The Midnight Before Me

by Elizabeth Lo

I start to move, but then freeze when I realize someone’s still in the room with me. In the shadowy corner of the wall, eerily watching me.

  Silver eyes meet mine from his secluded corner, and I shiver. He has such an unnoticeable presence that even when standing in broad daylight, it took me a few seconds to acknowledge him.

  “Could you not… um… stare at me?” I ask, looking away, but I still manage to catch some details.

  Mildly tall, with typical Frost features, though I can barely see his hair tucked into a cap. Maybe slightly older than me. The cap looks familiar… Isn’t he the thief from town?

  “That was fast,” he remarks. “Most people notice me after ten or twenty minutes, but, as expected from a magician such as yourself, you can find me easily.”

  He changes to a threatening demeanor almost instantly with the flick of his eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” He says in a lowered tone of voice.

  “I um… was traveling… to Berningdale,” I say. “To…”

  “Oh? Right. You’re that girl.”

  His words make my stomach twist.

  “I’m not sure I have any business with you,” I stammer.

  “I think you should.”

  “…What do you have to do with this?”

  He looks taken aback, but he regains his composure as fast as he lost it. I can already tell he’s going to be a strange one.

  “Ah, right. You don’t know.”

  “What?”

  He pulls down his hood and takes off his cap to reveal… a telltale sheen in his silver hair. Like before. Like mine. As if it’s coated in the thinnest layer of metal.

  The tin-haired person mock bows and says, “My name is Artemis Frost, last in line to the throne. Pleased to make your acquaintance, cousin.”

  I guess I can take it that I’m supposed to be here.

  “Cousin…?”

  “Yup. Son of Glorieux Dolce Frost and your uncle, Soren Archer Frost.”

  Oh, he’s one of those who likes throwing around his lineage… is what I think until I get a good look at his face when he says it. His eyes blink and dart off to the side. Is that… shame?

  Glorieux Frost, former Queen of Galviton; that’s easy. But who is Soren? I didn’t even know I had an uncle. But if Artemis is telling the truth, wouldn’t that make him an illegitimate child? In fact, considering both of his parents are Frosts (because I know my mom had nothing but white hair, so her brother should be the same)… why does he still have a silvery sheen in his hair reminiscent of a Thunder?

  “How do I know if you’re telling the truth?” I ask.

  His mouth twitches.

  “I… can’t really prove it to you,” he says. “But. You’ll just have to trust me on this.”

  Things keep getting weirder and weirder it seems…. But right now, the Royal affairs and my blood relations are not high on my investigative priority list.

  “Sucre,” I say into the air.

  Artemis straightens back up with a cocky expression.

  “I introduce myself to you, and then you say someone else’s name in response?”

  He laughs a little, but it’s an empty laughter. A lot of things about this guy seem empty.

  “I’m sorry. But I still have no idea where I am or what my relation to you is… And—Sucre?”

  A yawn sounds in my mind, as if he’s purposefully trying to tell me that he was sleeping.

  What, what, Midnight? …what took you so long? You slept for hours…

  “That’s not the point. What happened? Where am I?”

  Artemis is trying to hold in his laughter from the other side of the room.

  “A mansion,” Artemis answers. “You’re in Phelix Aroma’s mansion. And Phelix is the magician you will meet for your magic lessons. Didn’t you know that when you came here?”

  “How do you know about that…?”

  “I live here. News travels fast, Midnight.”

  I nod. “I see. Um… Well, it was nice meeting you. But I’m going to talk to Sucre for a second.”

  “Okay, okay,” he says.

  Midnight. Have you gotten rid of your other body yet? Sucre says in my head, breaking my attention away from Artemis. I can see the toll it’s taking on you. Plus, it’s kind of confusing because now I sense you here but also… there…

  “You can sense my other body even from here?”

