I told Bonbon all that happened, except me demanding Vince take me to Middle Land. I don't think she would've liked that part.
Surrounded by a room of flowers, the two of us sat in my favorite garden, an isolated place inside the palace where the sun wasn't necessary to keep the flowers in bloom. The high ceiling gave us a dome of fake sunlight, a glowing ball of yellow over our heads, taking up the whole ceiling to pretend it was the sun, a place to hide during the evening.
Bundles of lilies, jasmines, poppy, rose, and orchids littered the marble walls like vines, some as garlands, and others curled around columns. Many vases all clustered together, giving me the imagery of being swallowed up in a pure world of lovely scents and tranquility. The flowers never judged me. They couldn't care less about my problems.
My favorites were, of course, the bundle of soft pink camellias. I let my fingers play with their silky petals delicately, like stroking a cheek of a shy child.
Bonbon sat at our café table, enjoying a teacup of cappuccino. I don't think the girl needed caffeine, but she drank it all day anyway. She took a quiet sip, her cautious brown eyes watching me.
"You really like those flowers, huh?" She asked, and her cup rang gently when she settled it on its saucer.
"My mother named me after these flowers," I whispered, and then I beamed when the memory of Father's telling surfaced.
"Father gave my mother a bundle of these on their wedding day. Her favorite flower. That's when she decided to call me Camille."
Bonbon settled her elbows on the table, her cheeks propped in her hands.
"That's beautiful," she sighed.
I smiled warmly at the flowers, shaking them loosely, and withdrew my hand. Sitting along the fountain, I stared up at a young angel, her stony white mouth wide open to spit out gushes of water into the pool of koi and lily pads. Her stony eyes appeared to leak.
"I don't want him to leave, Bonbon," I dragged, fingers playing in the cool water.
"So?" Her mouth was full of cookies, chewing loudly and speaking with it all still crumbling in her mouth.
I fluttered my eyes at the water, seeing Vince's hard eyes on its surface as though he was standing over me.
"I thought we were good friends," I lamely put it. Bonbon rolled her eyes, not saying anything.
My hand lifted, fingers playing with the thin water curtain falling into the pool. Water raised along my arm, tickling my skin.
"Maybe I will like this new prince; who knows," I chuckled nervously.
"There you go. Replace Vince with a guy you don't know. That sounds healthy," Bonbon grumbled, and she slurped her drink.
"Oh hey! I forgot to tell you!" She took another cookie from a tin box full of them, an early birthday gift to me from one of the servants. She was eating them all.
"I get to ride the dirigible tomorrow!" Her arms stretched up to the sunlamp, her green eyes twinkling.
I lifted a brow. "For what?"
Bonbon swallowed a bite.
"To pick up your new man, of course! I've always wanted to see what Middle Land looked like. Hey, do you want to come? You've always wanted to visit Middle Land."
She leaned towards me, hands slapped on the table.
"Come on! Come with me! Professor Genius is coming too, and some of my friends. It will be like a party!"
I shook my head, watching the koi kiss my fingertips with their sweet, baby-pouty lips. It tickled, and I smiled at their simple living.
"No, thank you. I prefer to be alone," I replied softly. A few songbirds nested in the trees of flowers, and their chirps muted to help them eavesdrop.
Bonbon blinked, attempting to keep her smile.
"Look on the bright side," she tried, standing up with the tin box in her hand. She walked over and sat next to me, her eyes dwelling on the koi, taking a nibble at my fingers.
"You don't have to worry anymore," she softened.
I stilled, pretending to be transfixed on the koi with their orange and white scales. None of them had black scales like the color was insulting to Slumberland. Vince's color is black. My eyes moistened.
"You can relax, eat, play, whatever you want," Bonbon tried, taking my free hand and squeezing it hard.
She didn't know me that well, after all. That possibility hurt, my chest aching. She knew me as a princess with a few quirks. Or maybe she was pushing me into that role, in a place where I am supposed to be, without being as forceful as Father. Bonbon, my dear friend. Do you know me at all? Or are you just pretending that I am a poised princess?
I squeezed her hands.
"What I want is to have you and Vince with me," I whispered. I lifted my soft gaze to her, seeing a broken smile on her face.
"I love you both."
Bonbon's smile disappeared. She couldn't pretend anymore and dipped her head, ashamed of her negative feelings. We weren't supposed to be upset.
"I know that. Camille, I know this isn't what you want, but what other choice do you have?"
Her true colors showed; Bonbon's a dark blue she hid well behind a curtain of bright mint. That curtain lifted, and she sniffed, rubbing her eyes.
"You have me. Aren't I enough?"
My blue eyes widened, surprised at her question.
"Bonbon!"
Now wet, I pulled my hand free from the fountain and lured her into my arms.
"Of course! I have you. But…" I sighed, rubbing at her soft hair.
"I didn't think you like goblin hunts. I can't picture you in armor."
Bonbon hissed like a cat to water. Just the sound of fighting and armor was like glass shattering in her ears.
She pulled back and made a twisted face.
"Okay. True. I can't do EVERYTHING with you. Me, get dirty? Yuck!"
I smiled at her tongue sticking out, and she smiled back.
"I won't go anywhere," she said, reassuring me, my hands with hers.
I nodded, blushing.
"I know that. Thank you, Bonbon."
We hugged, cheeks rubbed together like two little girls, grinning from ear to ear. Birds chirped again, knowing the tension had melted away, no gossip to enjoy, and they went about their business, hopping from branch to branch, a few petals falling as they did.
But something spooked them. Flocks fluttered away, cutting between the columns to take flight through soft curtains towards tall, open windows and into the night sky. During the birds' departure, a snow of petals came, startling Bonbon and me to lift our heads and see Vince emerge behind the snowfall, his steps quiet. His eyes met mine, and I felt a pulse vibrate across my body like a warm wave, sending tingles into my arms and legs.
Quickly, Vince dropped his gaze and bowed his head. A white glove glided across his chest, very formal of him. After our heartbroken encounter, he may felt he had no place but to be formal.
