by Laurie McKay
Questionable morals aside, Brynne was his closest ally. “Fine, you can have my coat.” Brynne at least understood its value. His words seemed to make her happy. “But only if I’m devoured,” he added, which seemed to make her less so.
That night, Caden dreamed of giant crater wasps with stingers made of jagged knives. They snatched away his brothers, one by one, and dumped them into their glass hive. Chadwin fell first. Then the wasps stabbed Valon and Maden. Maden’s large frame fell to the ground hard enough to crack it. Next fell Lucian, Martin, and Landon. One by one, they all collapsed. Jasan was faceup in the middle, staring with dead eyes. Caden’s father pounded on the hive with sword and scepter but couldn’t break the shimmering walls.
When Caden awoke, it was warm, and he heard plink, plink, plink as rain hit the roof. He put on his red T-shirt with the picture of an eagle. An eagle wasn’t an imperial Winterbird, but it was a bird. In the months he’d been stranded it had turned from cold February to warm June. He, however, still wore his coat.
Tito came out of the bathroom with his hair wet, his jeans and T-shirt on but wrinkled, and a towel around his neck. “Yeah,” he said, and motioned to Caden’s coat. “Unless that thing is enchanted with air conditioning, you’re going to have to take it off come summer or you’ll melt.”
Ice mice and frozen prairie prawns melted in heat. Razzonian princes didn’t. “Nonsense. I’ll always wear my coat.”
“Say that after you’ve gone through a North Carolina summer.”
At school, Tonya was absent, but Ward was there. As was Mr. McDonald, who had left them to the bee swarm in an act of sedition. The coward sat in the back corner behind a giant book. He didn’t attempt to help Caden read or engage Ward.
Caden felt his cheeks redden and his eyes narrow. He put on his earphones and turned to his computer. On his screen a new word flashed: F-A-M-I-L-Y. The magic voice in his earphones said, “Family.” Family was important. Caden needed to unmask the true culprit before he or she succeeded. He would save Jasan, and he’d find out Rath Dunn’s scheme. More words flashed—first “father,” then “brother.” Truly, the magic voice seemed to understand Caden’s thoughts.
Ward lifted his red earphones off his ears and motioned Caden to do the same. “Your brother is staying next door to us,” he said in a soft, low voice. Ward was quiet but he missed little. “If you come over this weekend, you might see him. Pa doesn’t like you, or him, but Ma does.”
“Why doesn’t he like us?” Caden whispered back.
Ward looked at his computer screen. He didn’t say anything at first, but Ward was succinct with words, and he seemed to need extra time to choose those he used. Finally, he spoke again. “Pa doesn’t trust new people, especially from his world. And he thinks your brother’s angry.”
A valid concern. Jasan was often angry. Still. “He controls his temper well enough.”
Caden didn’t think Ward would say any more, but he was wrong. Ward’s gaze shifted to Tonya’s empty seat. “Your brother— he’s okay.” That was right. Ward had seen Jasan save Tonya. “I’ll tell Pa that.”
Ward didn’t believe Jasan was a villain. That made one person. Caden would convince others, and he’d find a way to convince his family they had made a mistake, too. First, though, he had to complete the quest and save his and Jasan’s lives. In schoolwork and in quests, Elite Paladins prioritized.
“Then Saturday I will visit you,” Caden said, but Ward had already lost interest and was now playing a computer game.
Caden’s computer was flashing “mother,” but he’d had enough of the voice for one day. He needed to investigate. To do that, however, he needed permission to leave class. If he had permission, it wasn’t skipping. It was within the rules of the hungry Elderdragon. And Brynne had advised him on how to get permission.
Caden stood, walked up to Mr. McDonald, and tugged the book down so he could see his face. “I need a pass to visit the bathroom,” he said.
Moments later, Caden clutched his bathroom slip and ducked down the side hall that connected to the gymnasium. He did a quick check for Jasan. Sadly, Jasan wasn’t inside. Then he hurried to the boys’ bathroom—the rarely used one beside the basketball court—and called Brynne.
