16 I have Nightmares
I opened my eyes and instantly saw the darkness of my bedroom. No birds chirping. No sun in the sky. No smell of mildew or flowers, but I did smell cigar smoke. My stomach twisted, and I started to feel nauseous.
Rolling over in my bed, I gripped nothing but air, expecting to have a hold of Bonbon's hand. I gasped and sat up, ruffling the blankets to search for her, but she wasn't in bed with me.
Where did she go?
Above my head, something cracked loudly. I looked up, vaguely seeing the added broken star to the mobile collection. They spun fast, but there wasn't a breeze.
"It had to be youuuuuu," someone sang, his voice low and silky.
I turned my head sharply, following that dangerous voice, and found a dark figure sitting on one of my cafe chairs. His black wings were folded, showing me his pale back, and he blew a large cloud of grey smoke, a fog growing from his pouted lips.
"It had to be you. I wandered around and finally found the somebody who," he dragged all too well, a voice that didn't need instruments to glorify its effects.
Galof.
How did he know that song?
He stopped singing and puffed out another cloud. "Had a fun night?" He chirped.
I covered myself up with the blankets, my pajamas only a towel.
"What are you doing here?" I hissed, not in the mood for his visit.
Galof tapped his cigar on one of my lovely bone china tea cups, ash collecting in old untouched tea.
"Oh, you know. Doing my job," he cooed. He turned slightly, taking another deep breath through his cigar, and the outline of his bare chest expanded. He crossed his pant legs, his barefoot tapping the air.
"I'm giving you a nightmare. Simple," he sighed, along with more smoke.
I mashed my blanket over my nose and mouth to act as a mask.
"Well, dream or not, there's no smoking in Slumberland!" I sizzled.
"Ah."
Galof folded his thick arms behind his head and leaned back on the chair, his cigar bouncing up and down from his lips.
"Nemo doesn't seem to care. In fact, he doesn't seem to care much about anything," he toyed.
I glared at him, ready to pinch myself to wake up, but Galof eventually dropped his cigar in the teacup, and it fizzled out.
"You're lucky sexy Vince was there to rescue you," he snickered, and that's when he turned his head to flash me his glowing yellow eyes.
I slipped the blanket off my face.
"How do you know about that?" I asked.
"Oh, you know. Nightmare Land gets pretty excited when we expect new arrivals. There are spies, too, of course. Or maybe you aren't the only one with nightmares," Galof hinted, smirking. He stood and began to walk towards the bed.
I scooted back, inch by inch, until I pressed against the headboard.
Galof settled his hands on the bed and crawled over the comforters; his eyes locked on me. He didn't stop smirking.
"Don't come closer!" I quivered, hiding under the blankets.
"But aren't I supposed to do my job?" He boasted sweetly. He got on all fours and stopped when his face was only a few inches from mine, smiling down at me with too many dark thoughts swirling in his vibrant eyes.
He soothed, "What is a nightmare to innocent Princess Camille?"
When I said nothing, he asked, "Is it being too close to another man?"
My mouth grew dry.
"I…" I swallowed, unable to give a proper answer. Being close to a man made me nervous, but I wouldn't compare it to a nightmare. Should it be a nightmare? Probably. I was raised to ignore such encounters, but my body debated lately, leaving me confused and guilty.
Galof enjoyed this, taunting me with his intrusive behavior and rude words. He liked testing the limits, getting as close as possible before I trembled into a puddle or burst like a cannonball. His yellow eyes dove deep into mine. I thought I was looking into the eyes of a beast, something dangerous lurking in them but not ready to pounce yet. His dark pupils were small and slit with a coating of dark gold around them, followed by bright yellow irises flecked with copper.
"What do you see?" He dared. His breath came to my mouth, and I inhaled the taste of cigars. I turned my head away, my ear tickled by the heat of his breath.
"I see nothing," I lied. I saw a beautiful monster.
His heavy presence grew closer, his weight pushing down on the bed.
"Liar," Galof breathed, and his lips tickled my ear enough to jolt me.
I gasped, collected my towel, slipped away, and ran across the room, stopping short before stepping on the balcony. At a safe distance, I spun around, ready to fire harsh words about his invasion of my privacy, but I clammed when he wasn't on the bed. He disappeared. Or so I thought.
"Are you afraid of me?" He was in my right ear. I gasped and stumbled back a step after finding Galof standing too close. He crossed his arms and jiggled his thick eyebrows up and down.