"Your Majesty, Princess," Vince started. He stayed bent at the knee, waiting for me to permit him to stand. My face burned, my eyes narrowed at him, and I scoffed with a turn of my head, not saying a word. I refuse to let him see the pain he's caused me.
Bonbon jumped to her feet and screeched, "Vince, get out! You're not wanted here!"
I almost patted her back, wishing to whisper to my best friend, "You tell him, Bonbon!"
Vince cleared his throat and glared up at her.
"Having too much fun with the makeup again, I see." He knew where to strike, and Bonbon grilled, her fists curling as though she was pretending to wring his neck.
"Grrrr!" Her powdered cheeks glowed red.
"Even as trimmed up as you are, I still see dirt under your nails, and your hair is greasy. You're filthy!" She pointed a lavender gel nail at him.
Vince smirked, unaffected.
"More than you know," he snickered, rising without permission.
Bonbon fired another insult.
"Grim face!"
"Baby doll!"
"Grumpy pants!"
"Tramp!"
"Jerk!"
I jumped as I cried, "Guys! Enough!"
Vince and Bonbon had a sword fight with their eyes. Those two constantly clashed. I was friends with them separately; it's not like they hung out together.
Bonbon fixed her tight-fitting acrobat dress, pink polka dots over white, and she huffed, her cheeks still red. She was ready to grumble, possibly with more insults, when I bravely passed her, raising a hand to stop her words, and glared at Vince.
"What do you want?"
Vince ducked his head, frowning as he avoided my ferocious gaze.
"I wanted to give you this."
He cautiously stepped closer and pulled out a wrinkled envelope from under his cloak.
His sword hand extended it, the envelope fat, with my name written in fine calligraphy.
Bonbon and I blinked at it, dumbfounded as to what it could be.
He sensed this and muttered, "It's your birthday present."
The rage slithered into the shadows, suddenly leaving my body whole and warm. My eyes softened, eyebrows arched up. I'd forgotten that I was going to be eighteen in just a few days, though it will be overlooked, the ceremony of Slumberland's new Prince overlapping my special day as part of my punishment.
Punishment for disobeying father's orders.
For worsening the tension between Slumberland and Nightmare Land.
For wanting to be by Vince's side.
I was ready to take the envelope, but I froze, holding Vince's gaze. It was not my intention to get lost in his eyes. They were usually cloudy or made of stone, but this time, they were transparent and open for me to dive in if I could. He apologized with that look and perhaps more. I reached, admiring the idea of turning the page to the story behind those eyes, expecting a long and complicated story.
Bonbon snatched the envelope carelessly from within my grasp, and the dreamy phase vanished.
"Whatever. Camille doesn't need no stinky letter. Did you come all the way here just for that? Why not just tell her?" She challenged.
Vince swallowed and slowly turned away, unfazed by the flowers and waterfalls.
"It's not a letter," he mumbled, and then he left. I watched him go, his steps softening as he grew farther away. Not even a glance over his shoulder, nor words of goodbyes or even regrets after earlier.
Vince stopped before the doors and was preoccupied with its long, golden handle. He took his gloved hand to it, like holding a thick, golden scepter, and ran his fingers across it, taking in the tiny details and making memories before he went.
The last I saw of him was his blue cape, like depressing, dark angel wings curling behind him before disappearing.
Bonbon puffed her cheeks.
"What a weirdo…."
She handed me the thick envelope.
"Here," she grumbled.
I took it in my hands, feeling how stuffed it was. It must be filled with pages of something, whatever it was. Not a letter? Then what is it? My hands tightened, hearing the paper wrinkle. I shook it, and something tiny bounced back and forth inside the bundle. A piece of jewelry with pages of an apology? But he couldn't write that fast? This had to have been orchestrated days ago, at least.
Bonbon sighed, took the tin box of cookies, and chewed on a thin mint.
"Well, that was sweet of him, I guess. Are you going to open it?"
I shook my head and settled the envelope on the glass table.
"On my birthday," I whispered. After he leaves.
I dozed off again, daydreaming of my hands on Vince's body, the curiosity of exploring more of him distracting. What did his skin feel like under that shirt? Would he sigh or tremble if my fingers followed the long line below his collarbones? Or if I curved left to tickle around a nipple? Was that a sensitive place?
Bonbon snapped her fingers to get me out of my daydreaming.
"Hey! Hey! (snap). Come back, Princess." (Snap).
I blinked, catching the worried look on Bonbon's face.
She sank her shoulders, draped with fluffy white sleeves, and then ceased a tiny smile.
"It will get better. One goes, and another comes along. Men are like cookies." Her smile grew as she took another generous bite of her thin mint. "There's always more to try," she gobbled with her mouth full. Cookie crumbles escaped on the floor. I curled my lips up, disagreeing with Bonbon's methods. I then wondered if she had ever touched a man before.
"Bonbon, have you ever…" I gasped, about to say it, and stopped in time; my arms crossed over my chest as though to banish the thoughts. I curled in my seat and looked away to avoid her blinking eyes.
"What? Have I ever what?"
I took a deep breath. She's my best friend. I can ask her. Though, it seemed….embarrassing.
My lips shook as I blushingly stared at the koi hovering calmly near me.
"Have you ever…" I bowed my head, loose hair hiding my eyes. "Touched a man before?"
Bonbon spat out her cookie as a spray of crumbles and then coughed.
I smacked my hands to my hot cheeks, not wanting to see her face as she tried to clear her throat and exclaimed, "What?!"
I wanted to disappear or return two minutes ago and start over.
"Never mind!"
"Wow…" Bonbon settled and grew quiet. I bravely twisted in my seat, my rear sliding over the fountain edge, and stared at Bonbon to find her hugging herself, legs tight together as a pole and her green eyes downcast.
"No," she replied softly, disappointment in her little voice. She hugged herself tighter, squeezing her breasts together.
"Have you?"
I was shocked she threw that at me, my instant reply being, "No. Of course, not."
She bravely caught my gaze with hers. Nervousness rang in her voice, her blushed cheeks growing darker.
