13 Brunch

A glass of a mysterious red drink shoved into my face.

"Here, this will help with your hangover," Nemo cheered. I stared at the drink like it was a peculiar specimen. Stalks of celery, carrot sticks, a wedge of lime, and onion partied around the top of the red drink, along with an olive pierced with a crystal toothpick and a salty rim.

"Why are there veggies on top? Is it vegetable juice?" I asked.

Nemo's smile became crooked, which I quickly learned he was uneasy about telling me the truth.

"A Bloody Mary!"

"What's that?"

"Nothing but the hair of the dog to help you with your hangover. It's tomato juice with some vodka."

"There's dog hair in it?!" I reeled away, backing into my chair. Nemo's eyebrows lifted.

"Uh, no. It's just an expression of speech. No dog hair in it. It means you need to drink to cure your headache from last night," Nemo tried to explain while still holding the red drink in the air. Condensation dripped down the glass, touching his fingers.

I turned away, glancing at Bonbon watching me steadily as I became bitter.

"It's too early," I muttered.

"It's brunch. My friends and I always drink at brunch to help with our Saturday night hangovers. Nothing like a Bloody Mary or a Mimosa to calm the nerves," Nemo tried to sell, but I shook my head and refused to buy.

"I don't think so," I hissed.

No doubt, Nemo's grand idea of this so-called "Brunch" idea has already flocked among the servants. The dining experience has slipped from their lips and spread among the Slumberland folk, all intrigued with the idea of waking up later than usual, having fruity alcoholic drinks and delightful large helpings of carbohydrates and fats to accommodate the swirling mess of a buzz. Indeed, BRUNCH had a Slumberland taste to it with the jolly touch of eating and drinking earlier in the day, under the high sun to enjoy its warmth instead of its cooler mornings. Why wasn't this idea invented sooner?

Nemo requested music for the occasion; a small four-person band sitting in the corner of the parlor, playing something festive and light that I would expect to hear from an ice cream shop on a hot morning. I could already smell the waffle batter sizzling in griddles, reminding me of ice cream cones.

Yes, Nemo seemed to string along an air of vibrant, maddening culture everywhere. I couldn't tell if it was forced or if he was always that bright. Either way, a perfect guest. Perhaps there has been a calculated reason for his arrival after all, as though his presence compensated for what Father failed to provide to the kingdom for far too long.

I was lost in all of these thoughts, close to missing it, when Bonbon reached across my plate and exclaimed, "Let me try this veggie drink!"

Nemo passed it to her without a second thought, smiling wider.

"Sure thing! Here."

I watched Bonbon pull the drink to her lips, and she took a sip, her lips wrapped over the salty rim to suck up the red stuff. At first, her brown eyes grew, and then she made a face, her frown squiggly.

"Ugh! It tastes like salty tomato juice!" She shoved it back to Nemo with her tongue out. Nemo laughed while I tried to take a slice of toast from under Bonbon's arm. The two began to talk over me, which I tried to take with calming nature, but I was agitated. My fork tapped harder than it should on the plate. My lips were pressed together, and I sighed through my nose more than once, wishing the two could sit together instead of making me some go-between.

The table was round, for heaven's sake. But no, Nemo had to sit close to me, and Bonbon wanted to be at my other hip. So it was a tug-and-pull show before my eyes; drinks passed and tasted when I didn't participate.

"Nemo, what are your parents like? What do they do?" Bonbon asked. I was surprised she was interested. Her face lit up more than usual, her eyes glimmering under the light that seeped through the parlor's glass ceiling.

Nemo seemed pleased that someone desired to know more about him, his eyes more dazzling. He gulped down his Bloody Mary and replied, "My dad is Vice President of the New York Bank. And mom, well, she stays at home, busy with her own biz."

I was too distracted to hear the rest, anxious that I could still be in a nightmare. It wasn't easy to tell sometimes. I would sneak a pinch on the back of my hand. When it hurt, that told me I was awake. I still half expected Galof to spy on me from a dark corner somewhere.

