by Kit Alloway
Will would have given a very different explanation, but Mirren was smiling with her lips pressed tight together, as if trying not to laugh. “We’re good,” she said. “And I would be happy to have you as an ally.”
She put the kettle on for tea, and shortly afterward, the doorbell rang. Will got up to answer it, but Kerstel beat him to the door.
Will loved his adoptive mother like he’d loved his alcoholic birth mother, who had given him up to the state when he was twelve. Sometimes he thought he loved Kerstel more. She hadn’t just gone out of her way to make him part of their family, she’d taken the time to build a real friendship with him, even reading his favorite self-help books and teaching him about her own passions, philosophy and posthumanism. But every time he looked at her since the attack, a blind black hatred for the man who had hurt her filled him like black smoke, working its way from his gut to his limbs, his fingers and toes, his eyelashes.
He immediately felt bad for having made her get up and answer the door. In addition to the terrible injuries she had sustained when Feodor’s zombies had come out of the archway and attacked the household, Kerstel had learned in the ICU that she was six weeks pregnant, and the combined toll had worn her thin and weak. She still had nerve damage in her right arm, and she couldn’t stand for more than ten minutes.
“You should have let someone else get it,” Will told her.
“I need the practice,” Kerstel said as she held the door open so Davita could enter. “You think Lauren’s going to get up with the baby in the middle of the night?”
“No,” Will said sincerely. “I think Deloise will.”
They all laughed, even Davita. Deloise was so excited about a baby joining the family that she had learned to knit baby booties.
Davita Bach stood five feet ten, knew fifteen different ways to French-twist her titian-red hair, and wore a power suit like she’d been born in one. That afternoon she had on a cream-colored suit with dark brown pinstripes. Usually the small gold Rousellario family crest she wore on a chain around her neck was hidden beneath her clothes, but today it hung in full view against a light brown silk blouse.
“Have you picked out a name?” Davita asked.
“Lauren and I are at war over the name,” Kerstel admitted. “He wants Bramko, I want Popolomus.”
Will secretly thought both names were hideous, but Davita expressed admiration for the choices. Finally, they left Kerstel to her protein shake and a book called A Child’s Understanding of the World and headed for the kitchen.
Although Josh and Will believed Davita would feel the same loyalty to Mirren that she had to Mirren’s parents, they’d agreed not to take chances. When they entered the kitchen, Josh was sitting beside Mirren with her knife hidden in her lap. She remained sitting when Mirren stood.
Davita looked to Will in the silence that followed, and he realized she was waiting for him to make introductions. Dream walkers loved formal introductions. “Davita, this is Mirren Rousellario. Mirren, Davita Bakareilionne.”
Mirren extended a hand across the kitchen table, but Davita laughed uncomfortably at the sight of it and instead dropped to one knee. The unexpected motion caused Josh to spring out of her chair, knife in hand. Dismayed, Mirren touched her lips with two fingers.
“Please get up,” she said to Davita, pushing Josh’s knife arm down. “There’s no need for that.”
Davita straightened, but she said, “I want you to know that I’m here only to serve you, Your Majesty.”
The title made Mirren wince. “Please, just call me Mirren.”
“You are the daughter of my king and queen,” Davita insisted.
“The king and queen are dead and the kingdom destroyed,” Mirren said flatly. “Please call me Mirren or nothing at all. Let’s sit down.”
The kettle whistled, and Haley got up to fill the teapot.
“I’m relieved to see that you’re well,” Davita said, taking a seat. “Your family has been very worried.”
Mirren smiled, but her anxiety was evident in the lines around her mouth. “My new friends have taken excellent care of me.”
We’re her friends? Will wondered, and snuck a glance at Josh out of the corner of his eye. He could see her trying to hide how taken aback she was.
But Will noticed that when Haley returned to the table with the teapot, he scooted his chair very close to Mirren’s, and he remembered how he had offered to go after Mirren with Haley the day before and how quick Haley had been to say no.
