"Why did those men call you 'Your Majesty'?" asked Tommy.
Eric grimaced. He tightened his hand around the umbrella, which he held against his hip. The magic igniting Clara's aura continued to stream from the umbrella, providing a glowing pathway for Eric and Tommy to follow as they wound through the near-empty streets of the neighborhood. The few people they did pass barely cast them a glance, though Eric was careful to keep him and Tommy in the shadows of the overarching rooftops.
"Well?" prompted Tommy.
Eric let out a sigh. "Because, even though they probably meant it as an insult, it's technically the correct term to address me with."
Tommy slowed, staring at Eric. His brow creased as he studied Eric, trying to discern whether Eric was joking or not. Seeing the truth in Eric's expression only deepened the confusion in Tommy's eyes. "You…you're serious?"
Eric glanced warily at Tommy. "I told you they didn't like my politics."
Tommy's mouth gaped open. "I thought you were joking! Or maybe it was something to do with an old case of yours."
If Vogt and his men hadn't addressed Eric and Clara with their royal titles, Eric probably could have passed off the attack for that very reason: disgruntled men that had been sentenced to prison time because of Eric's work. For as far as the Drosselmeyers knew, Eric was a lawyer in Boston.
"Technically, I do work with the law," pointed out Eric weakly.
Tommy gave Eric and exasperated look. "But…so…" He waved his hand, as though building up the nerve to ask such a ridiculous question. "Are you really royalty?"
Eric shifted the umbrella in his hand, reluctant to answer. "Yes."
Tommy's eyes widened. "Wait…since Clara is married to you, what does make her?"
Despite his anxiety for Clara, Eric could not help a small smile at that. "They were addressing her correctly too." He cast a quick glance at Tommy, and held back a laugh at the expression on the boy's face.
At a loss for a reply, Tommy quietly stared ahead of them as he digested this new information. "So you're not American," he finally said.
"No."
"I can't believe you and Clara duped Grandfather for so long," Tommy said in a hushed voice, both terrified and awed that they had done so.
Eric grimaced, nervous at the mention of Herr Drosselmeyer. Perhaps, after this was over, he and Clara could convince Tommy to keep their secret, if only for a little while longer.
"So do you live in a castle? Do you have thousands of servants? Do you have an army? Do you have a treasure room full of gold?" The questions came spewing out of Tommy at an alarmingly fast rate, his disbelief quickly turning into awed excitement.
"Hush, Tommy," Eric hissed, glancing about them anxiously. He pressed a hand to Tommy's back, urging him along gently. "We need to focus on finding Clara. I'll answer your questions later."
Tommy sobered, guilt flickering in his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered. Fear seeped back into his expression. "They won't…" He swallowed. "They won't hurt her, right?"
Eric squeezed Tommy's shoulder. "No." Truthfully, it was more a statement of desperate hope then true certainty. But he wasn't about to tell Tommy that. "No, she's only the bait. I'm who they want."
"But why? Why are they after you?"
Eric exhaled wearily. "The man who spoke to us on the bridge, Johan Vogt, had been a councilman for my father. After my father died, Vogt's loyalties…shifted. He was punished for treason." He tightened his jaw. "Obviously, he did not take well to exile."
"Who are the others? Are they all traitors?"
"I only recognized a few of them. The others are likely just men Vogt paid to work for him."
Tommy pressed his lips together, thinking. Then he set his jaw fiercely. "Well, they can't have Clara."
"No." Eric gave Tommy a small smile, pride flowing through him at the boys conviction. "No, they can't."
A moment of silence passed. "I wish I had a better weapon, though," Tommy grumbled.
Eric gestured to Tommy's pockets, which were bulging from objects stuffed into them. "Are those not good enough?"
"They're distractions, not weapons." Tommy glanced at the pistol hanging from Eric's belt with a hopeful expression.
Eric looked down at the pistol. It was Herr Drosselmeyer's, though Eric doubted the man had ever shot it in his life. Walther had given it to him before they left the house, after Eric had confirmed that he knew how to use one.
