The light pulsates through Dad’s body, from head to toe, just like when Morpheus unleashed his dream-magic on Jeb the day of prom.
Dad’s body goes limp and his facial muscles relax.
I slump across his head, exhausted even though I’ve done nothing.
“Now, we see to you,” Morpheus instructs Jeb, and motions for him to sit. He rewets a sponge. “You’re bleeding.”
Jeb scoots onto the table’s edge. “No.” He runs his hands across the red smudges on his costume. “It’s paint,” he explains, dreamlike. “A residue from CC. His palms were sliced following my command to keep the guards from hijacking the funnel.”
Morpheus frowns and stops blotting Jeb’s face. “Where is CC now?”
“He was running interference so I could escape with Thomas,” Jeb answers. “The guards captured him.”
Mumbling an oath, Morpheus throws the sponge into the bucket. After drying his hands on the drop cloth, he drags his jacket on and paces toward the entrance where he set aside his hat. He positions it atop his head, wings drooping behind him.
“We need a plan to get the antidote.” He works his gloves into place. “Any hope for the element of surprise is ruined. Red knows Alyssa is in AnyElsewhere. Now they have CC, who knows the way to our mountain.”
Jeb digs his fisted knuckles into the table. “I’ll go tonight, before they can try to find us. I’ll get CC back, and the antidote. We’ll heal Thomas and send him and Al through the gate before anything else happens.”
I shake my head. “We’re not leaving without both of you. Got it?”
“How would you get inside, pray tell?” Morpheus asks Jeb, ignoring my attempt at a command.
Jeb drops to the floor and strips off the bird suit. A navy blue T-shirt and faded jeans cling to him, wrinkled and popping with static from being underneath the costume. “Maybe I can shake things up. Crumble a few turrets and knock down a wall or two.”
“We’ve already tried that once,” Morpheus contradicts. “Your magic is limited to the natural terrain. Things built at the hands of others, they’re beyond your capacity to alter.” He adjusts his cap, and the orange moths along the brim sway. He looks at me. “Hart has arranged a caucus race tomorrow to elect an official king. We wear the simulacrum . . . go first thing in the morning when the gates are open.”
“All the prisoners will be preoccupied,” I reason, rubbing Dad’s hand.
Jeb slants his head in thought. “It would help if we had a floor plan. We’d know exactly where to go for the curative, no detours.”
Morpheus nods. “We could send someone tonight, someone small enough to slip through existing holes in the wall. While they’re exploring, we can rest, prepare, and plan.”
Nikki looks up from the other side of the room where she and Chessie have been teasing the cranes that occupy the Japanese screens. She flitters over to us. “Send me,” she insists, her voice tinkling as she points to herself.
I’m touched by her bravery. “Nikki is strong. She could carry the antidote back herself if she finds it.”
“I don’t know,” Jeb says. “She’s so tiny. What if—”
“Nikki is ideal,” Morpheus interjects. “You designed her to have free run of this world. She’s small and swift. And on good terms with your paintings. If CC is sent to lead the guards here, she can distract him. Chessie and I can accompany her as far as the castle gates, wait in hiding for her to finish the expedition.”
Jeb runs a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. He’s obviously still worried for his sprite. “Okay. But I’m the one who screwed up. If she’s not able to get the cure, I should go to this race thing tomorrow. Not you and Al.”
I start to object, but Morpheus beats me to it. “You’re needed here. You command the creations. You’re better equipped to protect Thomas should the mountain be attacked. Chessie will be our runner if something goes wrong on our end.”
Jeb nods, resigned.
Morpheus wraps the drop cloth around Dad and lifts him to a sitting position. “He needs to be somewhere safe, on the chance the mountain is breached.”
“I’ll take him to the lighthouse,” Jeb offers. “Al, you can stay with him through the night.”
“Okay,” I whisper. I’m scared to be alone, even though it’s my own father. I don’t know what I’ll do if he gets worse. “What if he wakes?”
“He shan’t wake. The spell he’s under will last until Jebediah and I release it.”
I remind myself a queen is supposed to be brave, and agree.
Jeb balances Dad over his shoulder. Moving aside to let him by, Morpheus grabs my arm before I can follow them into the corridor.
He waits until Jeb is out of earshot and looks down at me. “Jebediah cannot go to that castle under any circumstances.” He watches the door. “It’s too dangerous for him.”
I’m not sure I believe in his concern. “Why?”
“He’s a vessel we can all pour our magic into, in a land of powerless fae. Such a rare commodity is priceless. A weapon to be feared and coveted by everyone. It’s almost destroyed him trying to harness just mine and Red’s powers. The inhabitants of this place—the Queen of Hearts, Manti and his goons—they are soulless and merciless. Were they ever to realize what he is, they would fill him to the brim with their magic. Eat him up like a cancer until there’s nothing left. There would be no getting your mortal back after they finish.”
The logic of his words weighs on my already heavy head. “So, you really were protecting him all this time? By keeping him holed up here?”
His hand slides down to my wrist in unspoken affirmation.
“Thank you.” I squeeze his fingers in mine.
Morpheus gestures to Chessie and Nikki, directing them into the hall to watch for Jeb. “Don’t get sentimental. I did not do it for him. I did it because I couldn’t have you tortured by guilt had he come to such an end. You would’ve blamed your choices on prom night for the tragedy. It would have ruined your faith in your ability to rule. You’d be a worthless queen if you couldn’t trust your own judgment.”
The jaded explanation falls in line with the reasoning of a solitary fae. Of course it’s for the greater good of the realm he loves. But he still did the right thing, and Jeb’s alive because of it. I won’t forget that. “So, what do you propose we do? Tell Jeb about Red’s part in his magic?”