Five months ago he was in love with Josh on Ian’s behalf, Will thought. Now he’s putting the moves on a princess.
He wondered how Haley had come out of their encounter with Feodor so much stronger when Josh and Will had come out so damaged.
The sudden intensity in Mirren’s voice drew him out of his thoughts.
“I am sorry that Katia has been worried,” she was saying. “I’m truly sorry for frightening her.” Her voice hardened. “But as for my aunt and uncle, it serves them right—for what they’ve hidden from me, for how they’ve lied to me, and especially for keeping me trapped in that universe for nineteen years.”
Whoa, Will said. The tone of the conversation had changed abruptly, and he saw Josh’s right arm tense, no doubt tightening her grip on the knife beneath the table.
“Who’s Katia?” Will asked as Haley poured him a cup of tea.
“Katia is my cousin,” Mirren explained. “She was born in the Hidden Kingdom fifteen years ago and she’s never once been allowed to leave it.”
“Miss Mirren,” Davita said, her tone distressed, “even I didn’t know you have a cousin, and I’m sure your aunt and uncle would be very upset if you let the word get out. They’re trying to—”
“Protect her?” Mirren finished as though she’d heard it a hundred times before. “Like they protected me by imprisoning me? By lying to me?”
“I’m sure they did what they thought was best for you.”
Haley said, “Mirren is an adult. She has the right to make her own decisions now.”
Davita stared at him as if he were a talking toaster, but Mirren smiled her beautiful, wise smile and softened.
“My family and I have very different priorities,” she said. “Their priority is to see me live out my life trapped in a medieval castle, married to a man of their choice, and breeding like a rabbit, and my priority is to stop staging from becoming government policy.”
Josh and Will exchanged glances. This was the first Will had heard of Mirren’s intentions, but it put her panic in the restaurant the day before in perspective.
“I see,” Davita said, her painted mouth slack with surprise.
“I have to make sure that the Lodestone Party does not win the vote at the Accordance Conclave and make staging permanent policy,” Mirren said. “I know unequivocally that this is what my parents would want me to do. But I don’t know how best to do it. And that’s why I need you, if you’re willing to help me.”
Davita smiled faintly. “I’ve been waiting eighteen years to help you, Miss Mirren. But I’m concerned that you don’t know how dangerous Peregrine Borgenicht is.”
Mirren laughed. “I don’t know how dangerous the man who killed my parents is?”
“I’m sorry.” Davita blanched, her blush standing out against her pale cheeks. “That’s not what I meant to say.”
“I know it wasn’t. And it doesn’t matter. What I need, and what I would ask you to do, is to assess the political situation and figure out the best way for me to get involved. Should I run against Peregrine or try to sabotage him? Who else has a chance of winning and how can I support them? Do I need to come out publicly as the former princess, and will I get arrested and executed if I do?” Mirren tugged her earlobe. “And, if there’s any way to convince Aunt Collena to let Katia join me in the World, I would like that. I hate thinking of her stuck back in the Hidden Kingdom. And I miss her.”
Davita gazed down into her teacup, tapping one red fingernail against the gold rim.
When she lifted her face, its color had returned, and she nodded resolutely. “If this is what my sovereign intends, it will be my honor to help her achieve it.”
Mirren gritted her teeth, but they spoke a while longer, Davita taking notes on her tablet before departing. When she left, she took the tension in the kitchen with her, and everyone else began breathing easier.
Josh set her knife on the table and put four sugar cubes in her cold tea. “So, that went about as well as it could have.”
“Yes.” Mirren’s shoulders slumped, and she pretended to sag with relief against Haley’s side, which made him smile shyly.
Okay, Will admitted to himself. They’re kind of cute together.
“Thank you all again for your help. I had no idea how nervous I was.” Mirren threw back the rest of her tea like it was a much stronger drink, and Haley refilled her cup. “I realized, as I was making demands, that I’ve taken your support for granted, and I shouldn’t have. I can’t fully predict how much trouble my actions could stir up for you, and I don’t want to make your relationship with your grandfather any worse, Josh.”
