Nemo's last words rang in my thoughts all night.
I should've challenged him, but it was easy to assume he was upset, his ego torn. His young adulthood had been snatched from him when he was plucked from his soft Middle Land bed. Heavy burdens of being a king in a land he did not know existed. He was being torn from his lover. His family. His everything. Perhaps he couldn't throw his tantrums at Father, so he channeled it toward Vince instead, but obviously, that backfired. I wanted to believe Nemo was a young man trying to puff his feathers, throwing threats to seem mighty or to be taken seriously for once. He had more bark than a bite; nothing to worry about; it was only a fit. That's all.
However, as he declared his wish to kill Vince, I saw the darkness in his stare as quick as Galof's claws.
It made me shiver.
Lying in bed, I hugged Bonbon close. She must've been affected by Nemo's threat because she was also strangely quiet. Together, we huddled under the covers, our thoughts roaming far from light sleep. I could tell she was awake; her fingers tapped along mine too actively, and her warm sighs hit my cheek.
We were fidgety, uncertain of what to say to reflect on the day or if anything needed to be said. The air was electrifying with the potential to coil into a bolt and strike us if we weren't careful.
What to consider and what to let go?
I laid on my cool, thick pillow, drifting back to when my lips were tickled under Vince's breath and how he whispered to me, "Not here," in that low, breathy way, creating tingles across my thighs. What did he mean by that?
"Camille…" Bonbon whispered uneasily, pulling me back to bed with her. Her tone held worry. I rolled on my side to face her shadowy figure. "Yeah?"
Her profile displayed her looking up at the frozen mobile of cracked stars under the peak of the bed's canopy. She blinked at them. I wondered if she saw the damage.
"Do you think Nemo was being serious? About hurting Vince?"
She couldn't let it go. Somehow, I was relieved I wasn't the only one still stuck on the matter, for it hurt my stomach. I sank my cheek deeper into my pillow and squeezed her fingers tight.
"No. Of course not," I assured, though I was lying, still too uncertain. I carried on to make it seem more truthful. "That wouldn't be a noble thing to do. Taking the throne, Nemo has to set a good example. Besides…" I paused to reminisce on his two fights with Vince, both ending terribly. I thought of Vince's skill with the sword, the many times he cut through a goblin without hesitation—a brilliant swordsman even as a child.
"Vince is too strong," I finished with a long breath, soothing myself even more. Nemo or anyone could never beat him. Somehow, the thought made my cheeks tingle with heat. Knowing Vince may never fall under a sword or claw meant he would stay in my life that much longer.
"Yeah, you're right." Bonbon easily agreed, cracking a start of a smile. "I mean, I don't like Vince," she wrinkled her nose, but her cheeks burned. "But still, we need someone like him around. If he won't keep us on our toes, then who will? Who will yell at us?" She suppressed a cracked giggle, and I joined her.
"Yeah. We need someone to curse at us all the time," I joked. We laughed at that for a moment, but as soon as it died...
"Was sword fighting all that you did tonight? It looked like there was more going on there," Bonbon pried, smelling the suspense in my blood easily. I licked my lips and rolled onto my back to see what my eyes could manifest upon my hanging stars. A corner lamp gave off a distant pink glow, helping me catch glimpses of the cracks there in the glass. I had to squint to see them well.
"I'm not sure," I put it honestly. I swallowed hard. "It felt like there could've been more, but…" But I was frightened. I couldn't tell her that.
"He looked like he was about to kiss you," Bonbon whispered, and she closed her eyes as though she wanted to imagine herself with her face held in someone's hands, to have a face close to hers and take on lips that brought fire into her mouth, sending sparkling fireworks into her soul.
"Just like before," she brought up, her voice slowly losing spirit. Older Camille knew what she meant; that time by the lake. Vince so close, his voice so soft, and his hand there, half holding my cheek after putting away my hair. Him reaching and pulling back that loose swig of my hair was like an invitation to something richer, something that was supposed to keep going instead of ending cruelly.
My eyes started to burn, and then, my thoughts culminated in something drastically depressing. Older, carefree Camille pulled away, smirking at me as she left the horrid responsibilities to me, a child.
"Bonbon…" my voice thickened, and I swallowed again. I could feel her heavy eyes on me. It was comforting to know she could tell when I was being serious.
