by Emma Savant
She laughed. “Right,” she said.
“I should probably go,” I said. “I’m borrowing Isabelle’s friend’s mirror for this.”
“Stay safe,” she said. The lines on her forehead creased. “Keep Daniel with you.”
“We’re all going to be okay, Mom,” I said. “I promise.”
Off in the distance, I heard another scream.
It was a promise I had no right to make.
Chapter Seventeen
I’d expected sleep to be impossible, but before I knew it, I was opening my eyes in one of Haidar’s lush guest bedrooms. Everything in the room seemed to dance with busy floral patterns. The down-filled comforter blossomed with images of white grandiflora blooms over a pale green background, and the wallpaper crawled with elaborate bouquets of roses and daisies.
The sound of a violin running up and down the scales floated into my room. I listened as the sound faded. Somewhere down on the first floor, it was replaced with Haidar’s low, rumbling voice.
I slid out of bed. The mattress was so high up I’d needed to use a tiny flight of carpeted stairs last night to get onto it. A fresh set of clothes sat on a chair in front of a mirrored vanity table. Isabelle must have enchanted them in last night. I replaced the old-fashioned cream nightgown I’d borrowed with the soft jeans and pale pink T-shirt, then put my hoodie on over that.
The smell of breakfast greeted me on the landing. Daniel, Lucas, and I had slept on the second floor. The stairs kept going up, though, and I wondered how many rooms could possibly be in this mansion, and what Haidar did with them all. Across the hall, the door to Lucas and Daniel’s aggressively blue bedroom stood ajar. No one was inside.
I followed the smell of food downstairs. Isabelle had insisted on sleeping on the couch in the parlor to keep guard “just in case.” Now, she sat in another room across the entrance hall with a book in one hand and fork in the other. A platter of bacon, eggs, and pancakes sat in front of her. Across the table, on the other side of an enormous arrangement of white and purple lilacs, Lucas sat picking at a plate of Belgian waffles and staring at his phone.
I pulled out the chair next to him. He looked up, startled. When he saw me, his shoulders seemed to relax.
“Morning,” I said. I wasn’t willing yet to call it a good one.
“Morning,” he said. “You sleep okay?”
“Like a rock,” I said. “One of those rocks that passes out when it’s stressed, you know.”
“Darn rocks and their escapist coping tactics,” he said. He forced a tiny smile.
I wished I could bottle the smile and store it as a talisman. The willpower it took for him to arrange his face like that sent prickles of empathy up my arms.
“Have you heard from your mom?” I said.
“She called late last night,” he said. “I tried to explain what was going on, but she kind of already knew.”
Isabelle’s eyes darted up from her book.
“Not about magic,” Lucas added. Isabelle looked back down. “She just knows the Huntsmen conspiracy theorists are getting violent. Another Hum got hurt last night; looked like a bullet wound. Sounds like a lot of the people at the hospital think it’s a surge in gun violence.”
“May as well be,” I muttered.
“I told her I was safe and she said she was staying away from anywhere that looked like trouble,” he said. “She called school and told them I’d be out for a few days. Isabelle said they’re still keeping an eye on her.”
“Two eyes,” Isabelle said, without looking up from her book. “My friend’s watching her, and Queen Amani stationed security around the hospital.”
“That’s good,” I said.
“Probably political pressure,” Isabelle said. She turned a page.
I wished I could talk to Amani. Isabelle didn’t trust her, but even now, after such a long silence, I had to believe my queen was on the right side of this conflict. Last time we’d spoken about the Oracle, it had all seemed so personal to her. She had to be spending all her energy trying to solve the problem.
Lucas reached out and picked up a small rectangle of creamy paper up off the table.
“Here,” he said, handing it to me. “Breakfast. Just tell the flowers your order.”
I glanced at the bouquet. The lilacs did seem alert, in their own way, like maybe they’d just been cut that morning.
My eyes took in the paper. It was covered in silver calligraphy.
“Crepes with lingonberry butter,” I said. “Side of eggs, over easy, with black pepper.”
The flowers shook themselves, as though I’d said something funny and they were laughing at the joke.
A moment later, the food shimmered into being in front of me.
“You told me to order from the flowers like a pro,” I said. I nudged Lucas with my knee. “We’ll make a Glim out of you yet.”
I wanted to see his smile again, but his face stayed tight and pale.
“You and your mom are really close, huh?” I said.
He swallowed and nodded. His gaze seemed to bore into the strawberries on the waffles in front of him.
He was beyond any comfort I could give.
Instead of continuing my sad attempt to make him feel better, I turned to my breakfast. The crepes were perfect and the lingonberry butter was even better. I wondered what kind of magic created the food. Did Haidar have servants? Were the flowers contributing their magic? Did lilacs have an innate ability to enchant food into being? What other plants gave off magic besides roses, and why hadn’t I known about roses in the first place? And could any of these flowers be used to solve this stupid Oracle situation?
After a few bites, Lucas’ quiet voice broke into my thoughts.
“This will all be fine if she’s okay,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just worry about her. I mean, not just now. I worry about her all the time, and so now, it’s just worry on top of worry and it’s kind of messing with me.”