  Of course, I can. I can’t do your human Teleportation and Telekinesis stuff, but at least I can sense quite a lot of magic, you know. Oh, well, I guess I can Teleport if it’s big enough for me to catch onto… but that’s a different story…

  Before I can say anything else, the door opens with a click and in comes none other than Annabelle Aroma, the seemingly clueless yet deadly girl from town.

  I scoot to the edge of the bed closest to the window.

  She waves me off.

  “No need to worry about me. We’ve confirmed your identity.”

  It’s a little hard to not confirm my identity…

  “Art-y,” she says cheerily, her entire demeanor changing like a snap of fingers. She’s a girl of many faces. “Burton made your favorite…”

  “Um…” I accidentally interrupt her. “I have a question.”

  She turns to me with the same bright smile.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Why did you need to do that whole… pickpocket scheme to bring me here?”

  “Oh!” she says, clapping her hands together. “For fun, I guess. Well… According to Phelix, our guest would be someone who will save the country. So… I wanted to see what sort of person this is.”

  “I see.” I give her my own warm smile back. It’s been a while since I’ve used it. “How’d I do?”

  “There isn’t really a ‘good score’ in this case.” Her eyes shift a little again. “But… if I had to choose who to entrust the country with, it wouldn’t really be you.”

  “Aw…” I peer at the corner of the room to hide my satisfaction. “Why?”

  “You’re just… not the type of person that should be put to this job, I guess,” she says, her smile wilting for a second. “You’re too… young… and unprepared.”

  “Well, some things just can’t be perfect in this world, I suppose,” I say.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she says. She opens her mouth to say more, but stops halfway through the word and says, “You’ll learn more in just a second.”

  I try and fail to look back at her. My heart skips a beat again when I see the two pairs of eyes watching me. I wish I could stop myself from becoming nervous because I want to ask her, “learn more what?” or “what sort of person would be better for the job?” But the limits of my social capabilities have been reached already.

  Both Artemis and Annabelle look at me. It’s that look again. That distant, pitying look… Eyes that can’t see me. Eyes that make the world slant and the only thing I can look at is those eyes staring, staring, staring…

  A wave of nausea hits me. My head starts pounding, and the air is stuffy in this room. If I don’t get out quick, I might feel more sick. I need air—fresh, moving air. Quick…

  The sheets rustle. My hands fumble in front of me, finding a latch on the window. Yellow and blue patterns dance across my vision, and the world starts turning a shade of dark gray.

  “Hey! What are you—”

  The latch swings open, and I tumble out of the window.

  The fall causes blood to rush to my head. I almost black out for a split second, but as I’m flying down, the gust of wind sends a thrill through me and drowns out the yells of Artemis and Annabelle as they try to call me back.

  I suppose to them, it must look like something’s not right with my head. And… they wouldn’t be far off, now that I think about it.

  The ground flies into view too fast. My bare feet touch the ground just as my stomach starts to growl. My body was slightly energized from the unplanned rest and the sudden whoosh of wind, but I’ve eaten nothing so far and am still
starving. The fastest I can move is a speed walk as I head along the side of the building to see if I can get my bearings. Well… at least I’m outside now. Outside of the stuffy artwork room with staring eyes. I can hear the two of them still talking, but their voices get quieter to the point of silence—most likely heading down the stairs to come after me or go get the Phelix guy.

  It seems they weren’t kidding when they said I’m in a mansion. It’s the same mansion that I saw from the carriage before Annabelle knocked me out. The place is sizable; the grounds are enormous. There’s a thick bunch of trees lining the outskirts of the property, making the place seem blocked off from the world, even though, if I squint, I can see the little town just down the hill of this upraised, castle-like mansion. Civilization seems acres away.

  Somehow, after following the wall for a while, I find myself in a beautiful, blooming garden. Despite the brooding trees on the outskirts, at least this place seems to glow. Little beds of flowers of all shapes and colors dot the expanse with a nice little cobbled path winding through like a flowing stream of well-placed pebbles; there’s not a leaf out of place.