Dad’s body goes limp and his facial muscles relax.
I slump across his head, exhausted even though I’ve done nothing.
“Now, we see to you,” Morpheus instructs Jeb, and motions for him to sit. He rewets a sponge. “You’re bleeding.”
Jeb scoots onto the table’s edge. “No.” He runs his hands across the red smudges on his costume. “It’s paint,” he explains, dreamlike. “A residue from CC. His palms were sliced following my command to keep the guards from hijacking the funnel.”
Morpheus frowns and stops blotting Jeb’s face. “Where is CC now?”
“He was running interference so I could escape with Thomas,” Jeb answers. “The guards captured him.”
Mumbling an oath, Morpheus throws the sponge into the bucket. After drying his hands on the drop cloth, he drags his jacket on and paces toward the entrance where he set aside his hat. He positions it atop his head, wings drooping behind him.
“We need a plan to get the antidote.” He works his gloves into place. “Any hope for the element of surprise is ruined. Red knows Alyssa is in AnyElsewhere. Now they have CC, who knows the way to our mountain.”
Jeb digs his fisted knuckles into the table. “I’ll go tonight, before they can try to find us. I’ll get CC back, and the antidote. We’ll heal Thomas and send him and Al through the gate before anything else happens.”
I shake my head. “We’re not leaving without both of you. Got it?”
“How would you get inside, pray tell?” Morpheus asks Jeb, ignoring my attempt at a command.
Jeb drops to the floor and strips off the bird suit. A navy blue T-shirt and faded jeans cling to him, wrinkled and popping with static from being underneath the costume. “Maybe I can shake things up. Crumble a few turrets and knock down a wall or two.”
“We’ve already tried that once,” Morpheus contradicts. “Your magic is limited to the natural terrain. Things built at the hands of others, they’re beyond your capacity to alter.” He adjusts his cap, and the orange moths along the brim sway. He looks at me. “Hart has arranged a caucus race tomorrow to elect an official king. We wear the simulacrum . . . go first thing in the morning when the gates are open.”
“All the prisoners will be preoccupied,” I reason, rubbing Dad’s hand.
Jeb slants his head in thought. “It would help if we had a floor plan. We’d know exactly where to go for the curative, no detours.”
Morpheus nods. “We could send someone tonight, someone small enough to slip through existing holes in the wall. While they’re exploring, we can rest, prepare, and plan.”
Nikki looks up from the other side of the room where she and Chessie have been teasing the cranes that occupy the Japanese screens. She flitters over to us. “Send me,” she insists, her voice tinkling as she points to herself.
I’m touched by her bravery. “Nikki is strong. She could carry the antidote back herself if she finds it.”
“I don’t know,” Jeb says. “She’s so tiny. What if—”
“Nikki is ideal,” Morpheus interjects. “You designed her to have free run of this world. She’s small and swift. And on good terms with your paintings. If CC is sent to lead the guards here, she can distract him. Chessie and I can accompany her as far as the castle gates, wait in hiding for her to finish the expedition.”
Jeb runs a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. He’s obviously still worried for his sprite. “Okay. But I’m the one who screwed up. If she’s not able to get the cure, I should go to this race thing tomorrow. Not you and Al.”
I start to object, but Morpheus beats me to it. “You’re needed here. You command the creations. You’re better equipped to protect Thomas should the mountain be attacked. Chessie will be our runner if something goes wrong on our end.”
Jeb nods, resigned.
Morpheus wraps the drop cloth around Dad and lifts him to a sitting position. “He needs to be somewhere safe, on the chance the mountain is breached.”
“I’ll take him to the lighthouse,” Jeb offers. “Al, you can stay with him through the night.”
“Okay,” I whisper. I’m scared to be alone, even though it’s my own father. I don’t know what I’ll do if he gets worse. “What if he wakes?”
“He shan’t wake. The spell he’s under will last until Jebediah and I release it.”
I remind myself a queen is supposed to be brave, and agree.
Jeb balances Dad over his shoulder. Moving aside to let him by, Morpheus grabs my arm before I can follow them into the corridor.
He waits until Jeb is out of earshot and looks down at me. “Jebediah cannot go to that castle under any circumstances.” He watches the door. “It’s too dangerous for him.”
I’m not sure I believe in his concern. “Why?”
“He’s a vessel we can all pour our magic into, in a land of powerless fae. Such a rare commodity is priceless. A weapon to be feared and coveted by everyone. It’s almost destroyed him trying to harness just mine and Red’s powers. The inhabitants of this place—the Queen of Hearts, Manti and his goons—they are soulless and merciless. Were they ever to realize what he is, they would fill him to the brim with their magic. Eat him up like a cancer until there’s nothing left. There would be no getting your mortal back after they finish.”
The logic of his words weighs on my already heavy head. “So, you really were protecting him all this time? By keeping him holed up here?”
His hand slides down to my wrist in unspoken affirmation.
“Thank you.” I squeeze his fingers in mine.
Morpheus gestures to Chessie and Nikki, directing them into the hall to watch for Jeb. “Don’t get sentimental. I did not do it for him. I did it because I couldn’t have you tortured by guilt had he come to such an end. You would’ve blamed your choices on prom night for the tragedy. It would have ruined your faith in your ability to rule. You’d be a worthless queen if you couldn’t trust your own judgment.”
The jaded explanation falls in line with the reasoning of a solitary fae. Of course it’s for the greater good of the realm he loves. But he still did the right thing, and Jeb’s alive because of it. I won’t forget that. “So, what do you propose we do? Tell Jeb about Red’s part in his magic?”