She didn’t pick up. He texted her a frowny face. Soon after, his phone buzzed with the awful wasp-like noise that meant someone was calling him. He poked the Answer button.
“You need to learn to text more than frowny faces, prince,” she said, and sighed. “If I’d been caught using my cell, I’d have been sentenced to detention.”
Caden was working as best he could at texting, reading, and writing. “But you didn’t get caught,” he said.
“Of course I didn’t. I said I might throw up. Like you did in Rath Dunn’s car.”
“You and Tito need to stop telling people about that.” She should have used a different excuse, but it was good she was free from class. “Meet me in the boys’ bathroom. The one by the gym.”
Brynne, ever difficult, refused. “Eww. I don’t want to meet there,” she said.
“Just do it, sorceress.”
“No.”
He could feel her irritation. She didn’t like it when he ordered her about. It was fortunate he was beyond her physical reach. Now that he considered it, he should have all conversations with Brynne over the phone.
She sounded amused when she next spoke. “You meet me,” she said, “in the girls’ bathroom, the one in the west hall.”
Caden felt his annoyance grow. He did not see how her bathroom was better than his, but he feared neither girls nor the girls’ bathroom. “Very well,” he said, and pushed the End button.
Caden’s third-born brother, Lucian, was gifted in stealth. He’d advised Caden on how to sneak, how to move without being noticed. Caden used those skills now. The halls were cold. When he listened, he heard a rumbling from the direction of the long hall. He went the opposite way.
He passed the science room. Mrs. Belle stood by the door. There was a piece of toilet paper stuck to her shoes. Her morning class had built pointless paper flying contraptions. They tossed them down the hall while she leaned against the door. Like Mr. Creedly the day before, she seemed to be guarding it. In the next hall, Caden avoided Ms. Jackson. She cackled as she carried a large witchy pot toward the cafeteria.
When he arrived at the girls’ bathroom door, he paused. His instinct was to push the door open and stride inside. Proper decorum meant he didn’t. He stopped, composed his royal person, and knocked.
Brynne threw the door open and pulled him inside by his coat sleeves. “Quiet.”
Caden shrugged her off and looked around. In his royal opinion, the girls’ bathroom was nicer than the boys’. One, the doors on the stalls were a regal pale pink and not a dull bluish-gray. Two, unlike the boys’ bathroom, all the stalls had doors. There was a faint fruity scent intermingled with the bathroom smell. It was still small and plain compared to the ornate tiled baths of the Winter Castle.
Brynne watched him with her silvery eyes wide and her hands outstretched. She bit at her bottom lip. “Now what?”
While the girls’ bathroom was cleaner than the boys’, it needed wiping down. Caden traced his finger across the sink. “Mrs. Belle guards her classroom. I doubt we can get inside. But we should check the auditorium before too much time passes. The incidents seem related.”
“Agreed,” Brynne said.
The halls that led toward the auditorium were empty, but Caden sensed a powerful presence. It was like walking into the blue-tinted belly of a beast. He mentioned the atmosphere to Brynne. “Ms. Primrose is hungry. You can feel it in the whole school.”
“True, but she won’t eat you for four more days.” She grabbed his hand. “And I won’t let you get eaten. I’ll help you complete your quest.” He was about to thank her when she added, “And I’ll help save Prince Jasan.”
The auditorium doors were locked and sealed with yellow tape. With Brynne’s magic and thieving skills,
they made it past both quickly. Although the door she magicked cracked in half.
He looked at her.
“It didn’t blow up,” she said, and sounded pleased. “And it didn’t crumble to dust.”
Indeed, it was an improvement from her typical lock picking. Inside, the large room was quiet, the rows of seats empty. Caden dragged his boot across the aisle. It was tidier than it had been before the incident, and the fallen bee bodies had already been removed.
Above him, several of the beams seemed to have small cracks. He didn’t remember seeing them the day before. Of course, the day before he’d been dealing with his brother, a spelling contest, and a bee swarm. He’d been thinking about quests and Elderdragons. Truth be told, he was still dealing with all those things.
