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After hours of sword training and then dinner with Lela, Toby wandered back toward his room; Lela’s perfume lingered on his shirt.
Twice during dinner, her foot had found its way along the inside of his lower leg.
And the kiss goodnight was his first.
He climbed the stairs up the tower and had to refocus his concentration just to unlock his door.
The homework would not do itself, so he pulled out the books for tonight’s readings.
The first book was Keeper history, written in the same dense style as most other books in Teacher’s collection, but with a bonus: the letter ‘f’ was the letter ‘s,’ except when not.
Like other books, each story showed how the Keeper did something spectacularly good or horribly not, meaning she carried the day, or they carried the body home.
The third chapter was about Zania and Leid, a Keeper and Messenger who became lovers and wanted to get married. They didn’t tell anyone about their relationship because Keepers and Messengers, by custom, avoided romantic entanglements.
One day, they had to investigate a report of bandits in a remote region of the kingdom, except there were no bandits.
The Northern Kingdom and Dúnbarnaugh were at war again (the book didn’t say why), and the Keeper and Messenger walked right into a trap.
The archers took out the Keeper first, and the Messenger ran blindly ran to her aid, only to die in a hail of arrows. The soldiers took the Prime Amulet, the Keeper’s amulet, and the bodies as spoils of war. But by sheer luck, a routine patrol engaged the archers before they could get away.
The loss was a massive blow to Dúnbarnaugh, so the King made the following proclamation:
Toby read the words, but his mind refused to understand.
He reread the words.
After the third reading, his mind finally understood.
“This Royal Edict prohibits Messengers and Keepers from romantic ties, entanglements, or anything but the most professional of relationship.”
Toby stared into nothing. Even the One’s nightly attack barely caught his attention.
***
Carrick arrived to find him still sitting by the window.
“Up already?”
Toby walked out the door without a word.
“Piece of straw up yer...”
Toby kept walking. He didn’t remember going through the Hall of Heroes; he found himself at the dining hall.
He got some food, or what they called food in this God-forsaken place. He ate mechanically at a table far from ‘their table.’
Back in Teacher’s room, Teacher grilled Toby on diverse topics, fortunately not Keepers.
Teacher dropped more books on Toby’s desk. “Snap out of it. You don’t have time to be moody.”
Toby collected the books and reading list. He went up to the garden. He read, but his gaze kept going out to Lela’s favorite tree.
Lela knew the law. Is Lela’s flirting like Raymond’s bullying and Teacher’s yelling? Abuse disguised as teaching and training?
Toby shook his head.
Why is he here? Mom and Dad grew up here, but he’s a ninth grader, not some 12th-century warrior. The kids at school aren’t dealing with cloud monsters, crossbows, and chamber pots.
Carrick said he could go home.
It would be so easy.
He closed his eyes and could smell the freshly baked cookies.
Chocolate chip was his favorite, and he wondered—
***
The squeeze was one of the worst.
His room.
Back in his favorite jeans, a cotton tee shirt, and running shoes.
A sense of calm closed around him like a hug - for precisely two seconds.
Crap!
Wait-
He could stay here for weeks and shift back to the instant he shifted out.
An aroma drew him toward the door. Smelled just like Mom’s butter almond cookies, but she’s still in the hospital.
He heard her humming.
“Mom?”
“Toby?”
He thundered down the stairs.
Mom, in her apron, pulled another batch of cookies from the oven. He waited until she put the hot pan on the counter and enveloped her with his arms.
“What’s wrong?”
“When did you get home?”
“I’ve been home all morning.”
What? “Are you okay?”
“Of course.”
“What about the hospital?”
“What about it?”
“You were in the hospital.”
“What?”
He thought for a moment. He left weeks ago; couldn’t remember the exact day. “Before I went to Dúnbarnaugh.”
“We talked about that last night.”
“That was weeks ago.”
“No-”
Hermes let out a loud, “Caw,” and something crashed.
Mom dropped to a knee.
A massive knife appeared in her hand before Toby could react. They both crouched down by the oven.
“Mom,” he whispered, but she silenced him with a look.
She listened for a moment, and then she whispered, “You’ve been training in Dúnbarnaugh?”
“Yes.”
“Then go back.”
He argued.
“Stop. Ye can’t be here.”
“Wait.”
“Not another word. Ye are at school now, and ye can’t of ye in this dimension at the same time.”
“But Mom-”
“No.”
“But you don’t understand-”
“Stop. Go back.”
He watched turn toward the noise; he wanted to follow her orders.
She looked back, teeth clenched, she whispered. “Now!”
It took every ounce of concentration to visualize that spot in the garden, seated by the wall, the millisecond after he left.