"Even if Vince felt the same way as I did, it doesn't matter…" I pulled her hand between my breasts and squeezed harder, needing her closer.
"We can't be together." The glass stars blurred.
Before Bonbon could reply, I suddenly started sobbing. It came out of nowhere, my cheeks soaking and my cry that of a cracking whisper. She pulled me to her and hugged me hard.
"Oh Camille, I don't think Nemo would care," she soothed.
I rammed my wet eyes into the bosom of her silk nightgown.
"It doesn't matter," I croaked.
She held me for a long time, quietly rubbing my hair. I cried until I was too tired to cry. I sniffled in her hold, enjoying the smell of vanilla frosting from her perfume.
"It doesn't matter," I repeated.
I won't have my love for Vince turn into an affair. It would become sneaky and toxic, something I wasn't ready to endure, which wasn't fair to Vince. Nothing good ever comes out of affairs for long. Someone would get hurt.
Buried in Bonbon's hold, I relaxed, my sobs fading into gurgles and sniffles. She continued to stroke my hair, even as she lay back, and I stayed on top of her, not wanting to let go. Falling into a daze of fatigue and despair, I drifted off when I heard her whisper the best thing I'd heard in a long time.
"You're too hard on yourself, Camille."
I could feel my eyes pry open with something anew, the words of a bell I was meant to hear ringing a long time ago. Like one mighty ring, it vibrated in my chest long after Bonbon disappeared into her dreams.
No one's ever said that to me before, something I would've expected from Mother if she were around. Bonbon could've been that little trace of motherly figure I have left in my life, a thought that never poked at me before. I clung to her a little tighter, my eyes sticky, and appreciated her presence all the more before falling asleep on her.
...
"Galof?"
I called out to my Nightmare companion as I wandered down the familiar rocky tunnel in my sunflower gown. Was my dream repeating itself? I was a little confused, wondering what was real and what wasn't.
It was only earlier today I took these muddy steps, right?
Thinking it to be a dream, I continued searching for my friend. I'd expected Galof to show up as usual, lurking behind a large rock or to appear as a dark fog, slowly taking shape, but I had the awful feeling he wasn't near me. His presence was often easily detected, his dark bubble of suppressed powers to keep himself stable enough to act civil, still stirring a flicker of something horrific.
I wandered down the drippy cavern, with nothing but the leaky pipes and flickering lamps to give me company. There was no presence of the Nightmare Prince to keep me from what I was about to endure.
Too scared to go on, I stayed on the steps, frozen for a long time as I debated what to do.
I didn't desire to go back to that monstrous door ever again, dream or real. The spiraling depths beneath the castle appeared darker than usual, uninviting. I turned away from the daunting darkness to return to Slumberland's joys: the creamy white marble floors, the sparkling chandeliers, and dazzling starry nights. The endless tables of sweets and bouquets are frozen forever in bloom. Smiles, cooing words, and colors of the rainbow at your fingertips. Soft, rich butter on bread and the milky keys of a sensitive piano under fingertips. In my mind, one note played, and the echoes of a pleasant song encouraged me to step forth to all of those spoils.
But then, a flurry of the wretched gloom bellowed around me like an icy blizzard. My loose hair flew over my cheeks and head, trying to follow the large gusts of red and black fog, when I heard the hisses of darkness whoosh in my ears. I gasped from the sudden cold, hugging myself with a twirl. There was so much more Nightmare leaking all of a sudden.
Was the door open?
If this were a dream, how come my heart was pounding through my ears? Why was I so cold as I started stumbling down the steps, dodging the quick bursts of black and red launching towards me like cannons?
"What is going on?" I cried, my dirty feet slapping at puddles in the mud. I quickly stopped, catching my breath, and stared beyond the last step.
"Nemo?" I gasped, my eyes widening.
With his back to me, he stood in his odd sleep dress, its hem dancing over his calves and his slippers muddy. Whether he heard me or not, he didn't turn around. I imagined his eyes hidden under his walnut bangs and a triumphant smile forming beyond the glow of the Nightmare leaking around the giant door a few feet from him. It pulsed with anticipation for what would happen next, foreseeing what I dreaded.
"What do I have to lose?" Nemo greeted.
The massive door became more alive as though agreeing, pulsing with more Nightmare through the cracks. Much of it hovered around Nemo, passing along whispers and hisses. Relaxed, he closed his eyes and lifted his head, enjoying the chilling air around him as his pajamas fluttered madly and his hair blew back.