I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to reach out for his hand.
“She’s lucky to have you,” I said. “Most guys your age can’t stand their moms.”
“I guess I must seem pretty lame right now.”
“You seem really sweet, actually,” I said. I wished Isabelle wasn’t in the room listening. Throwing up a sound bubble would be rude, but I didn’t want her listening in on this conversation. I lowered my voice. “It’s cool that you and your mom care about each other so much.”
“It’s just, I’m all she has,” he said. He pushed a strawberry around his plate. It was like he was talking to the food instead of me; his eyes stayed trained on the plate. “I have my dad, too, but we don’t live together. And I know he can take care of himself. But Mom, she needs people.”
“Dude, your mom’s a nurse,” I said. “I’ll bet she’s amazing in an emergency.”
Finally, a smile. It was tiny, but it was real.
“Yeah, she’s good in a crisis,” he said. “Way better than I am. Obviously.”
“You’re doing great,” I said.
Violin music screeched through the room, a high-pitched stream of frantic notes. I heard Daniel burst into laughter as the violin faded.
“Volume down, please!” Isabelle shouted over the top of her book.
Wherever they were, Haidar and Daniel clearly weren’t letting this Oracle business get them down.
“They’ve been at that all morning,” Lucas said.
Isabelle sat her book down on the table, pages splayed and facing downward. “Haidar has an enormous collection of enchanted antique instruments,” she said. “And he’s finally found someone who can appreciate them.” She speared a link of sausage with her knife.
“Daniel doesn’t play,” I said. “I don’t think so, anyway.”
“He wants to work violin into his next poetry performance,” Lucas said. I stared at him and he shrugged. “That’s what he said.”
“I hope he learns what the strings are for first,” I said.
; Another string of high notes screeched after one another. Wherever they were, it was way too close for auditory comfort.
“Haidar,” Isabelle shouted. “Some people are trying to enjoy their morning.”
The violin squawked at her in response.
Isabelle scowled across the table, like Lucas and I had something to do with it. Then she let out a big sigh.
“I am sleep-deprived,” she said. “And I hate everything.”
“You’re welcome to go nap in my room if you want,” I said.
“Or one of the six other bedrooms,” she said. “No, I don’t have time. Thanks, though.”
She picked her book back up, tore a sprig of lilac from the bouquet, and stuck it between the pages. She slammed the book shut with a thump.
“Do you want the news?”
I shifted in my seat. “Yes, please,” I said.
“Since none of us are going to be able to read in peace, I’ll be happy to tell you all about it,” she said. She cast a dirty look toward the door.
“I’m guessing everyone’s still on lockdown,” I said.
“Obviously,” she said. “We’re stuck where we are for now. What’s new is that the Oracle has also forced Council members into lockdown. Originally they were still roaming the city under Queen Amani’s protection, but I guess her protection isn’t enough against the Oracle’s sprites.”
She leaned back in her chair and lifted a glass of orange juice. She examined it for a moment. “The Oracle has started using her little supporters to start circulating the idea that we’ll all be better off with new leadership. Queen Amani clearly can’t restore the peace, they say, so why not let the Oracle take a stab at it?”
“You think the queen and the Oracle are on the same side anyway, so why does it matter?” I said.
Isabelle’s eyes darkened, and she shot me a sharp look across the table. The intensity of the expression was ruined by a tiny speck of fried egg white stuck to the corner of her mouth.
“Meanwhile, the Humdrums are obviously aware something’s going on,” she said, like I hadn’t spoken. “It would be impossible for them to stay ignorant.”
“They don’t know what’s actually happening, though,” Lucas said. His voice sounded a little stronger. Maybe he needed to be talking instead of just dwelling on what might happen. He held up his phone. “Half the people I follow online think it’s gang wars. The other half are older people who think these are the consequences of legalizing marijuana.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. I felt the tiniest bit of amusement rise off him like steam.
“Oh, dear mother of cannabis,” Isabelle muttered. She picked the speck of egg off her lips and wiped it on a napkin. “I guess that’s still better than the ones who think aliens have taken over. Half the conspiracy theorists think UFOs must have landed; the other half thinks government brainwashing has made everyone go mad.”
“Wow,” I said.
Lucas snorted. “What do you expect them to think?” he said. When Isabelle and I both looked at him, he raised his eyebrows. “What? They’re supposed to know it’s fairy tale characters? How is that any saner than UFOs?”
I opened my mouth to respond, then looked to Isabelle.
She pursed her lips and pointed a fork at him.
“Kid has a point.”
Lucas propped his wrists against the edge of the table and leaned toward Isabelle.
“What’s your deal with Queen Amani?” he said.
He looked at her intently, either oblivious or indifferent to the sudden spark in her eyes.
She picked her book back up, but it seemed like a prop, something to keep her from looking as serious as she felt.
“She let the situation go too far,” Isabelle said.
“That’s it?” Lucas said. “Come on. If she was a Humdrum political leader no one would even be surprised.”
