by Laurie McKay
Tito, however, seemed to be having trouble deciding if he was frightened or angry. Anger won out for a moment. “What do you care?”
“When you sneak out in the middle of the night, I care. You could’ve been hurt.” Rosa’s cheek twitched. She closed her eyes and appeared to be counting. “Explain to me what you think you were doing.”
An order. “We were looking for clues to Jane Chan’s disappearance,” Caden said.
That seemed to drain her. “Jane ran away.”
“She wouldn’t have done that,” Tito said. “You always believe the worst. You’re no different from anybody else! You don’t care.” As soon as the words burst out, Tito’s eyes got big and he snapped his mouth shut.
Suddenly, the purple robe looked weighty on her shoulders and she sagged beneath its heft. “I care,” she said.
Tito turned away. “Right, sure. Whatever.”
For a moment, the living room was as silent as a gnomish burial mound. Rosa looked between them and rubbed her brow. “We’ll talk about this in the morning. Go to bed. Don’t let this happen again.”
“It might,” Caden said. If he survived the next day, he guessed the likelihood was quite high, actually. Especially without the curse forcing his compliance. “I have to comply for now, but make no promises for later.”
Rosa’s expression turned to forged steel. “That’s it,” she said. She pushed her purple sleeves to her elbow. “You’re both grounded for the rest of the week.”
Wait. What? “What?” Caden said. “Grounding? You jest.”
“Do I sound like I’m jesting?”
No, she didn’t. She sounded the opposite. Suddenly, Tito’s fear made sense. Caden paled.
Grounding was a common punishment in Gram, a small kingdom on the northern border of the Autumnlands. The guilty were staked to the dirt and left to the mercy of nature and wild beasts. Sometimes they were grounded for days, sometimes long enough that their bodies grew cold and their skin slinked from their bones. Gleaming white skeletons, patches of red fire flowers, and roving flesh-eating Porter dogs made the Gram grounding fields look like a moving red and white corpse sea.
Caden had little hope of surviving staked to the cold Asheville ground. The dogs—or whatever horrible beasts roamed this land—would devour him, if the cold didn’t kill him first. It was common knowledge royal meat was the tastiest. Truth be told, he’d rather die in hopeless combat with Rath Dunn. At least there would be honor in that.
“Can this grounding start in two days?”
“No,” she said. “It starts now.”
“This is why you should learn to shut up,” Tito mumbled.
Tito, too, would die unless the beasts ignored him for more succulent offerings. They’d eat the untasty seconds that was Tito after they had the royal feast that was Caden.
Caden had been certain Rosa was better than this, certain she wouldn’t hurt him or Tito. “Why are you doing this?”
“Your behavior has consequences.”
Maybe he had to do what she said, but he wouldn’t be tethered down to die in silence. He thought of the worst insult he could. “You’re no better than mother goblin fodder.”
Rosa blinked at him like she was thinking on the meaning. Caden thought it would have been obvious. When she said, “Make it two weeks,” he decided he was right.
Tito sank down into the cushions and stared at his lap.
There was no reason for them both to perish. Caden pushed his anger away and tried to sound convincing. He tried to use the cadence of speech that generally got him his way. “This isn’t necessary,” he said.
“Don’t try that tone with me.”
“We won’t survive.”
For a minute, she said nothing. When she did speak, she sounded decidedly wary. “Caden, tell me what you think grounding is.”
By the time he finished, she’d pulled her lips into a worried frown. “I would never do that to you,” she said. Then she looked straight at Tito and her expression softened. “And I’m not going to send you away. Either of you. But no television or computer for a week.”
Since Caden still wasn’t clear on the value of either of those things, that was hardly a punishment.
Caden lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling. Tito was quiet—too quiet to be asleep. Why did he think Rosa was going to send them away? If Caden understood Asheville grounding, the punishment involved spending more hours in her home.
Caden cleared his throat. “You’re mistaken,” he said.
For a moment, there was no answer. Then, “About what?”
“She’s not going to get rid of you. She said so.”
