by Emily Asad
“Hang on a second. All this time, I’ve been worried about her for nothing? Do you know how many horrible deaths I’ve imagined?”
“Which is why I chose you for this task. Your imagination is powerful, especially considering your age. Most teenagers stop believing in dolls.”
“I have been worried sick about my mother,” I snarl.
“A necessity.” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re too private. Too self-reliant. Would you have shared your heart with Eleanor if you hadn’t been in such distress?”
“That was cruel.”
“You’re welcome. Your mother will be grateful for this experience, too, once it’s had time to sink in. So will you. Now. The riddle.”
“When is she coming home?”
“No more answers. Your turn.”
Mamá’s alive, safe, and apprenticed to her favorite chef in the world. For now, it’ll have to be enough. I exhale and hold out my hands, palms up. “I only have two solutions. Any chance Phoebe will figure out how to unravel the curse she wove?”
“Not until she confronts the Nephilim who poisoned her spell.”
“Then there’s only one other way to escape. But it’s impossible.”
“Anything’s possible for those with imagination.”
“Obviously the ring is the boat. The Whitmans – and Alexis – have to wear it in order to get through the barrier, but it has to come back inside for the next person until they’re all gone. I just can’t get it off.”
“Because it’s bonded to you. You’re getting the vaccination.”
“Alexis got hers off.”
“She has magic. You have me.”
“So you can remove it?”
She nods. “But there’s a catch. All the immunity you’ve absorbed will return to the ring. You’ll be left with nothing to protect you from the curse.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Once it’s off, Zenia, you can never use it again.”
Such a pretty ring, with these fluttering rose petals. I love the green leaves that form when the sparkles flare. It’s my only fine piece of jewelry, but that’s not why I’ll miss it. The implication behind her words is clear: without the ring, I could get stuck in the dollhouse.
Forever.
Are the Whitmans worth my freedom? My future? When my mother returns, how will she react to a doll-sized daughter?
“It’s me or them, then?”
She pats my hand. “Don’t answer now. But I’ll leave you with a new riddle. If logic is stronger than magic, what’s stronger than logic?”
David’s voice comes in through the open window: “Miss Zenia? Are you in there?”
She lowers her voice to a whisper. “When you’re ready, let me know. It will take several days for the ring to reabsorb its magic. Then it will fall off.”
“Can you make that happen when I’m outside the dollhouse?”
“The only safeguard I can offer is this: it won’t come off until you’ve balanced yourself.” She grips my chin. “So try to do all your soul-searching outside, okay?”
“I understand.”
“One last thing. At any point before the ring falls off, you can halt the process and decide to keep it. But once it’s off, it’s lost to you forever.”
“Miss Zenia?” David stands in the doorway, his posture anxious and ashamed.
All that’s left of Kynthia is a puff of blue sparkles and the drinking bowl.
I can’t look at him. It was hard enough to control the shivers in my stomach before his surgery. Now that he looks like a Greek god, it’s impossible.
“That smells amazing.” He hasn’t moved from the doorway.
I sigh. I should send him away, yet I do the opposite. “Try some, if you like.”
He slides into the booth, right where Kynthia sat seconds before. After he takes a sip, I fight the urge to wipe away the froth that lingers like a moustache over his lips.
“I came to apologize,” he murmurs, setting down the bowl. “Henry says-”
I don’t want to have this conversation. It won’t change anything, so I switch topics. “Why do you keep tearing my little house apart? It was your idea to help me build it in the first place.”
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Do you remember why I wanted to build it?”
“Of course. You said it was to spend time with me. But you barely talk to me. Whenever I make you laugh, you close up and walk away. I’m not a tennis ball, David. My heart doesn’t work like yours. I love you. That won’t change no matter how hard I deny it. So spending time with you is torture for me.”
He squeezes his eyes shut at my accusations. “I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to protect you. All I’ve done is make you suffer.”
“And ruin my little house.”