Eric's father had amassed a small collection of weapons from Clara's world during his travels, consisting of rifles, pistols, and swords from various countries. They were mainly for display, though Eric's father had finally given into son's begging and shown him how to shoot and clean the guns when Eric was fourteen.
The pistol felt incredibly heavy beneath Tommy's gaze. "You are not using the pistol, Tommy."
Tommy sighed. "But you have your umbrella…thing. What if I need it?"
"You won't, as you will not be going anywhere near those men," said Eric sternly. "As we agreed. Once we find Clara, your sole concern is getting out. What I gave you should be more than enough to do the job." He gave Tommy a doubtful glance. "Do you even know how to use a pistol?"
"I can learn," scowled Tommy. "I'm sure it's not hard to shoot one."
Eric frowned. "If you're aiming at a human it most certainly is."
Tommy looked uncomfortable at that.
Eric gave Tommy's shoulder a pat. "Let's just focus on finding Clara, alright?"
Tommy nodded.
They fell quiet, and Eri concentrated on the rose-colored magic streaming out before them. His heart ached at the familiarity of Clara's presence the magic provided, and he quickened his pace, wishing only to close the distance between them.
Please be alright.
/
Clara twisted her arms against the ropes securing her, fury at her capture mingling with desperation to escape. Not for herself – she could sense the truth in Vogt's promise to not harm her. But if she did not escape, Eric would undoubtedly come for her – and fall right into Vogt's hands.
She knew Eric would be aware that this was a trap. But she had no desire to indulge even the smallest possibility of him being captured. She had to get out, before the scepter led Eric here.
The ropes dug into Clara's skin as she pulled at them, and she gritted her teeth at the burning sensation. Weary from her efforts, she slouched against the back of the chair.
Come on, Clara, she scolded herself. Think.
Then she blinked. She had magic. Granted, she wasn't exactly sure what kind of magic, and what the limits of it were. After all, it wasn't like she had anyone to explain it to her. But she was the Sugar Plum Princess. Surely that counted for something.
But how could she use it now? She had only broken curses with it before. Rope wasn't a curse, and she highly doubted kissing it would do it any good – which wasn't possible anyway, tied as she was.
Perhaps she could somehow…manipulate it into loosening. But how? Clara let out a frustrated sigh. Uncertain as she was, she had to at least try.
She closed her eyes, pushing away worried thoughts of Eric so she could concentrate. She focused solely on the ropes binding her arms – on the scratchy feeling of them on her skin, and how they coiled around her arms, looping into intricate knots.
Keeping her attention on the ropes, she then imagined them growing softer – soft as silk. So soft that they could no longer hold the knots, and would slip through the loops like water.
Please work. Please work.
Seconds turned into minutes, and Clara snapped her eyes open, gasping for breath. The ropes hadn't loosened an inch. She gave a cry of frustration, tears of anger welling in her eyes.
Try again. Her thoughts urged. Do not give up. It sounded more like Eric's voice in her mind than her own. A wave of comfort coursed through her at that, and she inhaled deeply.
Try again.
She closed her eyes once more.
Soft as silk. Fluid as water.
Was she imagining it, or were the ropes no longer as coarse as they had been? She strained her arms against them, willing them to move.
Soft as silk. Fluid as water.
The ropes slackened slightly. Clara gave an exhilarated gasp, but she did not open her eyes.
Concentrate.
The ropes moved again, loosening even more.
Soft as silk. Fluid as water.
The ropes rippled apart like ribbons being tugged free. Clara lurched forward in the chair from the release of pressure she had been straining against, and the ropes fluttered to the floor, as weightless as if they were tissue paper. Clara pushed herself out of the chair, grappling for the conductor podium to steady herself as her legs sought balance.
She was free. She was free.
Clara laughed shakily, amazed at her success. Her heart beat wildly, though Clara wasn't sure if it was from the effort of trying to free herself, or from the use of her usually dormant magic. She breathed in long, slow breaths, forcing herself to calm. Once her trembling had subsided, she stepped back from the podium, glancing about the room.