  Sucre, where are you? I ask as I begin to wander the garden, soaking in the air and, therefore, the magic. We need to talk.

  Fine. What is it?

  What’s going on? I ask.

  Oooooh, right. You were knocked out by Annabelle when we got here… Yeah, I forgot… Well… Welcome to Phelix Aroma’s mansion, the Berningdale Estate. It’s pretty far out to the southwest of Galviton—almost touching the southern border in fact.

  You… knew about Annabelle all along? I ask. I can still remember her arm wrapped around my neck like it just happened seconds ago… Was that just a security protocol?

  Well, I didn’t expect to meet her so soon, but yes, I was expecting to see her at some point in time, given she’s usually sent to investigate visitors. They’re not… very trusting for… quite a lot of reasons, actually. Annabelle knocked you out in order to safely identify you just in case. They don’t like to reveal their location so easily, and getting here without an escort is difficult even for me. Just trust me, you’re not in any danger here.

  How do I know I can trust you, I project, when you don’t even tell me everything I need to know?

  I do tell you everything you need to know, he insists. You just don’t need to know everything at the moment.

  Then what about this, I say testily. You say Glorieux is the main reason why I need to break the curse… so where is she right now? I know she’s still alive, but…

  Hanbury, he cuts me off. She’s in Hanbury for sure. But I’m not sure why or what she’s doing.

  Oh. I didn’t expect him to actually answer so confidently.

  Don’t question the all-knowing nuagepanthère, he huffs haughtily in my head. Anyway, you’ll be meeting Phelix any minute now for your magic lesson… By the way, are you sitting in his garden?

  And just as he finishes asking a voice croaks a few feet away from me.

  “You there! What are you doing in my garden?”

  A vibrant orange flower stares me in the face as an old man, whom I can only presume is Phelix Aroma, storms up to me. I can feel his magic presence before I can even hear his footsteps click on the cobble.

  He’s not an Aroma; he’s a Ronumese. Dressed a long, red robe that billows in the wind and a cone hat that looks like it got cut off halfway up. It’s almost uncanny how it looks like he stepped straight out of a Ronumese history textbook. He even has a long red beard to complete the picture.

  When I look up at him, he instantly stops in his place. I expect him to reprimand me for trudging around in his garden, but instead, his face transforms to shock as he stares at me. I almost knock my nose in the flower from looking away from him so fast. Is there something on my face?

  “What are you doing in my garden?” he repeats.

  Immediately, I bounce up and brush my renewed clothes off.

  “Um… sorry… I just thought your flowers were really pretty…”

  His expression changes again. His surprise has passed, and he seems more angry now. Out of all of the people I’ve encountered since yesterday, his stare makes me the most uncomfortable. I can’t even tell what color his eyes are yet because the highest I’ve seen of him is his chin.

  “Don’t you know not to traipse around people’s property without permission? Good God… Now then,” he begins. “Stop putting your face in my marigold and come with me. We’ll head to my office and start your lessons immediately. Sucre has told me all about you.”

  A hand whips out from those two long sleeves, and he tows me along with a firm grip on my wrist to the large marble patio leading into a back door.

  “Come on, uh… Twilight? …was your name? Let’s head to my study.”

  Is he purposely avoiding my name? There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t quite put my finger on what.

  But in we head, through his incredibly elaborate house. The hallways, just like that room before, are lined with more beautifully carved mahogany wood and walls of the same pale cream from that previous room with floral designs hand painted onto them. The hallway carpet is soft and fluffy under my feet, dyed a rich red with gold patterns.

  I forget which way we turned and what doors we passed because I marvel a little too long at the sheer craftsmanship that went into every little detail in this place.