"Where did that come from?"
"I don't know. It's strange," I replied lamely and leaned my chin in my hand, elbow resting on a knee.
"My thoughts lately. They just don't seem…." How should I put it? "Slumberland-like," I revealed quietly.
Bonbon's eyes reached the ceiling, her nails tapping her chin.
"Yeah. There's much to Slumberland we still don't know. We only know what we are taught, and, well…." She shrugged it off. "We know that talking about touching boys or whatever is off the agenda. No one knows, and no one asks. You catch my drift?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Taboo," I muttered, displeased with feeling like I was missing an enormous part of myself I knew nothing of that could be easily explained if someone of more experience were to explain it. But I couldn't figure out what it was or how to even ask. Who to even ask?
Bonbon grew nervous with the subject, giggling uneasily and still tense. Done with the discussion that could risk putting her in trouble, she searched for an exit and pointed to the main doors.
"Come on, time for bed," she encouraged, her voice still a bit high.
I shouldn't have asked her.
I simply nodded, pretending that odd question never happened, and rose, taking the thick envelope in my hands. I wanted to open it now, to read all the things Vince had written. But a part of me was still upset with him, refusing to care, almost ripping the envelope then and there or throwing it in the water. I glared at it, my hand wrinkling its corner, and then gazed at the fountain. If I threw it in, the ink would bleed, and all his words will smudge into liquid smoke.
Bonbon laid a hand over my shaky one, halting me from doing such a thing.
"Let's save it. Vince is a man with few words. I think if there's a lot in that envelope, then it must be something special," she whispered, taking the envelope from me carefully.
"I'll put it somewhere safe in your room."
Not trusting myself, I asked her to take care of Vince's goodbye gift.
Goodbye.
That word stung.
—
More nightmares of goblins, claws, and teeth. Slithering dark goo trapped me in another stone hold of screams and terror. More screaming in the dark. I awoke startled too many times during the night, panting in my gown.
Before the sun rose, I was already up, too nervous to go back to sleep. Each time I tried, only nightmares waited. I was forced to get up and start my day early with the bit of time of peace I had left for myself. Soon enough, Middle Land's guest will show up and create havoc of excitement.
In my long gown, I walked onto the round balcony, taking in the cool breeze to shun away my sweaty skin.
A hint of light was poking over the East, light blue bleeding into the navy sky, stars slowly waking up and stretching out their little arms.
The moon yawned, ready for sleep as it made its way towards the horizon to sink and disappear while the sun came in, prepared to take over. A herd of doves steered my eyes up to the city skyline, taking notice of air balloons already floating up through soft, thin clouds.
Citizens of Slumberland gathered in their floating vehicles, air balloons, planes, and regular balloons holding baskets and giant birds.
Out there among the departing party, it must've been bursting with music and cheers, but here, on my balcony, I barely heard a bird chirp, just silence. For a long time, I watched as a single soul was left behind to witness the celebration from afar. A smooth giant lifted in the distance, rising from the city behind its colorful towers.
It hovered, rising first as a long stretch of dark red. What followed was redder, until its double deck became visible, a large ship floating into the sky.
The dirigible.
Right at dawn, it appeared like a faintly dark titan, its rear propellers spinning slowly. I watched many guests fly up to watch the ship ascend into the heavens, being a part of the journey.
The airship moved slowly without a fuss, passing over the towers as it hovered near the palace, ready to give me a glimpse of its magnificent size. Under the faint daylight, it threw a massive oval shadow across the gardens. It crawled, black on the trees, and the grass, taking everything with it temporarily and then leaving; everything back to the way it was.
Lights burst alive into columns, protruding from the ship like glowing legs, stretching and waving as party lights across the fields.
The tiny dots of crew waved. Could they see me?
I forced a smile, waving back, holding that pose until they ascended too far to notice. With a sigh, I dropped my hand, my fake smile gone, and lifted my gaze to watch the dirigible shrink into a tiny dot above, ready to pass through the barrier between worlds.
Again, I thought of flying.
I could take Fenella and fly somewhere, anywhere. The party will return with a boy and stumble to find I was gone, a runaway. Oh well. No princess here. They'll shrug their shoulders, and father will explode with worry.
I closed my eyes, burying the thoughts aside.
No, I couldn't do such a thing.
Instead of flying away, I retreated to my room.
—
The palace was quiet. All the commotion happened outside, leaving the palace walls deserted, except for the ballroom, which I'm sure is where Father will host a welcoming ceremony in our visitor's honor.
For most of the morning, I hid away in my garden, its fragrance luring me to it with little interest in the world beyond.
The waterfalls drowned out the outside sounds, giving me little knowledge of what was happening. I was surprised no one came looking for me. Maybe they knew of my foul mood, gave me the space I craved, and respected my demands to be alone before I was to be accompanied by a stranger.
Birds were my only allowed visitors, but even they were too excited to stay, flying away to the musical day and seeing all the commotion.
The flowers stayed, of course, smiling at me with their blooming love. I watered them and trimmed their leaves, whispering to them as though they could hear me.
"You're blooming so beautifully today," I commented, fixing my white roses.
They remained still, always in bloom, forever encased with Slumberland's laws of magic I didn't quite grasp.
But something was off.
I pulled back the canteen and crept through the rose bushes, making my way through, their leaves tickling my arms. My blue slippers tapped, taking me deeper into the bundle of Camellias. I squinted, wondering if my eyes were deceiving me.
Closer, I reached, and then my hand stroked a stem from a wilted Camellia.
It was only one, but still, it was a horrific sight. The flower's petals drooped; a few had already fallen on the soil bed.
Flowers don't die in Slumberland.
I sucked in a shaky breath, startled at the new discovery.
Why was it dying?
I gave the flower water; its brothers and sisters were still in bloom, but for some reason, this flower alone was ill.
It was like me.
The water did nothing but push down a few more petals. I took the flower into my hands, raising its sad face to mine. Should I pull its tormented appearance away from the others? It was like adding a toxic mushroom to a basket of edible ones. My fingers curled around the stem, ready to pull it.