“Because I didn’t want it to end.” His eyes open, catching mine in a steel plea. “Once your house is finished, what other excuses can I find for you to spend time with me? You won’t need guitar lessons anymore after you give your Christmas concert. I had to do something.”
The sketchbook gives me courage. “What are you saying?”
His voice gets husky. “If you knew how much I wanted to kiss you right now… it should scare you.”
I blink. “You… want me?”
“I have a sweet spot for you, Miss Zenia.”
I’m so confused. And relieved, angry, relieved even more, and ecstatic. I should be grinning. Instead, I bark, “So quit denying what you feel for me.”
“I can’t. It’s too dangerous.” He reaches across the table for my hands. “Do you know how Henry and Alexis got married?”
“They took a vow before Artemis.”
“Exactly. A simple declaration of love bound them together for eternity.” His thumb caresses the back of my hand, sending delicious little shiver up my arm. “Why do you think I avoid you? It would be too easy to do the same. To say I love you, Zenia. To say I want to be by your side forever. To say you make me happier than I’ve ever been and I want to do the same for you.” He clears his throat. “I shan’t risk losing you by keeping you here forever.”
“So we’ll be more careful. We won’t say it.”
“We won’t say it.”
We smile at each other at the same time. If the table weren’t between us, I’d hug him. Or kiss him. Which only proves he’s the sane one in this relationship. Thank goodness one of us has some restraint!
He releases my hands so he can take another drink of cocoa. Then he leans over and holds it to my lips. We take turns serving each other little sips of cocoa in a wordless game to see how many tiny mouthfuls we can take, knowing it can’t last forever but trying to drag it out as long as we can anyway. I get the last sip. It feels like I’ve won a prize.
The bowl clatters on the table. He’s staring at the exposed picture. “Is that you with the dollhouse?”
Black silhouettes cover the red clay: a teenager with long, dark hair, reaching to the attic. It’s definitely me. “She’s got a sense of humor,” I say, my voice shaky.
“Who? Phoebe?”
“No, Artemis.”
His gaze jerks back to mine. “The goddess?”
I shrug. Enchanted dollhouses. Shrinking humans. Goddesses. All part of my day now. “We were discussing solutions for the riddle. I’m awfully close to getting you out of here.”
“Good. Because I’m getting awfully close to telling you how I really feel. I don’t know how much longer I can hold off.” He rubs the back of his neck. “What can I do to make up for the suffering I’ve caused you?”
“Slay a dragon?”
“That’s Nathaniel’s style.” He slides out of the booth and stands, his head almost as tall as my doorframe. I allow him to tug me off my seat so we’re facing each other. “Mother’s insisting on a ball, now that I can dance again. Will you come as my partner?”
His clove-breath floats down to me. “Only if you fix my shingles and promise to stop delaying the inevitable. My mother’s coming h
ome soon. I don’t want to be homeless.”
He smiles down at me in genuine delight for my good news. It’s not right how his beauty can make me so happy. I could stare at his face all day.
“There’s not much left. About a week’s worth, really,” he murmurs. “If you let Father and Henry at it, maybe a few days.” His smile starts to fade. “I’d rather keep them away and have you all to myself.”
“We’ll find other projects,” I promise. “I’m not letting you off that easy.”
He hops down to the study’s floor outside and holds out his hands to me, wrapping his big, warm hands around my waist and lifting me down to the floor.
I kick my feet up, though, and wrap my arms around his neck so he can’t put me down all the way. “I’m not saying it,” I whisper into his ear.
He turns to look at me so our lips are a whisper away. “I’m not saying it, either.” Then he twirls me around until we’re both dizzy. We collapse to the floor, laughing and intoxicated, until the room stops spinning.
We hammer in playful muteness side-by-side until my row of missing shingles is complete. Only once does he break the silence. “When we’re free, I’ll court you properly.”
“So I’d better solve this riddle.”
I’m ready, Artemis, I pray. Let my immunity pass to him. And his family.