“This isn’t the first place I’ve been dumped.” Tito sounded wrecked, far worse than the situation required. “People say lots of things. Doesn’t mean they mean it. Besides, Jane was her favorite and look how quickly she gave up on her.”
“You’ve been here three years. Obviously, Rosa means it.”
“Look, you wouldn’t understand.” Tito huffed and flipped over. “Nobody wants an ugly kid.”
Caden understood many things. He understood what it was to not be as good, or as strong, or as trusted as his brothers. He understood what it was to be sent away by a parent. Caden leaned back and took great care with his next question. “And you’re the ugly kid?”
“What do you think?”
“I think no.”
Tito was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was more even. “Stop trying to make me feel better.” Shrewdly, he added. “Stop now.”
Before Caden could respond, he heard impatient knocking on one of the windows—the one beside the remaining, loosely connected, frail drainpipe. The same one he’d deemed unsafe to climb up or down.
“Ten bucks says that’s your girlfriend,” Tito said.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The window pane rattled. Caden rushed over, pushed the window open. Snow rushed in, and he pulled Brynne inside. First, she’d fallen into a magic trap, now she risked her life on an unsafe entry point.
Suddenly, Tito looked panicked by the racket. “You know, we’re already grounded. If Rosa finds out about this . . .”
“She won’t,” Caden said to him. To Brynne, he said, “That was reckless.”
The room flooded with chilled air. Outside, the drainpipe swayed in the wind, two loose latches clutched to the house like failing lifelines. Caden shivered as he closed the window.
Brynne brushed damp snow from her shoulders and hair and looked around the room. “I’m tired of sleeping in the cold. Besides, we’re allies. We need to stay together.”
Tito was looking toward the door to the stairway. When no footfalls fell, no yell from Rosa sounded, he seemed to relax a little. “Allies?” Tito said, and seemed to be forcing himself to sound calm. “Is that what you call it in your fantasy world?”
Brynne smiled. “You, too, are part of this now.”
Tito seemed to consider, and his sympathy for cold, snow-covered Brynne seemed to overcome his fear of getting into more trouble. He let out a loud, put-upon sigh. “Fine.” He pushed off his purple blankets, reached between two stacks of books, and pulled out a roll of shiny black tape. “I’ll divide the room in three.” For a moment, his fear showed once more. “But pull up the tape in the morning—don’t let Rosa find you.”
“She won’t.”
Ten minutes later, Caden sat on the mismatched rugs and tugged his coat around him. “I’m the one who’s going to die tomorrow. I should get one of the beds,” he said.
Brynne laughed her sweet tinkling laugh. “You agreed to this,” she said.
“I would never agree to the lesser third of the room. You ordered me!”
“You’re not going to die tomorrow,” she said. “Tito’s right. If Rath Dunn wanted to kill you, he would have already. He didn’t do anything to you.”
“He complimented my coat,” Caden said.
“That doesn’t sound threatening.”
“Make no mistak
e, it was a threat. He recognized the Winterbird. He knows I am from Razzon, the land of his enemies.”
There was a part of Caden—a logical part beneath his bravado and fear—that whispered Tito and Brynne were right. An efficient killer like Rath Dunn would have destroyed him right away if that was his intent. That didn’t explain why the man lacked that intent. That didn’t stop the other part of his mind—the part that was instinct and emotion—from causing his gut to churn and his palms to sweat. There was danger in the school. There were other fates as terrible as death. Maybe he needed Caden alive for a purpose more sinister than a gruesome death.
“If we want to find out how we arrived here and where Tito’s enchantress is, you need to face him.” Despite Brynne’s careless tone, she looked worried. “We need to know why we’re here.” With a small voice, she added, “If we know that, maybe we can find our way home.”
His tongue itched. He wanted to say “my demise will be your fault” but he didn’t want her feeling any guiltier than she did. He didn’t want her taking more unnecessary risks like climbing insecure drainpipes.
Outside, the world was dark, but the hours until dawn dwindled. Caden turned to the purple lump on the other side of the room. “Tito, if the worst happens, I expect you to carry on my quest, slay all dragons you find, and save your Jane.”
