by Laurie McKay
Sir Horace lifted his magnificent head. His nostrils flared, and his ears turned as he listened to birds chirping. Like the proud Galvanian snow stallion he was, Sir Horace showed no remorse.
“Let us ride before night falls,” Caden said.
Near to Rosa’s house, they parted ways. Caden praised Sir Horace for being his impressive horse self, then ordered him to return to the rescue. They would both have to face the consequences of their actions. After Sir Horace’s hoofbeats faded, Caden snuck through the trees and to the edge of Rosa’s yard.
Rosa’s house was careworn and three stories high. She was a metal artist. Her larger works—flowers with sharp, copper petals; a bench formed from iron chains—were scattered among the yard’s swaying green grasses. Her latest work, a horse made from twisted aluminum, steel pipes, and other found objects, stood tall and proud near the drive. The metals glinted in the last rays of the sun and made a clink, clink sound as the wind blew.
Officer Levine stood on the porch. His car sat in the driveway and he wore his uniform. His bushy hair looked damp in the humidity. Rosa stood beside him. Her hair was pulled back and frizzed. Despite her bright-green pants and vibrant purple top, she seemed somber, serious, and tense.
Brynne was right. Both Rosa and Officer Levine seemed weary. Caden had caused them to worry. No doubt he was in the greatest of foster mother trouble. He squared his shoulders and stepped into the yard near the bench.
Rosa saw him in an instant. Suddenly, all the heaviness in her expression, in her stance seemed to fall away, and she rushed to him. “Where have you been?” she said, but she sounded relieved. Before he could answer, she grabbed him into a tight hug.
Officer Levine peered at him, seeming thoughtful. He reached out and squeezed Caden’s shoulder. “I’ll give his brother a call and let him know he’s back,” he said.
“Go ahead,” Rosa said. There was an edge to her voice. Caden was too drained to think much on it. Then she leaned back; her eyes were wide with suspicion. “Where have you been, Caden?”
That was actually easy to answer. “In the woods.”
Her muscles tensed; her brow tightened. “In the woods?”
It was a question, but it sounded like a trap. Truly, Caden should probably keep silent at this point. “I needed time to think,” he said. “With Sir Horace.”
She peered at him as if she could see into his mind. Were all mothers like that, or did Rosa have mind powers? “Hiding in the woods with your horse and telling no one is not acceptable behavior in this house. Do you understand?”
“Not really.”
Rosa’s brow twitched. Her mouth turned to a tight line. “Let’s get out of this heat. We’re going to talk about why you did this, why you won’t do it again, and then we’re going to talk about your punishment.”
Caden raised his chin. He was far from his home. His people were in danger, and he’d been unable to save his scribe. “What can you take from me that hasn’t already been lost?”
Rosa didn’t hesitate. “Your phone,” she said. “Your computer privileges. You can stay inside and study while the others go downtown to play.”
“We don’t play downtown. We scout for information.”
“For the next two weeks, you’re confined to your room.”
As an eighth-born prince, Caden only had to follow commands from his father. Well, during his curse time he had to follow orders from everyone, but only then. Not now. Caden pulled away. “I can escape my room any time I want.”
It was possible Rosa was going to explode. For a moment, she stared at him as her cheeks turned redder and redder. “Then for the next two weeks, you’ll just stay with me.”
It seemed this bad day wasn’t yet over. “You aren’t my mother,” he said.
“But I am your guardian.”
Then she made Caden sit on the green interrogation couch. Officer Levine stood beside her with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed as she scolded Caden. “Do you understand how worried I was?” she said. “Tell me why you didn’t come home and didn’t answer your phone.”
A spring in the couch cushion poked at Caden’s thigh. Even the punishment couch was being difficult. He shifted but held Rosa’s gaze. “When I tell you things, you doubt my royal sanity.”
“Tell me anyway.”
He squared his shoulders. “I watched a man I knew be eaten by a dragon I trusted.” His chin quivered. “And Rath Dunn laughed.”
Rosa looked as unbelieving as Caden expected. “Caden . . .”