“Our politics aren’t like yours,” she said. “We don’t just let things spiral out of control. Our government doesn’t take long paid vacations when there’s trouble or make decisions based on the interests of whoever will do them favors later. Our queens handle things.”
“But you don’t think Amani’s handling things,” I said.
“All I know is what I see: that the Oracle thinks she can get away with a coup, that Queen Amani has done next to nothing to stop her, and that they keep giving the same orders,” Isabelle said. “Maybe Amani’s on the Oracle’s side. Maybe she’s not. But if she’s not, and she’s still letting all this happen, she’s a terrible queen.”
Lucas frowned. I could feel him turning this over in his mind. I wanted to spring to the queen’s defense, but the words wouldn’t come.
Things were out of control. Amani and Kelda were giving the same orders. And Humdrums were suffering for it.
Things were getting worse, not better.
Haidar coughed loudly in the doorway. I jumped and looked up. I hadn’t heard or felt him come in. How long had he been standing there?
“You,” he said. It took me a second to determine that his black eyes were, in fact, turned on me and not Lucas. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but the rest of his face still seemed raw and untamed.
“Yeah?”
“Out here,” he said. “Now.”
Chapter Eighteen
He didn’t wait for an answer, just turned and walked across the entrance hall and into the parlor. I raised my eyebrows at Lucas, then got up, abandoning Amani and my breakfast all in one go.
Once I was in the parlor, Haidar closed the door behind us.
I spun on him.
“What is Isabelle’s problem?” I said. “You trust Amani, don’t you?”
“I do,” he said.
“Then what’s her deal?” Sudden heat rose up in me. “She says you know the queen,” I snapped. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the kind of guy who just goes around trusting people. If you think Amani’s on the right side of all this, don’t you think Isabelle should, I don’t know, listen?”
“Listening has never been Isabelle’s first reaction to anything except roses,” Haidar said.
Underneath the gruff words, an undercurrent of affection ran strong and clear.
They deserved each other.
“We have no evidence Queen Amani wants any of this,” I said. “Yes, maybe she hasn’t handled it perfectly. But—”
I didn’t know what else to say. But Amani is my friend, and she’s as worried about this as any of us. But I couldn’t say that. I didn’t even know if it was true anymore.
“Isabelle has to make up her own mind about things,” Haidar said. “It doesn’t matter how much evidence is staring her in the face or who disagrees with her. Isabelle doesn’t believe anything until she thinks believing it was her idea.”
“Real healthy way to go through life,” I muttered.
Haidar snorted. “Yes, you’re much more level-headed than that,” he said.
His sarcasm was so thick I could practically chew on it.
“What do you want?” I said.
A small sense of guilt nudged at me. I could almost hear my mom hissing in my ear about politeness and gracious manners. I looked over his shoulder and out onto the sloping lawn. The sky hung heavy with pearly clouds.
“Thanks for letting us stay here,” I said.
“I couldn’t let you get carried off by sprites,” he said. “Amani would kill me.”
I inhaled sharply. He watched me too closely, and there was a faint amusement behind his words, a gotcha waiting to happen. I schooled my face to keep it neutral.
“I don’t think Queen Amani is worried about my safety,” I said.
“I think Amani is extremely worried about your safety,” Haidar said. “And your allegiance. I think she’s spent a lot of energy worrying about those things lately, maybe even enough to demand I take you to my house instead of yours when the Oracle attacked.”
I folded my arms.
“You should s
ee your face,” he said. “You and Isabelle ought to have a contest to see who can give me the dirtiest look. You might win.”
“She talked to you?”
“Isabelle?” he said. “No, but I know she’d enjoy an evil eye contest. She’s competitive like that.”
Good Titania. He was worse than Daniel.
I tightened my mouth and kept trying to nail him with a death glare. Finally, he sat down, his back to the bay window. Even on the formal floral sofa, he seemed wild.
“Your brother is gifted with considerable music magic,” he said, voice suddenly light.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Have a seat and maybe we’ll talk,” he said.
I sat down across from him, folded my arms, and leaned back. I wanted to put my feet on the coffee table, but that seemed like it might be going too far.
“You don’t like me,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes, as if squinting might somehow help me see him better.
“I don’t get you,” I said.
At least I felt like I could be honest with him. He didn’t seem like he’d get offended over much.
“You keep stuff to yourself,” I said. “It’s not a bad thing, but honestly, I don’t have the mental energy to deal with it.”
He nodded, expressionless.
“I get you,” he said.
I couldn’t help laughing. “Somehow, I seriously doubt that,” I said.
“Isabelle tells me you’re planning on going to a Humdrum school to study biology,” he said. “Maybe you’ll get to learn about selective breeding and plant evolution. What about genealogy? Are you interested in that?”
I stared at him. The world was crashing around our ears, so he thought it was a good time for a conversation about my interests and college plans? I glanced at the door.
“Do you know what genealogy is?” he said, in a flatter voice, when I didn’t answer.
“Dead people,” I said, even more flatly. “Family trees.”
“Family history,” he said. “The study of all the ancestors who made you who you are today.”
“No,” I said. “Not really interested.”
“It was a rhetorical question,” he said. “You could only be this apathetic if you’d never studied up.”