“Um . . . okay.” Tito’s words were interrupted by a yawn. “I know something that will help. I order you to quit yapping and sleep,” he said. “Right now.”
Next thing Caden knew, it was morning. It was time for school.
If Caden were to die, he’d do so neatly dressed. Truth be told, he was beginning to like some of the colorful clothes Rosa had bought him. For school he chose his pink shirt, the so-called jeans, and his coat. He examined his reflection and added a belt.
Tito wore a faded black sweater and jeans. He glanced at Caden and scrunched up his nose. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“I don’t complain about your sloppy, colorless wardrobe.”
“No, not at all.”
Tito sighed and ran his hands through his too-long hair. “I’m trying to help here. You can’t wear that to school. That’s a girl’s shirt.”
“Not when I wear it,” Caden said.
Brynne yawned and sat up. Her hair was still perfect, her clothes still spotless. “I like the pink shirt—”
“Quiet,” Tito hissed.
Brynne arched a brow. “Excuse me?”
“You have to be quiet until Rosa leaves for the gallery.”
“Or?” Brynne said, and she sounded distinctly displeased.
It seemed Tito had no sense of self-preservation because he said, “Or else.”
When Caden talked to her like that, she lashed out. Her temper was like her magic—quick, powerful, and hard to control. No good would come from Tito also getting cursed. He stepped between them. “Rath Dunn doesn’t know about you,” Caden told her. “It needs to stay that way.”
She deflated at that, likely thinking of what vengeance he’d wreak if he knew how big a role her family had played in his capture and banishment. She snuggled down into the bed. “Tread carefully today, prince.” With a forgiving smirk, she added, “You too, peasant.”
“I’ve survived lots of math classes,” Tito said, but he grew somber. He seemed unsure. “You really think he might have Jane?”
Caden folded his night clothes and put them away. When he turned back, he held Tito’s gaze. “He’s an evil man who is capable of great treachery.”
“Do you think she’s okay?”
Caden looked to Brynne for help with the question, but she’d turned away.
“Well?” Tito said.
“If she is indeed an enchantress, then she’s valuable. He’d be a fool to hurt her, and he’s no fool.”
Ashevillian cars and trucks lined up in the school’s drive. Caden felt the engine of Rosa’s truck rev as they inched uphill. The snow had left the lawn with patches of white and the building icy. In the gray morning, the school’s stone walls were difficult to distinguish from those of the mountains behind it.
When it was their turn to get out, Caden took a deep breath and left the warmth of the vehicle. The chill in the air was sharp. Tito grabbed his pack and tossed Caden the one Rosa had just bought him. Caden considered his pack. It had more pockets than his satchel. The pack, at least, seemed useful.
Before he could turn toward the school and face his fate, Rosa called to him. “Meet with Ms. Primrose before classes, Caden.”
Caden glanced back at her. “As you wish,” he said. So far this curse was inconvenient, but it could prove deadly. Once the school’s heavy double doors closed behind him, he ducked away from Tito and past the office. He’d do as told. He had no choice. He’d meet with Ms. Primrose before classes—just not right away. First, he’d scout out his enemy.
Caden was within spear-tossing distance of the math room when the scent of roses drifted down the hall. The soft tap-tap of ladies’ shoes echoed on the gritty tiles. Ms. Primrose stepped around the corner a moment later, her clothes abloom with yellow flowers.
“Caden, dear, this isn’t where you’re supposed to be.” With a soft tsk-tsk, she shook her head and pinched her lips. “Come along, it’s time you learned to read.”
Without the ability to rebel, he followed her to a room in the opposite hall. She looked him over as she knocked on the door. “My, my, don’t you look spiffy today.”
“I look spiffy every day,” he informed her.
That seemed to amuse her, and her amusement seemed to surprise her.
The room they entered was filled with computers. Three other people were inside—an older gentleman with bright white hair, a pudgy girl with overly pale skin and thick spectacles, and a boy with brown skin and a serious manner.