I was too startled to move, even terrified to say more than his name.
"Nemo," I tried again, lifting my arms over my face to block the gusts of Nightmare.
Galof, where are you? Vince? Father?
Nemo eventually looked over his shoulder and gave me the coldest stare he could ever manifest. His hand began to fiddle with his collar.
"I get to have power," he whispered through clenched teeth. "To be the ruler of both worlds."
He pulled out a necklace and dangled its amulet in the air for me to see. Only it wasn't an amulet.
It was...
"The key," I breathed, widening my eyes to see it better. Under the flickering weak lamps, the golden key glimmered, shaped like the dragon on the door.
"As the next King of Slumberland, Morpheus gave this to me. It's to open any door in the entire kingdom. I promised him I wouldn't open this door, but, well…" he shrugged as though I knew the rest.
I shook my head, not following the logic of events that transpired before this moment.
"I don't understand."
Nemo shrugged again.
"Of course, he knew this door was here. He was the one who put it here. To lock away what the Nightmare King wanted most, whatever that means. But I was promised to be King of both lands if I were to open it, so how could I refuse?"
He began to step toward the lock, the key ready in his hand.
"I got thrown in this jam without a say. No way I'm going to go along with it," he hissed.
I remembered to move again and stepped forward, my foot falling into a deep, cold puddle, but I kept my eyes on Nemo's back.
"Nemo, don't! Wait!" I reached for him as I stumbled forward, too far away to grab him.
He jammed the large key into the keyhole.
I ran faster, flicking mud at my heels as more gloom plowed through me, slowing my movements. I squinted at the cold darkness and covered my ears from the hints of horrible cries that screeched over my head.
"Nemo, don't mess this up!" I shrilled, reaching again with one hand. He turned slightly to look over his arm, and his smile wiggled at me, a smile that broke.
"I was promised to have Will," he revealed in a cracked whisper. Tears fell on his cheeks.
As though I could feel his pain, my eyes stung, or maybe the gloom was hurting my eyes.
I blinked, and a tear fell.
"Nemo, don't do this," I whimpered, my body tingling. "We can work this out. We can find a way to get you back to Middle Land," I tried, but deep down, I knew Nemo's mind was made up. No, his heart, what was left of it, made the final decision. Even if he were to flip a whole kingdom upside down, he would do it for the one he loved.
Love can make people do crazy things, like opening forbidden doors and releasing darkness into a vibrant kingdom. Whether the Nightmare persuaded Nemo with wishes and too-good-to-be-true promises, the boy was vulnerable, an easy spirit to win over.
What did he have to lose? He hasn't been in Slumberland long. Of course, he would pick his lover over a kingdom of little worth.
I thought of the times Vince wanted to end Nemo's life, how he seemed to have predicted the mess that would follow the boy, and I didn't see it until now.
Nemo was right. What did he have to lose?
"I'm so sorry, Camille," he cracked. His smile shook, tears flowed from his red eyes and dripped off his narrow chin. His long bangs swayed to the side, showing me more of the pain held in them as they glittered with purpose.
His hand holding the key in the lock trembled. One more move, and it would be all over.
Thinking that I was faster, I ran towards him.
"Nemo!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
His hand that held the key turned.
Click!
My voice disappeared, my movement slowed to a crawl, and the air stilled for a few seconds as though the entirety of Slumberland was holding its breath. And Nightmare Land got to take its first breath, releasing a ripple from its dark depths to detect what it had been searching for. Somewhere in the dark realms of Nightmare Land, its King opened his lips and gasped, tasting the new scent—a scent he desired endlessly.
The door opened faster than I could process. Its gears roared, pulling back the large boards into the wall. Hinges squeaked and mightily slammed open, hitting the rocky wall with a boom of collected force.
The whole cavern shook, loose rocks falling.
I expected there to be a colossal fog plunging through the doorway...
It was a wave.
A slimy, black wave with glowing red eyes. It danced around the void like an ocean of tar coming to life, glinting with red light.
First came the fog, whooshing around me with lightning speed like maddening ghosts. I stumbled backward, covering my ears from the horrific screams as I landed on my rear. Through squinted eyes, I spotted Nemo standing there before the open door. He held his head high and threw his arms out, embracing the ready wave of Nightmare coming to him like the first rainfall after a blistering summer.