Josh released a sharp laugh. “I thought I explained this earlier. My relationship with Peregrine is over. We aren’t going to end up on Dr. Phil crying and hugging each other. I think he’s a power-hungry monster who wants to control me—and,” she added, catching herself, “everyone else. So if you need support with keeping him from grabbing even more power, I’m on board.”
Mirren’s reply was, as usual, diplomatic. “Regardless, I’m grateful.”
Since Haley was obviously now on Team Mirren, Will supposed that meant it was his turn to decide where he would throw his hat. “Let me ask you a question,” he said. “Josh told me that the monarchy shot down staging proposals for hundreds of years before the issue came to a head with Peregrine and your parents. She also told me that your family refused to give an explanation for why they wouldn’t allow staging.”
Mirren nodded, giving away nothing.
“I guess…” He wet his lips. “I guess my question is, are you sure you’re doing what’s in the best interest of the World and not just following in your parents’ footsteps?”
Instead of taking offense, Mirren chuckled. “Allow me to explain as much as I can. Something most people don’t know is that the earliest dream-walker kings and queens weren’t heads of government, but of religion. They oversaw the seers, and since religion and science were tightly tied together back then, they controlled the knowledge of both dream mysteries—the spiritual elements—and what we call dream theory.
“One of their functions was the keeping of dangerous knowledge—because there is dangerous knowledge in the World, and in the Dream. Some knowledge must be protected.”
Will remembered the terrible discoveries Feodor had made, the soul-destroying inventions, and he understood what Mirren was saying.
“With staging, the situation is such that if I explain to you why staging is so dangerous, I will be giving you the knowledge to make it far, far more dangerous. So I can’t tell you why I have to keep staging from becoming standard practice. But I can tell you that—based on what I know—staging is one of the most serious threats to the balance of the three universes ever discovered. And that’s more than I’ve ever told anyone, even my family, so I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t repeat it.”
Will believed her. She hadn’t lived long enough in the World to be a great liar.
“Okay,” he said. “I can live with that. But since I’m sticking my neck out for you, I need a favor.”
Mirren tilted her head as if intrigued. Josh just looked confused.
“Four months ago, Josh and Haley and I had an encounter with Feodor Kajażkołski. It ended with him dead and a lot of people hurt.”
Her gray eyes widened. “Yes, of course, I read about it. That was you three?”
“Yeah,” Josh said. “And in case you’re wondering, it sucked.”
Mirren’s lips parted with something like awe. “I had no idea I had recruited such powerful allies.” She gazed at Haley, and it was apparent that she was as drawn to him as he was to her.
“What we need,” Will said, trying to regain her attention, “is your help to save a friend of ours. One of Feodor’s minions sucked her soul into a canister, and we need to put it back in her body.”
That got Mirren’s attention. “How did he suck out her soul?”
“Violently,” Josh put in.
Haley, who had kept his eyes on Mirren throughout most of their discussion, stared at the floor then. Will wondered if courting a girl was harder when one’s ex was wasting away in a coma.
“We don’t know how Feodor did it,” Will said. “From what I’ve discovered, he began developing the technique he used before he was exiled. The Gendarmerie probably confiscated his notes as evidence, then turned them over to your grandparents. Is there any chance his papers might have survived the fire at the palace?”
Mirren tugged her earlobe. “Feodor’s house burned to the ground with his papers inside it the night before his arrest. However … he was the one who built the pocket universe where I grew up. It was meant to be a safe haven my grandparents could retreat to—I think they sensed that the tides were turning against them. Please don’t spread this around, but they filed thousands of documents in an underground vault in the Hidden Kingdom for safekeeping.”
“That must be a lot of paper,” Josh said.
“It’s massive,” Mirren agreed. “I can’t guarantee that any of Feodor’s things from Maplefax are down there, and I don’t know how we’d convince my aunt to let me leave once I set foot inside the Hidden Kingdom, but I would be glad to see if there’s anything filed away that might be of use to you.”
