Public Transportation & Personal Reflection

fter the train left the station we spent some time discussing the crazy that had occurred earlier in the day when we were exiting the Forbidden Forest.

I still felt weird talking about Arian. Despite the fact that I now accepted I could see the future, I think there was a part of me that had trouble accepting him. I was used to people rooting for my destruction—what with Mauvrey and Lady Agnue and all—but having an actual nemesis felt kind of unreal. With so many elements of my story still engulfed in mystery, it was like I didn’t feel fully connected to the idea yet.

Regardless, the fact remained that Arian was becoming a far too consistent player in our present situation for me to ignore his existence. We needed to talk about him. So while I didn’t want my friends to flip out with overprotectiveness again like they had with the magic hunters, as the train charged down the track I told SJ, Blue, Jason, and Daniel most of what I knew about him. Mainly Arian’s name, that he and his team had been ordered by someone called Nadia to hunt down protagonists the antagonists deemed as threats, and that the reason they wanted me dead was because of what my book’s prologue prophecy said.

The others had the same reaction that I’d initially had to this information—a touch of shock and a lot of confusion. They couldn’t believe that antagonists were roaming the realm preying on protagonists. Could it be that no one of authority, like the Fairy Godmothers, knew about it? Or worse, did they know and just decide not to tell us?

The thought of the latter certainly made my teeth grind with anger. Lena Lenore was our Godmother Supreme. Much as I hated the woman, I thought we could at least count on her to do her job and watch out for us. What, was she so busy forging protagonist books with the ambassadors and the Scribes that she didn’t have time to let us know antagonists were trying to kill us?

At least for the meantime I seemed to be the only person the villains were focused on. Jason, Daniel, Blue, and many other protagonists were marked as “possible threats” in their files. But only my name had been on their priority elimination list. As verified by recent events, the antagonists’ current focus was solely on me.

It may have been strange to admit this, but that made me happy. Not because I had a death wish, but because being hunted was exhausting. I wouldn’t have wished it on my worst enemy, let alone other innocents. If keeping the antagonists focused on me prevented them from being able to move on to anyone else, like my friends, then I would hold their attention for as long as physically possible, no matter the consequences.

Moving on, the whole “why me” aspect of the situation continued to be a hot point of confusion for me, just as it was for the others when I told them what Arian had said about my prologue prophecy.

“Do you think if the ambassadors and the Godmothers can manipulate the Scribes, the antagonists have a way of doing it too?” Blue asked, making a good point.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But of the groups of people who’d know for sure, one shot me with a magic bolt last night and the other shot cannon balls at us this morning. So outright asking them doesn’t seem like a likely option.”

I released an exhale, and with it some of my tension. In spite of my initial reluctance, it felt good to be on the same page with the others about this, and most things. The only information I chose to withhold was the bit about Natalie Poole and Paige Tomkins being Arian’s and Nadia’s next targets.

I couldn’t tell the others about Natalie and Paige without explaining how I knew about them. And I wasn’t ready to reveal the whole future-seeing, other-realm-seeping-into-my-head thing. Maybe that seemed stupid given that sharing the truth about Arian had eased some of my stress. But there was already so much happening that my brain and body felt like they could not take adding another plot point to the mix, especially one that was this ambiguous and personally unsettling.

It wasn’t wrong to want to retain some privacy in regards to my vulnerabilities and maintain a bit of self-preservation. Didn’t everybody deserve that?

Furthermore, although Arian’s identity and his relationship to me were clear (making them easier to talk about), I was still missing some major pieces of the Natalie puzzle.

Until I understood more about her, I felt strongly about keeping the matter a secret. I had a right to try and figure things out for myself first.

As the train chugged along, and we each fell into our own thoughts, I tried to do just that, picking away at what I’d already learned about Natalie from my dreams and the files I’d found in Fairy Godmother Headquarters and Arian’s bunker.

Natalie existed on Earth, another realm. She was supposed to eventually fall for some guy named Ryan Jackson, who was her one true love—her O.T.L., as it were. However, Tara—one of Arian’s lackeys—had been trying to keep them apart and making Natalie’s life miserable because the antagonists (under Nadia’s direction) needed to destroy her spirit. And this was due to the fact that on Natalie’s twenty-first birthday (her Key Destiny Interval) she was going to be able to open something called the Eternity Gate.

