’d heard the term “bottled-up fury” before, but it wasn’t until this particular moment that I learned where the phrase must have come from.
The interior of the genie lamp I was trapped in was shaped like a bottle of fancy, imported water. Despite the spout that extended from it on the outside, the only opening visible from within was the lid I’d been sucked through, which was now high above my head.
The interior décor had the feel of a nightclub lounge that hadn’t decided whether it wanted to be retro or post-modern chic. Satin curtains hung throughout the space, draping across the ceiling. The carpet was royal purple shag and matched the throw pillows on the black leather sofas, which curved around the whole perimeter. Oddly shaped mirrors with silver and gold frames hung on the walls, which were covered with splashes of green, maroon, and purple paint. I assumed the blobs of color were the original decorator’s attempts to make the place look artsy. But to me, they just looked like the aftermath of a horrible pie explosion.
Sigh.
At least they matched the multi-colored crystal balls that magically floated around the room providing light. These whimsical orbs were polar opposites to the sleek candelabras sitting on the chrome side tables. Those were dull gray and seemed too sharp and severe to match the otherwise quirky décor.
As if being in a candlelit room with no windows or doors and a lot of flammable drapery wasn’t disconcerting enough, the flames crackled an eerie bright green, reminiscent of a witch’s cauldron. It was creepy. If there were such a thing as a villains’ primary color wheel, this shade definitely would’ve made the cut.
If this was the interior design that the lamp’s former resident had been forced to put up with for ten thousand years, I felt really bad for him. However, if the décor reflected the genie’s own personal taste, well, maybe the world had been better off with him stuck in here.
Since the moment I’d woken up inside of the lamp, I’d been trying to find a way out. Meanwhile, as I fervently toiled away with my wand on the lamp’s lid, Daniel had just been sitting on one of the couches reading a book he’d found on the coffee table.
Oh yeah. Did I forget to mention Daniel was here?
Remember that person that grabbed my arm and tried to keep me from being sucked into the lamp? Well, that had been him.
As my dreams had foretold, my friends had eventually worked out the deception in my motives for our splitting up. At first this didn’t matter. I knew from my visions that they’d come to the same conclusion I’d reached when concocting the plan. It would be impossible for them to find me in the caverns, so they had no choice but to go on and meet me at our agreed rendezvous point, which was where we’d left the Pegasi.
What I hadn’t anticipated, though, was that Daniel would find another way to get to me.
When they were nearing the place where we’d left the Pegasi, Daniel noticed the giant plateau of that immense rock pillar formation. As it offered a clear view of the beach on either side, he’d told the others to go ahead and collect the Pegasi while he waited to spot me on the beach, assuming that by the time they returned I’d have come into view and they could make a straight shot for me.
While Blue, SJ, and Jason proceeded with this plan, Daniel had in fact spotted me washing ashore in the distance. But as he watched me trek across the beach, he’d spotted Arian’s forces approaching from the other direction—a threat that I was clearly unaware of.
With no time to wait for our friends, Daniel took the grappling hook and rope out of his bag and propelled down. The cliffside was jagged and sloped out as it neared the bottom. So when he ran out of rope he descended the rocks without it like a rock climber.
When he hit solid ground he rushed to my aid, catching up with me during my dramatic confrontation with Arian. He’d snuck up behind the rocky pillar I was cornered against and tried to save me just as Arian had uncovered the lamp.
And that, regrettably, was all she wrote.
It was a good effort in theory. But apparently once the lamp’s powers locked on to the nearest magical creature in the vicinity, they did not let it go no matter what. And, as it happened, the lamp would also suck in anything that was holding on to said magical creature. Hence the reason why I was currently sharing this tacky prison with the world’s most mysterious teenage boy.
There was no way of telling how long we’d been trapped, but it felt like a few hours. As time went on I was becoming increasingly anxious. I had no idea where we were going, what happened to my friends, or how to get out of here. And if I didn’t at least find an answer to that last question, it wouldn’t be long before I was delivered to Nadia, the queen of Alderon.
Needless to say it was enough to stress anybody out. Yet Daniel seemed to be taking the whole situation in stride. When I’d regained consciousness he had been pacing around tentatively and we’d exchanged a brief recap of how we’d ended up there. However, since then he’d been silent—calmly reading in the corner like he was waiting for the dentist or something.
Frankly, it was really starting to tick me off.
I tried not to let my frustration with him get the better of me—I needed all my focus to keep my balance. I was standing on a wobbly stack of three chairs, which allowed me to jab the weapon’s blade into the crease of the lamp’s lid in an attempt to get it open.
