“Got it. But how are you going to fly?” Egret asked.
“You’ll see. Now get going, you two. Wouldn’t want any wizards or witches coming to find you and encountering an incubus instead.”
Chapter Nine
EGRET TRANSITIONED behind the diner amidst a dumpster and a lot of trash that had missed the mark. As had become our usual positions, I climbed on her back and grasped her green feathers. This time, however, her back stiffened at my touch.
“I’m sorry,” I said as she took off and soared back toward the Council’s Mansion. “I shouldn’t have kept all of this from you.”
Which part? The fact that you were a girl inside, or that you’d transitioned on the outside? Oh, or the small detail about sacrificing yourself at the incubi portal?
“All of it?”
Egret fumed. She took turns so sharply that she almost threw me off—and I wasn’t sure she would catch me if I fell.
“Listen, I said I’m sorry. The truth is….” I inhaled deeply while urging myself to be brave. If I was going to be dead in a day, I had to start taking risks. “I like you. A lot. And I knew you wouldn’t be interested in me as Luke, but I thought maybe as Lumi….”
So you wanted to trick me into liking you by changing into a girl?
“No. That’s not what I’m saying—”
That’s what it sounds like. And in one way, you’re right; I was attracted to Lumi in a way I wasn’t attracted to Luke. Physically. So your little scheme worked. But I don’t do relationships, and eventually, I would have figured out the truth. Once a space boy, always a space boy.
Her words cut through my confidence like dragon talons through air. I knew that I was Lumi on the inside, but maybe on the outside I would always be a pale imitation of her, my gender tainted by every day I’d lived as Luke. Would Lumi have dealt with this whole situation differently? Would she have confided in Egret instead of lied to her, or sought solace in Rochelle instead of feigned death?
No.
Lumi could not have reacted differently, because Lumi was me.
No longer did Lumi wear Luke’s skin like a costume, and no longer did I have to wonder how life would be different without the mask. Maybe I would mess things up or react in the wrong way, but it wasn’t because I was “being Luke.” I had never been Luke, not really.
“You know what, Egret? I’m sick and tired of you projecting your fears onto everyone else. ‘Oh, they’re lying to me,’ you say, when really, you’re the liar. You convince girls to fall in love with you, and then you drop them faster than you dropped physics. Well, guess what? This girl doesn’t want to be with someone who breaks hearts for sport, so don’t flatter yourself by using my transition as some kind of validation of your universal attractiveness. If you can’t see that this is the real me, then I’m done with you, friend or whatever else we were.”
Fine.
“Fine.”
The rest of the ride was excruciating. The only sound was wind whipping by my ears, and then, when we hit a quiet patch of stagnant air, the beat of Egret’s wings. Finally, after what seemed like forever, we reached the Mansion grounds. Without another word, Egret transitioned and walked through the Mansion doors.
I, on the other hand, found something else to pique my interest. There had been a lot of dragons on the Mansion yard before we left, but now, every inch was covered. Most lay on the ground in their dragon forms—probably because lying on the ground under an enormous shared tent was more comfortable when you had a layer of scales—but a few of the leaders conversed in human form under larger canopies with the clans’ symbols on them. Ice, Earth, Bone, and Sun, though of course Grian was the only one who could spend time under the Sun Dragon canopy and he was over with the Bone Dragons instead.
Wait a second. There was a fifth dragon clan canopy, completely empty, forming the last spike of the five-pointed star. Bright red in color and crowned with a wooden plaque with flames on it, the meaning could be none other than fire. But did Fire Dragons exist?
“Weird, isn’t it?” King Grian had come to stand beside me while my attention was on the fifth canopy.
“Really weird. Who put it up?”
“That’s the strangest part. Fire Dragons are just a myth, and no one has seen or heard from one since before the dragons’ fight for Earth. In the first war between Artists and Incubi, the clans you see present sided with the angelic Artists, while the Fire Dragons sided with the incubi. Some speculate that when the incubi were trapped in their prison, the Fire Dragons were too. But others say that the Fire Dragons broke their allegiance with the incubi and have hidden somewhere, biding their time, until they can avenge their forefathers and bring pride to their clan.”
