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Nero might have pushed me to kill, but Rory taught me how to do it well.
Always have an escape plan.
I survey the room and check for exits and threats. Two doors in the vast room lead out—one to the woods and one somewhere else. The raked ceiling is braced with wooden beams. Windows overlook the same manicured garden and dense woods. An open window to the kitchen emits steam and the scent of mouth-watering food. That’s about as far as my survey goes because my stomach rumbles. I can’t remember the last time I ate.
Peablossom whirls to face me and bunches her left shoulder toward her ear. I realize she’s guarding the side of her face missing an eyebrow.
“Dormitory sleeping quarters are through the back door,” she says in a rush. “You’re in the Malachite suite, bunk twenty-three. Toiletries and washcloths will be on your bed. Ablutions are clearly labeled.”
“You won’t take me there?”
Her pleasant tone evaporates. “I must freshen up, too, dearest confection. The pageant starts in—oh, I almost forgot. Here is your resonance stone. Always keep it on you.” She digs into a skirt pocket and drops a smooth, round pebble into my palm. It’s warm to the touch and feels like a mana stone. “When the call of your name echoes from the stone, do ensure you are impeccably presented according to the code and take your place in line at the fort’s east entrance.”
She catches herself frowning and refits her joy-filled mask before swiftly exiting. Her “We Are Smiling” song fades after the door closes. Conversations come into focus. My ears twitch as I pick up familiar words.
“When I win, I’m asking for a cheeseburger,” jokes a woman.
A man responds, “Nah, I want my PlayStation back.”
“I suppose we should do the right thing and dream for the dickhead who bombed the world to die.”
“But first, make it so the bombs never dropped.”
“I wonder if that’s in the queen’s power to give?”
My mother used to complain about never tasting a cheeseburger again. These people must be from the old world. Anyone awakened in Elphyne came with a tremendous capacity for holding mana. I might find valuable allies if I can locate these humans.
I can’t imagine they’d be happy with how things are run here. They might even look past my face and see an ally, too.
My feet won’t move. What if they laugh at me? It almost physically hurts to push past the fear, but I stroll toward the rear dormitory exit and scan the tables for signs of the old-worlders.Ranging in various sizes from tall to short, muscular to frail, humanity is evident by the shape of their round ears. Chewing my lip, I walk up to the table occupants still discussing their wishes.
“Hello,” I greet. “You’re from the old world?”
Everyone stills. A few nervous glances flick my way, but no one answers. After a prolonged awkward moment, it’s clear they’re ignoring me.
They’re all glaringly attractive. My chest tightens, and it feels like the walls are closing in. Out of anyone who might have treated me kindly, I thought it would be them.
Behind me, a dry voice retorts, “You won’t get anything from the Nevers.”
I twist and spot a table across the aisle. These humans aren’t perfectly flawless like the majority. A middle-aged curvy woman with short brown hair holds a walking stick and rubs her thigh with gnarled fingers as though it pains her. A man with gray whiskers squints as though he can’t see correctly. A younger woman with curly black hair pulled into a neat bun has burn scars on one side of her face and neck. The man opposite her is balding but seems younger than the first woman. Possibly in his thirties.
The scarred woman meets my gaze and explains, “They’re too chicken-shit to speak to a Nothing.”
Laughter erupts behind me, but still, they don’t engage. I don’t have time to waste on people who don’t have time for me, so I cross to the new table and offer a tentative smile.
“Hi, I’m Willow.”
“I’m Geraldine,” the black-haired woman replies. “I like long walks on the beach, drinking cocoa by the fire, and reading books about alien abduction.” She then points across the table. “This dude here is Max. Say hello, Max.”
“Hello, Max.” The balding man waves. He has kind brown eyes. I immediately like him.
Geraldine stares at him, but when he says nothing else, she tells me, “He likes reading comics, doing arithmetic, and picking his nose.”
“I do not!”
“Just kidding on that last one.” She laughs and then uses her thumb to point at the older man. “That’s Bob. Conspiracy theorist and classical pianist.” He dips his head in acknowledgment, then does something weird with his fingers along the table.
“And this is Peggy.” Geraldine claps Peggy’s leg beside her. “Loves knitting, baking pumpkin pies, and...”