For a second I thought maybe this time I was actually getting somewhere. But then the highest chair in the stack toppled off, and it and I both went tumbling to the floor.
I landed with a muffled thud on the thick carpet. My spear, meanwhile, hung pathetically from the fissure in the roof for a beat before it, too, dropped to the ground beside me.
“You’re never going to get the lid open that way,” Daniel said without looking up from his book.
I ignored him, spat out some carpet fluff, and began re-stacking the chairs with unshaken resolve.
He sighed and put the book down. “Knight, seriously, you’re gonna break your neck if you keep that up.”
I continued ignoring him and picked up my spear. Daniel got up and walked toward me. Just as I started to climb the first chair in my newly restored tower, he grabbed the other end of my spear to prevent me from making the ascent.
“Daniel, let go,” I said, yanking the staff.
He yanked back. “I’m helping, not hurting, Knight. You have to stop.”
“I’ll say it one more time, Daniel. Let go. Now.”
“Make me.”
“Fine!”
I hinged my leg and kicked him in the shin.
“Argh!” he grunted, releasing my spear.
I snatched the staff away and approached the stack of chairs again. Before I could climb up, guilt set in like slow-acting poison and I lost my conviction.
I’d spent a lot of time resisting the urge to kick Daniel since we’d met and fantasizing about how good it would feel to actually do it. But I’d been wrong. It didn’t feel good. Even though he was getting on my nerves, his being stuck in this lamp was my fault. And I had no right to take my frustrations out on him.
I returned my wand to normal and shoved it in my boot. Then with a humbled exhale I turned to face him.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was . . . uncalled for.”
“Really?” he replied in disbelief. “Because it seems like you’ve been dying to do that for a while now.”
“That’s true,” I conceded. “But I shouldn’t have actually done it. You’re just driving me crazy, Daniel. I mean, we are trapped inside a lamp. A lamp in the possession of someone who’s been trying to kill me and anybody that gets in their way for weeks. And here I am trying to find a way to get us out, and you’re just lounging in the corner reading some book.”
“I wasn’t reading; I was researching,” Daniel replied.
“Come again?”
Daniel marched over to the couch where he’d been sitting and retrieved the book I’d seen him flipping through.
“The genie that used to live in this lamp kept a journal,” he explained. “I found it under one of the couch cushions. Among other things, he cataloged the ways he tried to escape over the years. There are some pretty interesting theories in here that he was planning on testing out while he was serving Aladdin but never got a chance to see through. I think maybe we could try a few for ourselves.”
Daniel handed me the book and I began to page through it.
He was right. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of catalogued escape ideas that the genie had attempted, and just as many that he was planning on trying out in the future. The journal was stuffed from front to back with diagrams, spells, and notes.
I handed the book back to Daniel. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” I asked.
Daniel released a slight scoff. “Would you have listened?”
“Of course I would have.”
“Really? Because last I checked, every time I or anyone tries to help you, you go completely mental.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Daniel asked. “Of all the times we’ve tried to help you, how many times have you actually said thank you?”
“Well, I don’t—”
“And how many times have you overreacted and gotten mad instead?”
“I wouldn’t say—”
“And despite all the messed up junk we’ve been going through together as a group,” he continued, “how many times have you been completely honest with us about what’s going on with you?”
“I was honest with you guys about my dreams just this morning,” I protested.
Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Come on, Knight—completely honest?”
“Uh . . .”
“Yeah. That’s what I figured.”
“Hey, it’s not like I lied to you guys. I just . . . left some stuff out.”
“And what would possibly possess you to do that?”
I felt my face getting hotter. It was partly due to anger, partly due to guilt. But mostly it was due to not enjoying being cornered by Daniel and his unpleasant personal questions in an enclosed space where I could not escape from either.
“You wouldn’t understand,” I huffed as I stormed to the other side of the lamp.
He followed, refusing to let the matter die.
“Try me.”
“Daniel, I just . . .” I turned my back on him and paced across the room again. When I reached the other side I saw he’d pursued me there too.
I had nowhere left to go. I was literally backed against a wall. He was so close to me—his face, his eyes, his everything burrowing into my soul in such a way that I felt like I was suffocating. My cheeks flushed, my fists clenched, my shoulders tensed.
Is this place getting smaller? Or is the air just dissipating at an alarmingly fast rate?
“Knight . . .” Daniel said, a bit more carefully. “Come on, just tell me.”