“And what do you think?”
Grian stared at the Fire Dragon headquarters thoughtfully. “Honestly? In a magical world like ours, anything is possible. But if there ever was a time for redemption, it’s now—and I still see an empty canopy.”
Grian left to continue his council with the other dragons, while I, with only half an hour left to get ready for the ball, ran to the Mansion.
“Excuse me. Can you direct me to the guest suite?” I asked a page at the Level Five entrances. I couldn’t stay with Rochelle any longer, so the Council had agreed to put me up in their extra room that night.
“The guest suite?” She sighed longingly. “Best room in the whole Mansion. Follow me.”
She showed me to the elevator and then all the way to the penthouse, where to exit I had to press my thumb against the key pad and then say my name. When the doors opened, all I saw was a blank room with white walls and no furniture. I left the curious page peering through the elevator doors and stepped into the empty suite, where a magical voice greeted me by name as soon as the doors closed.
“Welcome home, Miss Lumi,” said the voice. “Please select what setting you prefer for your stay in the Mansion Penthouse. For example, to select rain forest, say ‘rain forest.’ To select lake house, say ‘lake house.’ Anywhere in the world can be recreated; remember, it’s magic.”
“May I change my selection later on?” I asked the voice.
“Naturally. Settings may be changed at any time. May I suggest, however, that you prepare for the ball before experimenting further with the options available through the VAM system?”
“VAM?”
“Voice Activated Magic.”
“Got it, and good idea. Can you turn this place into a clothing store?”
Before I finished the last word, the walls flickered then turned into a dress boutique with three mannequins sporting blue ball gowns, feather hairpieces, and heels. Along the edge of the walls were racks of other dresses, all blue, and when I checked the tags, all in my size. Even the shoes were a consistent size eight. Three-way mirrors reflected the store from each corner, along with short runways on which to model the gowns. The room even took on that boutique smell, a mix of perfume, unworn fabric, and leather.
“If I wear one tonight, it won’t disappear when I leave the suite, will it?” I asked VAM as I paged through the strapless princess dresses on the wall closest to me.
“No. Typically VAM props may not leave the room, but Lettie, my maker, has activated an exception setting for you. Please simply return the dress at your earliest convenience before changing the setting again.”
I had never worn a ball gown before, and selecting one proved harder than I’d imagined. The princess dresses were too unwieldy, the tulle too scratchy, the tea length too short, and the strapless too awkward to keep up. How did other girls stand the constant slipping of neckline all night?
“May I suggest dress 423?” VAM asked after I had sat down on the runway in one of the tulle monstrosities and put my chin in my hands.
“Sure. It can’t get much worse than this. I look like a snowball.”
Dress 423 was the last dress on rack four. From the side it looked like a plain mermaid dress, but when I unzipped the bag and pulled it out, a new pattern emerged. Sequi
ns covered every surface, but not all of them were dark blue—scattered among the sky were white sequin stars, and together, they formed the constellations I’d spent so much of my life studying.
“Try it on,” VAM encouraged, so I slipped into the top and laced up the corset the best I could. Luckily this dress had straps, so I didn’t have to hike up the bust every minute or worry that if I forgot the whole thing would fall off.
The dress fit me as though it had been made for me. In fact, it probably had—knowing Lettie, she had always planned for me to pick this dress, and the others had only filled the room for appearance’s sake.
“You haven’t seen the best part,” VAM said. “Spin.”
When I twirled, the mermaid bottom spun out like a flower’s petals. Underneath the layers, however, were not blue sequins but yellow ones. Like the sunrise over a horizon, the beams of light reflecting off of the dress were so bright they filled the room with their glow. When I looked in the mirror, my hair had been pinned back and makeup applied to match my dress.