Her heart sunk as she realized the uselessness of freeing herself from the chair. She was still trapped, and there was likely at least one man guarding the room's locked door. Clara's gaze flickered to the back wall of the classroom, along which was a row of windows. The windows did not line an outer wall of the school, but instead looked into another hallway. But, if Clara remembered correctly, it was a different hallway from the one the door was connected to.
She moved cautiously to the row of windows. It was hard to see through them, as there were no lights in the hallway beyond the glass. But that only sparked hope within Clara – it seemed as though the hallway was empty. She ran her fingers along the frame of the window, hoping to find a latch of some sort. Unsurprisingly, there were none. The glass had been set permanently into the frames.
Clara sucked in a nervous breath. She would have to do this quickly. She glanced down at her evening gown, wishing she was not wearing such a cumbersome dress. But there was little she could do about it. She turned and reached for a nearby chair, grasping it in both hands. Hoisting it up as high as she could, she adjusted it, aiming it at the window. Then she swung it forward.
There was a loud shatter as the window broke, and shards of glass rained onto the classroom floor. Clara staggered back, letting the chair fall from her hands with a clatter.
Muffled shouting could be heard from the other side of the classroom door. Clara hurriedly swung a leg over the side of the window frame and pushed herself through, dropping to the floor of the hallway. Her dress caught on the glass, but she yanked it free, uncaring as the fabric ripped loudly beneath her frantic movements.
The door to the classroom burst open. Clara twisted around to watch as two men ran inside, alarm on their faces as they glanced about wildly. They matched gazes with Clara for only a moment – and then she burst into a run, disappearing down the dark hallway. Their cries echoed after her, urging Clara to hasten. She gathered her skirt up in her arms as she ran, and hurried up a narrow staircase.
The staircase opened up onto a hallway lined with classrooms. Clara raced down it, searching desperately for an escape route. Behind her, she could hear the men ascending the staircase she had come up. Out of options, Clara ran into a classroom and slammed the door shut behind her.
She grabbed a chair and shoved it beneath the door handle. Knowing that that would not hold for long, she rushed to the windows lining the far wall of the classroom. Pushing one open, she leaned out of it – and grimaced at the sight.
She was two stories above the ground, and there was nothing below to break her fall beyond the pavestones of a passing sidewalk.
Clara ducked back inside and glanced about frantically for something to use as a rope. The door to the classroom shook as something collided with it, making Clara jump.
"Open up!" ordered a voice.
With nothing else to use as a weapon, Clara yanked out another pin from her hair.
A second kick thudded against the door. The chair flew out from beneath the door handle, skidding across the floor. The door swung open, and the two men rushed inside.
"Don't!" cried Clara. "Stay back!" She thrust her hairpin towards the man to reach her first, but he caught her wrist, stopping the attack. Yanking the hairpin free, he tossed it aside with a sound of disgust. The second man grabbed her other arm, and together the men restrained her.
There were more approaching footsteps, and then Vogt raced into the classroom, two men close behind him. Vogt slowed upon entering, and he came to a stop in front of Clara.
"Well," Vogt said breathlessly. "You certainly are far more trouble than I thought you would be." A combination of admiration and annoyance mingled in his eyes. His gaze flickered to the hairpin on the floor. "Did she stab either of you?"
The one who had taken the hairpin shook his head. "She tried, though."
Vogt pressed his lips together. "I suppose we should have relieved her of the rest of them when we brought her here. Fortunately, that is a mistake that can be easily remedied." He raised his hands to Clara's hair.
"Do not touch me," snarled Clara. She twisted roughly against the men holding her, desperate to keep distance between her and Vogt.
Ignoring her, Vogt reached up and yanked the final pins from Clara's hair. Her hair tumbled down her back and over her shoulders as it was freed, and Clara cringed, somehow feeling more exposed than before, with her hair now so informal.