He knew she’d doubt him. She always did. One thing about the second queen, wherever she was, she’d believe him about dragons and villains and Rath Dunn. He felt fresh anger heat his cheeks. “That’s what happened. I don’t care if you—” He clamped his mouth shut. It was important that he always be honest. Even when angry. Every muscle in his body felt strained. “You should believe me,” he gritted out.
Officer Levine sat on the coffee table in front of him. “I believe you,” he said.
Rosa turned and narrowed her eyes. When she spoke, her tone was as tight as a guard wire. “I’m not sure that’s helpful, Harold.”
“Maybe we should just hear Caden out?” Officer Levine said. “Most of his tales have had some truth in them, haven’t they?”
Some truth? “All my tales are true.”
Officer Levine leaned in and whispered, “Just work with me here, son.”
Rosa let out a slow exhale and sat beside Caden. She reached out as if to take his hand. When he jerked away, she redirected and put her arm around his shoulders. Immediately, she went still. “You’re shaking, Caden.”
Caden glared at her. “I’m fine.”
Rosa pulled him closer. For a moment, they sat together in silence. Then she let out a long, slow exhale. Her voice was firm and gentle when she spoke. “What is it you need from me?”
What did Caden need? He needed Scribe Trevor not to be eaten, Rath Dunn not to be principal. He needed his sixth-born brother, Chadwin, alive; and he needed Jasan cleared of his murder. He wanted to know why the second queen left. Rosa couldn’t give him any of those things.
Caden crossed his arms. “I need you not to punish me.” He knew he sounded angry and challenging, but he felt that way, so he cared not. “I need my phone and my computer privileges. I need not to be grounded.”
Officer Levine looked from Caden to Rosa. He seemed unsure of what to think, unsure of how Rosa would respond.
She’d asked, though. So Caden had told her. If she truly wished to make him feel better, she could. It probably wasn’t fair that Caden was mad at her. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure why the brunt of his emotions seemed directed at his foster mother, but they were, and he wasn’t one for hiding such things. He held her gaze. She studied him for a long moment as if weighing his words with care.
“Okay,” Rosa said.
Okay? Was she agreeing to his terms? Caden blinked at her. “I won’t be punished?”
Rosa nodded. “Not today.”
This was unexpected, and Caden was unsure how to react. Then he decided the best course of action was to make further demands. “I also need to go to my room.”
Rosa moved her arm from around his shoulders. “If that’s what you need.”
It was getting difficult to stay mad at her when she was being so accommodating. He felt his brows crease. Sometimes, he didn’t understand Rosa at all. Then he thought of another even better demand. “I need you to believe me,” Caden said.
On that Rosa hesitated. In a careful tone she said, “I believe that you believe.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I’m sorry,” Rosa said.
“I believe you, son,” Officer Levine said. “If you need to go upstairs, why don’t you go rest and let me and Rosa talk.”
Rosa turned to Officer Levine with an expression that could wither flowers. After all, in this household, Rosa was in charge. With a raise of brow, Officer Levine seemed to realize he’d pulled rank. He
cleared his throat. “If, of course, that’s all right with Rosa.”
She turned back to Caden. “Call me if you need anything else.”
Caden was tired and deflated, and the springs in the punishment couch were pinching him again. “As you wish.” He stood up and trudged to the stairs. As he neared the second floor, he heard Officer Levine say, “I think you did the right thing, not punishing him.”
“He was trembling,” Rosa said. “If he says he needs not to be punished, that’s something I can give him right now.”
Caden hovered near the landing and listened.
“According to him, he witnessed a man killed at the school,” Officer Levine said. “This is serious. We need to find out exactly what happened today.”
“Harold,” Rosa said, and she sounded completely drained. “I hope you don’t believe his stories.”
“I’ve seen some strange things lately, and I think he witnessed something bad today.” Rosa must have glowered, because Officer Levine added, “I’m saying we should keep an open mind, that’s all.”
Caden trekked upstairs to the attic bath-closet. No, he would not call it a bathroom. It didn’t deserve that title; it was too small. As he hung up his coat on the back of the door, he noticed a soot smudge near the shoulder. That was where Scribe Trevor had placed his hand. He stared for a moment, then quickly brushed it off. He didn’t want to see it.