But I hesitated.
So what if it wilted? So what if it wasn't as perfect as the other flowers? Let it sulk.
However, that wasn't the primary concern. My chest tightened, and I rubbed my knuckles over it, breathing fast.
What is causing the flower to die?
Something is in Slumberland, something that's not supposed to be here. It was faint, barely a whisper, but it was here, somewhere. I saw it in the tiny details of things easily missed by others, a feeling, a faint spot too easily overlooked.
Or maybe it was just me and my anxious thoughts, easily overthinking the tiniest of changes around me and already panicking. That had to be it. But then that would mean I was the blemish in Slumberland's pristine marble, maybe even a symptom of my pondering thoughts.
What if…
The thought never came about until then, startling me into a statue. My frozen hands hovered around the wilted Camellia, shaking.
What if I was causing the misgivings of Slumberland? What if I was indeed tainted, and it would only spread the imperfections Slumberland tries so hard to wash away with a magic brush?
I swallowed, my throat dry.
Was there a cure for my sickness? Was I to run away before the symptoms grew worse?
I swallowed again, my eyes stuck on the Camellia but not looking at it really, too petrified in my busy thoughts. No, stop that. No need to think like that. I blinked to break my trance and took a deep breath.
With effort, I smiled at the weak, little Camellia and whispered to it, "You can stay."
If I'm staying, so are you, precious flower.
My busy fingers were unsatisfied, itching to do more things.
Slowly, I retreated, settled the canteen down, and walked across the floor. My teal dress was long, its skirt dragging behind me. Teal sleeves hugged my arms, my hair in a loose bun, gold crown squeezing at my head. I fiddled with it, making sure it was straight, though it didn't matter; no one was here to point out how crooked it was. I gave up on the crown, knowing it was still uneven, and sat at my bench, fingers hovering over piano keys with thirst.
Sitting tall, I flexed my fingers and relaxed, my hands softening, fingertips almost melting into the keys.
The keys were cold. It's been a while since I've played. I practiced a few notes, fingers placed where they were familiar until it felt like their home.
It was like another language, speaking through music, and I let the words travel from my head down through my arms and into my hands, fingers knowing how to speak fluently.
Each key was like a letter: a few notes, a word. And then there was the collision of words, forming a story.
If I could tell my story through how I played, I'm afraid to admit it wasn't mine. The teachers taught me only happy songs, the keys chirpy, hyper, and high-pitched like fairy dust.
The song was about Slumberland.
My hands played, and soon, mellow words followed.
"Slumberland, Slumberland, joys without numberland. Rainbows and kingdom of dreamy time, star beams and Valentines…."
My tone didn't match the music, dragging the melody into something depressing until the entire song sounded ironic.
"Where everyone is a friend. Here's where lost wishes are granted…."
The notes slowed to fit with my words until they matched, though not to Slumberland's liking.
Who made all the rules anyway?
"Castaway dreams….." my voice began to crawl, my hands matching the speed.
"All come true…."
That's a lie. My dreams weren't coming true.
"It's fun to be…." My eyes glistened, lost in the imagery of what Slumberland should be, a place that must stay happy for all the people of Middle Land to dream lovely thoughts. I imagined its symbolic bloom of colors, fields of wildflowers in a forever bloom. Butterflies peacefully flapping their vibrant wings. Birds singing. Trees waving their leaves and blossoms. The lakes were tranquil, crystal clear, and blue. Swans grazing across the lake's surface. The sky was baby blue, with soft, white clouds. People of the kingdom smiling, chatting like they had no worries. Laughter, warm embraces, hands holding. It's all just…perfect.
"….under the slumbery world of…." I swallowed, looking down at the keys like they knew how I felt.
"…Slumberland," I finished, whispering it as though it was too painful to say out loud. My fingers stopped, pressed into the keys to carry on the notes until they stretched as far as they could, like a cry fading out. The keys were the voice I never had, crying for me. They carried it across my garden and through the windows, with no ears to hear my distress.
I pulled my hands over my lap and sighed longingly for something I could not understand.
"Wow, that was some swell song you played there!"
I jolted. With a quick turn of my head to squint over beyond the floral shrubbery, someone stood in the garden, watching me behind a rose bush. His dark brown eyes poked out, cheeks red, and he gawked when he saw how much he caught me surprised.
The gentleman crunched his teeth and backed away, hands up.
"Uh, sorry, miss. I didn't mean to barge in on you. Your music was just so beautiful, a little sad, but beautiful. I got lost in it," he explained. He didn't look familiar, certainly not in the proper attire to be a palace employee.
I lifted a brow at his strange outfit, a long linen gown with faded blue stripes, its skirt to his knees. Slippers covered his feet, and he wore a red wine robe open as though exposing his long, bare legs wasn't offensive.
I tried not to burst with laughter at this stranger's outfit, but I pointed at it anyway and tried to hold a straight face when I muttered, "Why are you wearing a dress?"
The young man seemed ready to say something, but my question threw him off, his words in a jumble. He struggled to speak, lost in his outfit, long arms spread out.
"Well, uh…"
"It's pajamas," he explained, and stretched the dress's fabric while holding a nervous grin. He had a handsome smile, even if it was a little loopy.
I pressed my lips together, displeased with his outfit, and looked him up and down. A tall man, maybe my age? Older?
His lush dark brown hair bounced when he took a few steps and extended his hand.
"Hi. My name is Nemo," he introduced himself suddenly.
I blinked at his hand. So polite and yet so forward.
"And what are you doing here in my garden…..Nemo?" I muttered, refusing to touch his hand. He was trespassing on my property.
Nemo swallowed, taking his hand back to stretch out the collar of his dress.
"Uh, well, that's a good question. I got lost, you see? This castle is huge!" He opened his arms out wide, eyes big at the sunlamp.
"I mean, wow! It's the bee knees here. Everything is gorgeous in this dream!"
"You're lost?"
I stood from my bench, patted my dress for dust, and crossed my arms. Maybe he was one of the new servants. There were at least a dozen new hires for the arrival of my new fiancée.