Nothing about my ring indicates it’s sucking its magic back, but I know she heard me. I hope she hurries. I can’t wait to get properly courted.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE:
HESITATION
If it weren’t for the celebration dance, Eleanor would live in front of her new television. She’s as addicted as any modern American, sometimes watching three or four movies a day. David’s the only one who won’t join the marathons. Now that his leg is better, he’s down at my Tiny House every day making up for lost time. We finish staining the booth, ladders, and cupboards in less than a day. Nathaniel hangs tinsel all around my windows and a string of blinking lights over my loft, so everything feels festive as Christmas comes closer. Soon my Suitcase will be done and I’ll have a home to live in. Forever.
Each time I enter the dollhouse now, I check my ring. My ability to see magic is fading with every hour. I can no longer make out the rusty purple spots mixed in with Phoebe’s green ones. Worse, I have to squint super hard to see the dome’s perimeter. As long as I can see the sparkles, there’s still time. I just need to be outside the dollhouse when I balance myself.
Sarah, Anna, and Elysia give me presents on the last day of school before winter break. Thanks to Diana, that traitor, I’m prepared. I’ve wrapped little gifts for them, too. Knowing I’ll see them when the new semester starts up again is even better. I haven’t told them I’ll be graduating in May when I finish my AP courses – people tend to close off when they know someone’s leaving, and I want to hold onto my new piece of normal for as long as I can.
A week before Christmas, Amelia brings a small, wrapped present along with the Whitman’s lunch tray. To Zenia, reads the card. From Amelia. For restoring this home to all its glory. It’s a box of bandages in bright, assorted colors. For the bandage-ring trend I invented. I think she forgives me for lying to her.
When I deliver lunch, David greets me in a tuxedo and a crimson cummerbund. “Ready to dance? Mother has your gown upstairs.”
I glance at my ring. Only a dozen sparks flutter around it today. “Just in time.”
He doesn’t know about my diminishing ability to escape from the dollhouse. If he did, he’d be a nervous wreck, pestering me to keep safe. Besides, now that I can hug him anytime I please, I’ll risk anything to be around him. Plus, I’ve charted the ring’s rate of absorption and it averages to about one sparkle every hour. By that calculation, I have about half a day left.
Plenty of time. So I let him take my hand and lead me upstairs to Eleanor’s room, where she and Alexis have spread out my gown on the bed near a row of high-heeled shoes. Phoebe’s there, too, whispering with Nathaniel. When she sees me, she steps away from him like she’s doing something forbidden.
“I sense a budding romance here,” I joke when she throws a hug around my shoulders.
She and Nathaniel look shocked. Both deny it forcefully. They’re not fooling me.
The whole room smells of French perfume and scented powders. I sneeze.
David presses his lips to my hair. “See you soon.”
Nathaniel looks back at Phoebe. They wave to each other before David drags him out the door. Phoebe stares after Nathaniel. I know how she feels – I can’t keep my eyes off David, either.
“What do you think?” Eleanor points to the gown.
It’s one thing to dress up for a costume party, where people expect to be silly. But this seems like such a formal affair, my stomach starts to clench. I’ve never been to a formal ball before. I haven’t danced with Nathaniel in weeks, not that I ever got good at it. What if I make a fool of myself? I’m among friends, so they won’t laugh too much. But I want David to think I’m perfect, not some klutz who could never have competed with the Victorian belles he’s probably accustomed to. I shrug. “I’ll never be as pretty as that gown.”
“Nonsense.” Alexis holds up several combs and brushes. “You’re already prettier. We just need to polish you up a bit.”
Phoebe brings over a matched set of ruby earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet. I won’t take off my cottage necklace, which makes her upset until I tell her it was a gift from Artemis.
“I’ve never met Artemis,” she says, her voice sad but awed.
“You’d be surprised.” If Cynthia hasn’t exposed her true identity, I won’t ruin the secret. Who am I to snitch on a goddess?