"No!" I hissed and smacked his arm.
Galof laughed.
"That's better. Goodness!" He steered his attention to the dark sky. No stars or moon, just a vast emptiness.
"You got to stop whimpering like that. I get too excited." He smiled sheepishly and concealed one side of his face with his hand, half his smile exposed. "One of these days, I may not be able to control myself."
I held my towel all the tighter.
"What do you want from me?"
"A friend from not a dark place," he answered quickly.
"You sure don't act like it."
"I can't help it. All the women in Nightmare Land want it. There's nothing like you there."
"Want what?" I asked, not following.
Galof rubbed his face hard.
"Oh boy…."
His face stretched as his hand fell, and he frowned deeply at the dark sky.
"Good god, I'm not here to give you a private lesson. I'll have too much fun," he muttered, though I couldn't tell if that was a response to me or just talking to himself.
I still didn't quite understand, but Galof shook his head and gave me his first warm smile tonight.
"Friends first," he promised, one sharp finger raised, though I didn't know what that meant. He didn't wait for a response, already turning away again and smiling. There was no moon to give him a glow, but he didn't need it. His eyes gave enough to illuminate his face into a soft blur of shadow and yellow light, making it easy to notice where he was looking, such as keeping a close watch on where I stepped.
"So? How was the city?" he chatted.
"Awful."
"Why did you go, then?"
"I was curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat."
"That's dark."
"That's what I am." And Galof spread his arms out wide to display himself as such, his chest tattoo exposed.
"I told you. You live a little sheltered life here. You know so little about Slumberland and Nightmare Land. Daddy has been too busy protecting you. His little soldier boy, too," he mused.
I had a new thought. "Then, teach me," I requested. Galof's smile shrank.
"Ah, but the best way to learn is through experience, even if it fails," he advised.
I puffed my cheeks and crossed my arms. "Fine then," I grumbled. That made him chuckle.
"Want to talk about Nemo."
"No."
Galof rubbed his chin and eyed me with a lifted brow.
"Then, how about…." His eyes brightened again. "…Vince?"
I perked, looking up at him to see that he had me on his web.
"What do you know about Vince?"
Galof smirked, and another eyebrow of his jerked up.
"I know you and your friend wonder why he wasn't picked to be the next King of Slumberland. That's too bad…" his exaggerated frown told me he was okay with it. He had to have been spying on me again.
"Because you and the council already picked someone! Because it's political nonsense!" I cried.
Galof started to laugh, hiding his eyes behind his hand.
"Oh dear heavens…" he laughed more. His hand slipped away, his eyes shut and smiling with delight.
"That's not it, Love."
I wanted to remind him not to call me "Love" but ignored it, staying focused.
"Then what is it?!"
Galof settled down, squinting at me.
"Are you certain you want to know? You may not look at him the same way again, and I think…" he turned slightly, showing me his profile. He stroked his chin with his fingers. "…you like seeing him as a paladin with a cursing problem."
Before I could say "Yes," he settled his cold hands on my shoulders and pulled me close without permission. I resisted, but he forced me anyway, pressing me against him until my hands had nowhere to go but on his cold chest. It was like touching ice. Why was Galof so cold?
I breathed shallowly, my eyes boring into the dragon tattoo buried under my breasts. My fingers itched to trace its solid black ink, but they shook, hovering there and feeling the pulse of darkness emitting off him like a heated wave. I shivered in his hold, thinking of being this close to Vince. That was only a few days ago, so why did it feel like an old dream?
Galof must've been watching me closely or reading my thoughts, whispering, "You can touch me if you want to."
My fingers shook, inches from doing such a thing.
"I don't want to," I breathed, lying.
"Why? Because I'm a Nightmare?"
"No."
"Because I'm not Vince?"
I turned my head and spilled an agitated exhale, my cheeks burning.
"Ahh, I see it now," he whispered, taking my hands.
I turned my head sharply to throw him a glare, on the verge of arguing, but after spotting Galof's eyes flickering from gold to dim, I said nothing. He seemed to be hovering close to becoming something dangerous, but he seethed through his nose, smirking a knowing secret at me.
"Don't worry." He steered my hands on his cold chest as though to tempt me.
"Your secret is safe with me."
Without thought, my fingers started moving, following the trails of ink of the dragon. I traced along its tail and stopped before touching Galof's long neck. I held my breath, embarrassed.