Oh, and if that weren’t enough, Tara (who seemed to know me) was responsible for Natalie’s parents’ demise. Natalie had a protagonist book in our realm. And according to Arian, she didn’t even exist yet.

I spent the next hour or so trying to make sense of these different pieces of information, but ultimately exhaustion got the better of me and I drifted into nap mode.

I supposed it was a combination of the anxiety, the jolting train cars, and the smell of polyester seats, but my dreamscape was a turbulent flood of dizzying flashes and disconcerting circumstances.

I saw waves crashing against stone. A white boat with the name “The Seabeagle” written on its bow rose and fell on the light swell of a turquoise ocean. Seagulls flew across the horizon.

Next came a vision of an intense-looking guy in a grossly dirty, sleeveless shirt. His shoulders had traces of blood on them, and he had no shoes. He was rappelling down some sort of metallic shaft with equal parts desperation and tenacity.

When that scene shifted, I saw a sandstorm violently whipping toward Daniel and me. We were in a desert—a greenish river on our left—and we were sliding down dunes as lightning snapped aggressively across the red and onyx sky.

These flashes soon faded to an image of an immense crystal formation, vaguely in the shape of a starfish and surrounded by a weird, aqua-colored glow. It stood on the platform of a grand cavern like a beacon.

The glow of this stone flickered for a beat until it went out like a dead nightlight. Things were dark for an interval. Then I found myself in the ballroom of Lady Agnue’s.

I was dressed in a gorgeous gown. The body was blush-colored lace. Over it were whimsical, flowing pieces of ivory chiffon. The bodice was strapless and had crystals decorating it elegantly in a pattern that accentuated my shape in a surprisingly flattering way.

I glanced up at the familiar scene of a ball—protagonists in shimmering dresses and tailored suits; the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and orchestra music; radiant lights burning in the chandeliers overhead. Then I felt something unfamiliar that made me flinch. A warm hand was pressed against mine, causing my vertebrae to tingle. I looked up and saw Chance Darling, looking as handsome as ever in a beautiful suit. He was smiling at me.

I hadn’t seen Chance since I’d gotten the prologue prophecy dictating I was to be his meek wife. And although I was beginning to believe that there was more to my prophecy than I had been told, seeing him still agitated me.

Yet, the dream version of me that my subconscious was currently trapped in did not protest to his touch. He led me out onto the dance floor and the two of us stepped into the flow of music. We danced and moved, but it felt like the world stood still. He raised his arm to turn me. I followed his lead, but when I came out the other side I found that I had twirled back into the void. I was still in my gown, but the ball and the prince I despised were both gone.

More images started to play around me. They came slowly at first. Natalie (a teenager again) was in a large white room. Her hair was in a messy bun. In one hand she held a paintbrush and in the other a palette. I saw her for only a moment before the image changed and I saw Mauvrey.

The seventeen-year-old princess was wearing a purple leather jacket fitted to her body that matched the color of her spiky heeled ankle boots. Her golden-blonde hair bounced around her with each confident step. There was a certainty and strength in her eyes that would’ve made powerful grown men stand down.

Behind Mauvrey was a dark green forest swirled with nighttime. The image was tinged with the gray smoke and orange hues of a nearby fire. The shades of all three blurred together like a pastel rendering that had been smudged over. I heard the sounds of yelling and fighting in the background. But they, too, were distorted and muffled, so they seemed surreal and far off.

When this scene was wiped from view I was back at Lady Agnue’s. There was a brief flash of the waiting area outside of the headmistress’s office and the tidy, currently unattended desk of our headmistress’s assistant, Miss Mammers.

I was sitting on the couch facing the desk, alone in the room. Then I heard a door open. I cringed when I saw our headmistress, Lady Agnue, in the doorway of her den. Standing beside her was Lena Lenore.

