by Lisa McMann
“Come back as soon as you can,” Alex said to Simber. He tried not to sound anxious. “We’ll be fine out here, I’m sure. I hope you can find us.”
The stone cheetah growled in response. Alex knew Simber didn’t want to leave, but he had no choice. Slowly the statue ascended with his strange-looking cargo. Carina tapped her fist to her chest and gave a solemn wave, and soon she, Simber, and Sean were on their way home.
Home. It seemed like forever since they’d been in Artimé. Alex stood at the bow and watched the three grow small against the blue canvas of the sky, and tried not to think about all the things that could go wrong without Simber there to save them.
“Alex!” Lani called from the stairs, breaking his reverie. Her hair was disheveled and her clothes dripping wet. She followed Alex’s gaze and saw the dot in the sky. “Ah, they’re off, then,” she said softly. “Poor Sean.”
“You heard?”
“Yes,” she said. “The ship feels so naked without Simber overhead. Makes me nervous.”
Alex nodded. “I’m nervous too.” They watched the dot disappear, and when Alex was sure there was nothing more to see, he sighed and looked at Lani, dripping next to him.
“Oh,” he said. “Sorry—I was lost there for a minute. How’s the leak? What can I help with?”
Lani touched his arm. “Nothing. Just coming up to give you an update. The hole is patched for now, at least. We’re bailing out the rest of the water.”
Alex shoved his worries about Simber aside for the moment. He had more pressing matters right below his feet. “Do you need help?”
“No, it’s crowded enough down there. Thanks, though.”
“Sure,” he said. “Octavia is looking for the rest of the captain’s body parts so she can put him back together, and Florence is repairing broken railings, equipment, and sails. We should be on our way soon.”
“We’ll have to take it slow. We don’t want the waves to break open our patch job.”
“I know.” Alex looked at her. “Is Sky . . . ?”
Lani offered a sympathetic smile. “She’s fine. Working hard. We all are.”
“Of course I know that.”
Lani cringed. “We’re all fine, I mean. Just bruises and scrapes.”
“Oh. Yes, Simber told me. I’m glad.”
Lani held Alex’s gaze for a moment. “Just give her some space,” she said quietly. “She says you two weren’t meant to be. She’s given up on you. But I don’t know.” She looked over her shoulder down the stairwell. “I’ve got to go. There’s a lot of water. I’m working on creating a larger sponge spell to try and soak it up that way, but I don’t have the right components here on the ship.” She turned and headed down the steps. “Maybe a bigger bucket spell . . . nah. Too heavy. Come on, Haluki,” she chided. “Think it through.” Her mumblings grew too soft to hear.
Alex watched her go and almost went after her to see the damage, but decided to heed her advice. Her blunt words hurt—Sky had told Lani that she’d given up on him? It made him feel terrible. After a moment Alex began to pick up broken chunks of the railing and other items strewn about the battered ship, flinging them a bit harder than he intended into a pile on the deck near Florence.
But why wouldn’t she give up on him? He deserved it. Things had been tense with Sky before their harrowing journey around the world, and it was his fault. Completely. He knew that. He’d realized that he liked her so much that he couldn’t seem to do his job properly. Whenever she was around, he got distracted. He’d made a lot of mistakes, like when he almost killed Spike before she had a chance to really live. And when he’d been too careless to find out if Florence could swim, which had caused intense worry for days when Florence was captured by the giant eel. These were big mistakes. Life or death mistakes. The kind he couldn’t afford to make again, not under any circumstances. All of which had led to awkward tension and a vast failure on his part to communicate the problem to Sky.
If only he could explain it to her. But according to Lani, he didn’t have to now. Sky had given up on him.
He stared long and hard at the pile of rubbish on the deck, hardly remembering that he’d built it. Of course she’d given up on him. She wasn’t the kind of person to wait around for someone to be done acting out all of his foolishness. If Alex couldn’t tell Sky the truth, at least she could be free to find whatever it was she wanted from life, whether alone or with someone else. And as long as threats to his people existed, Alex would have to keep away from romantic relationships.