Like a greenhouse, the parlor was bright and warm, keeping us safe from the drizzle outside. Rain pecked gently at the glass walls, unable to touch the many plants that decorated the shelves and tables around us. One by one, a maid watered them; sparkling drops slid across waxy green leaves. The parlor always gave me the feel of being in an exotic garden; too many smells until I sneezed. Another maid rolled in a trolly with our plates of tea, coffee, and treats, including more drinks per Nemo's request. He ordered Bloody Marys, Mimosas, Espresso martinis, and that French 75.

I gawked at all the cocktails surrounding him, half standing from my chair to count the glasses.

"Nemo, don't get out of hand. There are classes today," I reminded him. But he seemed to wave me off with a loopy smile, already swaying in his chair.

"Don't worry, Princess. Everything is Jake. I can handle the edge," he swooned.

Half of what he said, I couldn't even understand; I had to assume the jolly boy was as high as a kite on happiness or giggle juice, or both.

Under the fine, white silk tablecloth, I wiggled a leg. My hands opened and closed my skirt. Its long grey-blue tulle folded tightly between my fingers.

I fumed while Bonbon tried for another drink, her audible tongue slapping together between her lips.

"This one is tasty. What is it?" She lifted an orange drink from a wine glass into the air for me to see, but I only rolled my eyes at it.

Why couldn't I eat breakfast alone?

"Mimosa," Nemo replied, and he took a bite of a chocolate muffin. He then closed his eyes and smiled wider than the sun on a summer day.

"The food is swell here! There's an endless supply of hooch in this ritzy place. I mean, where do you get all the booze?"

"Imported from Middle Land," I snorted. After a long time admiring Bonbon, Nemo looked at me and took a swig of the French 75.

"Ah. And how much is there?"

"Not enough, apparently," I snapped. Instead of getting offended, Nemo laughed inside his mouth, his cheeks puffing, and he closed his eyes before taking a messy bite of another muffin.

I tapped a gold spoon in my china teacup, letting the rose earl gray tea mix with the cream, but also because it gave me something to do. Bonbon got swept into Nemo's sweet words of Middle Land like I had last night. The more I watched, the more I hated myself for falling for it. Bonbon was initially resistant, but somehow, Nemo coaxed her into his spell when he found a drink for her to enjoy. She finished her first mimosa when I sighed, "Bonbon, don't you think it's too early?"

But Bonbon sighed happily, the coco skin on her cheeks turning into raspberry chocolate. She melted in her cushioned chair, long arms behind her head and her lovely bosom sticking out easily in her fitting short tress. A skirt of pink feathers decorated her thighs, and her legs crossed to let the glimmering glitter of her white stockings touch the daylight.

"No way. It's not like I'm working. Why didn't I drink a long time ago? This is fun!"

I wanted nothing more than to leave.

With another drink in my face, I forgot which one; Nemo sang, "Come on, Princess. Try one!"

I pushed it out of sight, and the drink sloshed on his new white trousers. A splash of yellow lay atop his thigh. Nemo cringed, the cold snapping him to breathe through his teeth as he gawked at the new stain.

"Ugh, it's cold!" But it was quickly forgotten, his attention back to the muffins or Bonbon.

"So, what do you do here at the palace, Bonbon girl?"

I suspected Nemo was trying his best to be impenetrable from my behavior, which only heightened my temper. I despised being ignored or left alone as though my uptight mood was my problem and my alone.

"I have to be in class," I lied, getting up before any more conversation erupted over my head like I was invisible.

Bonbon and Nemo seemed to suppress laughter over my temper; the two had already lost to the spell of the giggle drinks until they turned into giggling monsters.

Nemo reached, his hand cold around my wrist.

"Class, smazz! Forget about it for today! We're going to the city! I wanted to see the streets and shops with you," he said a little too loudly. I pulled out of his grasp, exclaiming, "I can't enter the city! I have to be in class. And so do you. How else will you properly run this place? You aren't doing a good job of it now, are you?"

Nemo gazed upon the glitzy contents on our table: fine chinaware with little blue flowers, a basket of chocolate muffins, a plate of waffles, strawberries, whip cream, and tall bottles of the imported liquor he asked for so he could whip up cocktails. Nemo looked at all of that blankly, and then he just shrugged.

"Baloney. I just got here. Go easy on me, will ya?"

