We piled in. Greg got into the driver’s seat next to Anna. Yunru and Berto sat in the two seats in the middle. Daniel and I plopped down in back.
Anna eyed us through the car’s rearview mirror. “Seatbelts on,” she called back. “Remember, kids, safety first.”
Daniel and I fastened our safety restraints. When we were all buckled up, Greg turned the key. The car’s engine roared to life, but not as loudly as the music that blasted from the stereo system.
A funky song with an upbeat, popping rhythm poured through the speakers. The lyrics were strange and sounded like a bunch of syllables mashed together. Best I could guess—based on the words I did understand—the song was about some dude being blue.
“What is this?” I shouted through the music.
“One of Berto’s good friends is in a band called Eiffel 65!” Anna shouted from the front seat. “This is their debut album. It’s super popular right now.”
I was flung against the polyester seat cushions and Daniel’s left shoulder as Greg jolted the wheel and we turned out of the parking lot.
Both Yunru and Berto’s heads were bobbing along to the music. As I looked out the window at the small German town whizzing by, the compelling dance mix absorbed into my brain and I started to bob my head too.
Daniel raised his eyebrows at me.
“What?” I shrugged. “It’s got a hot beat.”
he sun began to set as we reached our final destination.
The town of Hann. Münden was a beautiful place that reminded me of some of Book’s countryside villages. Tiny streets were lined with quaint timber houses that leaned over cobblestone pathways. Panels of reds and browns were dominant in the architecture. Woodlands and fields were interspersed throughout the city, which was framed on both sides by gorgeous mountains.
Berto told us that Hann. Münden was colloquially referred to as the Three River City because it was where two rivers—the Fulda and the Werra—converged into a third, the Weser. As we drove through the town, I watched the waters of the Werra rush freely.
Greg pulled up in front of a small hotel. It was a wonderful-looking structure—beige with brown detailing. The main building had a large triangular brick roof. Window boxes spilling with red flowers underlined each window. Fragrant smells wafted from the hotel’s restaurant.
Yunru told us that the coordinates we’d pointed out were only a few minutes away and that she’d show us exactly where they were on the map once we got settled in the hotel. Daniel and I were fine with that. We’d been driving all day with the exception of a couple of restroom and cake stops, and we were tired. Since the hole we sought wasn’t meant to open until half past four in the morning, we were happy to take a break.
One thing we did have trouble accepting was our hosts’ continual generosity. Yunru offered to share her hotel room with me, and Berto did the same for Daniel. And “offered” was putting it mildly. When they learned that Daniel and I had spent the previous night sleeping in the dirt, they flat out insisted. Our wilderness school requirements be darned—our new friends weren’t going to let us camp out in the streets like a couple of hobos.
Being about ten years older than us, I guess Anna and Greg’s paternal instincts were kicking in. Maybe they felt some sort of responsibility to keep us safe. And Yunru and Berto both had siblings so they were used to keeping an eye on the younger members of their families. I was grateful either way. The comfort of a hotel room certainly beat cobblestones and a pile of leaves for a pillow.
When we got to our room, Yunru put her giant backpack down and told me she was going to go check out an old local bookshop with Berto. She asked if I wanted to come, but I opted to stay put. Between the number of literary characters we’d run into recently and the Author’s protagonist books that were always on my mind, I’d had more than enough of books for the time being.
Once she’d gone, I looked around the room for a bit. I took a whiff of the scented shampoos in the shower (lilac and honeysuckle). Then I opened the drawers and perused the tourist pamphlets I found inside, which informed me that the mountain ranges crowning either side of the town were the Weserbergland and East Hessian mountains. I could see the former from our hotel room window, peaks grazing the increasingly rosy sky.
There were three different complimentary newspapers laid out on the desk in the room. They were in different languages, so I picked up the only one I could understand.
The front page featured a story about the growing number of missing persons in the area. Multiple towns in the Lower Saxony region had reported disappearances over the last two days. Eighteen children, twelve teenagers, and three adults had gone missing so far. Police had no leads yet, but locals and travelers were advised to take extra precaution when going out at night, as that was when the disappearances were taking place.
A shiver went through my spine as I thought of the missing kids. I frowned and put the newspaper back on the desk.
Like I needed any more unsettling news right now.
Picking up the remote control, I began to flip through the TV channels. Ashlyn’s house had several TVs, and I found the device to be relaxing. However, both my intentions and state of tension changed the moment I sat down. The bed was too comfortable, the covers too soft. I stretched myself out on the white linens.
The remote naturally slipped from my fingers as I began to drift. I floated between reality and dreamscape. Vague images of Arian in the desert, Natalie at her school, Lenore in her office, and Lady Agnue’s ballroom full of dancing couples and shimmering gowns filled my head.
The telephone on my nightstand suddenly started ringing, jarring me back to life. I rolled over and slapped the phone with my hand a couple of times before properly grabbing the receiver.
“Hello,” I said through a yawn.
“Guten Abend, miss,” a thickly-accented German voice responded. “Your companion requested a wake-up call for you to be set for ten minutes past four o’clock this coming morning. May I confirm that with you?”