While they perfume and pamper me, I study their gowns. Alexis is in pink, of course, the same shade that sparkles on all her metal items in her suite. Eleanor’s yellow chiffon adds bright splashes of color to the gray day blizzarding around us outside. Phoebe’s the prettiest of us all in a seafoam dress that brings out her blue eyes. When we compliment her, she accepts with humility and grace – a far cry from the spoiled brat of a few months ago.
I get to wear Eleanor’s masterpiece, though: a crimson gown with a scooped neck edged in gold trim, and a full skirt that flares halfway across the room when I twirl. Alexis fastens roses to my hair, still fresh and sweet-smelling from the greenhouse, while Eleanor makes sure my lipstick matches the dress. Phoebe fiddles with my rubies until they’re just so. By the time they’re done with me, I feel like a princess.
Nathaniel knocks on our door. Phoebe opens it a peep. “It’s all ready,” he whispers.
She turns to me. “Would you go get Mother? She’s probably still in my room, getting dressed.”
“She’s coming to the ball?” I ask.
“To watch. Not to dance.”
I glance down at my ring. Ten sparkles remain. Plenty of time. “Be right back.”
I pop out close to the perimeter and bring myself up to full size before hurrying to the nursery. “Mrs. Akakios?” I call, but she’s not there. Not in the closet, not in Phoebe’s bathroom. I poke my head out into the hallway and call again.
“You!” The Ambassador points at me as he reaches the top of the staircase.
I squeak and dash back to the study. He’s fast, for an old man. Before I can pop into the dollhouse, he grabs my arm in an eagle’s grip and spins me around. “What are you doing here? What have you done?”
“Ow,” I say, trying to yank my arm free. “Let me explain.”
But he continues to shake me until Phoebe darts to my side. “Daddy. Daddy, let her go.”
He stops shaking me when he sees her. Then his shaggy white eyebrows nearly fly off his face. “Alexis?”
“No, it’s me. Phoebe. I grew up. Are you proud of me?”
He stares at her like he can’t believe she’s real. “Phoebe?”
Mrs. Akakios comes out of the Alexis Suite from the other door and stops mid-step when she sees us. Then she bursts into an easy smile
. “Dmitri! You’re home early.”
The poor man looks like he’s going to have a stroke.
Amelia enters the study, panting, her eyes anxious. “Sorry, ma’am. He wouldn’t wait. I’ve been texting you for the past hour to let you know.”
Mrs. Akakios frowns, then nods in understanding. “That contraption you’ve been telling me about. That’s why it kept buzzing?”
Phoebe laughs. “You may go, Amelia. You’re supposed to be on vacation, anyway.”
“Yes, miss. Thank you, miss.” Amelia looks relieved to not have to stay. She drops a nod to me before escaping.
The Ambassador keeps glancing back and forth between Phoebe and his wife as if he’s lost in a dream and can’t decide to wake up or enjoy it. Mrs. Akakios kisses him on the cheek. “Dmitri, let the poor child have her arm back. I’ll tell you everything when you’re ready.”
He looks down at his hand like it’s not attached to his body. He releases his grip in slow motion. His eyebrows are still furrowed, and his frown grows as he levels his gaze at me.
“Our little savior,” Mrs. Akakios says, hugging me. “Without her, this family would still be incomplete.” She points down at tiny Alexis, who comes running with Henry toward the green perimeter. The rest of the Whitmans linger behind.
The Ambassador crumples to his knees, tears coursing down his wrinkled cheeks. Phoebe and Mrs. Akakios kneel with him and hold their hands up to the barrier. Alexis laughs – but she’s crying, too.
That’ll be me soon, if Artemis was telling the truth about my mother. Together again. Unless I get caught in the dome when I run out of immunity – then I’ll be holding my hand up to a barrier and trying to explain why I’m the size of a doll.
David’s waiting for me. “Excuse me,” I tell them. They don’t hear me – they’re too lost in their reunion to notice anything outside their family bubble.
David offers me his arm as soon as I’m back under the dome. His crimson cummerbund matches my gown. So do the ruby cufflinks in his sleeves. “You look like a Spanish rose.”