“Mr. McDonald,” Ms. Primrose said, “this is Caden, the student I told you about.”
Mr. McDonald didn’t ask Caden to introduce himself. He said, “Take a seat.”
Caden sat between the boy and the girl and pointed at the device. “It’s a computer,” he said, “not a television.”
The girl blushed behind her glasses. “Y-y-yes,” she said. “I know.”
“I’m Caden.”
“T-t-tonya,” she said.
The boy said nothing.
Tonya pointed at the boy. “That’s Ward. He doesn’t talk much.”
Mr. McDonald sighed, came over, and flipped on the computer in front of Caden. “Go at your own pace. You have any questions, hit F one.” He instructed Caden on how to use leathery green earmuffs. Then he wandered back to a desk across the room and disappeared behind a thick book. A moment later a mystical voice came from the earmuffs. Caden tried speaking to it. It ignored him. He tapped the muffs, but the voice only gave him dull computer directions.
So this was the class—a boy who didn’t talk, a girl who stuttered, and a useless magical voice intent on teaching letters. Caden felt his frustration grow. He needed to be among the mountains and city. He needed to bring news of Rath Dunn to his father and brothers. Still, he steadied himself and forced a warm grin for his classmates. It was always important to show grace to commoners.
His next class smelled of copper and burned wood. The back wall was full of cabinets encasing row after row of tall glass flasks like an alchemist’s shop. The instructor, Mrs. Belle, was tall and thin with brown hair and warm eyes. Her shoes were scuffed and her blouse wrinkled, but she maintained an air of elegance. For someone older, she was pretty enough. Her voice was kind when she welcomed Caden.
Like in math, Tito sat in the front of the science class. Caden took the front middle seat beside him. This time, no one ordered him elsewhere. There was a picture of a tree carved into this desktop—the same tree that had been carved into the stone of Jane’s amulet. Something was scribbled beside it in the letters he was learning with Mr. McDonald. He asked Tito.
Tito looked sad. “It’s Jane’s name,” he said quietly as he set out mult
icolored pens for note-taking. With a shrug, he added, “When you’re in foster care, you’ve got to know what’s yours.”
“It’s not really her desk, though. It’s whoever sits at it.” To prove his point, he added, “Right now, it’s mine.”
Tito neither looked up nor agreed. “Don’t talk again until lunch,” he said.
Lunch, unfortunately, did not come quickly.
The cafeteria was down a flight of stairs. To the stairs’ left was a serving station and kitchen. To the far right, the wall was made from the mountain—a speckled granite and mica masterpiece—while the wall across was filled with large windows that overlooked the leafless winter forest. The ceiling was high and the room hummed with noise—clanking forks and spoons, chairs scraping against tiles, and students talking.
To get food, he had to take a plastic tray to the serving area. Behind the counter, a withered-looking woman stood over a large metal pot. She tasted the contents and smacked her lips. An even older man hobbled from behind a partition with a tray of steaming baked bread. His cheeks were sunken and his skin looked thin. He tossed the tray on the counter with a loud rattle.
When it was Caden’s turn, a third lunch attendant, a beautiful young woman, spooned stew, white mush, and a square fish onto his plate. Her eyes gleamed and her skin glowed in a way that didn’t strike Caden as normal. She smiled, but Caden didn’t smile back.
He hurried to the eating area. Tables were lined in neat rows. Tito sat alone at a middle one. Caden sat beside him and asked him about the witches serving the food.
“Don’t start,” Tito said. “The lunch people aren’t witches.”
“The old woman is stirring a big witchlike pot.”
“That’s Ms. Aggie, and her stew’s delicious.”
“The young one is glowing.”
“She’s beautiful,” Tito said, gazing over at her.
Caden trailed his spoon through his delicious looking stew. The aroma tempted his tongue. “Witches are dangerous. They prey on children and the foolish. There is no telling what poisons are hidden within these temptations.”
Tito swallowed a large spoonful of the no doubt poisonous stew. “They’re not witches, bro.”