As though the boy had magic, he whipped a cigarette out of nowhere and stuck it to his lips. He flicked a fine, opal lighter, and the flame matched my emotions as I watched it burn the end of the stick. He blew smoke into the air, already adding fog around us when he said rather coldly, "Your father picked me for this job, and I'm still processing. Stop being a stick in the mud, and let me have fun. Slumberland is supposed to be fun, right? That's why I'm here. This floppy joint would be a mess without me."

I don't know when the music stopped, but the whole room chilled under Nemo's slurry, flat words. The maids with their painted faces and short skirts froze, their ears perked for how I would reply. The band dropped their instruments and leaned in to listen. Bonbon stiffened in her chair, her glossy lips left open. No one and nothing moved except for the smoke slithering out of Nemo's cigarette when he kept it to his lips. Lips that could sway any girl with their cupid-shaped innocence and moist brilliance, hotly orange every time he inhaled smoothy to erect the glow of his cigarette. The smoke glossed over his dim eyes, his cocky smile widening into something I hadn't seen yet; pride in winning an argument with the simplicity of his existence here.

He thought he was more important than me.

But here's the hard truth.

He actually was...

I couldn't tell him what to do. He didn't know or respect me enough to take me as a threat, not when Father put a permanent halo on top of his mop of hair.

I could either lie to make Nemo nervous, have him suffer the consequences of talking back to me, or say nothing at all and leave.

"Father could always change his mind. He could send you back to Middle Land with your memories erased," I threw out there, just to see how Nemo would react. His response was unworried when he took a long inhale from his cigarette, the hot stick between his lips to make him look like some movie star enjoying a drag of smoke. His defined cheekbones and loose brown curls made the act more attractive, which infuriated me. Still, no one moved or said a word, all eyes on Nemo to pick up whatever word would spill from his lips.

It was the worst single word he could ever come up with.

"So?"

That word was the trigger, and like a gun, I made a shot when I curled my hand into a tight fist, knuckles squeezed.

Pow!

Everyone in the room reeled back, eyes large and mouths hanging open. My fist was still in the air, frozen in place, whereas Nemo's crunched cheek fell backward, and his cigarette flew away from his gasping lips.

The maids gasped. The band dropped their instruments, a mixed bag of noise and clatter at their feet. Bonbon recoiled, squishing her cheeks together.

In slow motion, Nemo fell back over his chair, legs kicked up, and unintentionally, his hand reached the tablecloth and tugged, probably to soften his fall. But he just went down to the floor and took the whole table with him. Drinks, muffins, plates, cups, everything on our little circle tabletop came crashing down over Nemo's new prince outfit; his navy military jacket, white trousers, tall black boots, and his new half-blue cape were all victims to the splatter of our Brunch. I couldn't be more pleased. The arrogant boy changed out of his hideous dress, only to be punished for his suitable outfit to help him display himself as the Prince he never wanted to be. Take that, spoiled Middle Land brat!

"Nemo!" the maids gasped, rushing in to help him as he scowled up at me. Bonbon oversaw me, blinking at my furious face, but I ran out of the room before she could say anything.

"Camille!" she cried, reaching but not bothering to get up.

"Princess, wait!" one of the maids tried to halt me, but I ignored her and opened the doors wide with a loud boom the same time I hissed in the air, "You ungrateful brat!" I twirled around, my dress curling around my legs and my matching blue-grey hair bow whipping my neck with its twin tails. I threw my most evil eyes at Nemo as he brushed the mess off his clothes, and I snapped viciously, "Go back to Middle Land where you belong!" And I slammed the doors behind me as loud as I could. The walls vibrated with my resentment.

Do you know that feeling you get when you are initially proud of your response? You said something, stood up for yourself, and felt that rush of triumph? But then it gets thoroughly washed over with guilt, making you feel worse than you started?

That's where I was.

It seemed liberating at the moment, not thinking but doing. It felt good to put my foot down, laying boundaries. But what if I went too far? What if I was in the wrong?

Doubt flushed my confidence away, cloaking me in regret until I couldn't decide how to continue. Do I go back and apologize or hold my ground?

No.

I shook my head as I ventured into the Southern gardens for fresh air.

I've made my decision. If I go back and apologize now, it would mean I was in the wrong, and Nemo will continue to glorify his presence around me until I am smothered to the point of no return.