Vogt gave Clara a sharp look as he pocketed the pins. "Hopefully you'll be a bit more civilized now." He raised a finger in warning. "If you continue to show such ingratitude for our hospitality, I will be sure that your husband suffers for it."
"You should have remained in exile." Clara voice trembled with rage – and terror at the threat. "Eric will have little mercy for you now."
Vogt gave a harsh laugh. "What can that boy possibly do against me? He is but a child, struggling to mask himself with the guise of a crown he is unworthy for. I, on the other hand…"
The sound of scuttling arose from the walls. Clara looked about in confusion, then her eyes widened in horror as dozens of mice poured out from a mousehole. They scampered across the floor and circled Clara, Vogt, and his men. The mice ran between their legs, scurrying over their feet as they squeaked loudly. Clara squirmed as the rodents brushed against her, and she bit her lip to hold back a cry of revulsion.
"I learned a few tricks of my own while in exile," said Vogt proudly.
"Having an army of mice is not impressive," Clara snapped. "It is disgusting."
Vogt looked amused by her insult. "They are not a conjuring of mine. They are simply a side effect of the true magic I've learned."
"Such as?" challenged Clara.
"World traveling, most importantly."
Clara's mouth dipped into a frown. "Must be a dark form of traveling, to have such creatures lingering in your shadow."
Vogt shrugged. "Perhaps. But when one is exempt from the magic of Parthenia, the choices of where to learn such talents are rather limited."
Alarm seized Clara. "Mauscher did not teach you this? Who did, then?"
Vogt smirked and wagged a finger at Clara. "It's never wise to freely tell one's secrets," he said playfully.
"My lord."
Vogt turned at the new voice. One of the men who had attempted to retrieve Eric from the river stood in the doorway. His arm was bandaged now, though some of the blood had seeped through, staining the cloth red.
"What is it, Deaglán?" snapped Vogt.
"It's the king," said Deaglán. "He just entered the school grounds."
A pang of hope sparked within Clara, along with dread at what's Eric presence here meant for his own safety.
"Are you sure it's him?" Vogt asked, unable to keep the anticipation out of his voice.
Deaglán nodded. "Your spell picked up the vibrations of the scepter, just as you said they would."
"Excellent," said Vogt. He looked back at Clara smugly. "Another wonderful trick I've learned. A spell that can sense the magical vibrations of other magical objects. Extremely useful, as you can see." He waved impatiently at Deaglán. "Go on. The queen and I will follow you shortly."
Looking disturbingly eager at the order, Deaglán turned and disappeared down the hallway.
Vogt gestured at the men holding Clara. "Bring her. I don't want her to miss a thing."
The men pushed Clara forward. She yanked futilely against their hands, glaring at Vogt.
But Vogt only laughed. He strode towards the doorway, glancing back to be sure Clara and the men were following. "Come on boys – let us catch a king."
/
"The school?" Tommy blinked in surprise. "They took her to the school?"
Eric looked more closely at the building. It was a surprisingly large school, with three stories to its height and an elegant influence of neoclassicism to its architecture, as shown by the pillars on either side of the school's front entrance. An iron fence bordered the school grounds, though it wasn't very high.
It looked completely still. Eric and Tommy could see no people walking past the windows lining the front wall of the school, nor could they spot any lights lit from inside the building.
Eric frowned, tapping his finger against the umbrella thoughtfully. "Hm."
"Hm?" repeated Tommy. "Don't you have a plan?"
Eric tilted his head in a shrugging manner. "Somewhat." He gestured for Tommy to step closer, so that they were both hidden within the shadows of the alleyway they were standing in. "Hold still," instructed Eric. He raised the umbrella. "And take this with one hand."
Tommy hesitated. "Why?"
"You want to get in there unseen, don't you?"
"Yes."
Eric tilted the umbrella towards him. "Go on then."
His expression doubtful, Tommy reached out and grasped the umbrella, gripping it just above Eric's hand. Eric gave a nod to Tommy, and then spoke an incantation in a low voice.
"Take our bodies and wipe them clean
Let us wander the earth undetected and unseen."