It flooded into the cavern, caking the doorway and the walls.
I tried to get up and run, but it was too late. I got sucked in. Many dark tentacles wrapped around my legs and slurped me into the cold, dark world filled with chaotic screams. It was too dark to see. It was so cold; it hurt to inhale, my lungs in sharp pain. I exhaled what I thought could be my last breath, saying his name as my last desperate attempt to reach him before I was gone forever.
"Vince!"
…
I awoke, already sitting up and absently reaching for the mobile of stars.
I blinked, breathing hard and dropping my hand beside me to smack my bed.
What just happened?
My body was already suffering through microscopic tingles of anxiety, my head buzzing, and my hands trembling. It was hard to breathe, expelling more than I should, worsening the signs. I closed my eyes tight and pressed my hands into them until white stars appeared.
A nightmare.
It was only a nightmare.
But as much as I chanted that in thought, my brain didn't believe me, and I spiraled into a fit of sobs and gasps. I sprawled on my comforter, squeezing it tight as I muffled my sounds into the bed.
Curses to Bonbon and her earlier hours of wake. Curses to Galof for not being my nightmare. I'd take him any night over what I just endured.
It took time for me to settle, for the tears to stop and the sobs to come as soft gasps until my breathing leveled and the tingles evaporated. I flopped my head back on the bed, still trying to relax as I stared up at the mobile of stars again. And blinked to make sure I wasn't delusional.
Through the morning light, they were seen as spotless, beautiful glasses of stars, gently spinning about from the soothing winds coming in from the balcony. I rubbed my eyes and looked again; they were still not blemished.
I blinked and rubbed at my eyes several times, even trying to sit up to get a closer look until I quickly realized standing was far better. My face almost smacked into the stars before I scanned every one of them carefully like I had a magnifying glass.
They were perfect.
"No cracks," I shuddered.
How could that be?
My hands collected between my breasts as I thought about the strange phenomenon.
Slumberland could be better balanced suddenly, maybe a reflection of Father's mood over the special day? Yes, his magical influence could've been healing the few marks of what imprecations lingered, which seemed something I only had an eye for. So, was that a good sign?
Images of the horrible nightmare returned, Nemo's dark stare stabbing through my skull. I thought there would be a connection between the two, but I couldn't figure out why. There should've been more Nightmare touch, more spots upon the perfect portrait of Slumberland.
Right?
I was doubting myself further than before. A glance at my nails, I'd expected them to be covered in filth, but, of course, they were spotless. My feet? Clean. My gown? clean. All the more reassurance that my Nightmare was nothing more than an unpleasantly in my head.
But still, I felt restless, like swerving a ship through the eye of a hurricane.
Standing on my bed, I watched the stars go round and round far longer than I would've liked, stuck in my thoughts whirling even faster.
There was no Bonbon knocking at my door, telling me to get up for class or to see Father. There were no demands for me. I was left to stand dumbfounded for as long as I wanted, the day ahead all sorted, which left me unable to grow an appetite to demand breakfast.
Today was the big day.
For Nemo.
But as soon as he sprung to mind, my anxieties bloomed again, forcing me to leap out of bed and fetch my silky house coat.
In soft slippers, I hurried down the hallway of apartments, a day shift guard trailing far behind to keep an eye on me. As I rushed, I used my fingers to straighten loose hair behind my ears to hopefully look less disheveled and tightened my robe to hide as much as possible. I didn't want Nemo to see any skin below my neck.
I got to the doors, anticipating a furious knock with my fist, but stopped before I did and took a deep breath. My night terror lingered, making me feel edgy, and I almost went ballistic at Nemo's door as though it were indeed his fault. Collecting more breaths to calm my nerves, I stared at the long, gold knobs and gold trim around carvings of ivory vines.
He did nothing wrong. So why did I show up?
Before I allowed myself to contemplate, I cleared my throat and did a polite knock anyway, my thoughts buzzing with a good excuse.
Five seconds later, a door opened, and Nemo's head popped out, his eyes large.
"Princess?"
Before I said a word, he smiled and opened the door wider, gesturing me to enter his room.
"Come on in!" He sounded excited.