I made for the hedge maze. I've escaped there many times to get away, knowing finding me would be almost impossible on foot. The twenty-foot high shrubbery often shifted, changing the paths to get one easily lost. I would take a corner and then pick up the sounds of leaves shuffling. Turning around, you would think your eyes were deceiving you. You made a left, not a right. But it was only the maze, the greenery slithering like vines to manifest at a different spot to make another opening.

With my long hair down and free with its ribbon, it fluttered loosely behind me as I darted from one corner to another. The morning mist stayed, tapping my bare shoulders as I lifted my skirt.

The mist wasn't threatening, like stepping through a fog, just a hint of chill, but it was the temporary kind that would vanish by noon. I took to the mist with welcoming arms, hiding in it along with the maze and pretending to disappear.

If I hadn't pulled away, Nemo would've suffered more than just a punch in the face. My hand still throbbed, its knuckles red. I acted without thought and immediately ran before I had more regrets. The maids will leak that little experience as quickly as fireworks. Father would be furious. Perhaps I anticipated his wrath and made for my escape before he was to punish me again.

I wanted to escape, taking in the dewdrops that brushed my hands instead of the demands of life. The cool air brought freshness to my lips. The tall grass tickled my ankles. Just as I've lost myself in the maze, I've lost track of time, glad to be without a chaperone, and made a turn around a bend. I could already hear it before I saw the dribbling of water. I quickened my step until I danced, my smile growing. Another hedge, and there it was at the heart of the maze.

The fountain.

A stone angel made her home on top of it, standing tall up there with her chin tucked slightly to gaze down at me with her large, frozen eyes. She stood atop a stone plate held by her six children, water sprouting around them to make it seem like they were huddled together, shielded from heavy rain. That rain poured lightly into a large, stone-made pond.

"The Fountain of Truth," I whispered, stepping closer. It had been too long.

Vince had the Lake of Dreams for his escape. I came here when I didn't want to channel my frustrations with a sword.

There was that small stone bench where the fountain angel pointed with her frozen finger. Despite the bench being wet, I sat on it and stared up at her giant wings, well-carved dress, and non-judgmental smile.

Fairies the size of walnuts hung out here, but they kept to themselves. They fluttered by like butterflies, their translucent wings glowing with magic. A few polite courtesies and hellos, and they left me alone. I'm sure one of them would buzz to Father to share my whereabouts before he screams at the whole kingdom to look for me. Their calm socializing added sparkles in the air, their lit wings floating around like fireflies. A few sat with their tiny feet in the water. Others curled near the angel's feet. They never bothered me. I enjoyed watching them dance across the water's surface, ice skating with their delicate wings lifting them. It was peacefully entertaining.

The last time I was here was when I was with Mother.

That memory stabbed me between the eyes, taking in the whole scene as I imagined Mother sitting beside me. Her long neck when she looked up at the angel with her lifted red lips. All her hair was in a loose braid, draped over one shoulder.

"Camille, I brought you here because I needed to tell you this privately. It would be better if you heard this from me." I thought fairies flew in my mouth and started dancing in my stomach. I swallowed, pulling my knees in with my green dress hiding everything.

What is it?"

Mother swallowed. Her lips trembled. Her breasts shook with her erratic breathing. She looked beautiful that day, her strapless dress long and white. She was an angel once. The autumn color snuck in that day, littering leaves dancing around our feet. There was a chill to the wind, but the sun was out, hanging on to give us the last bit of warmth before Mother took it away.

"Your father and I have to go."

Those words came in like mud.

"Go?"

Mother licked her lips and looked down at her long, white skirt.

"The Nightmare King's power is growing. Your Father must join the marches to aid in his army. And I must go with him."

I lost the feeling of everything, stuck on Mother's lips like they meant the world to me.

No more chill. No more stone bench nor the smell of morning grass and her perfume. Roses and Jasmine always made me think of her. I could never forget for as long as I stood in a garden, smelled a bouquet, or wandered among the flower fields.

"You're both leaving me here?" I trembled.

Mother's soft hands took mine.

"Your father needs me. I have magic and can use it to aid in this war."

I squeezed her warm hands until they shook together, my eyes hot. My throat closed, and my chest shrunk, making me take little, quick breaths.

"Can I go with you?" I begged. I knew no magic, just swords, and bows, but I was experienced from my little expeditions with Vince. My heart sank when she shook her head, loose hair passing one of my cheeks.