My eyes met his for a beat then darted to the ground. My heart pounded twelve times faster than it had when I was being chased by Arian. Evidently I preferred a confrontation involving malevolent archenemies and the threat of elimination to one that involved an extraction of my innermost feelings.
Yet in the end I forced myself to acquiesce.
“Look, Daniel,” I finally said, sighing. “The thing is, I knew Arian and those jerks were after me. And the more I dreamed about it, the more I realized they would stop at nothing to get to me no matter what or who they had to go through.
“Knowing that, how could I let the four of you in on everything that was going on? If I had, you wouldn’t have agreed to let me go off alone and then you would’ve gotten the same targets painted on your backs that I’ve had on mine for weeks. I wasn’t about to let that happen. I’d rather be handed over to Nadia on a silver platter or trapped in this dumb lamp for a million years than put you guys in harm’s way on my behalf. So there, you wanted complete honesty—now you have it. Now you know. Stupid as it may sound, at the end of the day I’d rather throw myself to the wolves alone than drag others down with me.”
Daniel didn’t respond.
Having been honest with him made me feel bare. Silence had never seemed louder, and I writhed in its condemning tension until it became too much for me to handle. I glanced up.
Daniel was just standing there looking at me. Staring at me, really, in a way that made me feel like an animal at the Century City Zoo. But it was worse than that because at least those animals had cages or kennels or walls to separate them from the people who came to judge their behaviors. Me, I had nothing to create a sense of safe distance between Daniel and me.
I was fully exposed to him. And I hated it.
“So let me get this straight,” Daniel finally said.
I balled my fists even tighter—bracing myself for his judgment.
“You would rather risk your neck going it alone than let one of us help you? You’re that stubborn, that set on keeping us at a distance, despite what it means for you personally? I gotta say, Knight, it’s definitely not your brightest idea. If anything it’s surprising. I mean, most princesses would—”
“Most princesses would what?” I suddenly snapped, my eyes locking with his angrily.
This had been the longest day of the longest week of the longest month of my life. I had been through a lot, but antagonists and monsters and magic hunters aside, what I was most fed up with was people lecturing me on this subject. I’d had it, and I wasn’t going to take it anymore.
“Most princesses would swoon? Sigh? Give you a handkerchief as a token of their gratitude? That’s what you think I should do, isn’t it, Daniel?” I said. “Be just another typical princess: fragile, docile, oh-so-grateful that a hero like you came my way so that I won’t have to handle things for myself? You’ve certainly been trying to put me in my supposed place since the moment we met. Well, guess what? I’m tired of it, of you. I don’t know what type of princess I am, I’ll admit, or even if I’m a princess at all. But I’ll tell you what I do know; I’m sick of you and everyone else trying to decide for me. I have been busting my butt trying to keep people, especially SJ, Blue, and Jason, from seeing me as this damsel in distress, but I can’t catch a break from anyone.”
I groaned and dropped to the leather couch behind me—the weight of the world depriving me of my will to stand.
“But then again, what should I expect?” I continued as I stared at the hideous carpet. “If the universe really wanted me to be something more, I don’t think it would’ve engineered a life where everyone keeps pushing me in the same direction—putting me in the same damsel box no matter how much I struggle against it.
“As much as it kills me to say it, maybe you were right that night we broke into Fairy Godmother Headquarters. Maybe I’m not strong enough to fight what’s coming. Maybe my fate will never be mine to decide and all I am is exactly what you and Lady Agnue and Arian and the rest of the world seem to think. Weak. And incapable of being any of the things I wish I was.”
I hung my head as my angry words settled in the air between us.
I was out of breath and out of words. Most of all, it felt like I was out of soul. Like I’d expelled too much and was now an empty version of my former self—ripe for verbal attack and vulnerable for emotional destruction, both of which I was sure Daniel would not be able to resist taking advantage of.
“Are you done?” he asked.
I waved my hand acquiescingly. “Yes. Go ahead.”
“Good,” he said. “Because if you would stop overreacting for one second then I could finish what I was going to say. Which is that, yes, most princesses would gladly call for help at the first sign of danger and expect someone else to step in and secure a happy ending for them. But you’re not like most princesses. You’re stubborn, loud, crazy, short-tempered—”
“Daniel, if you’re just going to keep listing insulting adjectives, I’m going to go back to stabbing the ceiling with my spear,” I said, getting ready to stand.
“Knight, you gonna let me complete a sentence?”
I rolled my eyes and sat back down. “Whatever. Say what you’ve gotta say.”
