“You are familiar with them, are you not?”
“More than most,” she replied.
Well said, daughter of Snow White.
“How do you know Mauvrey is under a sleeping curse?” Ormé asked.
“I examined her briefly before we departed Oz,” he explained. “I know the tells of a sleeping curse when I see one. I didn’t get a look at that Tara girl though, so until we find a way to wake Mauvrey or create this potion, what happened to Paige’s memories will remain a mystery.”
The Mauvrey/Tara situation gnawed at me. Where had Tara come from? Was she also under a sleeping curse? Who had Paige’s knowledge of the genies?
Knowing I would never have peace if I didn’t at least get an answer to that last question, I decided to try something impulsive. “Can someone give me a Mark Two?” I asked. “The one I used to call Liza earlier shattered in the fight.”
“Take mine,” Ormé offered. She produced a compact from the pocket of her robes and handed it to me.
“Crisa, who are you gonna call?” Jason asked.
I flipped the Mark Two open. There was a miniscule chance this would work, but if it did, I would have my answer.
I turned to the compact. “Tara Gold.”
The compact buzzed. I waited with bated breath. I had no idea where Tara was and if she was even awake. And if she was conscious, what were the odds that she’d gotten herself a Mark Two in the last hour since she’d appeared? On second thought, this was a stupid—
“Hello?”
Tara’s reflection filled the looking glass. I almost dropped the compact from the shock. Everyone else in the room seemed to freeze in place.
“Oh, it is you, Crisa,” Tara huffed. She gave me the same annoyed, vaguely patronizing pout that Mauvrey used to give me at school.
“You . . . know me?” I asked.
“Obviously I know you, Crisa,” Tara replied. “I have known you for years.”
“I don’t understand.”
“And that is why you will lose,” she replied. “I hope for your sake you can guard Mauvrey better than you guard your friends. Arian and I will be coming for her and Paige’s memories.”
So she didn’t have them. When Paige’s mind energy absorbed into Mauvrey, the memories must’ve stayed in the princess’s skull; Tara was merely spit out as a bonus. Though the mechanics of how and why still eluded us.
I eyed my new foe curiously. Then I had a thought based on what she’d said. Maybe she wasn’t a new foe . . . but an old one. Her body may have been different, but her tone, phrasing, and the way she regarded me, even her facial expressions were familiar. Too familiar.
“I’d check that confidence if I were you,” I said, fishing for affirmation. “I did retrieve Excalibur from Arian and nearly kill you tonight in the North Mountains.”
“You got lucky,” Tara replied.
“Luck? Really, Tara? Is that what we’re calling it? I’ve been besting you for years at school and now in battle. I’m not lucky. I’m just smarter than you.”
Tara huffed, somewhat amused. “Hang on to that assertion, Crisa. Remember that you made it. That will make the next turn in your adventure so much harder to choke down and so much more fun for me to witness.”
I glanced up and exchanged a look with my friends. By not reacting in the slightest to my statements, Tara had verified my theory. We all knew it now. Somehow, the girl we knew as Mauvrey was actually this girl right here. Her face and voice were different, but the character was the same.
“If you are done wasting my time,” Tara said, “I have plans to make. I hope you and your friends get some rest, Crisa. A new story arc is coming and you have no idea how much Arian and Nadia are looking forward to it.”
She hung up. I closed the compact and passed it back to Ormé.
“So, Paige’s memories are indeed trapped in Mauvrey’s head,” Merlin stated.
“Put a pin in Paige’s memories for a second,” Blue interceded. “What the frack are we supposed to do with this new information? If she’s the Mauvrey we know, then who is in Mauvrey’s body in Oz?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But the potion that SJ and Merlin are going to brew will give us the answer. And in the meantime, we do know one thing about the situation for certain. Arian and the others are coming for our Mauvrey. Which means we need to protect her.”
My guest room at the castle was extremely comfortable. The blonde wood floors and white walls made the space feel bright and airy, as did the large balcony bordered by powder-blue curtains.
