As I placed the journal back on the table, SJ entered the infirmary carrying a package.
“Good morning,” she sang pleasantly.
“Hey, SJ,” I said, boosting myself up to a sitting position. “So I guess I owe you a thank you for last night, huh?”
“Please, Crisa. You do not have to. You can simply—”
“Thank you later?” I shook my head. “Nah, that’s the old me. The new me knows that I would have died in that dress if it wasn’t for you guys, and I probably would have died many more times before that if you weren’t always looking out for me. So thank you. It’s a million times overdue, but thank you for always being there.”
SJ smiled. “You are welcome, Crisa. I am happy to try and keep you out of trouble. But if you could do me a favor and maybe stay out of perilous situations for a couple of weeks, that would be great. I have a lot of homework to catch up on from all the classes we missed.”
“I’ll do my best.” I gestured to the bundle in her hands. “Whatcha got there?”
“You tell me,” SJ replied. “One of the guards found it near the practice fields inside a thistle berry bush.”
SJ handed me the wrapped bundle and I saw that my name was written on it. Intrigued, I opened the parcel. Inside was a box and a note. Within the box was a small compact mirror with the words “Mark Two” carved into the bronze exterior—just like the compact mirrors I’d been dreaming about.
I unfolded the note.
“Dear Crisa,” I read aloud. “Here’s another little bit of fairytale history I bet you didn’t know. The magic mirror from your school’s Treasure Archives was not always the only one of its kind. Long before Beauty & the Beast, these types of mirrors (called Mark Ones) could easily be found and purchased throughout the realm. However, they were later looked on as invasions of privacy since the observed did not know they were being watched. As a result, the Godmothers collected all the Mark Ones and stripped them of their enchantments years ago—all except the mirror that used to be on display in your school.
“Although this old era of magic mirrors was eventually forgotten, the Godmothers have been working on a way to repurpose their magic for something more user-friendly. Hence the ‘Mark Two.’
“This new generation of magic compact mirrors—due to be released realm-wide in late spring—will be used as a form of communication. Through the Mark Two you can contact anyone else who has a Mark Two no matter how far away they are.
“I want you to use this Mark Two to keep me up-to-date with what’s going on with you. Pure Magic can be as much of a blessing as it is a curse, and I don’t want you to have to go through everything on your own like I did.
“All you have to do to operate the Mark Two is open it and say the name of the person you wish to contact. Close the mirror to end the call. And if it starts vibrating, that means someone is calling you.
“Check in with me soon, and do tell me your decision with regards to contacting Natalie Poole. All the best until then.
– Liza
“P.S. Sorry if this package ended up in the river or something. The spell around your school and your Pure Magic make you an easier beacon for me to channel, but aim from the Indexlands to anywhere other than the Forbidden Forest and the Dolohaunty Mountains is still difficult.”
I gazed at the small, smooth compact mirror with admiration. “Awesome,” I commented.
“Very,” SJ agreed. “One thing though, Crisa. I thought Liza said she did not want to help you communicate with Natalie through your dreams; that pushing your magic this way was very dangerous.”
“She did,” I affirmed. “But she also said that the choice was mine to make and she would support whatever I decide.”
“You are not seriously considering it, are you?”
“It would be selfish of me not to. That girl’s in trouble, SJ, and if I ignore that then we might all be in trouble.”
SJ sat down in the chair of the plain white table across from my cot. “You mean because of the Eternity Gate?”
“Well, yeah. If it’s real like our enemies believe and Natalie has the power to open it, then our priority should be her well-being.”
“And if that comes at the cost of your own?” SJ asked.
“Then . . .” I glanced at the floor as the thought weighed on me. I swallowed a lump in my throat and sighed. “Then I guess I have to decide if I’m willing to pay it.”
“Ha! I take the pot!” Blue announced as she threw down her playing cards and swept all the candy to her side of the table.
“What? Again?” I slammed down my cards in frustration. It was day two of my stay in the infirmary and I was raging with frustration over how many times Blue and Jason had beaten me at cards. We’d been playing for an hour and I hadn’t won once.
“Not so fast, Blue,” Jason objected. He got up from his chair and walked over to Blue’s side of the table, crouching over to look underneath.
“Yup, just as I thought.”
I heard the sound of adhesive being ripped, and when Jason rose he was holding three cards that had been taped to the underside of the table.
“You were cheating,” he announced. “Ergo, I win.”
Jason reached for the candy, but Blue punched him in the arm before he could grab it.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “You were cheating too.”
Moving too fast for him to stop her, Blue swiftly pulled a pair of playing cards out of Jason’s sleeve and waved them in his face. Jason was stunned.
“If you knew I was cheating, then why didn’t you say something?”
“It was part of my strategy,” Blue explained.
“Lulling me into a false sense of security?”
“Yup. How’d you know?”
Reaching over, Jason pulled three additional cards out of Blue’s cloak. “Because I was doing the same thing to you during the hand before that.”