I hesitated because I didn't expect to be let in, just a two-minute chat in the doorway. I looked behind my shoulder at my guard for clearance. His response was a shrug. I couldn't go into a boy's room alone, but what if it belonged to my fiancée?
Turning back to Nemo, I flicked away an invisible fluff from my silk robe and muttered coolly, "Just for a minute."
Stepping into Nemo's room, I expected the familiar golden sunset to burn the interior into copper. Still, the morning was crisp and clear, a blue sky exposed from his open balcony. The room's design has changed drastically, almost comical and esthetic. Persian rugs, long leather chaises, and tall walnut bookshelves stuffed with many books. A king bed hid behind open dark red drapes. There were posters of titles I wasn't familiar with hanging on dark grey walls, gifted with a lantern as though to shine them all in a row individually. I eyed a particular dark-framed poster, taking note of the bizarre and bright font, a caped man in a mask, and a beautiful woman crowded by two gorgeous men. I walked up to it without thought, captivated by the art between something real and cartoon.
"Phantom of the Opera?" I read aloud. Through the glass, my reflection bled into the woman, and my face was lost in her bright red dress.
Nemo's footsteps crept behind me.
"Ah, yes," he sighed, tickling my shoulder with his breath. He held a martini glass as his eyes glossed over the poster and smiled weakly.
"A swell love story. They're finally making a film which will come out sometime next year." He added with less feeling, "Maybe we can go see it together." I let those last words vanish without asking for clarity.
Silently, I scanned the other posters along the wall, displayed like trophies under depressing floral lanterns. Most of them were women in little to nothing, holding their elongated legs out and smiling brightly, cheeks as red as their lips, some holding bottles of soda or long cigarettes. Some are in French, some have titles I've never heard of, and some feature a random product. There was so much color. So much smile for something as bland as a tin of oats.
"And are the rest of these films, as well?" I pried, already knowing the answer, and finally looked at Nemo. He stood taller than I remembered, more confident. He seemed more of an adult than before when he wore black trousers, a matching three-button vest, and a fine long-sleeve white button shirt. A silver chain of a pocket watch glimmered across his vest, and he smelt of cigars and heavy drinks. Suddenly, I shrank back ten years and wished I hadn't stepped into his luxury room of Middle Land fantasies. I secretly glanced for my exit and saw that the doors were closed.
We were alone.
Nemo opened his arm to the dozen posters and proclaimed, "Some are plays, others as films and advertisements in their finest glory!" He smiled wider and took a sip of his drink.
I wrinkled my nose at the olive floating around in his glass. "A bit early to drink?"
Nemo shook his head, his loose hair vibrating, and waved limply at me.
"Applesauce. Today is like a holiday. And on holidays, we drink from sun up to sun down," he dismissed. Like an insult, he grinned at me and dared another sip.
Out came a satisfying long "ahhhh" like the drink was refreshing for a man of dying thirst, and his eyes sparkled a little more.
"So, did you come to congratulate me? To celebrate early together, alone, before the big show?"
Did his voice shift at that last bit? Was there a secret behind that tight smile? One of his eyebrows did twerk.
I scanned Nemo carefully, his forced merriment of smiles laying upon this morning with anticipation for something more sinister later.
When I said nothing, he caught on and asked a little more heartfelt, "What's eating you?"
He pointed at my chest. At first, I didn't know why, but then I looked down and found my knuckles working without consent, rubbing up and down.
As I awoke from a trance, I gasped and opened my robe to view the fresh redness down my collar and under my gown's heart-shaped neck.
"I-I'm fine," I forced, feeling the complete opposite. I was about to close my robe, but Nemo's hand was already reaching. His fingers landed delicately on the outline of white lace, following the swirling pattern of roses.
"I can help you relax," he soothed, and he stared far too long at my reddened skin. His eyelids lowered.
Repelled, I pushed his hand back.
"I'd like to blame the drink for your forwardness, but that's already been practiced too often," I hissed and closed my robe tightly.
Nemo let out something between a chuckle and a grunt, a flash of his white teeth showing.
"But it's true!" He twirled around and wobbled to his golden trolly of booze—a magical lab of many glass bottles and ornaments on wheels to follow where he went.
He proclaimed, "It is the drinks," and popped open a bottle of clear liquor to pour himself another. I could smell the strong vapors of the distillery from across the room.