“All right,” he said flatly. “Here it is then. Yeah, you’re all those things, Knight, I’m not going to sugarcoat it. But the fact is that it doesn’t take a genius to see that beyond that surface stuff, you’re a lot more too. For starters, you’re brave. And you’re resourceful. And unique and probably one of the toughest, strongest people I’ve ever met.”
And I thought that after meeting carnivorous actor wolves there were no more great surprises left in life. But of all the things I’d been shocked by recently, this definitely topped them all. Had Daniel just given me a compliment?
“You think I’m strong?” I asked, utterly stunned.
“Well, not so much in the usual sense,” Daniel responded. “I mean, come on, your sword skills suck. You still need a lot more practice with that spear. It wouldn’t kill you to lift more weights with Blue. And you’re not exactly—”
“Daniel.”
“Right, sorry, old habits.” He cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is that no matter what, or who, tries to stop you, you never give up. You keep going. You keep fighting. And you never back down. That’s the very definition of strong. So despite what those other snob idiots at school think, I know that you of all people are not weak, and to say that you’ve got some hero in you would be an understatement.”
I was flabbergasted. Like so truly, completely shocked that I almost slid off the leather couch. I held up my hand.
“Seriously? You, Daniel, think that I, Crisanta Knight—this girl right here,” I gestured overdramatically at myself, “has what it takes to be a hero?”
He shrugged like I was the one being ridiculous.
“If you took a detour from that pride parade of yours and let people in, let people help you from time to time then, yeah. I do think you could be a hero. You have all the makings of a good one. You just need to stop trying to do everything by yourself. Don’t get me wrong; I respect the bravery and self-sacrifice thing you were going for. But what’s the point of having friends if you can’t count on them to have your back when you need them the most?”
I shook my head, my eyes glued to the floor as I wondered just how much more I would tell him. Emotional vulnerability (or any kind of vulnerability) was not my scene. Unfortunately, the defensive walls that kept me from ever being truly honest with anyone—including myself—were coming down. As consequence, I couldn’t stop the pure, unfiltered admissions that followed.
“I understand what you’re saying, Daniel,” I replied steadily. “But you just don’t get it. I’ve spent my whole life believing that I can show the world that I don’t need saving. That I can overcome the stereotypes and become something more than what is expected—something better, or at the very least something that I can be proud of.
“Those beliefs are everything to me. They’re what give me purpose and hope that there’s a point to all this. If I don’t have them, then what’s left? A life that’s worth nothing more than a piece in someone else’s puzzle, a page in someone else’s book?”
“I’m not following,” Daniel said. “What does any of that have to do with you trusting us, letting us help you now and then so you don’t have to carry the weight of the whole dang world on your shoulders?”
“I’ll tell you what it is has to do with that . . .” I started to say.
The air tasted sour in my mouth and my heart hung in suspense. I bit my lip and tried to swallow the declaration burning in my throat. However, I knew it was time to relinquish the truth. And just like that it came out in a whisper; like wind escaping beneath the crack in a steel door that’d spent far too long pretending to be impenetrable.
“I can’t trust you guys that way because . . . because I’m afraid.”
“What?”
My vulnerability abruptly turned to bitterness, and my fragility to sullen fury.
“I said I’m afraid,” I snapped.
I punched the couch resentfully, having finally uttered the words.
“Are you happy? I may not be afraid of things like magic hunters or Therewolves or even antagonists that are trying to kill me. But the lot of you were right. I am still afraid of something. And that something is all those beliefs of mine going up in smoke like one of SJ’s red portable potions. I’m afraid of proving the world right about me, being proven wrong about myself, and, most of all, of having to accept that who I am is the very person I’ve spent my whole life praying that I wasn’t.”
The clenched fist I’d punched into the couch was starting to tingle from within, but I ignored the sensation and continued. My emotional purging was not yet done.
“That’s why I’ve been acting like this, Daniel,” I said more wearily than before, “and keeping everyone I should be able to trust at a distance. If I trust you guys enough to ask for help, then it’s like conceding that everything I believe in is wrong. It’s like affirming that there is no such thing as a princess who can save herself. And that the world was right about me the entire time; I really am nothing more than another damsel.”
“Knight—”
“No, Daniel. Don’t you see?” I interrupted. “I’m a girl who wants to be strong in a world where everyone thinks I’m weak. No matter where I go, people are so sure of who I am—never leaving room for the slightest possibility that they might be mistaken. I’ve been able to fight against it all these years because those people don’t know me well enough to make that kind of call. But there are people who can. My friends. They’re the only people whose opinions do truly matter because they’re the only people who do truly know me.