"Well, even if you are lost, you aren't supposed to be here. I told them not to bother me," I grumbled, narrowing my eyes at him.
Nemo put his hands up, shaking his head.
"I didn't mean to, miss. No one was at the doors. I just walked on in when I heard you play. Hey, what song did you got going on there anyway?" He pointed to the white piano as he asked this.
He had an accent, something I couldn't recall in Slumberland.
Before I could answer, Nemo was already walking over to the piano.
"Say, if you don't mind. May I play something?"
I gaped at him, seeing that he was already sitting on the bench and stretching out his fingers until his knuckles cracked.
"I know how to play, too. Here, let me show you."
Before I could protest, Nemo started to play.
"But…" I stopped, watching how he closed his eyes. Nemo quickly made himself at home, his slippers on the pedals, eyes closed, a gentle smile on his pale face, and his fingers started to play.
The music was settling, almost depressing, but beautiful. His fingers were soft as feathers against the keys, shoulders relaxing. He didn't even need to see the keys to know where to go, taking it all by feeling it.
The music brought me tingles, feeling it flowed through me, as though the maker of this song was telling the world how they felt. I closed my eyes, hugging myself, trembling at the notes coming together. A vision of being in a dark, cozy place came to mind, a fireplace crackling, someone lonely in a chair, watching a full moon behind a window, and longing for company.
Nemo was making me feel like someone was curling their arms around my shoulders, whispering of night-long desires. Vince basking under the sunset's rays, followed. His brown eyes were gold, and he looked at me with a softness I didn't know he carried. Half his face is bathing in the light to make him appear like a fallen angel, missing heaven and its simpler ways than his troubling nightmares. I remembered the heat of his skin pressed into my hands, my fingers daring to wander.
The last of the notes echoed, and then the music stopped. I stumbled back into the present, dizzy, and blinked at the back of Nemo's brown hair.
He turned his head and smiled up at me.
I had a hand to my ticklish heart; my mouth was left open.
"What was that?" I gasped.
Nemo shrugged sheepishly.
"Beethoven, Moonlight Sonata," he replied.
I almost stumbled into him. I've never met a servant who could play so well.
I sat on the bench and shoved him to make enough space for me.
"Scoot over! What else can you play?"
Nemo's face reddened as he rubbed the back of his neck.
"Uh, well, lots of songs. Uh, want me to play you something else?"
I nodded, hands squeezing my dress over my lap. What more songs did this servant know?
"Yes, please!"
Nemo cleared his throat, politely inching a little more away so that our shoulders weren't touching, and he looked at the keys, his lower lip behind his teeth while he thought of what to play next.
"Okay, how about this?"
His hands worked. I watched where his fingers went, trying to memorize the notes, and he played something more cheerful, though elegant. His hands were large, fingers long and relaxed, hands from someone of the arts, not of physical labor. Clean, well, manicured hands, nails trimmed and pink.
The song Nemo chose was a bit cheery than the last, though it still sounded beautiful the way he played it.
When he finished, I pretended not to be that amused and demanded blandly, "Another one."
Nemo lifted a thick, dark brow.
"Another? Hmmm." He ran a hand under his narrow chin, and then he gave me a look. I inched away when his eyes lingered far too long in mine.
"What?" I snapped.
Nemo cleared his throat as he looked back to the piano.
"Nothing. I'm just trying to pick a song that, I think, is about you."
I laughed sadly.
"About me? You don't even know me."
Nemo grinned, hands resting on his thighs.
"No, you're right. But if I could pick a song that sounded like you, I think this would be it. Hold on."
He rubbed his fingers together, loosening them. Playing for a while can stiffen the joints.
Another song played, and I closed my eyes to listen, relaxing. Nemo played like he's played thousands of times, the notes memorized, his eyes softly closed as though he was driven by a force of passion, his fingers doing all the work while the rest of his body melted. His smile warmed; a man gladly lost. For a moment, he wasn't in Slumberland, but somewhere else, someplace where only he could reach, a place that was better than Slumberland, better than any land.
The keys started slow, telling a story of what I imagined: an upset girl sitting quietly in an empty part of a castle. She's just lost something precious, and she sulks, sitting on a step, sighing in the shadows. But then, light breaks through the dark, cutting it sharply with a glare. From the light, someone steps in, extending a hand out to the depressing girl. I didn't know why, but I pictured it as Nemo, his mystery smile gleaming on his face. Before I knew it, I'd imagined us dancing together, hand in hand. We glided between shadow and light, something new manifesting between us.
The music stopped, and I blinked back to the garden, startled at how lost I was in the imagery.
Nemo looked at me from the corner of his eye, cheeks still red.
"What did you think?"
I could barely look at him, displeased at this stranger's way of softening me.
"What was that?" I had to ask, that song still echoing in the distance of my thoughts.
Nemo giggled lightly, looking away quickly.
"Listz, Lento placido."
"Lento what?"
Nemo giggled more and played pieces of it again, softer as he spoke.
"It's from a collection of religious poems. It's sad, but there's also encouragement in there. To look to the light and not be sad anymore," he explained, teasing a few. more notes from the musical piece.
I crossed my arms.
"Don't say such things. I'm not sad at all," I protested.
Nemo's smile widened nervously.
"I can tell by the way you played. You're sad."
He stopped his hands to settle the music to silence. He was a foot taller, so he had to look down at me, sending a gentle gaze when he asked quietly, "Well, why are you sad? You can tell me."
His hands reached for me, and I held my breath, wondering why this stranger was already trying to touch me. But then the crown on my head tilted, discovering he was trying to fix it up right.
"There, much better," he said softly.
I tried reading this stranger's eyes, someone who played songs I'd never heard of, someone who easily stepped into my garden, touched my crown, and molded around my mood with child gloves like an old friend.
I began to blush, lost in his eyes. They were light brown, almost dark, rich honey. Warm eyes, someone who sees the beauty in everything. His lush hair parted over one eye, bangs wavy over his forehead, and kissing the edges of his other eye.