He pointed to the stage. Someone had put up a new banner, this one likely for Tuesday’s awards ceremony. “The first bee flew from that direction,” he said. They looked there first. Except for a creaking floor, there was nothing interesting. “We should go backstage.”
Brynne pushed him toward the dark curtain separating the front of the stage from the back. “You first, prince.”
He’d no problem with that. “It is the leader’s duty to enter first.”
“Fine,” she said, and stepped up beside him. “We’ll go in together.”
Backstage was cluttered and dimly lit. Three rickety chairs sat in the middle of the space, one turned on its side. On the floor, set backdrops painted with mountains and thunderclouds were stacked. There was a pile of puddled green curtains near the back. A cracked mirror leaned against the side wall.
Brynne walked to the mirror. She was reflected twice, once on each side of the split. Caden stood beside her and saw his reflection also doubled. She smoothed her long hair over her shoulder. She had been very protective of her hair lately.
Caden had an idea. “Maybe you should shave your head and destroy your hair,” he said. “Then no one would be able to steal your locks.”
Both of her reflections narrowed their eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“You’re overly concerned with it.”
“You trim yours every two weeks.”
Caden did trim his hair every two weeks. But that wasn’t for vanity. That was to keep it Elite Paladin regulation length. “Then we must make sure no one else cuts your hair.”
“If someone does, he or she will regret it.”
He didn’t doubt that.
Beside the mirror, there was dust and trash. Something red and glistening peeked from under the mess. Caden bent down and picked up a broken bloodred fingernail. He held it up.
“Mrs. Belle paints her nails this very bloodred color.”
Brynne scrunched up her nose. “Do you think it’s hers?”
He took his blue bathroom pass and folded the broken nail within it. “It might mean something,” he said, but he hoped it didn’t. Mrs. Belle actually seemed to like Caden. He’d prefer that she wasn’t involved.
Something squeaked and skittered by the far wall. Caden pointed in that direction. “Check that out,” he told Brynne.
“Afraid there might be rodents?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m not either.” She walked over and placed her ear against the wall. “And what will you do?”
“I’ll investigate the curtains,” he said.
Something about the way the fabrics fell reminded him of a bird’s nest. They looked messy but not random. He used his foot to push the mound over.
Like dirty water breaking over green rocks, a flood of cockroaches gushed out. Each was as long as Caden’s finger. He jumped on one of the rickety chairs—not because he was scared, of course, but because in battle it was advantageous to be above your foes.
Brynne gasped. She fell into a defensive stance and put her arms up to protect her face. Caden could tell Brynne was trying hard not to scream. She might not fear rodents, but she definitely feared roaches.
Through her arms, she said, “I’d hoped those foul creatures didn’t exist in this realm.”
“As did I.” Caden grimaced, though truly it was because he was losing his balance on the chair, and not because of the bugs.
As quickly as they had swarmed, the roaches scampered behind the backdrops and into the dark corners of the room. It was quiet once again. Brynne lowered her arms. She looked at the green velvet curtains with disgust and slight confusion. “Strange,” she said. “None of those roaches spit at us.”
In the Greater Realm, roaches were bright red and known to spit stinging excrement upward of ten strides. These local roaches hadn’t done so, but they were also three times bigger. Caden regained his balance on the chair and scanned the room. It was better to be safe.
Like bees, roaches were creatures that swarmed. They were creatures that could be summoned and controlled by monsters. But the roaches weren’t attacking like the bees. He looked up at Brynne. “What do you think?”
She bit her lip. “If someone summoned bees, the roaches might be attracted to the residual magic where the spell was cast. Or another attack could be planned.” Brynne glanced at him atop his strategic chair. “Frightened?”
Protecting his royal self from swarming roaches was smart, not cowardly. He took in Brynne’s raised brow. It seemed he needed to prove his courage. He hopped down.
Around the green curtains, there were no signs of magic. There were no words carved into the floor or painted onto the green velvet. There were no lingering smells of incense and spices like those used in ritual magic. There was nothing sour in the air as from harmful sorcery. There was nothing dead or sacrificed. Nothing he could see anyway.