A knock came at the door.
“VAM, who is it?”
“Unsure. Face does not match with any Mansion wizard or witch in my database. Physical features include black hair, pale skin, and a blond stripe.”
“That’s Jeremy. You can let him in.”
Prince Jeremy stepped uncertainly through the door, as though he expected the bottom of the room to fall out from beneath his feet. He wore a red velvet cape and traditional prince’s attire, including leather boots and gold tassels.
“It’s safe,” I promised.
Jeremy moved his gaze from the shop room floor to my dress and then, lastly, to me.
“You look incredible,” he said as he helped me off my pedestal.
“Same with you.”
“Oh this?” Prince Jeremy swung his cape. “It’s just a little thing I picked up in the Draman archives. For many years everyone wore velvet robes they chose at the Naming Ceremonies, but luckily my grandmothers put a stop to that practice. This cape is from even before that time, back when Dramanians lived on Mars. From one dusty planet to another, it turned out.”
I took his arm, and together we left VAM behind. As the elevator descended, my nerves about the ball returned.
“I don’t know how to dance,” I admitted right before the elevator doors opened. Music drifted through the crack, and I recognized Tchaikovsky’s “Waltz of the Flowers.”
“Do not fear, my good lady,” Prince Jeremy teased as he took on a stuffy tone. “I happen to be an excellent dancer, and if you permit me, I shall lead you through any Viennese, English, or Dramanian waltz that comes our way.”
I can’t even do the robot slide, I thought, recalling many middle and high school dances where all of the students lined up in rows and performed the steps the song called for. How am I ever going to waltz?
Jeremy led me into the ballroom and across the floor to a special table set up along the far wall on a riser. There Blair, King Grian, Lettie, Aaron, and Bert sat in their formalwear, each more decorated and outlandish than the last. Below us, the other attendees mirrored the hodgepodge of styles and time periods, with fabrics ranging from tulle to velvet to metallic.
“Mods and Trads,” Blair explained as she nodded her head to the crowd. “No better time to make your political point than the night before a great battle to the death.”
Her sarcasm was biting. I imagined that at her age, all of this resembled a chicken fight—back when chickens lived on farms and not in factories. No one was focused on the wolves’ eyes glowing red in the distance.
“Shall we dance?” Jeremy asked before I could settle into my seat.
“Right now?”
“No better time.” He put his left hand out, and after a moment of hesitation, I extended my right one. He pulled me out of my seat onto the dance floor, and as the next song started, left one hand grasping mine while the other found my shoulder blade.
“What now?” I whispered, feeling everyone’s eyes on us.
“Think of our movements as a box,” he whispered in my ear. “Back, side, relevé, front, side, relevé.”
Before I could ask another question, Jeremy launched into the steps. Firmly he pulled me in the rise and fall of the dance, and I had no choice but to bob along like a duck on water’s wave. Eventually, I fell into the rhythm of the dance, and the spinning actually felt fun.
Then I saw Rochelle. She wore a plain blue frock and satin slippers, and the bare accoutrements made her look like a lost child just escaped from her bed. Her eyes, however, were focused on me. Even before she approached Prince Jeremy and me, I knew she had discovered the truth.
“How could you?” she said when she was a few feet from us. “I’ve spent two days looking for you, and meanwhile, you’re dancing around with a prince like you’re bloody Cinderella? You couldn’t bother yourself to stop by and say ‘Hey, Rochelle, FYI I’ve changed into a woman and I’m the last Artist in the world, and sorry I asked you to be my girlfriend yesterday, can I take it back?’”
The music stopped, along with all of the voices at the tables.
I couldn’t speak. Not just because her anger caught me off guard, but because deep down, I knew she was right.
“What is this woman talking about?” Prince Jeremy asked me as he let his hands drop.
The whole ballroom waited for my reply. My mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Then I focused on Rochelle—on her anger, which was completely justified—and I knew what I had to do.