"We need you to stay and guard the throne," she argued. I understood even if she didn't say another word. I rammed her hands into my face, taking more of her smell and dabbing my tears with her knuckles.

"It's because I don't know magic, isn't it?" I gasped.

"No, not at all." Mother hugged my face gently, and her thumbs wandered to wipe my tears.

"You just haven't awakened yet. That's all. And even if you knew magic, we both still want you to stay here. Bonbon and Vince will keep an eye on you."

More tears flowed free, too many for her to take away.

"Please, stay?" I begged again, one more time.

She shook her head, her loose curls brushing my collar.

"We leave in a few days. Don't worry; we'll come back. Victory and all. I say so in front of the Fountain of Truth."

She kissed my forehead as I collapsed into her arms. Together, we looked like two versions of the same person. Mother could have easily been an older version of me, with the same hair, skin, and size.

"I promise I will return," she whispered. It was a vow witnessed by the stone angel to make it seem authentic. No one lied in front of her.

That promise came and fell like the leaves. It took to the winds, lost forever.

I stared at the empty spot on the bench, Mother's ghost still sitting there with her frozen beauty.

"Why did you have to go, Mother?" I whispered to the stale air. Fairies perked, but there was no answer. I sat there for a long time, processing the last few days: waking up from nightmares, to be punished by the Council. Vince and his scars from Middle Land. Nemo swooping in with his 1920s slang. Galof bringing me dark temptations and guidance. Me punching Nemo in the face. And then, always back to Vince.

I thought of all the times Vince was protective of me, close to me. I was knit-picking his words to find secret meanings, hoping they would reveal similar feelings to mine. Many what-if scenarios occupied my thoughts, none relevant but for time-wasting pleasure. I looked at my hands, wondering if Mother's and Father's Slumberland magic slept inside me. It was easy to forget, a passing thought. I gave up the idea a long time ago when Father told me he had magic for as long as he had existed in the realm, morphed from the heavens to bring humans pleasant nighttime luxuries in their troubled minds. Mother was an angel, coming into people's dreams like a messenger from God. She gave hope and sweet words of a better tomorrow, warming the poor humans' cold hearts.

She easily caught Father's eye, and it was all over.

I thought of Bonbon and her contentment, how I envied her for it. I thought of Vince coming in so close to me, taking my loose hair away to tuck it behind my ear.

I pondered for so long, my stomach able to settle brunch foods, and my head cleared. Behind the clouds, the high sun was ready to come out and say hello. A glimmer of its golden glow spilled over the angel and the rain that fell from her feet. The drops turned into diamonds, and they plopped into the water, adding ripples to the many truths that filled the pool. Sitting in a magical place, my lips struggled to stay closed the whole time, many facts ready to burst out like Vince's pistol. The fairies always enjoyed eavesdropping upon the confessions of those who visited; that's often why they hung around, but thankfully, their lips were sealed.

I watched the many truths disappear, the actual depth of the fountain beyond my imagination when it seemed no bigger than a duck pond. But I knew how deep it went and feared falling in.

My hand busied itself on my sternum, rubbing roughly with knuckles, and my lips shook, ready to spill.

"I love…." His name hung heavily in my throat, not wanting to come out, but I wanted to say it, to give that to the fountain before I was forced to forget my feelings. For Nemo's sake. For Slumberland's future.

"I love Vince… For as long as I've known him," I shared, accepting it when the honesty poured out by the fountain's influence. When lips move here, many truths shall spill; some known and some unaware until we hear it.

"I only want to go to Middle Land to know him better and to run away," I confessed, and my hands played together on my lap.

"I want to know if he feels the same, but even so, I can't now. I can't…."

I dropped my eyelids to stop the first tear, but it was too late. It came heavy, like a fingertip dragging down my cheek.

"I can't," I gasped.

Carefully, I took that tear between my finger and thumb, and it crystalized. I held the frozen tear up high, spotting tiny rainbows shimmering over the cuts of a diamond—my tear of truths.

I then plopped it into the pool, and it immediately disappeared.

My secret.

I thought I could still see it spiraling into the darkness, my reflection hovering over it. More tears fell, and the truths were spilling out one by one.

"I want to run away."

Plop. Another tear was tossed into the pool.