Once clean and dressed in his nightclothes, he went to the attic room he shared with Tito. They utilized a line of black tape to divide the room into Caden’s well-kept, clean side and Tito’s cluttered, books-and-clothes-strewn side.
Some of their classmates teased Tito about his crooked smile and asymmetrical face. Rosa said Tito’s appearance was striking. In Caden’s royal opinion, it was a fitting description.
As soon as Caden entered the attic, however, he felt exposed. Not only was Tito there, sitting cross-legged on his bed, Brynne and Jane were also in the room. They sat on Caden’s bed, crumpling his orange-and-pink quilt. Beside the open attic window stood Caden’s seventh-born brother, Jasan. By far, Caden was most surprised by him.
All four stared at Caden.
Brynne spoke first. Her hair was short and dark and had only begun to grow out. Her silvery eyes made her look like the sorceress she was. In her black pajamas, she also seemed a bit wicked. “You look terrible, prince.”
Caden looked nothing but royal and fine. Still. “It’s been a terrible day.”
“We were worried about you,” Jane said. “Are you okay?”
Though Jane was born in Asheville, she was half elf and an enchantress of metals. She often let her shoulder-length hair cover her ears. Sometimes Caden wondered if she was self-conscious about their pointed tips.
“I’m as good as I can be.”
Tito raised his brows, his mouth dipped into his lopsided frown. “Well, that’s great. You kinda freaked us all out today.”
Caden’s attention, though, wandered from his foster brother to his blood brother. Jasan wore Ashevillian clothes instead of his Elite Paladin uniform: a light-blue button-down shirt over a white T-shirt and gray slacks. It seemed he approved of running shoes, because he wore those as well.
His jaw was clenched. As were his fists. His hair and eyes were a golden color that shone in lamplight like ember fire. With quick steps, he stomped to Caden. “You should have contacted me.” He spoke in English so it seemed Brynne’s spell remained active. “You’d better explain.”
First Rosa was mad, now Jasan. Caden bristled. “To be fair,” he said, “I didn’t contact anyone, and I was fine.”
“This isn’t the first time you’ve disappeared,” Jasan said.
Surely, Jasan couldn’t be mad at him for getting stranded in Asheville. Caden hadn’t wanted to be snared by a spell. Unless Jasan meant the time Caden had gotten lost in the catacombs. But he’d entered them to save his cat. Come to think of it, he’d also been missing once after falling into a crater wasp nest.
None of these was intentional. “I never intend to get lost.”
“Today you could have called, and not been lost.”
Rosa had said something similar, although she’d said it nicer. Caden felt too spent to try to find an excuse. “I didn’t think about it.”
It seemed to take the depths of Jasan’s inner strength not to hit something. Or someone. Likely, it was Caden he wanted to wallop. When he raised his hand, however, he didn’t strike out. He put it under Caden’s chin and examined him closely.
Silver paper clips wound around Jasan’s wrist. Jane had imbued the clips with magic, and Caden saw her craning her neck to get a better glimpse of her work. They were enchanted to bind things together. Without them, Jasan’s hand would fall off. It had been lopped off by Rath Dunn and his blood dagger, so it was imperative that the paper clips do their job and bond Jasan’s hand to his arm. If they failed, Jasan would bleed out, and bleed out fast. Looking at them made Caden’s gut twist.
Jasan’s scowl deepened, and he likely noticed Caden’s dismay. “Tell me what happened.”
It was a story Caden no longer wanted to tell. But his friends, his brother, needed to know. Rath Dunn had fed a man to Ms. Primrose. He rarely did anything solely for his sick amusement. Rath Dunn always acted with purpose, and his actions surely could be connected to the four-part spell. The scene in the office had also left Caden wondering just how much control the despicable despot had over Ms. Primrose. Caden began to fear it was more than he’d first realized, more than simply usurping her as principal.
“It was Scribe Trevor,” Caden said. “He’d been banished.” As Caden summarized the events of the morning, Jasan’s face fell into shadow, and Tito took notes in his green binder.