I sat on the floor in front of the room’s roaring fireplace and stared into its hearth as so many things twirled across my mind. I was feeling a lot better in terms of pain, but the exhaustion was real. It felt like my skin had been coated in copper and I had to carry around the extra weight alongside the emotional and mental weight of all that had happened.
Our group had finished hashing things out an hour before midnight, concluding with a lengthy conversation regarding our plans for the future. One thing we decided on was when we would return to Oz.
My Hole Tracker indicated there would only be two Portalscape Portals appearing in Camelot tomorrow. The first was set to open near Scott Lake at half past three in the afternoon. We’d take that wormhole to the Portalscape then cross to Oz and make our way to the Emerald City to speak with Ozma, Julian, and Glinda about long-term plans for Mauvrey’s safety.
Mauvrey.
I shook my head and hugged my knees. This had been the longest, weirdest day ever, but the turn of events with her was the most perplexing. Who could have imagined that my princess archenemy, who I’d known since childhood, was actually two people? The girl whose personality I’d come to know at Lady Agnue’s was Tara Gold—the villainess who would soon be on Earth to destroy Natalie. Meanwhile, the real Mauvrey was a total mystery. Who was the girl in her skin who had been trapped in a sleeping curse for goodness knew how long? And how did that even work?
Merlin and SJ’s memory potion would hopefully give us that information, but he said it could take a while to make, and I was feeling more than impatient.
I released my knees and got up from the floor to stand in front of the floor-length mirror by the armoire. Without my jacket, I beheld the damage in full. The glowing cracks extended from my fingers all over my arms and up my neck to reach my face. I finally appreciated the severity of how close I’d come to Magic Burn Out.
The cracks were much lighter than they had been a few hours ago, but they were everywhere. It was frightening and oddly humbling to see myself this way. After I discovered I could resurrect myself in the Shifting Forest, I’d wondered if I was invincible. Truth was, I was anything but. And discovering my aptitude for power had only brought me closer to death.
I was overwhelmingly glad that the Vicennalia Aurora was over. I didn’t want to be tempted with that kind of power again. It was worse than facing a monster. Mainly because I wasn’t sure how to stop it or if I could completely stop it.
A knock came at the door. Before I had time to respond, the door was pushed inward. It was Merlin.
“You know, when someone knocks, they’re supposed to wait for the person on the other side to say ‘Come in’,” I said, annoyed.
“Formalities,” Merlin replied with a dismissive wave. “I don’t like to waste time. You and I need to talk.”
“Merlin, we’ve already done a bunch of talking,” I replied. “I don’t know if it’s escaped your notice, but I’ve had kind of a rough day. Can it possibly wait until tomorrow?”
“I don’t like loose ends either,” he said. “I’ve just come from speaking with SJ and now I want to finish up with you.”
“What were you talking to SJ about?”
“She’ll tell you tomorrow,” he said. “You and I have to discuss the matter of your magic.”
My shoulders slumped. I thought he’d given me a couple of odd looks in the den. He clearly didn’t buy my claims about being “non-threatening,” bu
t I still tried to dodge the subject.
“About that,” I said. “Can you tell me how long this fractured-mosaic look lasts?” I gestured at my cracked appearance.
“I experienced near Magic Burn Out to that degree a couple times when I was younger,” Merlin responded. “The first time occurred when I was a few years older than you, during a Vicennalia Aurora actually. The marks should fade by morning. But you mustn’t use magic at all for ten days. No wand or powers. Even a single premature spark could cause you to relapse and shatter.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he said resolutely. “When I got my powers as a young adult, I was terribly confused, but luckily the very woman who gave me the magic helped me to understand it.”
“A Fairy Godmother, right? Gwenivere told me you saved one from the Questor Beast and she gave you a spark of magic as a reward.”
“Correct,” he said. “Though I’m sure she regretted it when that one spark developed into Pure Magic. As you may have noticed, the woman is not fond of things that tempt disorder.”
“As I may have noticed?”