Before I could even become close to telling him my complicated feelings, professor Genius cried out, "Oh, there you are!"
Nemo and I looked over our shoulders, seeing Professor Genius approach with quick steps. I stood, and the professor bowed his hat off to me.
"Princess."
When he stood tall again, he sparkled, hands clutching to his blazer's wide collar.
"Well, I see you two have already met," he cheered.
Nemo jumped to his feet when he exclaimed, "Princess?!"
He took a few steps away from me like I was on fire, slapping a hand on his cheek while pointing a finger at me.
"You?!"
I narrowed my eyes.
"Does it matter? Be lucky I haven't kicked you out already," I warned.
"Camille, that's no way to speak to our guest," Genius advised.
"Guest?" I spat.
The professor's eyes grew behind his glasses.
"Yes. This is your new companion," he said as he gestured at Nemo with a grand sweeping of his arm.
"What?!" I screeched, turning pale.
Nemo dug his hands into his robe pockets, gawking at me.
"What, am I that bad?"
I huffed and pointed a sharp finger at him as I exclaimed, "You never told me who you were? How dare you trick me?!"
Nemo blinked.
"Trick you? I told you my name, didn't I? You were the one who never told me you were the princess!"
I shoved a hand over my chest and leaned towards Nemo to scream, "Am I expected to believe that you are the one from Middle Land?!"
Vince and his father were my only experience guests from Middle Land, and they were not as jolly as this guy. Middle Land is dangerous, full of pain and struggles, sadness and anxiety. How could it spit out someone like Nemo?
"Well, I thought my clothes would give it away," Nemo stammered, looking down at his outfit with disappointment.
"Your dress is hideous," I spat.
Nemo frowned and pushed down his fists at his sides.
"It's pajamas!"
"Children, settle down, please!" Genius scooted in between us, blocking our eyes from going off into battle with his tall and slim frame. Nemo crossed his arms and looked away. I mirrored him, scoffing sarcastically, "He's certainly dressed for the occasion."
Nemo sizzled as Professor took out his pocket watch. His eyes grew at it, stuttering to himself as he snapped it shut.
"Now, now, enough!"
He snatched both our wrists.
"We have a schedule to keep. The Gifting Ceremony is waiting for you, Nemo. And of course, Camille, you are to join. Come now."
I twisted my face when the Professor pulled me along.
"Will there be more cookies?!" Nemo gushed, already smiling again, and gladly let himself get dragged.
—
Nemo awed over the ballroom. He spread his arms and spun in it, gazing at the magnificent chandelier and noon sunlight pouring in.
"This is spectacular! I love this dream!" He cried, laughing as he spun around until he got so dizzy he wobbled a bit, a hand to his head.
He kept mentioning dreaming.
I lifted a brow, wondering if he really thought this was all a dream to him, and if so, how would he react when he realizes he was actually in the world of dreams? Should I pinch him?
King Morpheus chuckled at the visitor's behavior, like a puppy in his eyes.
Nemo was designated a throne, one next to mine.
He examined it for a moment, hands running through the gold, and testing out the red cushioning, his brown eyes growing more and more by the minute.
"Gee wilikers, this seat is for me?" He turned, gawking up at Father sitting high in his chair.
Father nodded warmly over me at Nemo to reply, "For now."
"And then what?" Nemo gawked, dazzled that there was more.
Morpheus closed his eyes, smiling wide.
"No need to rush, Nemo. Please sit in your seat," Father chirped.
I wouldn't say I liked being spoken over as though I wasn't there. Father always wanted a son. Whispers of it came easily in the palace when I was small, though I pretended not to notice. Regrettably, that was most likely the core reason why I wanted to join the Royal Guard in the first place and fight like a knight. Let me be the son that Father had always wished for. But alas, I'm not a boy, and Father will forever see me as a lady in a dress. Innocent and childish as he finds a real son with this young man I'm stuck with. I rubbed at my temples, wishing they would stop chatting over my head already, boiling with impatience.
Nemo slapped his rear in his throne and leaned into mine with, "So, what happens now?"
I flinched away, his personal bubble too intrusive in mine.
"Just sit, watch, and keep your mouth shut!" I snapped.
Father cleared his throat. I dared drift my eyes up and found him giving me a stare of warning.
"Be nice to our future king, daughter," is what Father's hard eyes told me.
I huffed, crossing my arms.
Nemo recoiled, face white from my snapping jaws.
"Ah, gee, sure. Whatever you say, Princess," he grumbled and sat straighter in his chair, sulking for a minute.
A clown walked beside Father's throne, and opened up a scroll. He cleared his throat and announced to our privileged guests and servants, "Our first gift is from the palace's Servants!"
I clapped politely as the first guest stepped forward, walking proudly over the throw rub.
Bonbon. As a representative to the rows of servants behind her, she bowed, her mint hair falling over one shoulder. The rest of the servants, dozens of them, followed, tipping their pointy circus hats.
"For our visitor, we present with this!" She opened her arms, and two servants came bearing a golden chest. Father's marching band played festive music from the corner of the ballroom, reminding me of a parade. Bonbon's gold chest laid down a few feet from Nemo's slippers with a thump.
It opened, Bonbon and two other women smiling with their lovely red cheeks and lipstick-smeared lips. Nemo's eyes glistened at their lovely made faces, his cheeks growing red. He then averted his attention to his gift.
"More cookies! Hot dog! Could I just…"
He reached, signaling them to bring the chest a little closer, and he dug his hands into a bundle of cookies. Cookies with icing, edible beads, gingerbread, shortbread, chocolate chip, double fudge, thin mints, and poppy seed.
"This is great! I love Slumberland! I love being a guest!" Nemo cheered with his mouth full of cookies.
"Oh man, I can taste everything! If only there were some giggle juice or milk," he munched, mouth full of cookies.
I just stared at Nemo, watching how crumbs fell from his mouth and piled on his lap without a care, like a child.
He has no idea how grim it's going to be. Just wait and see. The teachers, the manners, the discipline…This man will get a rude awakening. Secretly, I grinned evilly, looking forward to the massive disappointment on his bubbly face.