The Fairy Godmother Supreme was dressed in a pastel pink pantsuit with light pink pumps that had glittering silver straps. They looked just like the ones I’d seen before blacking out in the Scribes’ library . . .

Lena Lenore smiled in my direction, melding both congeniality and malice together as flawlessly as peanut butter and jelly. Then from her lips she spoke six words coated with an undeniable wickedness.

“Lovely to see you again, Crisanta.”

The pictures in my head began to pick up speed, playing across my dreamscape quick and bright. I recognized the next few images as ones that I’d already seen before. Plastic patio furniture, a gray boat with a scarlet sail, lava everywhere.

The last in this stream was a visual of the heart-shaped locket with lime green crystals that had been around SJ’s neck in my previous nightmare about Adelaide. My vision expanded around it and I saw the necklace bouncing against SJ’s chest as she ran. She was with Blue, Jason, and Daniel. The four of them were bolting through an orchard that looked familiar.

Adelaide Castle, I realized.

“Maybe we should’ve gone back to look for her,” Jason commented as they zigzagged through the trees and foliage.

“We never would’ve found her in that maze,” Daniel replied. “She must’ve known that when she came up with this plan. We just have to hope she meets us at the rendezvous point.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Blue called back.

My dream shifted. More flashes spilled through—a massive log cabin in the snow; a creature that looked like a giant black lobster; then lastly, that powerful purple vortex.

A dream version of me stared into the manifestation of swirling energy. It overtook every angle of our shared view, pulling her and me inwards and closer to its heart. She and I merged together and I felt the force of the vortex tear me off my feet. Energy surged around me—crackling like a funnel made of lightning strikes. Then, just as I was being absorbed into it, I heard a voice.

“Crisa, can you hear me?”

It was the same calm whisper I’d heard in my dreams of that bathroom last night. Even in my unconscious state I could recognize the fragile familiarity. It was haunting, but also strangely gentle, almost caring.

“Crisa, if you can hear me, when the time comes you have to remember . . .”

I focused hard, but couldn’t see where the voice was coming from. Everything was now lost in the purple vortex, the likes of which I was disappearing into with each passing second.

“Remember what?” I shouted into the field of sparkling energy that sucked me deeper inside. “Tell me!”

All I heard was an indiscernible muffle.

I started to shout into the void again, but a second later my attention was captured by the feeling of someone grabbing my arm. Like my previous dream of the vortex, before I could see who it was everything went dark and I was expunged from the scene like an unwanted thought.

Having been jolted awake, I sat up in my seat and rubbed my eyes. The others paid me no mind as I righted myself and squinted at the dimming sunlight streaking across our passenger box. SJ was also napping, and Blue and Jason were attempting to pass the time by reading through the withered pages of some book.

Daniel wasn’t in the room with us. I assumed he’d gone off exploring.

Not a bad idea considering the alternative—staying in this cramped box staring out the window and thinking about my dreams.

I swung my satchel over my shoulder, told Blue and Jason I’d be back, then proceeded to slide out of the room to do some exploring of my own.

The train’s interior design theme appeared to be red. As I moved through the locomotive, I discovered that the seats, carpet, and curtains varied in shade and texture, but all inevitably rooted back to this primary color.

Travelers crowded every compartment. Many chatted away in general seating areas. Some filed in and out of their own passenger boxes lining the walkways. Others lollygagged in the aisles, mingling with anybody whose path they crossed.

A handful of the compartments didn’t connect with one another directly. Each time I reached one of these severed ends, I had to push aside a sliding door with a single window then walk across a covered bridge linking the cars together. Each bridge had barred, vertical railings on either side. They stretched from floor to ceiling, but the gaps between them gave way to a perfectly clear view of the landscape surrounding the train.

The bridges were only a few feet in width and about ten feet in length. At the end of some there were ladders that extended to the roof of the train through small, open hatches.

As I moseyed through the various train cars (all of which were lit up by elegantly-shaped electric lanterns) I found myself periodically ducking to avoid pieces of luggage poking out from the overhead racks. I also had to be careful not to trip over any protruding suitcases and trunks that stuck into the aisle. That was dangerous work when you were on a moving locomotive and waiters carrying silver trays of cappuccinos and other hot beverages kept passing you by. The train employees must’ve been very agile, otherwise the dry cleaning bill for their crimson and gold uniforms would’ve been tremendous.

