Squeak’s magic tunnel popped us out on the beach. It was the same beach where we had first met the Grumpalons, the giant crabs that had surfaced from the Eternal Sea and pledged allegiance to Princess Ripple, and the Flimflams, the winged were-foxes, clustering around their Doolivanti, André. That seemed so long ago, and I wished I still had Theron, HuggyBug, Gruffy, Pip, and Ripple by my side. That time, a growling storm churned over the Eternal Sea; Jimmy’s inky clouds had blocked out everything.
This time, Ripple’s white palace glimmered on the clear, flat horizon. The sun shone bright overhead, and it made the water seem like a painting, especially since nothing was moving. The sea was as flat as glass. No waves lapped the sand. No Grumpalons greeted us.
I watched the water for long enough that I convinced myself it was fake, then I walked up and stuck my toe in it. My foot went in and out. “That’s freaky,” I said, and a shiver went up my spine. “What kind of sea doesn’t move at all?”
“Squeak,” said Squeak.
A sea without a Ripple, that’s what.
We needed a way to get out there. A boat. I remembered there had been a few anchored by André’s living tree houses. Maybe we could take one of his boats—
My gaze fell on André’s Silverweft trees.
“No,” I whispered, covering my mouth with my hands.
The majestic Silverweft trees had been burnt and blown down; they lay flat on the sand. I ran to them, holding in my scream. Singed silver leaves covered the beach like coins, and the beautiful interlocking branches poked out of the still water like charred bones. I stopped in the midst of the sad, dead trees.
“Squeak,” said Squeak, by my side in a flash.
“He fought,” I whispered. “André fought him.”
There were no Flimflams. No Sir Tain, no Sir Vant, and no Sir Real. Of the many boats I had seen here last time, only a single rowboat remained unburned, lodged in the lattice of fallen branches.
Squeak surveyed the scene. He blinked his little eyes once, then looked up at me.
I thought about the first time I’d met André, before I even knew his real name, when I told him I wasn’t going to call him “Surreal.” I’d been so enchanted by his home, so eager to learn. And he had believed in me. Despite his worry about my power, he had trusted me.
And then he—not I—had returned my family to me, returned my home to me. He gave up his art to bring them back to Earth, sacrificing what he needed to give me what I needed. And I had repaid him by pretending he wasn’t dying inside.
Now his home was gone, trashed and crumpled in the water like garbage. I hadn’t listened to my friend—truly listened to him—when he needed me. And now there was this.
“I’m doing this wrong,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “People are getting hurt. Because of me. But I-I don’t know what else to do . . .” I looked up at the rip in the sky, and I was scared. I was stumbling around, ripping things apart. If it wasn’t for Squeak, I’d have killed the Wishing World this time to stop Jimmy.
I pulled out my necklace, held Gruffy’s feather up. It was snow-white, so bright it almost didn’t seem real.
“I’m broken and I don’t know why.” I cried quietly. “And I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Squeak,” said Squeak.
I ran my finger along the feather, feeling the softness, and I blew on it. I searched the sky, but no giant griffon appeared to save me, to show me how to be brave and strong, how to do the right thing.
“Squeak,” Squeak said softly, putting his paw on my pant leg.
I wiped my eyes and cleared my throat. “I know. This time, I have to save him.”
We took the boat to Ripple’s island. I rowed and Squeak navigated us up to the marble docks, where a dozen other ships were tied. The water was crystal blue, and the sun shone pale overhead, glinting off white marble towers and glorious arches. Each corner of the giant square palace had a monolithic sculpture that spat water four stories down. A stone Grumpalon, one large pincer raised up to the sky, shot water from his claw. A Swisherswasher, twisted in an elegant corkscrew, blasted water over her flat tail, creating a spray. A giant whale-like creature with curling horns like a ram spouted from the top of his head. The fourth was a seahorse, the waterfall rushing out of her mouth over the walkway that surrounded the palace. Each plunged into their corner of the sea, hitting with the force of tons of water and making . . .
. . . no sound. And no ripples.
“That gives me the heebie jeebies,” I said.
“Squeak,” he said.