“Um, yes,” I answered. “That’s correct.”
“Wunderbar. Do you require anything else?”
How much time you got?
“No, I’m good. Thank you.”
“Danke, miss.”
I hung up the phone and made my way over to the window as I stretched. Geez, Daniel was on top of his game.
The sun was halfway set by then, the world soaked in orange and gold. I saw the earnest light of streetlamps beginning to glimmer below. My stomach made a rumbling noise and I moved to turn off the TV and exit the room.
I wandered the halls for a few minutes before I eventually located the hotel restaurant. It emanated warmth. The linens were clean and crisp, the wooden walls a natural caramel. Candles glinted off wine goblets. Slender vases, each holding a single sunflower, sat in the middle of every table.
The restaurant also had an outdoor seating option, so I made my way outside. I found myself on one of the cutest patios I’d ever seen. The ground was made of small black stones. Each wooden table had a white runner going down it. Each wooden chair had a bright yellow seat cushion that picked up the color of the rose bushes bordering the area. More clusters of yellow and red roses grew abundantly in arches near tall white lanterns.
Stepping further onto the patio, I gazed appreciatively at the lush green of the trees that surrounded us. I could see the mountains between the foliage, looking navy blue in the shadow of the day’s fading light.
There were several couples outside, all of the romantic nature. The only table that hosted a single guest was the one at the center. Daniel sat there. He had one arm draped over the back of his chair and the other bent forward, his golden pocket watch that contained Kai’s picture open in hand.
I considered going back inside the restaurant before he noticed me but shook off the notion. I walked across the patio to join him.
“Did she work at the Capitol Building with you?”
The question, and my approach, caught Daniel
completely by surprise. I didn’t know if it was possible for every muscle in the human body to tense at once, but all of Daniel’s certainly seemed to. He shoved the watch back in his pocket as he turned to face me.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I said, sliding into the chair across from him. “So yes or no?”
“To what?”
“My question. You told me that you used to work at the Century City Capitol Building. Did Kai work there too?”
“No.”
I started to open my mouth to ask another question, but he gestured to a nearby waitress with a round face and bangs. “Can she get a menu?” he asked.
The waitress reached inside her apron and pulled out a menu the size of an agenda book, minus the thickness. “There you go.” “Here,” he said, passing it to me as the waitress walked away. “You must be hungry.”
I nodded without further comment and took it from him. As soon as I accepted it, Daniel turned to look at the scenery and it was like I wasn’t even there anymore.
The feeling this inspired was humbling. With one mere tilt of the head he’d managed to shut me out. Although he was two feet away, it was like he’d erased me from existence completely.
Trying not to take it personally, I focused on the flickering candle contained in the crimson glass between us.
Aside from a couple of brief exchanges when we were leaving the restaurant this morning, Daniel and I hadn’t spoken one-on-one since our near-argument in the forest. Our road trip with our amicable backpacker friends had been filled with a good deal of talking, but it was with the whole group. Daniel and I had learned about movies, sports, college, and the German countryside.
For most of the day, Greg’s friend’s album had played on loop on the car stereo. It still echoed in the back of my head, causing me to wonder if I would ever get the “techno dance beat” (as it was called) out of my brain.
I hummed the tune faintly as I perused the menu. Then I put it down as a thought crossed my mind. “How are we paying for this? Please tell me Anna and Greg didn’t give you money. We can’t keep taking advantage of their kindness.”
“No. I got us some money of our own,” he said.
“How?”
Daniel didn’t answer. He just glanced at the couples nearby. And then I understood.
“You pickpocketed someone?” I huffed and leaned back in my chair. “I don’t like it, Daniel. We shouldn’t be stealing.”
“We didn’t steal. I did,” Daniel replied, his eyes narrowed and his tone remorseless. “So don’t worry. You haven’t sullied your fine protagonist reputation.”
My mouth tightened. There it was again—the feeling of another argument coming on. I resisted the urge to bite. My lack of response caused Daniel to shift.
“Look, I didn’t take much. I doubt the guy I lifted the wallet off of even notices the cash is missing. He had tons.”
“Well then I guess that makes it okay,” I said sarcastically. I shook my head and sighed. “You could’ve gotten caught, you know. Then where would we be?”
“I wouldn’t have gotten caught.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve done it too many times before.” An awkward pause passed between us before he released a frustrated breath. “Before I got that job at the Capitol Building, I had to find different ways to keep from going hungry. I haven’t pickpocketed in a while, but I haven’t lost the skill either. I guess there are some things you never forget.”
The candle flickered.
Daniel looked genuinely sorry—maybe not about what he’d done, but there was something in his expression that told me he was sorry his actions had disappointed me.
“I guess dinner’s on you then,” I said finally—extending the olive branch and choosing to let the matter go. “Considering my dinner last night had cyanide in it, anything here would be an improvement.”
“Right.” Daniel nodded. He eyed me steadily—making sure I was really going to let the previous conversation lie. Then he changed the subject. “I was actually going to ask you about that,” he said. “You didn’t seem surprised that Goldilocks was evil when we met her last night.”