It was for the best. Alex had a million other things to do, and there was no way he could keep making such enormous mistakes with all of the Artiméans’ well-being at stake under his leadership.
Even so, his heart twisted and pain shot through him in a most deep and intense way, more painful than any injury he’d ever sustained, because it came from inside. And while the pain surprised him, it brought with it an even more shocking revelation. For the truth was that in the time since the girl on a raft had washed up on shore, Alex Stowe, Unwanted, head mage and restorer of Artimé, in the midst of turmoil from all sides, had slowly—and quite tragically—fallen in love.
And, unlike Sky, he was having quite a lot of trouble falling out of it.
The Pieces Begin to Come Together
A few days later in Artimé, Meghan sat on the lawn with Ms. Morning, Mr. Appleblossom, and Gunnar Haluki. They had much to discuss.
“Is it too soon to be concerned about Alex and the ship?” Ms. Morning asked. “Shall I send another seek spell?”
“It might be just a little premature,” replied Mr. Appleblossom in his traditional rhyming iambic pentameter speech. “And we don’t want to worry them, do we? I’ll visit poste d’observateur to check if there is any ship out there to see.”
Meghan flashed Ms. Morning a curious glance.
Ms. Morning smiled and explained, “Ever since he climbed up Florence to the top of the gray shack, he can’t get enough climbing, so he’s been visiting the mansion rooftop daily to watch for Alex. He calls it his observer position.”
Mr. Appleblossom cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Ms. Morning.
“Poste d’observateur,” Ms. Morning said carefully, trying not to mangle the strange words. “He thinks it’s some other language.”
Mr. Appleblossom beamed.
“What, from another island you mean?” asked Gunnar.
“Another island or another world, it is unknown; the truth remains unfurled.” He pointed to the book on the table next to him, which he’d gotten from the vessel that crashed into the sea near Artimé some weeks before.
“Anyway,” Meghan prompted, “Mr. Appleblossom is right. I think if we send another seek spell it’ll make us seem like we’re in scads of trouble when all we really want is to let Carina know about her mother’s death.” She paused. “Which is kind of a big deal too, of course. But we’ve only used that spell in times of danger, so I bet they’ll be imagining the worst. We don’t want them to botch up the mission on account of them rushing to get back here.”
“All right, we’ll wait,” said Ms. Morning. “Now, what is this I hear about you going into Quill? Did you see your parents?”
Meghan scowled in the direction of the girrinos, who apparently couldn’t keep a secret. “Not exactly,” she said. She knew Ms. Morning would be mad if she found out what had happened at the palace with Aaron and Gondoleery Rattrapp. It had been reckless of Meghan to go there alone, and she could have gotten killed. “I just, um, went for a walk like my brother often does. When he’s here, that is. Obviously.”
Ms. Morning, seemingly distracted, accepted the explanation. She looked at Gunnar. “I’m still not sure what to think about Eva Fathom. Do you believe what she said? That she was on our side?”
“I do,” Gunnar said. “Marcus told me about the plan he had with Eva to fake his death and take control of Aaron. It all backfired when Marcus and you took the tube to my house in Quill and Aaron was there. That unf
ortunate turn of events was out of Eva’s control.”
“But all that time she knew you and I were being held captive! She knew and she didn’t do anything about it!”
Haluki smiled grimly. “She let me know you were there. I don’t know if I would have survived without that information.”
Claire Morning looked at her hands. “But why wouldn’t she rescue us?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Haluki said, “but I believe she was doing the best she could under the shocking circumstances. She couldn’t help us, not with the others there. Not without risking everything.”
He scratched his chin thoughtfully and went on. “She had to prove her loyalty to Aaron so he would tell her things. She’d been the one keeping us informed since she went back to work as Secretary. Matilda can only hear so much from the closet where Aaron stashed her, and then only what happens in the office. Eva was our second set of ears. She stopped Aaron from doing a number of very stupid things. I just wish . . .” He trailed off, thinking of the old woman. “I will miss her. She was a good woman, and we need to let Carina know that. I’m sure it broke Eva’s heart to keep the truth from her daughter. But she did it for the sake of Artimé.”