"You can keep going," Galof permitted, not afraid to display his bliss of feeling the feathery tips of my fingers across his skin. I continued, outlining the tattoo along his neck and landing where his jaw curved up his ear—a small black stone glimmered at me.
"Why are you so cold?" I asked, lost at the structure of his hard body.
"Nightmares are often cold," he whispered.
My hand stayed near his jaw, and I flickered into his eyes, seeing them soft and full.
"Vince and I aren't that different," Galof shared.
"I think you two are very different," I protested.
"Oh? You will find out soon enough." He took my hand from his jaw and curled it with his gentle fist. He planted my fingers on his lips, and my whole back tingled from the unexpected warmth. I thought his kiss would be a touch of ice, but it was warm and inviting. He opened his eyes slightly to look down at my well, polished fingernails.
"Haven't you ever wondered, if you are having nightmares, then who else?"
I startled Galof when I pulled my hand back abruptly from his grasp.
"Are you giving him nightmares?" I stepped back and glared. He did nothing but smile.
"Not me."
"Then who?!" I demanded.
Galof's eyes fell on the towel that hid my body.
"Remember, Nightmares are a way to help process the rough parts of humans' lives. They can also give you glimpses of your memories and buried thoughts. They aren't all bad, just like I'm not all bad."
I was about to rebel but fell short, still uncertain whether to trust Galof, so mentally, I've kept him on neutral ground, revealing and hiding only selective things, though he seemed to know more than I'd like. He couldn't put it better: He's not ALL bad. But the parts that are bad worried me. What if one of his dark impulses sabotaged everything? What if I endure another traumatic episode to learn not to trust Galof, too? Another potential friend tossed in the wasteland?
I quickly learned I couldn't trust Nemo…
"Just like dreams in Slumberland aren't all good," I reported.
Galof's eyes lifted to mine.
"Exactly. Humans are a complicated sort."
"So are you," I grumbled.
Galof slapped his cheek timidly and swayed his hip to one side. "Thank you," he sighed.
I rolled my eyes. "So, let me ask you this: What makes you and Vince so similar? He's from Middle Land, isn't he?" I threw uneasily.
Galof's eyes grew, and he pointed a sharp finger at me with his hand the shape of a pistol. He winked.
"Now, that's the right question."
"Stop telling me things in riddles. You're my friend, aren't you?" I spat, sick of him toying with me.
Galof clasped his large hands. "But I'm having too much fun!" He rang.
I settled my fists at my hips. "Well, I'm not," I spat. A strong arm swooped around my waist, but I shoved him off with a scoff. That was barely enough to have him wobble back half a step, and he chuckled. His fingers were turning black, stroking along his straight strands of walnut hair.
"I have to admit, I'm a little jealous," he revealed, smiling nervously at the darkness. Another crack shot through my ears, and I knew another star had broken over my bed. I eyed Galof closely.
"You? Jealous?"
"Yeah," Galof chuckled. He draped a dark arm over his tight belly. "I didn't know you were fond of anyone." He smiled to himself. "Damn." Another crack tinged in my ears.
His head turned slowly, his gold eyes landing on mine with secret plans.
"Maybe one day, you will have to choose," Galof hinted.
I lifted a brow at him.
"Choose?"
Galof's demeanor changed. His face hardened. Behind him, black wings opened, taking up the space around us. His piercing, yellow eyes stabbed me, a monster ready to emerge. Fangs flashed upon his dark smile. He suddenly grew taller. When he spoke, that low, growling voice surfaced.
"Between me and Vince."
I furrowed my brow. "I have to be with Nemo, remember?"
That only seemed to cause Galof to laugh, his strange, monstrous voice giggling like I said something funny. He smacked a giant, black claw over his face to stifle his laughter until he settled.
"The one trying to be a monster is not a competition for two monsters," he growled. He freed his eyes to burn me with their two miniature suns drilling heat into my skull.
"Stop lying to yourself. The boy is nothing more than a tool," he warned. A black claw snatched my jaw, and Galof lifted my face close to his. He breathed heavily through his sharp teeth, looking at me like his next meal. His breath no longer had that cigar smell but a hot, bloody odor. I closed my lips and held my breath to stop inhaling such a scent.
"When the next blood bath happens, Vince may be unable to save you," he predicted.
Through my teeth, I replied, "You mean, IF it happens. And even if it does, that's not true," I stormed.