He crouched so that he could investigate the area between the broken mirror and the wall. A roach huddled in the shadow like it feared Caden would crush it if it moved. Truly, it seemed an innocent, if not disgusting, creature. Caden granted it his royal mercy.
The wall behind the mirror was also cracked. Within it, he could see wriggling termites. He heard squeaking that sounded like mice or rats. But there were still no runes. No signs of ritual magic. Not even any lingering scents of sorcery.
“There is no evidence of ritual magic here,” he said.
Who could have controlled the bees? Without signs of ritual magic Caden doubted Ms. Jackson was responsible. Ritual magic was her weapon. Maybe Mr. Bellows? But he’d been distraught over the disruption, and the bees had been alive, not reanimated. Rath Dunn was a menace who was collecting ingredients for a sinister spell—could he have done it somehow? Yet Mr. Bellows and Rath Dunn had both been targets. Why would they target themselves?
Those three had seemed so gleeful after the gas incident. Caden had felt almost certain they were involved with the school’s not-accidents. Now, he wasn’t as sure. After all, evil beings delighted in suffering, even in suffering not caused by them.
And there was still Mrs. Belle. She hadn’t been targeted. Her students hadn’t been hurt in the swarm. The broken fingernail seemed to burn in his pocket. Of all his teachers, Mrs. Belle seemed to like teaching the most. Why would she do such a thing? As Sir Tito had wisely said, this type of evil had to have a motive.
Caden stood back up.
The floor creaked. In and near the walls, the skittering of rodents resumed. He didn’t want to fight rats, and Brynne wouldn’t want to fight roaches. Not to mention, they’d soon be missed in their classes. Bathroom passes only excused a student for so long. Caden caught Brynne’s gaze.
She nodded and grabbed his hand. “We should go now,” she whispered.
They sneaked from backstage through the auditorium and to the rear exits that led into the school hall. He squeezed Brynne’s hand. “But we should return later,” he said.
A grin flirted with her face. “When the school is closed? And locked? And empty?” she said.
“That would be ideal,” Caden said.
Her smile turned dazzling, her eyes bright with mischief. “This is the best idea you’ve had since I’ve known you, prin
ce.”
At lunch, Caden briefed Tito and Jane about their time in the auditorium. Tito looked disgusted as he shoved rosemary mashed potatoes into his mouth. “So, in your fantasy world cockroaches spit excrement?”
“You’re missing the important part.”
“That is the important part,” Tito said. He pointed his mashed potato–covered spoon at Caden, then at Brynne. “The fantasy world is my world. You—weirdo and sorceress—live with me.” He motioned at the teachers. “The fantasy world villains are my teachers. And the head of this school is an Elderdragon. Odds I run into some spitting cockroaches or carnivorous rabbits seem pretty high to me. I see a half-size bright red cockroach, I know to step on it first, ask questions later.”
Jane had been casting her daily death stare toward Ms. Jackson in the serving line. She paused to turn and smile at Tito. “And if you see a giant fanged rabbit you know to run.”
“That’s just good sense,” Tito said, and motioned to Caden. “I knew that even before his craziness.”
Caden sat back and crossed his arms. “This is serious.”
Jane seemed to reconsider. She turned back toward Ms. Jackson. “I still think it was her.”
Brynne swiped some of Tito’s balsamic glazed carrots. “The likelihood she’s responsible is low. There were no signs of ritual magic. None,” she said. “We checked.”
Jane looked annoyed.
“Well, we did,” Brynne said.
That night, once Rosa was asleep, Caden climbed from his bed and rushed to dress. He kicked Tito’s bed to wake him.
Tito blinked slowly. “What?”
“We’re going to search the school for clues,” Caden said.
Tito pushed up to his elbows and checked his phone. “It’s two a.m.”
“We won’t miss class, and Ward told me his father has Friday nights off. It’s a good time to investigate.”
“It’s a better time to sleep.”
“You wanted to help,” Caden said. “I’m letting you.” He tossed Tito’s backpack to him. Tito was good at packing things Caden didn’t always know existed. “Sir Horace will take us.”