“Lena Lenore,” he said. “She’s the Fairy Godmother who gave me magic.”
My eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“Calm yourself, Crisanta. No need to have a conniption.”
“Merlin, you didn’t think it was relevant to mention that the woman who is about to lead the legal charge against me in Book is your magic mentor?”
“Was my magic mentor,” he clarified. “I came to her shortly after I began having visions of the future. I had a lot of questions about the side effects of my powers. She tried to remove my magic with a Stiltdegarth as a test, and when it couldn’t be taken away, she knew she’d inadvertently given me Pure Magic.”
“How did she not toss you into Alderon?” I replied.
“She felt responsible for me, so I was her problem to solve. She told me her sister had successfully overcome the corruptive nature of Pure Magic, and she would try to help me do the same. She probably would have handled the situation differently if I lived in Book. The fact that I was in Camelot and she could simply deal with me on occasion by crossing a couple of wormholes whilst keeping me a secret from Book’s other higher-ups made it work.”
“I can’t believe this,” I said. “Before tonight, when was the last time you saw her?”
“Oh, it’s been a couple of decades. I mastered my abilities after a few years and learned all I could from her. She’d check in periodically after that. Then there was a brief period in my thirties when we dated . . .”
I grimaced. “Merlin, that’s gross. She’s like two hundred years old.”
“But she’s been under an anti-aging spell since her forties,” Merlin countered. “And she cleans up very nice . . . But that’s beside the point. After things didn’t work out between us, we parted ways and severed our connection. I’d had Pure Magic for a long time by then and she accepted that I wasn’t going to turn dark. I’d learned to control the power and she washed her hands of all guilt for creating me.”
The churning in my mind set my legs to pacing. “Okay, so Lenore helped you control your magic. That’s a good thing. Half of Lenore’s argument against me is that with the exception of her sister, people with Pure Magic always turn dark. You’re living proof that this isn’t true. Moreover, she created you, bent the rules to protect you, and trained you to handle your powers.”
I paused and nodded, affirming the idea to myself. “I can work with this.”
“That’s what I thought,” Merlin agreed. “Though it is not the sole reason I wanted to speak with you alone.”
“There’s some other bombshell you want to reveal?” I asked, half jokingly.
“No,” Merlin replied. “We need to address the enchanted elephant in the room. Your powers aren’t like mine or Liza’s, and I am worried. As I suspect you are underneath that bravado.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied.
“Yes you do, Crisanta. For starters, there’s the nature of your ability. Controlling life is too great a power for any single being to hold—that’s why even Godmothers and genies don’t possess it. Past that, Liza’s teleportation magic and my invisibility magic may be used to cross the Malice Line when properly focused, but your power courts darkness like a reflex. You’ve had more experience giving life, it’s true, but with time I think taking life will become just as easy for you.”
That was a scary notion. And I had a feeling he was right. The first time I’d taken life had been when I’d disenchanted a living wooden plank. Doing so had taken great effort. But today I sucked life from countless antagonists and monsters, and as the day went on, while the costs of doing so grew more painful, the act itself did get easier. Though that could’ve been because of the Vicennalia Aurora . . .
“I don’t think it’s just the Vicennalia Aurora,” Merlin said, as if reading my mind. “We won’t know for certain for a couple of weeks, as you can’t test your magic right now. But I’ve seen a lot in my time—I’ve encountered strong wielders of many different types of magic and I’ve had Pure Magic myself for decades and know its limits—and I’ve never seen anything quite like you. Lenore has a right to be nervous.”
His words were more frightening than the Malice Line. Whether I liked the wizard or not, being told by the legendary Merlin of Camelot that I was something unprecedented made me feel unsettled. I may have clashed with a lot of adults over the years in my quest for change and self-actualization, but the fact was sometimes they knew more than I did. They’d seen things, done things, and had important experiences before I’d even been born. So if I made some of them nervous, that could not be taken lightly.