As Caden came to the end of his tale, Tito looked up from his work with high concern. “So she ate the poor guy?” he said.
“Not his feet,” Caden said.
Brynne crinkled her nose. “Eww.”
Jasan started to pace back and forth. The attic floor creaked with each angry step. “I don’t like that Rath Dunn used you as a witness to such treachery,” Jasan growled. “I should find him and end him. I’ll cut him off at his boots.”
That would likely end badly for Jasan. Rath Dunn had many allies and much protection. As Rosa did earlier, he looked like he might explode. “No, Jasan,” Caden said. “He’s protected by villainous teachers and an Elderdragon.”
Jasan never liked being told not to kill someone. He narrowed his eyes but then closed them and appeared to be counting silently to ten. It seemed to take great inner strength not to detonate, and it was best to let Jasan be while he de-escalated.
Caden turned to the others. Maybe what Scribe Trevor said would help them. “Before Trevor was eaten, he said that he’d found runes for ritual contact indicating a connection on Archer’s day.”
Brynne wrinkled her brow.
Jane broke the silence. “Caden,” she said, and brushed her hair behind her ear, “what’s Archer’s day?”
“It’s the middle day in the fifth moon,” Caden said.
“In the Greater Realm, Archer’s day wouldn’t yet have passed, but it should be soon,” Brynne said. She blinked and looked upward as if numbers and facts flashed in front of her. “Well, there are three hundred and seventy days in a Greater Realm turn,” she said. “There are only three hundred and sixty-five in a year here. Is that right, Sir Tito?”
Tito looked up from his notebook. “Yeah. Usually.”
Usually? “What does that mean?” Caden said.
“Some years have three hundred and sixty-six days,” Tito said. “Not this one, though.”
“I see,” Caden said.
“We should be able to convert days here to days there.” Brynne moved so she sat next to Tito.
They discussed hours and inter-realm calendar conversions while Caden and Jane waited. Jasan kept counting. It seemed ten numbers weren’t enough to quell his temper. After a moment, Tito and Brynne seemed to come to a conc
lusion.
“September twenty-second,” Tito said. “Thirty days from now.”
“That day on this realm’s calendar correlates to Archer’s day on ours,” Brynne said.
Jasan was listening now. His eyes were open again, and he seemed deep in thought.
Tito tapped his pen against his green notebook. “You said planet and moons all were important in magic, right? September twenty-second is the fall equinox.” Tito looked at Caden, then at Jasan, and seemed to decide that they didn’t understand. Which Caden didn’t. So bravo to Sir Tito. “During the equinox,” Tito said, “night and day are the same length. Happens twice a year.”
Not only did the seasons change in Asheville, so did the amount of light each day. “Every day has equal night and day in the Greater Realm,” Caden said.
“Sounds boring,” Tito said.
Caden ignored that comment. Tito was simply defensive of his strange realm’s celestial fallacies. “Your seasons and days don’t make sense. That’s all.”
Tito sighed, set his notebook down, then reached over and grabbed one of his books. He opened it to a page with a picture of a slanted sphere. “It’s because the world is tilted on its axis, bro. See?”
“Ah,” Caden said. The seasons and day lengths were strange in Asheville because the planet wasn’t placed correctly. “Indeed,” he said. “I see.”
“Yeah,” Tito mumbled. “I’m not sure you do.” He reached for his green notebook again, but it was gone, lost to the much quicker hands of Jasan. Jasan held it up toward the light and squinted at the pages.
“Hey! That’s mine,” Tito said.
Jasan ignored his outrage. “What are all these notes about?”
Tito reached out as if he wanted to grab his notebook back. “It’s all the information we’ve learned about the spell so far.”
“As well as some theories about how it will work,” Brynne added.
Those two had done some work during the summer when they weren’t eating ice cream. They sent him texts with pictures of large cones while Caden was in school and they were supposed to be investigating the spell. Caden had forgotten about that but decided to let it go. Rosa had pardoned Caden; Caden would pardon the ice cream.