“So you have to understand why all those times I knew I was in trouble and needed help, I could never ask for it. Because if I ever completely lowered my guard—asked for help, or worse, admitted that I needed it—then your impressions of me would become the same as everyone else’s.
“Why do you think I get so mad whenever you’ve tried to save me in front of the others? It’s not because I’m stupid or stubborn. It’s because I’ve been desperately trying to protect my image in the eyes of the last few people in the realm who might still think of me differently. And every time you swoop in and try to pull me out of danger, it only further drives home the opposite. It validates those awful things people think about me, those awful things people are so sure that I am. And if it keeps up—me needing to be helped and saved all the time—then sooner or later . . . there’ll be nothing and no one left to prove them wrong.”
I hung my head low under the weight of the truth. My body was shaking. I felt like I was going to cry, but I resisted the urge. This may have been the ideal time and place to do it, but my will to retain whatever composure I had left was strong.
Exhaling a long sigh instead, I looked down at my hand. It had been prickling icily throughout my rant, and only now was the sensation beginning to calm down. Traces of metal evaporated back into my skin. Temporarily drained in terms of speech, I took a moment to unclench my balled-up fist and take a peek at the marking inside.
If this is it—if this is the actual time the tattoo has chosen to reveal its true meaning—I swear . . .
I opened my hand fully.
Thank goodness. It’s still blurry.
If the word “afraid” or something similar had appeared there—announcing itself as my defining quality—that would’ve totally driven me off the edge.
I was beginning to feel a bit less shell-shocked, and this caused me to notice that too much silence had passed since I’d finished talking. I looked up at Daniel. It felt pretty weird having exposed my soul to someone I really didn’t know, or like for that matter. And the subsequent insecurity made my stomach knot.
I half expected him to burst out laughing. Much to my surprise, he didn’t. He just held my gaze for a minute before coming to sit down next to me.
I scooched away from him slightly—taken aback by the proximity.
Is this a trap?
This feels like a trap.
“Knight,” Daniel said firmly. “You need to get a grip.”
“Gee, thanks, Daniel.” I rolled my eyes. “Do they teach psychology at Lord Channing’s? Because your approach to dealing with fragile mental health is just textbook.”
“Oh, settle down. I don’t mean it like that,” he said. “Look, in my opinion you don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to what the others think of you. I mean, I just told you how I see you and it was nothing like you were expecting, right?”
“Right,” I replied hesitantly.
“But for the sake of argument,” he continued, “let’s say I’m wrong. Let’s say Jason, Blue, every one of us agrees with the greater world’s consensus about who you are—that you’re just a weak princess and a terrible hero. Even if that were true, so what?”
“So what?” I repeated. “So everything. If not even my closest friends see me as being different, then who’s to say or prove that I am?”
“Well, off the top of my head, how about you?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You heard me,” Daniel said. “You keep going on about how worried you are about people defining who you are but, Knight, none of them really can. Despite what you might think, the only person who gets to decide that is you.”
“But Daniel, I don’t—”
“No buts,” Daniel interrupted. “No excuses, no doubts, no second-guessing. I know you hate to listen to me, Knight. But even if you tune me out for the rest of your life, I want you to hear me now. You wanna choose who you are for yourself? Well, the bottom line is that it’s that simple. All you have to do is choose. Everything and everyone else don’t matter. They don’t get a vote; they don’t get a say. The only person who does is you because you and you alone can define who you are.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I responded. “You’re a hero. Your archetype doesn’t have half as many stereotypes working against it as mine does.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But people still expect things from me. I’m not trying to compare my problems to yours, but they exist either way. I didn’t ask to be a hero any more than you asked to be a princess. That’s just the lot I was given. But that’s my character archetype, not my character. I define my character, just like you define yours.
“And as to the whole ‘saving you’ thing,” he went on. “I’m sorry if that’s been getting on your nerves, but I wasn’t doing it to show you up or because I thought you were weak. Neither were the others when they’ve tried to help you. We just didn’t want you to die.
“With everything your archetype has going against it—the damsel stigma and all—I get why it would bother you. But I think you’re overcorrecting. No one ever became a hero by going it completely alone. No one ever achieved anything of value completely alone. I may not have been a student at Lord Channing’s for very long, but even I know that relying on others doesn’t make you weak. If anything it makes you stronger because it forces your pride to take a back seat so you can achieve more than you would alone.” He shook his head and let out a frustrated sigh. “At the end of the day sometimes people just need help, Knight. And letting a person help you doesn’t mean you’re helpless; it just means you trust someone else.”