"I'm jealous of Bonbon and her confidence."

Plop.

"I'm confused about Golof."

Plop.

"I want to feel like I have a purpose. Now that Nemo is in the picture, running the show with his unstoppable 1920s shenanigans, I don't know what I'm doing here."

My last tear to give to the fountain.

"I want Vince to-" I covered my mouth, the rest muffled before it was to leak, and that was enough. I didn't wish to speak anymore; the Fountain gifting the place for one easily leak one truth after the other. No one could lie here. It's a good place to confess one's love or to make promises because you would know it to be true.

I rubbed my eyes, no more tears for the fountain, and sniffed until all was calm and the tensity to spill more honesty wasn't tempting.

I love Vince. Wasn't it obvious? And now it was too-!

The sound of footsteps emerged. I glanced over my shoulder at the floral archway. I wanted nothing more than have it be Vince, but I was shocked to find Father there. I jumped out of my seat, limbs stiff and rear sore, and blinked at his height. I had no words yet, shocked that he took the time to look for me. He stood in his spring, forest green robe with silver embroidery, the scepter in his hand to act as his staff, and his long beard hid his round belly. His eyes sparkled when they found me, and he smiled kindly. What a coincidence the overcast thinned suddenly, allowing more sun to light his shoulders. The mist vanished. The fairies gathered together on the fountain as an audience for a possible argument or good moment.

Father stepped closer, holding his scepter, and took a deep breath.

"I thought I would find you here," he began. He cleared his throat and gazed upon the angel statue. Quicker than he could handle, he dropped his eyes, the sculpture reminding him of Mother.

"I figured you needed time to think. Plus, one of the fairies showed me where you would be," Father explained. Just in time, a fairy popped its head from the forest of his beard and zapped past my face to join the others. I'd expected as much, but...

"I didn't expect you to come find me," I shared, still too nervous to sit. Father gestured to the bench anyway, and I sat back down, him sitting exactly where Mother had. He sighed happily, his hands resting around the scepter while he marveled at the fountain and its privacy.

"Yes, well, at first, I thought of sending someone else, but then I realized it was best that I should do it, especially after what happened this morning," he explained. I looked away and sank my cheeks into my hands until they squished up to my eyes.

"You heard about that already?"

"Of course."

"Are you here to punish me, then?" I challenged. Just get it over with. What more could Father possibly do to torment me? I expected his usual storming eyes and sparkling scepter in hot red, the sky darkening with a fresh storm.

But then, out of nowhere, Father released a colossal laugh, his mouth open and teeth large at the clearing sky.

"My own daughter! Buwahahaha! She's got a good jab! Buwahahaha!" He rattled so hard, shaking the bench with his joyous cackling. Tiny tears leaked from his bright eyes, and he rubbed them away as his laugh trickled on.

I was speechless. One's presence around the Fountain of Truth was authentic, making me wonder who Father really was. The ill-tempered King or this jolly man sitting next to me?

"Oh, dears..." Father calmed along with bouts of chuckling until he simmered. He looked to his hands fiddling around the scepter's gold staff and sighed lightly.

"No, I didn't come here to punish you. The boy probably deserved it. He will learn to handle you better because of that little spectacle." He shook his head and arranged his thoughts.

"No. I came here for another reason..."

The reason stayed on his tongue for a moment, and he licked his lips before sighing again and shyly looking at me while I twiddled my thumbs.

"I wanted to apologize," Father revealed.

I perked my head to find his eyes, wrinkles surrounding them like dry, cracked earth. When I stayed quiet, Father continued and steered his warm gaze to his hands.

"All I want, Camille, is for you to be happy. I thought that meant what was best for you, which really just made ME happy. And well, I should've been softer on you. You lost your Mother only months ago. And I've let your friend, Vince, almost fly away to his death. If you hadn't been there for him, I wouldn't have shown up and saved the both of you lot. It was reckless, but you did it because you cared about him. I admire you for that, my child."

Father gave off an aura of warmth, his presence easily filling anyone with comfort, but also, he appeared depressed. I thought I was sitting next to someone ready to turn into stone, his limbs stiffening, shoulders heavy, and eyes cold and hard to hide the rare glimpses of a younger man who was in love once, a long time ago.