"So then, if not to relax, then why did you come to my room?" Nemo sighed, sounding annoyed. His newly filled glass floated near his frowned lips.
"I had a Nigh-!" I stopped short. If I told him I had a nightmare, he would know I was tainted, one of the infected. I swallowed and started to feel uneasy.
"I had a dream last night. It wasn't ideal. Not bad or anything, but it made me worry about you," I tried and instantly clenched my teeth. That's not what I wanted to say at all.
Nemo's lips sizzled into a little smile.
"Worried? About me?" He spun around slowly, his drink still held near his head like a floating companion, and his smile grew.
"As you can see, I'm doing very well." He tipped his glass to me as though awaiting my reply before allowing himself a drink. "Don't you agree?"
I scanned him again. The suit. The hair. How that smile reminded me of Galof. No, Nemo didn't smile like that, did he?
Something was...different.
My gut folded into itself, pushing a mysterious nausea into my throat as I revealed, "You seem different today."
Through the glass, Nemo showed his teeth.
"You slay me, Princess. It's a big day today. I'm to be crowned as Prince of Slumberland. I am to behave like one, aren't I?"
I shook my head.
"I thought you would be...upset," I admitted. This whole encounter wasn't what I had pictured when I desired to confront Nemo, hoping to be reassured that my bad dreams were nothing to worry about. Alternatively, I checked on him to see how he was taking the start of his essential day, even if he voiced dark intentions last night. After all that nitpicking about what to discuss and what to put aside, I wanted to rub my face hard and collapse on a pillow.
But I must've said the correct thing, words Nemo didn't expect. Smile gone, he lowered his glass and stared at me. That kind of stare held much backtracking, but it was too late to backtrack, and the anguish of it slid over his face.
"I..." He seemed to be coming in and out of a mirage, more light in his eyes, but it vanished, and he ended up shrugging.
"I'm just peachy. Couldn't be happier," and he smiled. Again, that smile made me nervous.
A slight turn to his drinking cart to add another olive to his glass, his sharp shoulder faced me.
"If anyone's upset, it should be you," he teased, observing me with that playful bundle of loose hair hovering over his watchful eye. Was he trying to uncoil me?
At my sides, my hands clenched.
"Why would I be upset?" I challenged.
"Princess, we are both in a pickle. No need to pretend," Nemo sighed, twirling his glass to let those two olives dance in the crystal-clear booze. It reminded me of a lame snow globe of us, jumbling around in a sad, empty place of no color. My eyes followed the sad-looking drink when he put it down on a high wood table, as though its sole purpose was a place to put his drinks without having to bend nor crouch.
He then his hands worked on a clone of his drink, the boy greedy for another already.
"I am making the best of our situation. And because you are a spiffy tomato, and I like you, I will let you have anything you want when I become King. Promise."
I was already lost on being called something of a fruit and glared.
"A tomato?!" Was he making fun of my red chest?
Nemo rolled his eyes.
"My point is, I know you're behind the eight ball, but don't worry. I will take care of everything. So don't be down in the dumps. Ya follow?"
I shook my head very slowly.
Nemo took long strides towards me and stopped an arm's length away, only to hand me the second drink. I thought it was for himself, for it caught me off guard, and I blinked absently at the jiggly juice. An olive floated around aimlessly in the drink, and I felt even more alone.
"All you have to do today is have fun," he closed and waited for me to take his offer.
I eyed the shiny upside-down triangle glass, the clear drink inside with one lonesome green sitting at the bottom. The stem was as long as a swan's neck or one of Bonbon's legs.
To have fun.
I didn't have to worry about anything today. All I had to do was sit on my throne, be a wallflower, dance with a few privileged souls, and eat and drink until I was stuffed as a piñata.
It was all up to Nemo.
What was I worried about?
"Just have fun?" I echoed, and I lifted a brow. Nemo beamed.
"Yes. Today is the day to party. Have a head start on the giggle juice, and I promise you will have more fun."
I didn't even have breakfast, but I thought about it. To indulge early like it was a holiday seemed like a grand plan to my anxieties: drink to banish them and be free.
My fists relaxed, my fingers itching to lift, but I quickly hesitated. The drink felt like a booby trap, a treasure chest in quicksand. My attention shifted to Nemo, and my mind whirled to last night, his uncivil words that I wished I could put aside, but it was still nagging.