Ms. Morning frowned. “How did she keep us informed? She hadn’t been on the premises for months until she came rushing in here the other day.”
Meghan listened, holding her breath. She didn’t know any of this, and she felt very important to be a trusted part of this conversation.
Gunnar glanced sidelong at Meghan. His look told her this was a secret she should keep. “Eva had a confidant. Someone she met with regularly to exchange information. I am quite sure that person will vouch for her.”
Ms. Morning sat up, indignant. “Why doesn’t he or she come forward, then?”
“Because he’s on the ship,” Gunnar said in a low voice.
“You mean Alex?” Ms. Morning asked.
“It must be,” said Meghan.
Gunnar Haluki looked down.
Mr. Appleblossom, silent all this time, brows knit together in concentration, soon leaned in confidently and looked at Meghan. “The confidant would not the head mage be—for who else but Sean Ranger? It is he.”
Meghan gasped. She looked at Ms. Morning, whose lips parted in wonder. They both turned to Haluki.
“Is it?” demanded Ms. Morning.
“My brother?” asked Meghan.
Haluki’s silence gave no answer. But Meghan thought his eyes said yes.
“Well what about Liam Healy, then?” Ms. Morning asked after a while. “Eva mentioned him. That he was on our side. I hardly believed it, but now . . . I’m not sure what to think.”
“Liam’s loyalty is something I know nothing about,” Haluki said gruffly. He hesitated, looking carefully at Ms. Morning. “I only know how poorly he treated you.”
Ms. Morning looked at the grass. “Don’t worry,” she said bitterly. “I haven’t forgotten that.”
Meghan, sensing tension, looked anywhere but at Haluki and Ms. Morning. As Meghan craned her neck, pretending to admire the budding trees near the shore, she spotted something in the sky.
“Look.” She squinted, then got up and ran toward the beach, while Mr. Appleblossom headed for the corner of the mansion and climbed sprightly up the side of it to his observation tower on the roof.
The spot grew bigger. “What in the world?” Meghan whispered.
“Hurrry!” came the familiar roar from the dot in the sky. “Prrreparrre forrr incoming wounded!”
Island Number Five
The ship drifted slowly to the west with the current while the people on board grew restless and tired of fixing things. It had been days since they’d raced over the waterfall. Water continued to seep in through the edges of the patched hole in the ship, and sometimes the pressure of the waves knocked the glass out completely, causing a blast of seawater to fill the bowels of the vessel at an alarming rate. Samheed and Alex had cast more glass spells than they could count, and everyone else was getting sick of bailing around the clock. Sleep came in snatches, and on the minds of everyone was Simber’s glaring absence.
One of Captain Ahab’s ears was still missing and probably lost forever, and his head rattled a bit, but there was nothing Ms. Octavia could do to stop it short of taking his entire head off, and she didn’t want to risk doing that at sea when they needed him at the wheel. Half-deaf, the captain spoke even louder than usual, and his nonsensical outbursts put everyone on edge.
Spike surfaced now and then, staying near the ship in case she was needed, and always eager to learn more about the ways of the sea by watching and listening.
Florence was unusually quiet and lost in thought as she repaired things on the top deck, no doubt revisiting in her mind the island of Karkinos and its inhabitants, most specifically the bronze giant Talon, whom she’d grown very fond of. She thought often about the dying crab and racked her brain to think of something the people of Artimé could do to help. But so far, she hadn’t come up with anything.
Energy was down all around. Not unlike Karkinos, the ship had pretty much turned into a floating island with no other land in sight.
In the quietness of the late afternoon, Lani took a worn map from her pocket. It was the one she’d been studying throughout the journey to Pirate Island and the Island of Legends. She’d been convinced the map held a secret to what lay beyond the string of seven islands, for on the map, to the west of a staggered row of seven dots, was a drawing of a much larger piece of land. That land was what she’d hoped to find on their journey beyond the westernmost island, Karkinos.