One of Galof's eyebrows jerked up.
"We shall see," he hissed.
He let go and turned away, his body turning to black smoke.
"Until next time."
He didn't say "until tomorrow night."
When I awoke, I did so quietly, nothing more than my eyelids opening. I was already lying on my back, so the first to notice on a new day was revolting: all of my glass stars had cracks.
…
I stood with my hands behind me, my head low to stare at my white slippers closed together in the ballet first position.
Straight ahead, the floor cracked, and its cry echoed through the ballroom.
"Twelve cops died." Father began.
He jammed the end of his scepter onto the floor—another crack.
Bonbon winced from it, bowing her head as she clasped her hands under her chin and shut her eyes tight.
"Ten Middle Land men dead in their beds."
Crack!
Nemo looked away, frowning with his arms crossed, calm as the Lake of Dreams.
"Dreamers with dreams that involved a bloodbath at a real club in Middle Land, creating high security around the place now…."
Crack!
"…And having you three in grave danger!"
Father thrust his scepter one last time, an enormous crack. Bits of marble sprayed up and scattered around our feet as little sharp pebbles.
"What do you three have to say for yourselves?!" Father boomed. His voice traveled through the entire palace, shaking the walls with his storming. Servants and guards hid away from his wrath. The chandelier trembled. No sun to bask on our three's backs, not with Father in such a foul mood. It was a dreary morning, cloudy with rumbles of thunder to carry his wrath across the lands like a herd of ferocious lions prowling on the clouds.
Father pointed his scepter at Bonbon with a whip of air to follow, and her braid blew back.
"You go first!"
Bonbon sucked through her teeth, and her hands fumbled around her short, lavender chiffon dance skirt.
"Uh….King Morpheus….Sir…" She could barely raise her voice. "Well…." She tried to catch her breath, her hands in her messy, mint bun. "I'm sorry," she ended, unwilling to try to justify her side of the story, and looked away to hide her fresh tears and wiggly lips.
Father grilled and pointed his scepter at Nemo.
"Nemo?!"
But Nemo refused to turn his head even when the violent gust of wind blew his bangs far away from his distant eyes. His attention lay stuck on a window or an ornament, frowning at it and saying nothing.
Father huffed impatiently and aimed his scepter at the next victim: Me.
I tried not to jump at the whoosh of air that propelled from the mighty wave of his hand. The scepter was more threatening than Father. I stared as the orb vibrated with dark blue cracks like it bubbled with lightning.
"What about you, Camille? My own daughter disobeyed my warning never to go outside the capital. Again!"
I struggled to inhale steadily, my chest tight and my limbs like jello. Father's blue eyes struck me before he started screaming again, "Why did-!"
The doors bellowed upon opening, and Father froze, caught off guard as he tried to remain threatening with his chest still puffed out and shoulders up.
We all turned, and Vince pressed his back against the double doors to shut them behind him.
"Sorry, I'm late," he announced, and his voice echoed through the ballroom.
Father shook his scepter like he wanted to choke someone.
"Vince! No interrupting!"
Vince didn't seem affected by Father's outburst, approaching the throne cooly in his leather armor and blue cape. He crossed his arms low.
"As you were," he permitted, puzzling to the King of Slumberland to be granted permission for anything. Father barred his straight teeth and again threw his sore eyes at me.
"Camille, explain why you did something so reckless!" His voice matched the thunder outside, both booming at once. I thought the whole palace would crumble, and I fell back a step, my hands clutching my maxi dress with wrinkling white silk.
"I…" I didn't want to be scolded in front of Vince, making me feel like a child. Was he here to have a word on this? I stole a look his way, accidentally meeting his eyes, and I blinked back at Father, breathless.
"I don't want to take this with the Trine Council," he warned, rubbing his wrinkled eyes hard with his thick, white fingers.
"Not for child's play," he sighed.
Vince took a spot and stood tall, his hands together on his back, and secretly, he glared at Nemo over his left shoulder. Nemo reflected that look and turned away to watch his stiff boots.
Another crack, and Father pointed at me again. He finds it easiest to use me as the victim for channeling his frustration; he does it almost daily anyway.
"Camille! I won't ask you again! What-"
"It's my fault, Sir." At last, Nemo spoke up, and Father halted.
All eyes fell on Nemo, the boy giving Father a stern look. He stood proud in his white military jacket and black trousers, his dark boots widening his stance, and he flapped his dark blue cape over his shoulder. Gauze and tape covered both cheeks, but he still had a black eye, making him appear half raccoon.