Tommy released a cry at the sensation of magic rippling over him, barely remembering to hang onto the umbrella in his shock. A moment passed, and then Eric spoke. "Alright, you can let go."
Tommy did so, then looked down. "Where's my hand?" he exclaimed. He tilted his head down farther to examine the rest of his body – only to see nothing. "Where's the rest of me?" He stumbled back against the wall of the alley, breathing hard. "Saints above, Grandfather is going to be so mad…what have we done…this is insane…"
"Tommy, calm down," said Eric, careful to keep his tone level so as not to heighten Tommy's panic. "It's merely a cloaking spell, to blend us into the environment. To camouflage us, like those lizards you have in this world. A…what's the name…"
"A chameleon?" squeaked Tommy.
"Yes," said Eric. "Exactly. It's nothing more than that. I promise, it's only temporary."
"Temporary," repeated Tommy, his voice still unnaturally high. "Right. Of course."
Eric began to give Tommy a reassuring smile, but then he realized that Tommy wouldn't see it anyway. "Good," he said instead. "You're doing fine. Are you ready?"
Tommy stared down at where his body should be, but wasn't. "Um." He glanced back at the school. "Sure. Yes. Definitely."
Eric reached for Tommy's arm. He swiped out blindly for a moment, then clamped down on the boy's shoulder. Tommy gave a yelp and jumped beneath Eric's touch.
"It's just me," said Eric. "I don't want to lose you, so stay close."
Tommy nodded. "Sure." He fumbled through the air and grasped Eric's sleeve tightly.
Satisfied that they wouldn't lose each other, Eric led Tommy out of the alleyway. They crossed the empty street easily, heading towards the school gates. Then Eric abruptly turned left, moving them away from the entrance. "This way," whispered Eric. They walked some ways down the gate until Eric finally tugged Tommy to a stop.
"There's no entrance here," Tommy hissed.
Eric raised the umbrella. "Exactly. Hopefully this part of the gate isn't being watched." He tapped the umbrella against the bars.
"Seize the iron and ebb its strength
Make it bend and fluid in its length."
The iron bars surrounding the umbrella rippled, like water beneath a hand's touch. Eric reached out and grasped each of the two iron bars, pulling them away from each other. They bent easily, stretching apart until there was a wide enough space for Eric and Tommy to fit through.
"Let's go," said Eric. He slipped through the gate, and turned to help Tommy step onto the grassy grounds surrounding the school.
Suddenly, a cold trickling sensation coursed through both of them. Tommy gasped at the strange feeling and clutched tighter to Eric's sleeve. "Are you doing that?"
"No," muttered Eric darkly. "That's not my magic. It's an interference spell of some sort." Anxiety nipped at him, and he pulled Tommy towards a side entrance door to the school. "We need to get inside."
The door was unlocked, though that was little comfort. If anything, Eric saw it as a rather sinister invitation. Yet they had little options, so he led Tommy through it anyway. Once they were inside, Eric dissipated the cloaking spell covering him and Tommy.
Tommy gasped in relief as his body rippled back into sight, and he patted at his chest to reassure himself that it was indeed there. He looked up at Eric nervously. "That spell out there…they know we're here, don't they? It was some sort of warning for them."
Eric's stomach twisted. "Yes." Looking down at the umbrella, Eric grasped it with both hands. He muttered something under his breath, and the umbrella shuddered. A layer of magic rolled over it, stripping the illusion away to reveal a golden scepter.
Tommy stared at the scepter in fascination. "So that's what the umbrella really is?"
Eric nodded. "There's no point in hiding it now; it's fairly well-known where I'm from." He gave a hopeful shrug. "Some of Vogt's men might recognize it and have second thoughts about attacking us, as its power isn't exactly a secret to Parthenians."
"Parthenians?"
Eric lowered the scepter and started down the hallway. "Come on."
Tommy opened his mouth to repeat himself, but then thought better of bombarding Eric with questions at the moment. Snapping his mouth shut, he hurried after Eric.