Blue affectionately punched Jason in the arm a second time. “Hmm. Not bad, Jas. But that still doesn’t decide who gets the pot.”
“I do,” I interrupted, sweeping all the candy to my side of the table. “You’re both cheaters. You hid more cards than were in play! These treats belong to me.”
They both shrugged.
“In that case, I need to get more goods from the kitchen,” Jason said.
“Be careful,” I said. “You know no one at school can see you. Lady Agnue would go ballistic.”
“It’s fine. Everyone’s in class and I’m pretty stealthy.”
“Clearly,” I said, gesturing to the cards on the table that Blue had pulled from his sleeve.
“Blue, you coming?” he asked as he turned to leave.
“Nah. I’ve still got some candy in my bag. Plus—unlike you, who can ditch your individual training sessions without anyone being the wiser—the only reason I was able to get out of classes today was because I pretended to be sick and said I needed to stay in the infirmary. Also, while you’re gone I have to make sure you didn’t plant any more cards around here.”
“Fair enough,” he said with a grin. “But remember, just because you don’t find them, doesn’t mean they’re not there.”
Jason left and I popped a gumdrop in my mouth. “Geez, I thought you guys were supposed to help me relax, not work on your mind games and battle strategy.”
Blue lay down on my cot and put her boots up. “For us it’s the same thing. Besides, this is way more fun than practicing needlepoint or catching up on homework with SJ.”
“You’re not wrong about that.”
I hopped onto the cot beside her and put my boots up next to hers. Both of us stared at the ceiling. “Hey, Blue. How do you think SJ is doing with the whole ‘lack of a protagonist book’ thing?” I asked, the thought skimming my mind like a bird on the water.
Blue turned to look at me. “Why? Did she say something?”
“No,” I replied. “But when she told us about it I got the feeling that she wanted to vent but didn’t know how. She
’s so composed all the time.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing.”
“Usually it’s not. But take it from someone who’s been there. Keeping secrets can slowly eat away at you until you don’t even recognize yourself anymore.”
“Yeah. I know . . .” Blue sat up. She looked off into the distance, causing me to sit up in concern alongside her.
“What’s the matter?”
Blue bit her lip and glanced toward the door. Then she abruptly pivoted to face me. “Crisa, do you remember the last day we were at Ashlyn’s house—when I told you that I had a secret too?”
I thought back to the day in question. Blue and I had been on the dock. It was the morning we were going to cross back through the Bermuda wormhole on Earth and face off with Arian on Adelaide.
“Yeah, something about your book,” I replied. “You said you’d tell me when I stopped ticking you off.”
“Well, lo and behold that day came and went and I still didn’t say anything to you or SJ. Which means that she hasn’t been the only hypocrite around here afraid of venting. But not anymore.” Blue huffed. “I’m going to tell you something, Crisa—the truth about what my prologue prophecy really said and why I was so dead set on changing it.”
“I thought it was because of Jason,” I asserted. “When your prophecy appeared and I asked you why you were so upset, you said that it was because you were ‘supposed to end up with him.’”
“Yeah, well the thing is, those weren’t so much the Author’s words as they were my own.”
“I don’t get it.”
Blue fidgeted nervously. “Crisa, I think I might have . . . what one might technically call . . . feelings for Jason.”
I almost fell off the mattress.
“What?”
“Keep it down!”
“Sorry, sorry,” I said, whispering so that not even a dust bunny would overhear our conversation.
“Look,” Blue went on. “I’m not quite sure how to describe it because I’ve never had these kinds of girl feelings for a guy before.”
“What about Bruce Willis?”
“Bruce is my man and everything, but this is different,” she replied. “I mean I’m not saying I love Jason or anything. I’m just saying I want to keep my options open—kind of call perpetual dibs on him until I know what I want. But then my prophecy appeared and told me doing so wasn’t an option. It said that during the course of our upcoming trials and tribulations he’s supposed to ‘die twice,’ and that both times it’s going to be my fault. So of course I freaked out. And I was determined to find the Author because it’s not like I can have the guy I’m secretly crushing on go and get killed because of me, you know?”
“Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” I said, furrowing my eyebrows. “How’s a person supposed to die twice?”
“I don’t know. Apparently it’s an Inherent Fate thing. Based on the phrasing, Liza said the ‘dying’ thing probably isn’t literal and I shouldn’t worry about it. All this time my freaking out has likely been for nothing. But, Crisa, big picture. This is major. I just told you I have feelings for an actual, human boy.”
“Right, sorry. That’s . . .” I didn’t have the words to describe the situation properly so I made an explosive gesture with my hands, adding a few sound effects for emphasis.
Blue nodded. “Yeah. My thoughts exactly.”
“No!” I shouted, jolting upright as I ejected myself from my dreams.
“Are you all right?” SJ—who’d been doing her homework at the infirmary table across from me—scurried over.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said hurriedly, swallowing hard afterward. I took a breath and adjusted to the light. “I was dreaming about a fire and that building collapsing again. But this time . . .” I tried to remember. “It was weird. For a second, before the ceiling came down, I thought I saw a flash of my brothers. They were blurred into the image along with the smoke and the ash and when I saw them I felt . . . scared.”