"Next up, the City Police!" The page announced.
Cops with their goofy tall hats piled in, dragging their bats and long awkward shoes. A police car drove in, overfilled with more men like a clown car, its exterior stretched thin.
"Whoa, coppers," Nemo gasped, leaning forward.
I thought the city police was a joke. What was the point of a police force if Slumberland was supposed to be perfect? The act of crime was infrequent, if any, leaving these boys in long blue coats with little to do except act like a bunch of dorks.
The bunch presented Nemo with a large, pink cardboard box, ramming it over his lap.
Nemo opened it, and I could already smell the pasties before he saw what it was.
Dozens of donuts.
"Gee whiz, you guys are all about the sugar here," Nemo commented, his greedy fingers desperate to grab a powder donut. He passed the box to me.
"You want one?"
I turned my head away.
"Not before dinner," I fumed.
Nemo seemed offended, pulling the box away only to settle it on the floor.
"Ah, but you're a thin looker. No need to worry about that," he commented.
"A what?!" I screeched at him. Nemo paled, suddenly mute.
Father chuckled to himself.
"You two are getting along so well," he whispered. Nemo and I blinked at him, both of us speechless at his poor observation skills.
"Next up, Sir Vince and the Royal Guard!" The page announced.
I inhaled sharply, searching among the group of new guards emerging through the doors. The servants and cops backed away, settling in the background to make way for Vince.
As soon as he walked through the door, our eyes locked. I lost my breath, turning away before he noticed. Vince may have done the same, with a brief look of distress before it withered away and he latched onto Nemo instead. I couldn't say what he was thinking as he walked forward, stepping over the red carpet, but it wasn't excitement. Vince hissed and turned his head as though disgusted by Nemo's presence. He looked at me again and quickly away, closing his eyes as he did, and led four rows of young, fresh knights.
Vince stood cooly in his active-duty garments, cleaned up and polished after our last excursion. He looked the same as I saw him speaking to Father just a few days ago, demanding to find Captain Leroy. Though, today, something seemed to drag him down. It could be the shadows under his eyes, the hard lines of his face extra sharp when he frowned before bowing to us.
He slid his gloved hand across his chest and took a knee.
"As a welcome gift, I present my men and their brilliant swordsmanship. To defend Slumberland," Vince uttered dryly. He got up quickly and retreated to the side to let his four rows of uniformed knights step in the center.
I wanted to burst out of my throne to avoid drowning in the tension between Vince and me. He crossed his arms and kept his eyes on nothing in particular, his twenty-four men doing all the work. The band changed the music, another marching song, and the knights unsheathed their standard steel swords.
Through twirls and spins, I leaned my cheek into my hand, not as fond of the show of swords used as entertainment as Nemo seemed to be. He let noises of "Ohhhs" and "ahhhhs," clapping when some threw their swords up in the air, spinning like wheels. The audience got caught in the suspense, fearful of someone losing an arm or a head. There were a few mistakes, nervous faces twisting up in the rows with curses under their breaths. Father's eyes lit up anyway, matching Nemo's enthusiasm. I sighed, looking away. My foot and fingers tapped, not afraid to hide it. How much more of this private gift-bearing process must we go through?
The knights finished with their poses, struggling to hold still as swords pointed to the sky.
"For Slumberland!" They cheered. The dance ended.
Applause shattered across the ballroom. Nemo clapped excitedly, everyone smiling. I, too, applauded, but politely, for show. The only one who didn't clap was Vince. He had his arms crossed the whole time, leaning up against a wall with his eyes elsewhere, not interested at all in this facade.
To him, this entire thing must've felt like a joke, everyone in the room but him wanting to play along.
Nemo clapped while a smirk played on his lips.
"Well done! Yes, thank you, sir Vince. Tell me, was standing there the whole time a part of the act as well?"
Vince's eyes narrowed.
"I don't entertain like the rest of these folk."
Nemo leaned forward in his chair, curled fingers under his chin.
"Oh? But I see you have a sword. If I ask nicely, will you show me your moves?"
Vince burned Nemo to ash with his look. He boiled, stepping forward. His face made others back off, some shivering as he walked towards the thrones.
Vince stopped a few feet from Nemo, looking up at him like he was a pest than a future King, and muttered coldly, "I will dance for no one."
"Vince! Be still!" Father growled, but Vince didn't even consider him.
Nemo blinked down at Vince, his jaw-dropping.
"But this is MY dream!" He shouted, and then he stood from his throne, hands pointed at his chest like he was the top chief of this establishment. Vince lifted a brow at the Middle Land visitor's garments.
"They just plucked you out of bed and straight into the wolves, didn't they?" the cold-hearted knight muttered, smirking.
Nemo sizzled.
"Why is someone like you in this dream? You don't seem to be jolly like the others," he asked. Vince squinted his eyes at Nemo.
"Dream? You think you're dreaming this?"
"Well, yeah! Why else would I be here?"
Vince just stared at Nemo blankly, hands behind his back.
All of a sudden, a slap echoed through the air.
I gasped.
Father withdrew.
Professor Genius shuddered. The servants all whispered to each other, eager to spread new gossip throughout the whole kingdom. The cops dropped their jaws, and the knights scratched their heads. The music stopped playing. All eyes aimed straight at Nemo with his cheek turning red, his large eyes on the dome glass ceiling. Vince still had his non-sword hand up, ready to strike again if necessary.
"Still think this is a dream?" he whispered darkly, eyes pinpointing Nemo as though ready to do more harm than just a slap.
Nemo touched his red cheek with bafflement, a few tiny tears collected at the corner of his narrow eyes when he returned them to Vince.
"Okay, you made your point. Are you a visitor too, then?"
Vince turned away, and I knew he had enough exchange with Nemo. His cape flapped as he scoffed, "I was. I'm leaving."
"Vince," I strained, wondering if this were the last time I would see him. He looked over his shoulder at me, and his eyes softened just a touch.
"I'm sorry for my behavior," he forced, looking away just as quickly before I could pull him back in.