"I didn't like what you said last night," I dared, ready to take his old words seriously. Nemo's smile froze. "Which part?"
"Your intentions to harm Vince."
"I'm fond that you think I could even harm him."
"You can't."
The corner of Nemo's smile twerked. Very slowly, with restraint, he lowered my glass on that high table and cleared his throat. His eyes sank to that drink, watching it with thirst.
"You sound so sure," he mumbled. He quickly concealed his free hand in his pants pocket before it turned into a fist. "So, why bring this up, then?"
"Because…" I paused, uncertain how to phrase it. Because I didn't particularly appreciate chancing it. Because I didn't want Vince's life ever to be threatened, even if it seemed absurd.
"Because you should never say things like that in Slumberland," I argued poorly. I knew as soon as I said that Nemo's insides heated, but unlike Vince, he stayed composed. He hid his true thoughts while holding that wrinkled smile.
He whined, "Vince can say whatever he wants, but I can't?"
I grit my teeth when I didn't have a good counterattack. Instead, I remembered our earlier conversation, the one from yesterday.
"You said you wanted my wish? Well, here it is. I wish for you not ever kill Vince, even if somehow you could, king or not," I demanded.
Instead of bursting with possible argument, Nemo breathed deeply and rubbed his chin while a chill crept into the air. The warm morning breeze could not insulate me from his discomfort.
He turned his head, eying nothing in particular, or maybe at his wall of framed posters. I wish I could've seen his expression. There was another deep breath, followed by a long pause, the boy fighting with himself from bursting with fury. He must've practiced it well at home, swallowing his frustrations into a deep, dark place, hoping it may never bother him again. But how deep was that pit?
Nemo finished his drink and returned it very gently to the cart, a single tap of glass meeting a gold tray. His fingers stayed around the glass stem.
"He's insulted me long enough," he threatened, displeased with my request.
I could've easily ridiculed him. Mock him and say he would never be able to defeat Vince, but my stomach folded again as though smacking me to say no such thing.
Maybe I had it written on my face, or maybe Nemo could read my thoughts. He glanced in my direction and sighed before letting go of his glass.
"Don't worry. If I could, I won't kill him," he promised.
I squinted. "You've proven so far that you don't hold your promises well," I reminded. Nemo ducked his head like I punched his stomach.
"Even so, I can do this one thing for you if that's what you want from my ruling. Suppose it makes you feel better. An apology for my furry last night," he guaranteed flatly.
That made me feel a little better. I relaxed and eyed the door.
"Then that is all I ask when you have more jurisdiction," I finalized.
Nemo turned around to have one last look at me, frowning for once, and he became a boy again.
"I thought as much," he replied.
I began walking towards the exit. "Well, it's going to be a busy day. I have much to do," I lied. I had nothing to do.
"Why?"
I stopped my hand almost to the door's knob. I turned slightly to watch Nemo easily standing there, his arms crossed. "Why what?" I enquired, not following.
"Why are you so fond of someone like him?"
Feeling the brief pause to share something intimate, I thought about it.
"Yes, he can be improper," I began, knowing much of Vince's flaws and sorting them all. His cursing. His bluntness. The times he shouted at others, throwing threats if his orders were disobeyed. The lingering coldness in his eyes from a painful past. He hissed and growled. Stormed off. The way he fought without mercy. Walked away before conversations ended. To the Slumberland folk, Vince was a brutal addition to Father's court. There have been trials over his behavior, but Father always overruled. He saw something in the troubling young man that no one else could. I wanted to believe I saw it too, but I couldn't find the right words to say what it was.
"I'm sorry Vince has been awful to you. There's no proper excuse for it," I added, even though my words were probably empty and nothing compared to ever hearing such from the man himself. But I thought it was a good start. I grabbed the door handle and clicked open the hatch.
"But I'm fond of how authentic he is. He never lies to me. Never pretends, even if I wish he could sometimes," I finally answered, smiling. There was so much more, but I thought that was enough, for now.
Nemo's eyebrows lifted, creating wrinkles on his forehead, but he said nothing. I took it as my cue to leave.
"Don't party too hard before the actual party," I half-joked and opened the door to leave. No farewell nor mutters from Nemo. He seemed stuck between two hard places, the boy a statue in his room. In hindsight, I was glad to have visited. I couldn't imagine what would have occurred later if I didn't.
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