“You were?”
“Sure. I mean, I knew she’d robbed some bears once, but I didn’t exactly think petty theft was enough to get you thrown into Alderon.”
“That was only her first offense,” I replied. “There was a whole profile about her in the Century City Summit Review a while back that covered all the messed up stuff she did. ‘The Making of a Monster: From Little Girl to Notorious Crime Lord.’ I’m surprised you missed it.”
“I don’t read the paper much,” Daniel said.
“That’s okay. I don’t either,” I replied with a shrug. “But SJ’s obsessed with it. Unlike Alderon’s surprisingly fast news cycle, since the Review only comes out twice a year she’ll usually read it cover to cover multiple times and yammer on about the stories for weeks.”
“Jason reads the paper a lot too,” Daniel commented. “Frankly, he reads a lot in general. He likes to underplay it—guys at our school gain more credibility for their strength than their book smarts—but he’s probably one of the most well-read kids in our year.”
“He has that in common with Mark,” I said, referring to Jason’s roommate before Daniel. “Mark’s oldest sister is actually an editor at the Review, and he is at the top of your class at Lord Channing’s . . .” I hesitated and gulped. “Well, he was at the top of your class.”
Another awkward beat passed.
The memory of finding Mark’s “threat neutralized” folder in Arian’s bunker was burned into my mind. I could still remember the coarseness in Jason’s voice and the shadow in his eyes when we found it.
“Do you think he’s dead?” Daniel asked bluntly.
I cringed in horror. “How can you say that?”
“It’s a fair question,” Daniel said. “I know we’re all hoping it’s not true, but look at the facts. You haven’t seen the kid all year. And if he was on Arian’s radar, how long do you think he could last against the antagonists?”
“Hey, I’ve lasted a while. Maybe he could do the same.” I scowled in frustration and discomfort. I had been so distracted by our journey and our own deadly pursuers I hadn’t had much time to think about Mark. But like SJ, Jason, and Blue, I had been trying to stay positive about his status until we could find out more.
Our plan was to learn the truth about Mark from the Author. Since Mark was a protagonist, he had a protagonist book. The Author could tell us what really happened to him when we finally found her.
Daniel may have had a point, but I held on to the conviction that (a) things were not always what they seemed, (b) the phrase “threat neutralized” could be interpreted in a lot of ways, and (c) my belief system refused to accept anything else.
“Maybe he’s in hiding, or actually sick like Lord Channing said,” I continued. “If something really was wrong and he was . . . you know, we would have heard about it. His parents or the school or someone would have said something.”
“Right. Because the leaders of our schools and realm have been so forthcoming.”
“Daniel, just drop it okay. Maybe the odds aren’t there, but my belief still is.”
“Because you have faith in him like you do the others.”
“Yes, but also because I have faith in the world. Maybe you think that’s naive or childish. But in spite of everything that’s happened, I’m not ready to throw in the towel yet.”
Daniel gave me an incredulous, somewhat judgmental look. I crossed my arms and sighed. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know there’s darkness out there. Bad things happen all the time. But I refuse to accept that there’s no way around them. Just because darkness has a high probability doesn’t mean it’s an inevitability. So Arian and the antagonists and that bunker folder aside, I genuinely think Mark is alive.”
“Then you’re not as jaded as I am,” Daniel replied.
I was irr
itated and hurt but also trying to be earnest. He saw my expression. After a long moment he leaned forward in his chair with a glint of remorse in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that about Mark. I didn’t even know the guy, so I don’t have the right to.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion,” I replied with a shrug. “It’s just a bit cold and dark for my taste.”
“It’s not darkness; its learned doubt,” Daniel responded plainly. “You have your beliefs as a result of your experiences—growing up in a castle, having everything provided for you, being treated like a main character your entire life. You’re someone special, not a run-of-the-mill common. And that’s fine. I’m only saying that my life hasn’t always been so easy, so I have trouble relating to your mentality. I’m naturally skeptical about things working out because in the real world—not your fairytale one—they often don’t.”
I glowered at the table.
“What?” he asked. “You have a problem with that?”
“Not with that,” I said. “Just with you. How can you have faith that our friends will make it to Alderon, that you’ll be able to change your fate, and that you can trust me not to ruin your life when you have such a cynical outlook on the world?”
“Simple,” he said. “Trust comes from experience and understanding. My experience is that the world can be unpredictable, unfair, and harsh without ever needing a reason. And no matter how hard you try to make sense of it, sometimes it is beyond understanding. But people—individuals—they’re not like that. You guys aren’t like that. I’ve gotten to know you all pretty well since this whole thing started and because of that understanding, and the experiences we’ve shared, it’s easy for me to trust you. Just like it’s easy for me to trust myself to get the job done where my fate is concerned.”
“And you don’t have any doubt about that at all . . .” I didn’t intend for this to come out as a question, but the way my tone dropped off at the end caused Daniel to take notice.
“What?”
I took a deep breath and decided to come out with it, speak my thoughts into existence. My fingers traced an invisible pattern on the table runner, and I kept my eyes low rather than meeting his.
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