I leaned my head back against the wall. “I’ve been pushing people away for so long trying to protect myself. Trusting people like that . . . it’s not so easy, Daniel.”
“It can be if you let it. I’m not saying trust every person that waltzes up to you. But what about the people who’ve proven they can be counted on—the people who are always there for you even when you don’t want them to be, like Jason, and SJ, and Blue, and . . .” he stopped, like something was caught in his throat. “Well, me too, I guess?”
I raised my eyebrows. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m not. Give me one good reason why you can’t trust us?”
“It’s not the whole us I’m talking about; it’s the faction that includes you. In terms of SJ, Blue, and Jason, you’re right; I have no reason not to trust them. Driving them away was a reflection of my own faults and fears, not theirs. And that’s going to stop from here on out. But you’re a different story. You’re not like the others, Daniel. You and I aren’t even really friends. You’re just sort of here. And as sure as I am now that I will learn to trust SJ, Blue, and Jason, I am just as positive that there is no way in the realm I could ever fully trust you.”
“Why would you think you couldn’t trust me?” he asked, seeming genuinely confused.
“Is that an actual question?”
“Yeah, it is. I know I give you a hard time and, granted, I could probably take it down a notch in terms of insults. But I’ve been on your side since day one.”
“Like I believe that.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I,” I replied earnestly. “Daniel, we established our mutual dislike for each other from the get-go, which I’m fine with. And yes, we’ve gone through a lot of stuff together since then. But none of that changes the fact that you’re hiding something.”
“What, I’m not allowed to have things I want to keep to myself?” Daniel countered. “Haven’t you been doing the exact same thing this whole time? We literally just established that.”
“Yes. But we also just established that my keeping stuff to myself was doing way more harm than good. You want to talk about pushing people away? Why don’t you practice what you preach? You keep me and the others at such a distance it’s like you’re allergic to us. And what you do is arguably worse because there’s a difference between keeping secrets that are about you and keeping secrets about other people—secrets that those people have a right to know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb; you know exactly what I’m talking about. I asked you about it when we were on the magic train and you dodged it then like you’re dodging it now. That night we broke out of the Therewolves’ lair, when we were backstage I distinctly heard you telling Jason that I ruined your life, that you were only on this quest with the rest of us because of me. That’s a pretty massive thing to accuse me of, Daniel, and I think I have a right to know what you meant by it. How did I ruin your life? What the heck does that have to do with our quest to find the Author? And why . . . why are you really here?”
My questions seemed to strike a sour note with Daniel, because the rather human expression of sympathy he’d had on his face these last few minutes was replaced with a slight glare.
I didn’t let it bother me though. This whole time we’d been talking I’d been the one in the hot seat. Now it was his turn. He could glare a thousand daggers at me for all I cared; I was not backing down. Not this time.
“I can’t tell you that,” Daniel responded.
“Then I can’t trust you,” I replied bluntly. “How can you expect me to when you’re keeping things like this from me? It’s off-putting, Daniel—spending so much time with someone whose motives are so enigmatic. If you truly believe I ruined your life then maybe you’re just waiting for the right time to get rid of me too. Take the magic train for instance. How could I have been sure that if I let go of that railing you wouldn’t just let me fall to my doom?”
“Come on, Knight. Really?”
“Yes, really. What else am I supposed to think?”
“Well, not that I’m secretly plotting to destroy you, that’s for sure.”
“Then what?”
Daniel blinked and started to fidget the way I had just minutes before.
“I don’t know. Think whatever you want,” he said distantly. “But whether you buy it or not, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
His eyes did not meet mine anymore. We sat there awkwardly as I realized just how uncomfortably conflicted he seemed to be.
And I understood.
For a second I wondered if I should put my hand on his shoulder to show support or sympathy. But when I started to move my arm to do so, I thought better of it. We did not know each other like that. Our relationship could be characterized by a lot of colorful adjectives, but as it stood, there were still far too many walls between us to allow for such closeness. At least there were on his end. A great deal of mine had just been torn down.
Until that point, the tension in our relationship had been just as much my fault as it had been his. But that wasn’t the case anymore. In the confinement of this cursed lamp, I’d let my soul slip to him. I’d allowed myself to be honest, vulnerable, and transparent in a way that made me feel equal parts embarrassed and relieved.
That was a strange thing to wrap my head around, as I’d never been that honest about what was going on inside of me with anyone, myself included. But it happened. Whether I liked it or not, Daniel now knew me—even the parts I preferred not to know myself. And I felt he owed me the same in return.