  Eventually, the magician lets go of me to open several doors and climb a few staircases, and then finally we reach his office—one of the only rooms above the fourth floor apparently. The room itself is an octagon; every other wall is a window and the walls between them are bookshelves, with the exception of one for the door. Ruby red curtains line the windows, but most of them are squished by the towering stacks of books. If I turn a certain direction, I can see the entire expanse of the red-tiled roof. And if I look to the other side, I can see over the line of nearby trees into the endless forest with the exception of a small town close by which I presume is Berningdale.

  “Now, you, let’s make this quick…”

  His movements around his study are aggressive. I’m surprised he doesn’t break anything as he shoves papers off his desk and checks a few books that were buried underneath.

  “Let’s see…” he mutters. “Ah.”

  He hands me a cluster of crumpled papers before fluttering back to his messy desk.

  The snap of a book makes me jolt.

  “All right. Let’s get onto it, Midnight.” Phelix pushes his sleeves up and straightens his cap.

  Now he uses my name…?

  His eyes rake the room, and I almost duck to avoid them.

  “So,” he starts. “This magic lesson will be a little… strange, as I can’t demonstrate anything to you at all. Most of this will be me telling you the theory of the action, and you just comprehending it. Thus, it is absolutely imperative you understand everything.”

  “All right…?” I stammer.

  “Take a seat,” he says, settling in a chair at his desk.

  I sit in a plush brown chair directly facing him. It’s only a little uncomfortable, but I don’t really mind… A click of something goes off in my mind. Why does facing him like this send chills down my spine?

  He takes a sip from a steaming cup, then begins.

  “So I’m sure you already know the traditional curse-breaking methods… Deplete your magic somehow without dying, overpower the curse one day, et cetera. But there is another way to break a curse using your Arimean eyes.”

  Arimean. It’s been a while since I’ve heard them called that. I believe Arimea’s the place where the idea of my eyes were created. I remember my parents told me about it…

  “Using your magic specifically,” he continues. “You will basically focus your energy on a cursed person, object, or area, and move the active curse onto some other host such as yourself.”

  “Wait—move to myself?”

  “Yes. Anyway—”

  “So in this method,�
� I cut in. “I’ll be transferring actual effects of curses?”

  I didn’t even think that was possible.

  “Correct,” he says, slightly annoyed now at my interruptions. “You only need to nod if you understand, girl. Anyway, with your eyes—I don’t know if you’ve tried already—but you can activate a different… vision. A filter, per se. I believe it’s called ‘True Sight’—which I hope to God you learned before this. You are able to see magic and you can also distinguish between souls, magic energy, active spells, curses, and enchantments. When you activate True Sight, you—only you—can actually control magic itself. Because you basically are part magic itself, as I hope Sucre at least established before pushing everything onto me…

  “Before you say anything, by the way, no, you can’t just transfer this countrywide curse to the closest rock or whatever. A curse can only be transferred onto the same type of host it was originally in. For example, if you cursed a single person, you could potentially concentrate the curse onto a small organ in his body—you would ‘fix’ him, but create an Achilles heel at the same time. So for this curse specifically, it has to be on a person. And, no, you’re not escaping and concentrating this curse onto someone else. You will become the Achilles heel, understood?”

  “Why does it have to be me?” …is what I wanted to say but since he doesn’t seem particularly pleased with my interjections and questions, I nod like he told me to. I can still feel his gaze hot on my head like the laser dot of a sniper scope; provoking him is out of the question.

  I at least know about True Sight. Or rather, I discovered it accidentally during Black’s hanging—when my vision went into a fuchsia filter.

  “What do you mean by transferring its effects?” I decide to ask, since it seems to pertain to the subject matter of his lecture. I do my best to ignore the way he’s speaking to me, but when he looks at me, I feel like I’m supposed to be inferior.

  “It means whatever effects were on a sufferer move all to you.”

  “Does that mean—”

  He cuts me off with a stern look and a wave of his hand.

  “Don’t ask unnecessary questions, you. You only need to know how to do it—what happens to you afterwards will be in the hands of God. At least you’re finally learning some of this stuff…”