Fear of truly believing Merlin caused me to shake my head in adamant disagreement, though. “You’re wrong,” I said. “You, Lenore, my friends, even Nadia are seeing something that’s not there. The Aurora is where all that power came from. Not me. In ten days, when I can use magic again, you’ll see.”
“For your sake, that is what I wish for,” Merlin replied solemnly. “With your growing ease crossing the Malice Line, greater power would only further support the idea that you are a danger. Not only to your realm, but all of them.” He sighed. “I hope we don’t live to regret your choice to forgo the one chance you had at being cured.”
I gulped.
You and me both.
or the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn’t have a single dream or vision flash. My mind was blank and quiet.
You’d think this might have offered some relief. I certainly always wished for a rest from my nocturnal foreshadowing. But when I woke, I felt a little sad. With so much up in the air, I could have benefited from a glimpse of what was to come.
When I’d risen from bed, I’d decided to go see Merlin. Though the moment I stepped into the hall, I narrowly avoided getting run over by a dozen hustling courtiers. The whole corridor was busy. I maneuvered my way through the activity to Merlin’s room four doors down. He seemed preoccupied too, but he answered my questions about the dream loss. Apparently coming so close to Magic Burn Out had torched my connection to the magic encompassing our realms, thus preventing me from seeing anything. Merlin assured me that the visions would return when I had fully recharged and then he closed the door in my face after a quizzical look at the loaner pajamas I had on. On my walk back to my room, I understood why he’d given me that face. I saw the time on a grandfather clock in the hall—eleven o’clock. The re-coronation was scheduled to start at noon. That explained the bustling.
I shrugged to myself, unashamed of sleeping in. I reckoned I’d earned it.
Before returning to my quarters, I meandered through the busy corridor for a minute. I looked over the railing and observed castle staff hastening along the elaborate staircase intersection below. It was only yesterday that we’d been fighting along these same stairs, dodging arrows and Morgause’s levitation blasts. Now this was a hub of traffic for regular, non-violent activity; i
t was as if the battle never happened. Courtiers picked up their skirts to climb the stairs, staff members carried silks and silver trays, and knights marched about heading from place to place.
A whoosh of brown suddenly zipped past me. A girl from the Gwenivere Brigade on a higher floor had fired an arrow to a lower level and was ziplining there rather than traversing the hectic stairs.
Smart.
I turned and almost rammed into two servant girls in gold and navy robes standing in front of my door.
“Good morning!” the shorter one chirped. Her green eyes sparkled with excitement, and she carried a long, black garment bag that seemed bulky and heavy.
“The queen sent us,” the taller one said. She held a tray with a silver cloche and a glass of orange juice with plastic wrap covering the top.
“We came by earlier, but you were asleep,” green eyes said. “Your friends have all been tended to. You’re the last one.”
“Wait, sorry. Give me a second . . . I just woke up.” I pushed the hair out of my face and tried to focus. “Who are you?”
“We’re you’re assigned attendants, Lady Knight,” the tall girl replied. “We brought you breakfast and your outfit for the re-coronation.”
Outfit?
I pictured my clothes from yesterday—torn red dress, battered leggings, scuffed black boots. Definitely not black-tie appropriate.
“Thanks,” I said. I reached for the door to my room and held it open for the girls to enter. They seemed surprised by the action, but hurried in after a moment’s hesitation and got to work. Green eyes unbolted my room’s armoire and hung the garment bag from a hook inside. Tall girl set the tray on the table then she removed the plastic from the juice and the cloche from the tray, revealing a dish of scrambled eggs and a croissant. Yum.
“Shall we help you get ready, Lady Knight?” asked green eyes.
“No. Thank you. I fly solo in that aspect,” I responded. “And you can call me Crisanta. What are your names?”
“I’m Elsie and that’s Barbara,” said the tall girl. “And while that’s kind of you, we must call you by your formal name. It’s tradition in our land that all Knights of the Round Table are addressed by their proper titles. In your case, Lady Knight.”
Crisanta Knight: The Lost King Page 34