“I’m so sorry, Rochelle.” I closed the gap between us and took her hands. At first she tried to pull away, but then her hands went limp. “I tried to tell you earlier, outside the Mansion, but I just couldn’t bear to hurt you.”
Her face softened, at least a little.
“You really liked Luke. No one has ever felt that way about me before. I’m so sorry I didn’t just tell you right away, and I hope that you’ll forgive me. Even though I can’t be in a relationship with you, I think that you’re one of the kindest, most caring people I have ever met.”
Rochelle’s mouth slowly turned upward into a smile.
“Thank you for caring about my feelings,” she said. “And I guess I did make it pretty hard for you to tell me the truth when I kept interrupting you.”
“Still, I should have said something anyway. Can we still be friends?”
For a moment she paused. Then she squeezed my hand and said, “Of course.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
After Rochelle promised me a dance, I turned to Prince Jeremy.
“My name used to be Luke Hawthorne. I’ve always known that I’m a girl, and as soon as I became an Artist, I used my powers to correct my body and become the Lumi that you know. I’m an astronomy nerd, and I’ve never been in a real relationship.” I looked down at my feet as I waited for him to speak.
“Is that all, then?” Prince Jeremy asked.
“That’s all.” My body tensed, preparing for the barrage of nasty words I expected to come out of Prince Jeremy’s mouth.
“Good. Shall we return to our waltz?”
Stunned, I put my hand back on his shoulder blade as the music started up again. Now that the confrontation was finished, everyone else returned to their conversations.
“You’re not mad?” I asked.
“Mad? Why would I be mad?”
“I tricked you.”
Prince Jeremy laughed, then asked, “How so? With me you have always been Lumi. That sounds like pure honesty to me. And remember, you’re talking to the prince of a planet where all residents have both sexes and many people never choose a gender at all. Changing is just… not a big deal.”
My muscles relaxed into the rhythm of the waltz. One, two, three, one, two, three.
“Excuse me, may I cut in?” Egret was at my left.
“It’s fine with me,” Prince Jeremy said. “Lumi?”
“It’s fine.”
Prince Jeremy handed me off
to Egret, who took his leading position. Good thing, since I had only just mastered my side of the dance.
Standing so close to Jeremy had made me feel like I waltzed on a cloud floating over the whole world—perhaps because he was a prince, or because being Lumi around him felt so familiar. We had no backstory, no baggage or deceit, no mean words or jealousy.
But dancing with Egret? That felt like fire. My skin warmed like a roasted marshmallow, while on the inside, I melted.
“I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I can’t even explain why I freaked out like that. I think I just liked you as Luke, as a friend, and once you became Lumi you became….”
“Datable?”
“I was going to say bang-able, but yes, let’s go with that.”
Before we had a chance to talk about what was really going on between us, four women entered the ballroom: one resembled a mermaid, the next a tree mouse, the third a raven, and the fourth a queen. Though two looked not a day over eighteen, they all had an air of wisdom and importance about them.
“The sorceresses,” Egret whispered. “Nimue, Ganieda, Morgana, and Guinevere.”
“From the legend of Merlin?” Then I remembered that Merlin was no legend, and that he was dead, and the dark cloud that had followed me since his death returned to its spot above my head.
“Not only that, but they’re the ones who give back Merlin’s memories once he’s reborn. Most recently he was Mani, adopted son to the great witch Allanah and Igreefee daughter Dena, as well as his own kind of dragon—a moon dragon would be the most accurate term, I suppose. Anyway, he has been many things. Besides him—and Shayla, of course—the sorceresses are the most powerful magical beings in the world.”
“Higher than a Level Five?”
“Not even on the spectrum.”
The sorceresses took their places at the head table. According to Egret they rarely visited the Mansion, preferring the solitary life of their respective castles and water hideouts. They all seemed less serious and sad than I’d expected them to be, especially because Ganieda was Merlin’s sister; then again, they had experienced his death many times already.
Luminosity Page 9