Now she studied it one last time and shook her head. There was no larger land to the west. The world was only seven islands, and the map was probably just something some writer imagined in her world of make-believe stories. Lani’s theory had been wrong, and Samheed had been right. Oh, how she hated to admit it! But with her chin held high, and making sure Samheed was watching, Lani took a fire-breathing origami dragon from her component vest pocket, commanded it to light, and used it to set the corner of the map on fire, intending to let the ashes whirl around and fly off to meet the sea.
But Samheed didn’t gloat—he sprang into action. He grabbed the map, threw it to the deck, and stomped the fire out. Then he picked it up and handed it back to Lani, smoothing the blackened corner and seeing that the map was still fully intact. “You should keep this,” he said. “It might not be what you thought, but it could still be important.” He put his hands on Lani’s shoulders and pulled her close. They stayed together, talking quietly for a very long time.
Alex noticed them and paused to watch their intimate conversation from his spot at the stern, where he continued to retreat to despite the fact that Simber was no longer hovering above. Feeling lost and alone, he sighed softly and turned to stare out over the sea.
Sky also noticed the couple and looked away. After an awkward moment standing near the stairwell, pointedly not looking at Alex, she descended to check on her mother, Copper, whom they’d rescued from the pirate island. Soon after, Crow and Henry, who had been watching and snickering at Sam and Lani from behind a crate, lost interest in the mushiness and snuck belowdecks too.
As darkness crept over the ship, the exhausted sailors, creatures, and even the young whale failed to detect in the distance what Simber no doubt would have noticed, had he been there. It was the easternmost island.
And it was not a nice one.
Aaron Grows Desperate
Aaron lifted his head from his desk. His hair was disheveled and his jawline wore an uneven layer of fuzz. Shadows hung below his bloodshot eyes. The desk was strewn with recent sketches—this time of Quillitary vehicles and soldiers. “There’s no other way,” he muttered, stabbing the drawings with his pencil. “I need their help. And there’s no more time to waste.”
Gondoleery had said out loud what Aaron had refused to admit to himself all this time—that he was going to lose everything. His power, the palace . . . probabl
y even his life if he didn’t do something drastic. And fast.
In retrospect, this was probably something Aaron should have done from the time he’d been kicked out of university, but back then there was no way it would have worked—after all, the Quillitary soldiers had been the ones who removed him. But now? Maybe. There was a chance.
All Aaron knew was that if his new plan didn’t work, he might as well throw himself into the Great Lake of Boiling Oil, because he’d be more unwanted than the Unwanteds themselves.
He’d already sent Liam and Gondoleery out on the streets of Quill to spread the word about the new threat from Artimé, having them preach far and wide that one of the magical land’s creatures had killed his beloved Secretary. And he’d pushed aside the twinge of guilt that went along with the little white lie. Technically the panther was a creature of Artimé if Mr. Today had created it. And it lived in the jungle, which was a part of Artimé. So it seemed a fair assessment. He just conveniently left out the part where he had been the one to unleash the wild beast.
His mouth went dry as he remembered the horrible scene that had kept him up every night since it happened. He couldn’t understand why he kept thinking about it. For much of his life he’d been able to push thoughts aside, because the laws of Quill required it. Sure, he’d had dreams about his brother now and then even though it wasn’t allowed. He’d felt something when Justine had died, even though he wasn’t supposed to. But Secretary . . . something about her death tore apart his insides in a way that was foreign and extremely frightening.
He stood abruptly and began ripping his drawings into tiny shreds and throwing them into the trash bin. “No!” he shouted. But even he wasn’t sure why.
“Secretary! I require a meeting with the Quillitary—” He stopped short and set his jaw. The old habit of calling for her seemed impossible to break. He had no one now.
There was a noise in the hallway, and soon Liam appeared at the door. “Can I help you, sir? I mean, I heard you calling. I’m happy to, um . . . assist. . . . ”