The tall archway at the top of the steps was gilded in blue curtains. Blue banners hung from the ramparts overhead.
Nothing looked like how I remembered. Of course, with the storm last time, I hadn’t seen all of the cool things about Ripple’s palace. This time, the high, bright sun revealed it all. And, well, also the last time I’d been here, I kind of tore down the palace, ripped open the sky, and almost destroyed the world.
I should have been happy about the fact that everything was rebuilt and shiny, but the palace felt like a museum, something you couldn’t touch because it wasn’t ever supposed to change. There should have been at least some kind of sound. Seagulls calling to each other. Somebody moving inside. Water sounding like water should.
As we passed through the giant archway into the silent throne room, every step I took sounded like a hammer hitting the ground. The tall coral staircase that led up to her throne was empty, and the pools where Ripple’s friends would rise up to talk with their princess were as still as the water outside.
“Ripple,” I called. My voice echoed off the marble walls. “Vella!”
I went up the coral steps to her polished white wood throne, curved and covered in intricate designs. The back towered high over me, and the elaborate armrests were smooth and just the right distance apart to be comfortable for someone my size. The cushion was blue velvet, and it looked like it had never been sat upon.
“She’s not here,” I said. “Something happened to her.” And the only question was: Was it Jimmy? Or was it something—or someone—else?
Squeak scurried up the leg of the throne. He cocked his head, his nose pointing. “Squeak,” he said.
I came closer. In the very center of the cushion was a single droplet of water. It blended so well with the blue velvet that I hadn’t even noticed it. No way did a drop of water just sit on that fabric without soaking in. No way.
Was it some kind of gem? I reached out and touched it—
It stuck to my finger. I drew a quick breath.
“Squeak,” said Squeak.
I held it up, eye-level. Something moved.
“There’s something inside.” I squinted. It was . . . a person’s face. Blue hair. Blue skin. “Ripple!” The image was so tiny, but it had to be her. It was like a 3D portrait, shifting as I moved my finger back and forth.
The pools of water below were each shaped like one of the creatures that inhabited Ripple’s ocean, and I had the sudden urge to fling the droplet into one of them.
Because that was smart.
No way. I’d lose it forever. I cradled my hand to my chest.
“So you are the one,” a voice said from below. I spun around, searching the room. A girl emerged from the shadows behind the throne. She had wavy brown hair, pale skin and freckles, and she was younger than me, younger even than Theron. Maybe ten. She wore an old-fashioned black dress, white socks, and black shoes with big square buckles on them. She walked forward with her head cocked to the side, looking at me with eyes that were disturbingly large. Her movements were stiff, like she was a living mannequin. And every time she spoke, it was in a monotone.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Lorelei.” I came down from the throne to meet her, hiding the water droplet in my hand.
“I am . . .” She hesitated a moment. “Connie. Connie Cobblestone. Vella told me I should try to not be so serious.” She had a light English accent, but nothing like Vella’s.
Um, okay. “You know Vella? Where is she?” And are you the one who vanished her?
The girl didn’t look powerful, but you didn’t have to look like much to do incredible things in the Wishing World.
“You are the one she was waiting for,” Connie said. “She told me you would come, that you would bring fire to the sky, and that you could help Flicker.”
“Flicker?”
“Squeak,” said Squeak.
“Ah! The missing Fire Princess?” I looked over at Squeak. He nodded in approval. Ripple, water. Flicker, fire.
“I am glad that you are here,” Connie said. I was trying to put a finger on why her speech was strange. It wasn’t just the accent and the monotone. She was . . . formal.
“Well, thank you,” I said, coming down the steps. “I’m glad you’re here, too.” I think. “I’d love to help Flicker. Do you know where Vella is?”
“Vella says that it is important for me to be Flicker.”
Double blank stare with a “what?” on top. I tried to work that through. “You’re Flicker? You’re the Fire Princess? That’s your Doolivanti self?”
“Vella helped me control the fire.”
I blinked. “Which makes you Flicker,” I said. Again.
She shook her head. “Yes.” She gave me a flat smile and nodded. “No.”
Oh, great. Hi, Crazy. Jump in. The water’s warm.