For a while I wandered aimlessly through the hullaballoo—general curiosity being my only guide. But when I was about seven compartments into my exploration, my stomach growled like a wolverine and I realized just how hungry I was. I hadn’t had a solid meal in a while, and there was the intoxicating smell of melted cheese in the air, calling to me.

My nose followed the scent through four more general seating compartments. When I opened the door to the fifth, my heart stopped.

The magic hunter I’d run into on the platform was there. He was settled in a chair near the back of the compartment next to six of his friends and was gesturing to some kind of map.

They hadn’t noticed my entrance into the car, and I considered backtracking before they could. Before I got the chance, several other people came in behind me and began herding me down the aisle.

With nowhere to go, I started walking forward as casually as possible, trying not to draw attention to myself.

As I made my way down the aisle I vehemently reassured myself that my original idea was sound. Everyone around me was wearing a magic necklace. With the contents of my own commemorative bobble drained, my natural magical scent would be well hidden in the crowd. I should’ve been fine.

Still, that theory hadn’t exactly been tested yet, had it?

I held my head high and moved through the car without hesitation. As I walked past the magic hunters I slowed my breathing and kept my eyes forward, glued to the exit.

For a moment I thought one of them was going to raise his head as I passed by. Fortunately, the magic hunter simply scratched his dry, worn neck and yawned before going back to his work.

I ducked swiftly into the next compartment. Once I’d securely slid the metal door shut, I leaned against it and let out a huge sigh of relief.

Whoo!

Crisa’s Resourcefulness and Ingenuity: 1

Magic Hunters and Their Super Sniffers: 0

I was filled with gladness. Because (a) my plan to disguise my magic scent had worked beautifully, and (b) I now found myself in the very dining car I’d been pursuing.

The place was pretty full. Spotting an open booth by the back window, I made my way over to it and triumphantly settled myself in the crimson seat that faced away from the main door.

Finally, I was going to get three of my favorite things: food, peace, and being left to my own devices.

I needed a menu, but all the waiters were busy. As I waited, I cracked my neck a bit and gazed out the window. The sun had set and the countryside was sinking into shadow.

My image flickered in the reflection. As the electric light of the compartment contrasted the darkening world outside, my image became clearer. I found this to be cruelly funny for I so desperately wished I felt the same way inside.

With each passing chapter of this story I felt like I was disappearing. When I was at school I’d always walked with strength and confidence in my step, but I guess that was because I’d never been tested, so a majority of the time I was able to keep my doubts tightly sealed.

Now, being forced to face them, my whole essence felt shaky.

That worried me. For the weaker I was, the more chance I had of blending in with my prologue prophecy and succumbing to the damsel stereotype I was so ardently trying to escape.

With an exasperated sigh I rested my head in my hands and continued to stare out the window. The girl staring back at me seemed more tired than any girl her age should be, making her appear older, but definitely not wiser.

It was getting hard to see much outside. The night was falling so fast that the farmlands and villages we zipped by all kind of blended together. I wondered what kingdom we were in, and I wondered what normal people—commons who weren’t fighting supernatural, prophetic forces or worrying about being killed—were doing right now. The sad truth soon dawned on me: I couldn’t even imagine.

And yet . . . While I may not have been able to imagine what it was like to be a common character in Book, in thinking about the multitude of fates entangling me, at that moment I felt they were luckier than I was.

Many commons probably would’ve disagreed and called me a whiny, unappreciative princess for even thinking the thought. But the fact remained that they were more fortunate than they realized. And not just because of the whole “antagonists trying to destroy them” thing.

They were not held up to these impossibly high, impossibly regimented standards, the likes of which constrained every movement and tried to cull anyone different or unorthodox into silence. They didn’t have the weight of the world resting on their shoulders because some outside force decided to put it there. And they did not have to worry about being someone else’s idea of great, just their own.