I inched nearer to get into his complicated aura and softened, taking in the sunlight for the first time today. But I still had a hard edge, resulting in a grumble.

"That still doesn't change anything? Does it?" I knew it before I asked, but I suppose I had to hear it from Father first.

His thick eyebrows dropped, causing his eyes to thin into sparkling slits.

"No. It doesn't, my child," he sighed. His figure rolled into itself, turning into a boulder of green and white.

"I can't lie to you here, Camille, not near the Fountain of Truth. So, I say this to you: I won't be long in this world. I will leave shortly after Nemo's coronation. There's one thing I must ask of you. A favor while I am gone."

Father uncoiled from his sunken pose and looked at the angel statue with persistent eyes this time.

"I want to make certain you are set for a bright future. And help Nemo rule this kingdom." He looked down at me, adding, "He will need your help."

I avoided his eyes, knowing he wanted a connection, but I felt guilty for this morning and rubbed my sternum again.

"I know…"

"He's making himself at home easily. I've never seen anyone so happy. He's just as jolly as Leroy when he first arrived. Remember how fun he was?"

Vince's father took to Slumberland with a child's curiosity. He was a delightful personality that mistakingly didn't give a drop of optimism in Vince's blood. It's a shame he's dead now. I tried not to remember the last I saw him, cradled in the claws of that hybrid demon. I shivered before returning to Father's words about Nemo being so happy. His observation skills puzzled me. Did he only see what he wanted to see? Nemo isn't happy at all…

"I look forward to leaving," Father sighed heavily. Again, he looked at the statue as though looking up at Mother and telling her he would be with her soon. A chill slipped down my spine, and my shoulders shook.

"When will that be?"

"Three days."

"Ah."

"That will settle the boy quickly in his royal courses, make friends, and learn more about Slumberland. What do you think?"

I covered my mouth and shook my head, afraid to look up at Father. The humming growl in his voice told me he was displeased with my silence, knowing I was holding back.

"Camille, speak. I can handle the truth. I know you are unhappy with this plan. What more could you share?" he encouraged.

"Yes, I am unhappy with it," I agreed. That was no surprise, and Father just shrugged, staring at the pool near our feet.

"I could ask you any question here. And you would have no choice but to answer truthfully to me, but…" he sank his head, his beard touching the grass.

"But I shall not do that. I must respect your privacy." Father rose with a grunt, and his knees cracked. He rubbed them with a scowl.

"I know you have a lot on your mind. And we may argue, but you can try to talk to me," he invited, already a few steps into the exit. I felt his eyes over his shoulder, the dragging of his regal caped frozen. I was petrified, looking at the fountain's pool, when I knew I should be turning about to look at Father. Now was my chance to ask him anything, and he would have to tell me the truth.

Anything! About the door in my nightmares. To ask if he truly loved me. About Mother. But I stayed frozen, spoiling my chances when Father peeled his eyes away with a head turn, and his footsteps faded.

Blast it! Ask him something! Anything, please!

"Father!"

He stopped, a glowing figure standing in the middle of the greenery, and turned his head to give me his attention. I swallowed and picked the first question that came to mind. I shot up from the bench and twirled around, only to shout intensely, "Why did you pick Nemo?"

Of all the questions that came bursting out... I gritted my teeth together hard as soon as I asked, already wishing to go back in time to ask another. Who cares why? Did it matter?

I didn't expect Father to perk; he even smiled softly, the sun still well over him in a parade of beams as he turned into the Ghost of Christmas Past. He spun gently to toss me that knowing, gentle smile and took a few steps to reach my petrified state.

His hand was warm when it swallowed my shoulder. He bowed slightly to reel in, peppermint lingering around his beard, and whispered.

Father told me why.

My face slowly melted from curiosity to disappointment. He pulled back and gave me one final look, a look of something shared in secret for only a father and daughter to know. A piece of rare knowledge for the privileged, and he gave it to me with a smile of whimsical mystery. I sunk further, watching Father's back as he retreated slowly, his legs dragging like boulders.

He disappeared, the sun following him as I stood there. The mist returned, the foggy air wrapping around the maze.

Father's answer rattled around in my head like a spin-top toy, already unwinding and flopping to a pathetic stop.

Because it's necessary. For Slumberland's future.

What a lame answer.

1