“Look, Daniel,” I began anew—slowly, sensibly. “No one knows more about wanting to push people away and keep personal things private than I do. But how am I supposed to put my faith in you when you can’t do the same with me?”
He didn’t look up.
Ugh, this is hopeless, I thought. He’s just as stubborn as I am. Getting him to be completely honest is going to be like pulling Therewolf teeth. It might be possible, but only by extreme force. Which, in retrospect, maybe I don’t want to use.
I definitely wanted to know the truth about him. But if Daniel didn’t want to tell me on his own, did I really want to be the person that pried it out against his will?
As satisfying as it would be to know what he meant by me ruining his life, it would mean nothing if I ripped it out of him. Forced trust is hardly better than no trust. And right now I needed a reason to put real trust in Daniel.
I sat forward and huffed a strand of hair out of my face, knowing what I had to do.
“All right,” I finally conceded. “I’ll tell you what, Daniel. If whatever you’re hiding really is that bad, I’m not going to push you to tell me. But I am going to ask you to give me something else to go on instead. I don’t care what it is, just give me a reason to believe in you. Be honest with me about one thing—your life before Lord Channing’s, your prologue prophecy, what that magic watering can imprinted on your hand, whatever. Just give me something, anything, and I’ll call us even. Okay?”
Moments ticked by without a response from him. I thought he wasn’t going to bite, but then he reached into his pocket and pulled something out.
Before I could see what it was, he tossed it over to me. I caught it and discovered it was the golden pocket watch that I’d seen him looking at so many times before.
“I wanted you to save my sheath from the Therewolves because I hid the watch in a secret compartment at the base before they confiscated our stuff,” he explained. “It was too important to me to lose.”
I held the pocket watch carefully; its metal felt cold against the palm of my hand. Daniel signaled for me to open it, and with bated breath I did so.
Inside I found a picture of a girl. She was about our age with long, wavy black hair. Her eyes were a rich brown and her smile was mischievous. She was pretty, beautiful really. But I had no idea what her picture was doing inside of Daniel’s watch.
“Her name is Kai,” Daniel said.
“Sorry?”
“The girl, her name is Kai,” Daniel explained. “We’ve been together for three years, but I’ve known her my whole life. She’s everything to me—my entire world—and I didn’t think anything would ever come between us until my stupid protagonist book appeared. When it showed up, not only was I forced to leave her and my life in Century City behind to attend Lord Channing’s, my prologue prophecy said . . .Well, among other things it said we might not end up together. Worse, as a result of how my fate plays out, something might cause her to come to an end. And I do mean in the very permanent, mortal sense.”
“That’s why you came with us,” I thought aloud, the truth sinking in. “That’s why you want to find the Author. You want to change your fate so that you can save Kai and the two of you can end up together.”
“Yup.”
I took another look at the girl in the picture then closed the pocket watch to hand it back to Daniel. He refused to take it.
“There’s more,” he said.
“Daniel, it’s fine, really,” I assured him. “I meant what I said. You don’t have to tell me everything. You were honest about this and that’s enough.”
“No,” he shook his head. “You were right.”
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I said you’re right. As inconceivable as it is, in this particular case you are. I can’t expect you to trust me if I’m not willing to do the same. So let me get this out before I wise up and change my mind.”
He sat up straighter and turned to face me completely. “The thing that my prologue prophecy predicts might bring us to an end, bring her to an end . . . Knight, that thing is you.”
“What?” I stammered.
For a second I thought he was joking. For a second after that I wished he was joking. But he wasn’t. It felt like a brick had hit me in the chest. A lot of questions ran through my head. But in an effort to not come off like a babbling idiot, I settled on just one.
“How’s that even possible?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “The specifics aren’t there, but the wording is clear. Within you lies the potential to seal both Kai’s fate and mine.”
“That’s what you meant when you said I ruined your life, and that you’re only on this quest because of me,” I said softly. “I’m the potential foil to your happiness—your life with Kai—and you want the Author to change that.”
He nodded.
I rubbed my arm awkwardly. “If that’s true, how can you even stand to be around me?”
“My prophecy also says that you’re going to be a key ally for us both. So despite what damage you could potentially cast on our lives, I get that I might need your help too.” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“I’ll say.” I huffed and shook my head. “I . . . I’m sorry, I guess. I don’t know Kai, and I don’t really know you either, but I guess I owe you both some kind of apology.”