“Scared that they were in danger?”
“No,” I clarified. “Scared of them I think.”
I shook my head and tried to will away the headache I felt brewing. “I don’t know. It was pretty blurry. I think the dark magic from that corset is still messing with my mind.”
“Probably. It is only your third day in the infirmary, Crisa. You must give yourself time to recover. You have been through a lot.” “Yeah.” I took a deep breath and shrugged. “Let’s change the subject.”
“Okay,” SJ conceded. “Have you given any more thought to your decision regarding Natalie Poole?”
“Ugh, again with that, SJ? I told you I was thinking about it.”
“Yes, but are you thinking it through?” she countered.
“What does that mean?
“Crisa,” she began slowly. “You are very smart, quick on your feet, clever in a pinch, and naturally skilled at planning big, creative endeavors.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”
SJ crossed her arms. “But sometimes you let your impulsive instinct compromise your long game. Like in the case of your prologue prophecy for instance.” She gave me a stern look that caught me off guard.
“Wait,” I said. “Hold on. Do you think that it was wrong of me not to read it?”
“I am not certain,” she responded. “But I do think that you were angry about all the trouble it has caused, overwhelmed with everything Liza told you, and glad to have an opportunity to do whatever you wanted without the Author or anyone else stopping you. So maybe your decision was colored by too much emotion.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I replied.
SJ’s tone shifted. “I am sorry, I am not trying to upset you. I just want you to think very carefully. What happens in the future might be a frightening thing in more ways than one, and it is best not to carve a path for it on a whim.”
“I’m not going to,” I assured her. “But I can’t make this Natalie decision—or any other decision—on pure logic and reason alone, SJ. It’s not a bad way to live life or anything, but it is not a balanced one either. I need to trust my heart just as much as I do my head—the same way I trust Blue as much as I trust you. You’re both very different, but if I listen to either one of you alone then stuff doesn’t flow as well as it could. We work best when we work together. So I am going to heed your advice and think about this Natalie thing from a logical standpoint, but you’ve got to appreciate that my gut instinct matters too. Just like it mattered when I decided not to read my prologue prophecy.”
“I understand,” SJ responded. “And perhaps . . .” Her face fell with sorrow for an instant. “Maybe this time it is you who is thinking clearly while I am letting emotion get the better of my judgment. I shall not nag you about this or your prophecy any longer, Crisa. I do not even have one, so what do I know anyway.”
A beat of awkward silence passed.
“I thought you said you were fine with all of that,” I said carefully.
“I am. Truly,” SJ asserted. “It just takes some getting used to. You spend your whole life thinking you are something and then suddenly find out that it was all a lie. It is a lot to process.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But the question still remains—are you processing it?”
SJ put her fingers to her temple and gave a long sigh. “I am trying,” she said. “For now, let us leave it at that.”
It was night.
The windows were open in the infirmary—not just the ones closest to my cot, but all of them. My friends hadn’t been by for some time. Between that and the scent of anti-bacterial soap, I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. The winter breeze was a nice reminder of the outside world that awaited me as soon as I was better. The school’s head nurse had told me I only needed to stay in the infirmary for two more days. Then I could go back to my room and regular routine.
One of the nurse’s assistants came by and took the cold compress off my head, wringing out the excess wa
ter in a silver dish. She had short dark hair that stuck out like a ball of iron wool. Her face was kindly and her nose was pointed like a foxhound.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “You were asleep during dinner service, but I could go get you something from the kitchens.”
“That’d be great, thank you.” I smiled.
She nodded, picked up the silver dish, and exited the room. I leaned my head back against the thick white pillow.
There wasn’t much light in the room. The infirmary staff must’ve dimmed all the fixtures when I was asleep so that I might rest better. A half-lit chandelier glowed faintly near the ceiling’s rafters and the moon outside provided a ghostly glow, but the main source of light came from candles on the bedside tables.
The flickering flames and white lace curtains fluttering in the silence of the empty, icy room suddenly put me on guard.
Dreamjà vu.
I sat up and reached for my robe pocket. I’d asked Blue to bring me my wandpin from our room. I had left it on a shelf in our closet when I was changing into Mauvrey’s death gown before the ball. Having it at my side put my mind at ease.
I touched it in my pocket, hoping to calm my nerves, but I felt something wicked this way coming. As I thought this, a flurry of red sparks zipped through a window.
In a flash, one of my least favorite women appeared.
Lena Lenore was wearing a sleeveless, silvery pink dress just like she had been in my dream of this exact moment when we were back in the Forbidden Forest. Her sleek, dark mane fell behind her shoulders and her eyes sparkled like the stars.
I knew she could pass through the In and Out Spells because Liza had told us she was one of the Fairy Godmothers who’d created them, but it would’ve been super helpful if she wasn’t. I wanted as much distance between Lenore and me as possible.
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