"Vince, you bow to your future king with that apology," Father demanded.
Vince stopped before he proceeded to walk away further. Without turning his head, he mumbled, "He's not MY king anymore. I'm leaving, remember?"
Father let out a long sigh.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Nemo lunged forward over the steps to the ballroom floor, stretching out his awkward dress, and put out his hands to halt everyone in the ballroom.
"Time out!"
He spun and let out his hands, looking up at Father's mighty figure.
"This isn't a dream? So, I'm really going to be King? Here?"
Father nodded.
"That's why we brought you here," he confirmed.
Nemo pointed at me.
"You mean, I'm supposed to marry this dish, here?"
I clenched my teeth.
"Dish?" I challenged, his slang not making any sense to me. How dare he call me something of a platter.
Father nodded. "After your coronation, of course. We have to make you a prince first."
Nemo's face turned white.
"Hey, I-" he swallowed, hands squeezing his white cheeks together.
"I don't mean to be rude, but-" his jaw dropped, lost for words. He looked at me and then back up to father, pleading, "Look, see? I already got someone in mind back at home. And I'm still at university, see? And then there's my father's business. He expects me to take over, and then there's my ma. I didn't even get to say goodbye to my parents or my friends. Nothin!"
I rose from my chair, pointing at Nemo sternly.
"Perfect. Then go back home. Let Vince take you since he's so eager to leave as well," I boiled.
Vince was about to walk through the doors but stopped before he made his final exit, his back stuck in the ballroom.
Father slumped back in his seat, sighing down at Nemo with a bit of disappointment.
"Nemo, you've been chosen to be King of this glorious kingdom. You get to have anything you want, eventually marrying my daughter. What is wrong with that?"
Nemo's face reddened, gawking at me before shaking his head.
"Uh, I mean, an arranged marriage sounds profitable, I guess, but you guys didn't even ask me. I thought this was a dream, ya know?"
I began to stew, standing out of my chair, narrowing my eyes down at Nemo, and curling my fists tight. Even he preferred not to stay. No one wants to bloody stay!
"This is a waste of my bloody time!" I scoffed, ready to leave. I couldn't believe I was dragged here to listen to this nonsense, getting lost in Nemo's piano, something of a faraway dream now.
"Camille!" Father scolded, but I ignored him, marching down the steps to have my slippers slap marble.
"Camille, wait!" Someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me to stop. I spun around, glaring at Nemo while trying to pull free from his hand. Does this boy have no boundaries?
"Let go of me!" I cried, not afraid to make a scene in front of the whole audience. I knew Bonbon was enjoying the show, drooling as she sucked up all this drama. Professor Genius slapped his hands over his mouth, squirming to run away. Nemo's eyes begged me, his hand gripping harder until it hurt.
"But please, let me explain!"
"No!" I was ready to slap him, my hand ready.
"Princess-!" Nemo froze.
Something glinted between our faces until I registered it to be a long length of a sword held in the air.
"She said, 'Let. Go'," Vince advised darkly, his cold eyes set on Nemo with a look I've only seen given to goblins. I stiffened, catching my eyes blink from the blade's steel, a blade that touched much of black blood; I could smell it like it was engraved in the steel, no matter how hard Vince set out to clean it.
Nemo cautiously turned his head to glare at Vince, and his fingers uncurled, letting me go. I pulled my hand into my chest, my wrist sharp in pain. For someone with delicate-looking hands, he gripped powerfully.
"Vince, enough of this drama," Father tried, but Vince and Nemo were locked in a glaring battle, anyone outside their circle invisible. They appeared to be silently exchanging something no one could grasp, like they knew each other's secrets without a word and became enraged by what was revealed.
Nemo fumed through his nostrils, blowing loose hair away from his eyes.
"You know what?" He began, his patience gone, and he shifted his gaze over Vince's shoulder, lifting a hand in the air.
"Throw me a sword. Now," he ordered from one of Vince's men.
Everyone in the room held their breaths. The knights hesitated.
Vince turned his head to nod to his knights, and a sword was tossed in the air.
Without looking, Nemo caught it by the handle and held it like he was familiar with the weapon, taking the one-handed sword up to his chest.
"Your slap told me this is real. I can only imagine you could slice me, too, if you can, of course. Let's make a deal. If I win, I go home," Nemo announced.
Vince pulled back his sword, smirking.
"Is that so? Maybe I will lose purposefully then," he mocked. The two men circled each other, holding their swords in their style.
I stood there, speechless. This boy was full of surprises.
"Nah, I doubt that. You don't seem like someone who loses easily. Your ego is too big for that," Nemo grunted towards Vince.
With his main hand, Vince held his sword at his hip. I watched how his legs widened, his muscles tensing under his armor. He wasn't going to hold back. I bit my lower lip, my chest tightening until my breathing became shallow.
Vince will easily kill Nemo.
"Fine. But if I win, you must do something for me," Vince growled.
Nemo's eyes squinted tighter until they were just slits.
"What?"
Vince clenched his teeth.
"Never lay a hand on the princess without her permission again," he rumbled.
"Vince, I can take care of myself!" I gasped. I couldn't decide whether I was embarrassed or stunned.
Nemo grinned.
"If I stay, I'll get her permission at some point; I can guarantee that."
Vince's expression turned to a cold stone before he darted towards Nemo, blade across the air so quickly, my eyes couldn't even trace it.
I feared it was already over, Nemo unaware of who he was going up against.
There was the sound of blades smacked together, ringing through the air like a bell. With the two swords between him and Nemo, Vince barely tried to steady his sword, just taking a test hit. He was only gathering data, and so far, he found Nemo could block rather well. Nemo smiled back timidly, holding his sword hard against Vince's.
"Where have you learned to fight with a blade?" Vince asked, slightly amused by Nemo's ability to block a hit.
Nemo grunted, "University of Notre Dame Fencing Club. You?"
Vince scoffed at the name like he knew what it was, and then he jumped back a few feet to retake his offensive position.
"My father," he answered coldly.
1