Josh crossed her arms over her chest.
“Then I’ll do what I can for you,” Will told Mirren. He raised his teacup. “Long live Queen Mirren.”
“I’ve gotta go work out,” Josh said, and stood up. “Let me know what you need when you need it, Mirren.”
“Thank you,” Mirren said, but Josh was already striding away. Mirren looked at Haley with a raised eyebrow.
“Not you,” he said, shaking his head.
“No, it was definitely me,” Will agreed, and he got up to go after her.
By the time Will caught up to Josh, she was already in the basement throwing punches at a rubber boxing dummy.
“Josh,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
She ignored him; sometimes she tried to avoid confrontation by literally refusing to acknowledge what was happening.
“Come on, talk to me.”
“I’m busy,” she said, and landed a spin kick so hard that the dummy rocked on its stand.
Before she could throw another punch, Will stepped between her and the dummy. “This will go easier on both of us if you just tell me how you feel.”
Reluctantly, she dropped her arms and released her fists. “I just wish you would stop obsessing over him,” she said. “It’s … it’s creepy! I mean, you have all these pictures of him and news articles about him and you spend hours every day thinking about him and you go to those meetings. And now you want to dig through Mirren’s archives for more stuff about him? I think you need to … try to let go or something.”
I can’t, Will thought. I have to …
“We have to help Winsor,” he said. “We have to undo what he did.”
“Yeah, I know. And I’m completely on board for that. I just wonder if, once she’s better, you’ll stop.”
“Of course I will.”
But he was already imagining the future differently, and he knew he wouldn’t stop until he had collected every known piece of information about Feodor and built them up around himself like armor, so that when Feodor came back—
“I just want things to go back to normal,” Josh said.
Did she still think of the first six weeks of his apprenticeship as “normal” time? To him, the four months that had passed since their encounter with Feodor
had redefined “normal,” shaped the time before it into something naïve and full of unseen dangers. Sometimes he felt like he’d been living in the Dream since February.
“It doesn’t work like that,” he told Josh. “Things don’t get undone. All we can do is try to learn from what happened so that we’ll be better prepared the next time.”
Josh hugged him tightly. “Will,” she whispered. “Don’t you get it? Feodor is dead. There isn’t going to be a next time.”
Nine
The next day, Mirren met Winsor.
Josh could count the number of times she had visited Winsor on one hand. She hated going. She hated the perfume of piss that permeated the nursing home, the false cheer of the nurses’ scrubs, and, most of all, the silence of the patients.
Winsor’s room was a little less depressing than the rest of the place. There, the scent of urine was somewhat mitigated by a vase of lilies and irises, and silver-framed photographs lined the windowsill. A rocking chair sat on a rag rug, and a patchwork quilt in blue and white covered the bed … and the patient within it.
Not only had Winsor lost a great deal of weight in the last four months, but her very skeleton seemed to have shrunk, giving her the appearance of a twelve-year-old. She lay on her left side, propped in place with foam bolsters, but her right arm hung awkwardly behind her, the fingers on her hand curled into a half fist. Her hair—cut short for ease of maintenance—was dull and lank, and her pale skin sagged. Although her eyes were open, they didn’t register her guests, only gazed at the wall in front of her.
The sight of her made Josh sick. It made Will angry. But strangely, it brought out the best in Haley.
“Hi, Winsor,” he said, and he walked into her line of sight. Gently, he rearranged her arm and straightened the sleeve of her flannel pajama top. “I’m happy to see you.”
Winsor said nothing and gave no indication that she had heard Haley. Mirren glanced at Will and Josh, as if she expected them to follow Haley’s lead, but Josh couldn’t imagine talking to Winsor any more than she could imagine striking up a conversation with a department store mannequin. She went to sit in the rocking chair, as far from her friend as she could get. Will just stood at the foot of the bed, frowning.