It was true that everyone—regardless of archetype—had expectations to live up to. Expectations were like shadows. It was easy to forget they were there, but they trailed you wherever you went. All you needed to do was look back and see them elongating in your wake.

But with common characters, the expectations were their own. That was the difference. When you were a main character, you were born with the expectations of older generations and genre tradition—an entire realm’s way of thinking saddled onto your path. Then when you grew up to be my age you had the expectations of the Author’s prologue prophecies to deflate the rest of you.

I thought that was a lot to handle when I believed my prologue prophecy was solely about being a good little ordinary princess and marrying Chance Darling. If there was more to it than that, I wasn’t sure how to proceed. What if Arian had been telling the truth and my fate was actually much grander—formidable enough to cause an entire kingdom of antagonists to come after me?

The truth was, I didn’t know what to do with that.

My fingers grazed the window in front of me. It was cold. In locking eyes with my own reflection, I realized the look I saw reflected there was just as frigid. Much as my personality was filled with fire, my expression deepened into distilled ice the more I thought about my prophecy’s two possible outcomes.

If I were trapped in my old prophecy, I’d be forced to be a normal damsel princess forever—perfect in a million stereotypical ways, but none of the ways I cared about. However, if my prophecy correlated with the hints I’d been getting from Arian, my life was going to be a never-ending montage of bad guys trying to waste me because they believed I was some kind of threat.

It was conflicting to want to stand out and separate myself from the conventions of the norm while feeling wary about a destiny that might very well grant me that wish. What got to me the most, though, was that no matter which of these two paths ended up being my reality, I was still chained to expectations. They were just different kinds.

That brought me back to the burden that separated my kind from common characters. Unless I found the Author and took my prophecy into my own hands, the shadow of expectation would not only be on my heels forever, it would wholly consume me. For I was first and foremost a protagonist. And a protagonist’s life was about living up to expectations, whereas a common’s life was just about living.

Ugh. Protagonist. I dwelled on the word. With everything that had happened in previous weeks, it seemed to be getting a lot heavier to hold.

I’d always considered it a loaded, vexing term. To some it meant hero, prince charming, warrior, champion. To others it meant leader, influencer, princess, damsel. To me, all I’d ever known it as was a title laden with bitter responsibility—a role for someone who was supposed to go out into the world and make their lives mean something.

But mean what exactly? I thought as I tried to reflect on what I’d accomplished in my time as a protagonist.

What does my life mean?

And what do I stand for?

These were questions I could not yet address. I had to earn the answers by overcoming the challenge of accepting myself. Unfortunately, I still didn’t know how to do that.

The more I thought about the various running opinions of me—sources ranging from classmates, to headmistresses, to enemies—the more confused I became.

But, then again, why should I even care?

Maybe I couldn’t change how any of those people saw me, and that was fine. I’d long suspected that was impossible anyway. But none of them sincerely knew my character, so their opinions didn’t really matter. The only opinions that did were those of my closest friends. As SJ had pointed out, they were the people who truly knew me.

Alas, even after everything we’d been through, I still wasn’t entirely sure what they thought of me.

I’d always hoped they saw what I wanted them to see—someone strong, smart, kind, sassy, the opposite of a damsel in distress, and a potential great hero and great princess. But with my track record, especially lately, I knew my odds of being seen that way were decreasing.

Still, I held out hope. I may have been running out of chances to do so, but I had to redeem myself in their eyes. For if my friends (the people who knew me best) could come to think of me as something other than a weak damsel princess and a delusional hero-wannabe, then maybe the world was wrong and there was more to me than that.

Hm. Perhaps in hindsight that was the key to accepting myself. My friends held the answer. They were the deciding parties. If they sided with my views of who I was deep down, then, in spite of everything and everyone else, I would accept that I really was this strong, admirable hero-princess I’d always aspired to be.

Conversely, if they didn’t think that—if they agreed with the greater world about what I was—then I garnered it meant that really was my true nature and I would have to accept that too.

My innermost thoughts were suddenly disrupted by a waiter. Without saying anything, he refilled the bowl of creamers on my table then strode away. I blinked—coming out of my deep introspection—and stared at the petitely packaged dairy products.

