us but didn’t say anything.
My phone buzzed. I didn’t even have to look to know it was from Lucas.
Lucas: A girl wearing an enormous silver top hat just fell into the punch bowl. The six-inch heels might have had something to do with it.
I laughed and showed the text to Isabelle. Since Lucas couldn’t come to Gilt, and since I’d agreed to “chaperone” Daniel here this evening, Lucas had gone to a New Year’s party with some friends from school. He’d been texting me updates all night.
Lucas, I was discovering, was a major-league people watcher.
Olivia: A genie lit her hair on fire a couple minutes ago. Not sure if it was an accident.
I hit Send and turned back to Isabelle.
“Is anyone on the committee suspicious?”
“My friend was,” Isabelle said. “But he’s already got issues with the Oracle.”
“Which friend?” I said. “How many people know about this? I get that people are having Oracle parties and I get that the Council is freaking out, but I feel like we’re trying to keep secrets that just aren’t secret.”
I had tried to be discreet. Even so, Daniel and Elle had already known half of what I tried to hide from them.
Isabelle waved. “Geb’s unusual,” she said. “And by that, I mean he’s kind of paranoid. He’s a gnome. You know how they are when they come to the surface.”
I paused with my glass of pomegranate fizz halfway to my lips.
“You’re friends with a gnome?”
She laughed. “Oh, yeah,” she said. “I do a lot of work with the soil.”
“Yeah, but a gnome?”
No one was friends with gnomes. They lived in tunnels under the city, and they were super not into talking to surface-dwellers. Once in a while you’d hear of a sorcerer collaborating with one, and they were always represented on major councils and committees, but that was strictly business.
I set the glass down and accidentally bumped it against my small plate of appetizers.
“His name is Geb,” she said. “I met him a few years ago when I was doing landscaping. We were on this huge project for this ultra-rich Glim prince’s garden, and Geb had been contracted to bring in boulders and river rock for the place. I think he did a gravel Zen garden, too.” She frowned. “That might have been the leprechaun they brought over from Ireland, actually. I don’t remember.”
My phone buzzed again.
Lucas: Luis Peralta does the best Yoda impression I’ve ever heard. File that info away. May come in handy someday.
“So, besides paranoid Geb,” I said.
“Besides paranoid Geb, some people know. The kind of people who tend to stay politically active know. The rest of the world is just continuing life as usual behind their safe picket fences.”
“I wouldn’t have known if Imogen and the Oracle hadn’t sucked me into it,” I said.
Amani had pulled me in first, of course, but Isabelle still didn’t know the depth of my relationship with the queen.
Assuming there was any depth left, seeing as how she’d stopped talking to me.
“I used to be one of those picket-fence people,” I said. “I was clueless about our world.”
Isabelle tapped her glass with a pointed silver nail. “Glad you got your head in the game,” she said.
I looked out across the floor to where Daniel stood, shaking his head in time to the music. His friend Devyn was way more into it, swaying her body and shaking her dreadlocks around whenever the beat got intense.
“It doesn’t feel like a game,” I said.
My phone buzzed twice in rapid succession.
Lucas: Some guy just tried to sell me weed. I’m 99% sure it was oregano.
Lucas: I’m 95% sure he doesn’t know it’s oregano.
Someday, I would spend New Year’s Eve at a boring Humdrum party. It was going to be awesome.
Olivia: How do YOU know the difference between weed and oregano?
The music changed to a rapid electronic beat. I watched a couple of younger faeries start jumping up and down. Sparks flew from their fingertips into the air.
Lucas: Um, I cook. Dude.
I couldn’t keep myself from smiling. Life felt less like it was falling apart when I had a friend in my corner.
“I did some more research on those magic hunters you mentioned,” Isabelle said.
“What’d you find out?”
“They’re for real,” she said. “Not many of them, but the ones that are out there seem dedicated.”
“Obviously,” I said. When she frowned, I added, “The Humdrums who’d join in on magic-hunting are the ones who are already keeping one eye out for UFOs.”
“Turns out people like to make documentaries about folks who look for UFOs,” Isabelle said.
I picked up a cracker slathered in salmon spread. “They’re trying to document Glims?” I said. A knot tensed in my stomach. “That’s a headache waiting to happen.”
“Not the Glims,” Isabelle said. “The Huntsmen. Some wannabe filmmaker from California is in town, and he’s been interviewing them.”
The knot loosened.
“Good,” I said.
“Better than one of them trying to target us,” Isabelle said. “Still not good.”
Lucas: Makayla Whatsername from AP English just ate three raw eggs on a dare.
“At this point, I’ll take whatever I can get,” I said.
Around us, a countdown started. Isabelle raised her drink as the numbers wound down to zero.
“Happy New Year,” she said.
I clinked my glass against hers.
“I hope,” I muttered, but my words were drowned out as the room burst into cheers around us.
Chapter Eleven
The door slammed open. Daniel and I winced and stared at each other from our separate armchairs. Our homework, strewn across the coffee table, seemed to ripple in anticipation of Dad’s anger.
“That lousy, rotten, Humdrum rat,” he bellowed from the foyer. “Marigold? Marigold, damn it!”
It would be worse if he had to keep calling her.
“Mom’s at the garden store,” I shouted across the house. “We ran out of dragon manure.”
“What in Morgaine’s name do we need with dragon manure?” He swept into the living room like a storm front.
“She’s repotting the fire lilies,” I said. “She always does that in January.”
“God damn,” he said. He slammed his coat down on the back of the sofa.
Daniel seemed to shrink into his chair
.
“Everything okay?” I said.
“No, everything is not okay,” Dad said. “Damn that Humdrum louse.”
I’d never heard Dad call anyone a “louse” before. I’d never heard anyone call anyone a “louse” before. It didn’t seem like the kind of insult people used in real life.
He stormed across the room, then stormed back, pacing like a lion that might spring on Daniel or me at any moment.
“Goddamn social media,” Dad said. “What’s wrong with passing notes like kids did in my generation?”
I wanted to point out that the Glim-kid version of “passing notes” was basically the same as texting, only on slips of paper instead of phone screens. Instead, I bit my tongue, then asked, “What happened with social media?”
Daniel widened his eyes at me. He didn’t even need to throw an emotion my way. The message was clearly, Do you want to get yourself killed?
Dad let out a long sigh and stopped pacing long enough to hit the back of the sofa with the palm of his hand. “It’s nothing we can’t clean up,” he said. “Just another half-wit Humdrum hiding behind a computer and trying to reveal our world. Not that she’s any good at hiding. This one was easy enough to track down.”
Definitely a girl, then. My stomach flipped over and sank.
“Problem is, she’s got more than a little bit of influence, and this isn’t the best time to have Humdrums skulking around the edges of Glim establishments.”
“What establishments?” I said.
“Titania knows,” Dad said. Talking seemed to deflate him; his voice became milder and slower the more he spoke. “There’s a Humdrum girl, you see, and she has a lot of, what do you call them, stalkers on social media.”
“Followers,” I said quietly. He carried on without acknowledging me.
“For some reason—maybe she has a Glim friend or family member who hasn’t been careful enough—she thinks she knows something about people who can do magic. Humdrums usually write off people who believe in magic as crazy, but this girl has started talking at the wrong time. You know how busy the Council is.”
He shot Daniel and me stern looks to make sure we understood how stressful and important his job was. We both nodded.