“No. You don’t,” Daniel said. “It’s not your fault. This prophecy is my responsibility and I accept that. Only I can change it, and I’m going to do everything in my power to do so because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”
He reached for the pocket watch and I handed it back to him. However, I couldn’t help but crinkle my eyebrows as I reflected on something in the process.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. It’s just, after all this . . . who would’ve thought that what was motivating you the entire time was true love.”
Daniel shrugged. “Hey, love makes you do crazy things.”
“Yeah,” I said, thinking back to Ashlyn. “So I’ve heard.”
I paused for a second. “Thank you for telling me. It couldn’t have been easy for you to admit that to anyone. And the fact that you were honest about Kai with me of all people . . . Well, it means a lot. So, um . . . thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Tell anyone though, and I’ll have to kill you.”
“Get in line.”
He smirked and the two of us sat quietly as we allowed our new understanding of one another to sink in.
I still couldn’t believe what just happened. Not only had I just been completely, irrevocably honest with Daniel, but he had been honest with me in return.
All he wanted to do was change his fate, to make the future his own just like I did. For the first time I looked at him with total empathy. He really had been right all those nights ago when we’d talked on the carriage ride over to Emma’s.
We were not so different.
“Changing the subject,” I said eventually, clearing my throat and the air between us, “I am sorry you’re stuck in here. That one is on me and I actually do feel pretty bad about it, especially now that I’m starting to hate you a lot less. I’m probably the last person you want to be trapped in a lamp with.”
“You’re up there,” he said with another shrug. “But you’re not the last. I would say you’re more like . . . a solid third.”
“Aw, I guess I’ll have to step up my game then,” I responded with a smile, remembering the night of our ball in Adelaide when I’d said the same thing to him. “Coming in third sucks.”
Daniel returned my smile and stood up from the couch with a sense of renewed purpose.
“Where are you going?” I asked as he tucked the watch back inside his pocket.
He gestured to the genie journal we’d left across the room. “Like I said, there are some pretty good ideas in that book and I think we might be able to make one of them work. If we want to have a shot at getting out of here before Arian delivers us to Nadia, we should probably get started.”
He was right. I was about to stand and follow him, but before I could Daniel offered me his hand to help me up. I hesitated to reach out, staring at his hand with both trepidation and uncertainty.
It was a harmless enough gesture. It was just a hand. And for the time being Daniel had proven that he was someone I could count on.
I knew that now. I knew so much now, in fact, that I was beginning to wonder if within the limitations of this lamp Daniel and I had just affected our fates in some small way neither of us had ever intended.
Our paths ahead were uncertain. Even with my own clairvoyance, I could not see what lay in store for him or me or us. But I felt like something had changed. Here, by our own design, not the Author’s, something had shifted. We had shifted.
The quandary remained, though, as I considered taking his grip—had we shifted enough to influence anything with lasting outcome? The connection and clarity we’d forged in these last few minutes of valiant vulnerability were strong. But they were also full of torrid unpredictability.
He was the boy who drove me mad and pushed me to my limits. I was the girl with the potential to bring down his true love. So while the decision to change our clashing relationship was a wise choice, it also bore one crucial, unforgiving question. A question that was as painful to consider as it was to ignore:
Would he and I really change?
I knew full well that change was possible. It had characterized my world since I’d gotten my prologue prophecy. Just as surely, I knew that I had changed throughout this journey. At this very moment I felt myself altering as my heart opened up and my head felt a real sense of clarity.
But that wasn’t the question I was posing. I wasn’t asking if we could change—like did we have the potential to. I was asking if we would change—as in, did we really want to.
There is a difference between change that just happens to you and change you actively fight for. The former is sudden and the result of something outside of yourself. The latter requires the constant, unwavering dedication to hold true in your selected course no matter what obstacles, temptations, or old habits try to tear you down.
I remembered how insecure Daniel made me feel whenever we talked. Would I really learn to be confident enough in myself to not let him get to me like that?
I recalled the hesitation Daniel had shown when I was falling from the magic train. Would he really get past the fact that I had the potential to bring an end to his true love?
It all seemed very unlikely.
Given what Daniel had always been to me—and what I apparently was to him—I was not completely certain that this newfound commitment to change our ways toward one another would hold.
And yet, as I glanced up at Daniel’s open hand, I knew that I wanted to try. So I placed my hand in his. With one strong sweeping motion, Daniel helped me to my feet.
I held on for an extra moment—holding his gaze as I fought back the uncertainty—and finally, confidently, spoke my intentions into existence.
“Let’s do this,” I said.
End of Book Two