Each table held an assortment of creamers, as well as other freebies including matchbooks, bread rolls, and fancy chocolates. I assumed these were all complimentary, so I grabbed two of the rolls, a handful of the individually wrapped chocolate truffles, and a couple of souvenir matchbooks and shoved them into my satchel.

My mother surely would’ve scolded me if she had seen such a blatant display of gluttony and hoarding. But then, my mother hadn’t just been starved and imprisoned by half-wolf actors for two weeks.

Another waiter came by and gave me the menu I’d been hoping for. I began to peruse it with enthusiasm. My contentment, though, was short-lived. Just as I was about to settle on a pasta dish, someone’s hand was on my shoulder. Out of instinct I grabbed the hand (as well as the arm attached to it) and twisted them both onto the table with a slam.

“Knight, let go.”

“Oh, uh, sorry.” I released Daniel and awkwardly smiled at the other passengers that had turned to stare at us.

I burrowed further into the booth to avoid their gazes while Daniel rubbed his arm and sat down in the seat across from me. I passed him the menu wordlessly and began to rub my own aching left wrist.

Amazingly I’d been able to ignore the pain of my injury until now, the consistent adrenaline and million other things I had to worry about overshadowing it. But my abrupt movement had aggravated it.

Arian had definitely sprained my wrist in the forest. And while I’d been trying to keep the injury from the others, it was becoming increasingly difficult to conceal. The more time that passed without proper care, the more swollen it became. Of course, Daniel immediately noticed what I was trying to hide.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “I fell.”

“Yeah, sure you did. You know, Knight, it’s not the end of the world to admit you got hurt out there. We’ve all got some cuts and bruises to show for the last few days. You don’t have to lie about it.”

“Leave it alone, Daniel,” I warned as I snatched back the menu.

No sooner did I bury my face behind it, did he pull the plastic-coated shield away again.

“You make no sense, you know that?”

“I make no sense?” I repeated. “Daniel, you’re the one who’s literally said that everything about me irritates you. If that’s true, then why are you even here?”

“I’m hungry and there were no other tables open. Believe me, I checked.”

“No, not here,” I gestured to the booth, “I mean on this journey with the rest of us; going back and forth across the kingdom from school to Century City to the Forbidden Forest to Adelaide.”

“I already told you. Just like you, I want the Author to change my fate.”

“Yeah, I remember,” I said flatly. “But I also recall you saying that the only reason you were here was because of me. Care to explain that?”

Daniel diverted his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that,” I said, not backing down. “I may not have gotten anything else out of you while you were under that watering can’s spell, but I heard what you said to Jason backstage on opening night of the Therewolf production. And I want an answer. What did you mean when you said that I ruined your life and that you were only here because of me?”

Our staring match might as well have been the only thing of importance happening on the entire train. It blurred every other sound, movement, and person like a large cloud encircling the eye of a storm. I wondered just how long two people could actually glare at one another. We were both pretty stubborn, proud, and unrelenting, so I figured if anyone could have set the record it was us. The nail-on-chalkboard intensity dissipated, however, when Blue and Jason abruptly popped up next to our table.

“Hey, guys. Can we join you?” Jason asked.

“Yeah, I was just leaving,” Daniel said as he got up from the booth.

He left the dining car and didn’t look back.

Blue raised her eyebrows as she sat down. “What was all that about?”

“Nothing,” I grunted. “Just Daniel being Daniel. I don’t know how either of you can stand him. Especially you, Jason. I can’t even sit with the kid for five minutes. How did you share a room with him back at school and not want to break his arm?”

Jason shrugged. “He’s a good guy, Crisa.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“No, really. Look, I know he gives you a hard time. But he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Right. His constant mission to take blows at my self-esteem and his belief that I, quote, ‘ruined his life’ are completely unrelated.”

Jason blinked in surprise. “You heard that, huh?”

“I was behind the curtain.”

“Hold on,” Blue interjected. “I think I missed something.”

“Before the Therewolves’ show started, Daniel and I got to talking and he said that Crisa ruined his life. Oh, and that he was only on this mission with us because of her,” Jason explained.

“Exaggeration much?” Blue snorted. “I mean he only just met her a couple months ago.”

Jason grinned. “That’s what I said!”

“Really? Okay, jinx then!”

“Blue, jinx only works when we say something—”

“—at the same time,” Blue chimed in just as Jason finished his sentence. “There. Now jinx.” She crossed her arms in playful satisfaction.

Jason shrugged again, seeming to accept his defeat. I coughed to draw their focus back to our conversation. “Yeah, so anyway . . . Jason, any chance Daniel ever finished telling you what he meant when he said that?”

Jason blinked at me wordlessly.

“Jason?” I repeated.

He still didn’t open his mouth. What he did instead was gesture at Blue.

Oh, got it.

I sighed. “Blue, un-jinx him please.”

“Ugh. Fine,” she said. “Jason, I release thee.”

Jason exhaled overdramatically, which earned him an amicable punch in the shoulder from Blue.

“Sorry, Crisa,” he continued. “To be honest, when I was under the influence of that watering can I really couldn’t have cared less about Daniel or his problems. But even if I had it wouldn’t have mattered. That night was one of the only times during our stay at Camp Therewolf that I got the chance to talk to him.”

“Great,” I huffed. “So it’s hopeless then. I’m never going to know anything about what makes the guy tick.”

“If it helps,” Jason continued, “I think the way he acts and keeps to himself comes down to the simple fact that he misses his life before Lord Channing’s.”

“Fine, he misses his old life. Whatever,” I retorted. “That doesn’t give Mr. Cryptic a free pass to pose as a friend without earning our trust. And really, guys, how can he possibly do that when he is concealing so much about himself? How are we supposed to even feel comfortable with him around if we don’t know what’s going on inside that thick skull?”

“Come on, Crisa,” Jason responded. “Maybe you’re being too hard on him. It’s not exactly uncommon for people to keep things to themselves. And doing so doesn’t make someone bad or untrustworthy.

“Maybe you don’t understand why Daniel gives you a hard time or blames you for things or even the specific reasons why he’s on this quest with us. But whether you admit it or not, you know you can count on him because you know who he is despite that. When you got your prologue prophecy and fell off your Pegasus in Adelaide’s Twenty-Three Skidd tournament, he’s the guy who tried to help you instead of stopping Blue from taking the winning shot. He’s the guy who went back for you when we were trapped at Fairy Godmother HQ—diving into that watery deathtrap without thinking twice about it because he wanted to make sure you were okay. He drove the carriage to Emma’s, had your back at the Capitol Building, kept you from getting barbequed by the lightning daffodils in the Forbidden Forest, and even turned himself into a Therewolf because your plans told him it was necessary for the good of the group.”

Jason looked at me earnestly and I saw the same intense blue eyes of the ten-year-old boy who’d hidden under that tablecloth with me back at Lady Agnue’s all those years ago. The eyes of someone who—from the very beginning—had been an ally in my way of thinking.

Until now.

For the first time in as far back as I could remember, Jason and I were seeing things differently. And for the life of me I wished it wasn’t so. He was technically my oldest friend. Having him on such an opposite stance from my own made me feel a cutting combination of foolish and ostracized. Was I the only one who felt there was something off about Daniel?

“In the last few months the guy’s conspired with us, worked with us, and fought with us at every turn,” Jason went on, trying to appeal to my reason. “So yeah, maybe he keeps things to himself, and maybe that’s annoying. But he’s been there for us and for you since this whole thing started.”

“Jason’s right, Crisa,” Blue chimed in. “I get how much he bugs you, and that whole ‘ruined his life’ statement obviously doesn’t help. But you’ve gotta look past that and see the big picture. Daniel’s been a good friend to all of us and we can trust him. You need to believe that. Otherwise things going forward are just going to get harder.”

I twiddled my thumbs on the table between us. My gaze drifted back to the window and I uttered the only response I could think of.

“I don’t know.”

Not the most eloquent reaction, but what else could I have said? Blue and Jason made some really good points. Daniel had been there for all of us since our fates had been intertwined. He’d certainly proven himself to be a friend . . . hadn’t he?

Ugh, but he was Daniel.

He was the aggravator of my patience and provoker of my worst qualities. Even after all we’d been through together, I still couldn’t see him as a friend or trust him. I didn’t know whether this conclusion attested more to his character or to mine, but it was how I felt. And I could no more change that than I could change him.

After a minute Jason broke the silence—redirecting my gaze away from the creamers on the table back to him.

“Crisa,” he began carefully. “I get that this is kind of rough for you, and I can still see you backtracking. So let me give you another example that might resonate a bit better.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Okay.”

“All right, now don’t take offense,” he said. “But from what I’ve seen over the years, I think it’s pretty safe to say that you don’t like to rely on other people and prefer to handle things for yourself. Right?”

“Well I wouldn’t say—”

“Oh, he totally hit the hammer on the nail, Crisa,” Blue interrupted.

Jason nodded. “Blue, you know where I’m going with this. You wanna take it instead?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, sitting up straighter. “The point is, Crisa, even if you have a tendency to push us away when we try to help you, and keep stuff to yourself a lot, we trust you. Not just to lead the group when the situation calls for it, but as a friend. If we didn’t, we probably wouldn’t be here.”

The words of magically unkind SJ from our time in the Therewolf theater echoed in the back of my mind: “We are here because of you and your big ideas.”

I hung my head as guilt burned inside of me like a spicy taco.

“Yeah. I know,” I responded with a sigh. “It’s my fault for dragging you guys into this. What’s happened to you so far is on me. Almost getting killed, eaten, magically altered—it’s all because you trusted me even though I didn’t deserve it. And . . . I’m sorry.”

“Crisa, I don’t think you get it,” Jason said. “What Blue’s saying—she means it in a good way.”

I glanced up. “How’s that?”

“If we hadn’t trusted you, we wouldn’t be so close to breaking the In and Out Spell around the Indexlands or finding the Author. We wouldn’t have discovered that the realm’s ambassadors are messing with protagonist selection. And we wouldn’t have found out that Mark might be in trouble.”

Blue nodded. “Plus, think about all those people we freed in the Forbidden Forest. And the Therewolves we helped. And, well, your quick thinking’s saved us a bunch of other times too. If we hadn’t trusted you, do you really think any of that stuff would’ve happened?”

“I, I don’t know . . .”

“Well I do know,” Blue replied bluntly. “It wouldn’t have. You were wrong before, Crisa. You do deserve our trust. Like Daniel, maybe you don’t always share as much as you should. Maybe your inexplicable behavior can be frustrating every now and then. But despite that, we know we can count on you to do what’s right. You’ve proven that time and again. And that’s enough.” She held my gaze tightly in her penetrating blue eyes. “Crisa, you have to let that be enough.”

“Blue’s right,” Jason said in agreement. “If we hadn’t trusted you, I guarantee a lot of stuff wouldn’t have worked out the way it did. We might not even be sitting here now. And the same goes for Daniel. So believe me when I say that if you don’t start realizing you can count on him—like we count on you—then it’s only a matter of time before that distrust causes something to go wrong or someone to get hurt.”

But what if . . . I mean, how can I . . .

I started to retreat inwards, pulling away like I always did. But then Blue leaned forward and touched my hand.

“Crisa,” she said sternly yet softly. “If we want this to work then we have to trust each other. It’s that simple.”

All I could do was sit and stare as her words hung in the air. Blue and Jason had just given me a mouth full of humble pie followed by a self-reflection sandwich, both of which made my stomach hurt.

I needed time to process, but the looks the dynamic duo were giving me told me that they wanted some sort of immediate affirmation that their words had gotten through.

The thing was, I couldn’t really provide one. Their logic was sound, but that didn’t mean it contained more truth than my instinct. Both mattered here. And with so much at stake and so many unanswered questions concerning Daniel and our fates, I had to be careful with every step I took.

“So then . . .”

I looked up to find our waiter had returned with a notepad and a pencil. His gaze fell upon me with unintended weight as he asked me the very question that Blue and Jason’s eyes were also silently posing.

“What’ll it be?”