"If you need to blame someone, blame me, Sir," Nemo demanded.
Vince's eyes grew slightly.
Father blinked.
I inhaled and held my breath for five seconds. Bonbon gulped.
The ballroom's air stilled briefly, and then Father marched up to Nemo with his giant size, looming over him like an old, tall oak tree. His white beard got in his face as he peered down at the boy with a wide-open stare that could possibly see all of his sins.
"Nemo, it was your fault?"
Nemo nodded, his brown bangs bouncing up and down.
"Yes, Sir. It was my idea." He gestured to me with a gentle hand. "Camille told me we shouldn't go into the city, that we weren't allowed. But I didn't listen, and I even promised to keep her safe when I persuaded her to go." With dread, Nemo gave his attention to Vince standing beside him with a half glance.
"But I failed. I saw a Dreamer I knew, and the other Dreamers didn't like that. We probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for Vince." He looked back to Father again, his sparkling, brown eyes growing.
"So, if anyone needs to be punished today, then it's me!" He jabbed a thumb to his chest.
Vince's lips twisted, and he hissed, turning his head away. This wasn't what he expected. He didn't know Nemo would confess his faults.
Father relaxed, his shoulders melting over his giant form, his robe slipping deeper over his large sandals to hide his wrinkled feet.
"Nemo, it pains me to hear this," he started, and with that, he turned around and stomped back to his throne. For a minute, Father looked like a giant white lump, his long white hair falling down his back to conceal most of his backside. He then sat on his throne and stared at all four of us below the few steps. His mustache lifted slightly, eyes twinkling.
"But I'm proud of you for standing up and admitting to your mistakes," Father observed, warming up. After that, it was all too quiet for a long time. Vince had enough of the stretch of uncertainty, for he stepped forward and thrashed his arm across the air.
"What? That's it?" He heated, surprised at how quickly this de-escalated.
Father nodded.
"Yes."
We all gasped.
Nemo's eyes grew, his eyebrows up. Bonbon smacked a hand over her dropped jaw, and I kept a close eye on Vince in case he was about to unleash his sword and stab Nemo in the back. He was tempted, his cold, dark eyes bouncing from Father to Nemo while breathing hard through his nose. HIs chest shook. His busy leather-gloved hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, ready to pull it, but he finished with a fist and dropped it at his side.
"So..." he paused, grinding his teeth. "Everything just goes as planned?" His fist trembled.
Father squinted at Vince. "You seem displeased with this."
Vince lifted his gaze to catch Nemo's cocky grin before looking back at Father.
"Of course I am," he said through his teeth.
"Lives were destroyed. Nightmares could've spread onto our land from that infestation." He pointed a rigid finger at me and seethed the last bit of intensity when he cried, "Camille, your only daughter, almost got killed!"
Father dipped his face into his hand and took deep breaths to settle himself, unwilling to puff feathers with Vince. After another long exhale, the king sat up and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes and stared at his long-time trusted knight with a tiring look.
"Vince, I know. I'm not happy with this, but…" he looked at the rest of us, and his watery eyes settled on me. His nose started to turn red.
"I'm tired. I'm so, so tired…."
I never thought Father could drop his guard in front of anyone but me. I blinked, my eyes stinging to see him like this, a man willing to crumble his walls and display how broken he really was. We weren't making this easy for him. I didn't understand the heavy burden our immature actions were causing on him until I saw how he sat on his throne, his body slumped before our eyes.
"Father…" I whimpered, undecided if I should run up the steps and fall into his arms, or stand my ground.
Father shook his head, well aware of how he appeared to us. Not a mighty king but a sad, old man wanting to stop trying. He was hanging on to his very last thread, taking the easiest route before losing all his energy.
The King of Slumberland eased his droopy eyes on Nemo.
"It's not the individual's fault, but of the system. I…" he put a large hand over his beard where his heavy heart hid. "…didn't yet teach you and Camille about the dangers of being outside the capital. The way the Dreamers work and where Nightmare Folk come from. It is unfortunate you had to learn this through such a horrid mistake. But now you know, and that will make you a better king," he finished.
Nemo stood there, blinking up at Father, stunned.
"So, I won't be returning to Middle Land?" He asked. I could detect the slight disappointment in his voice.
Father shook his head.
"No. Instead, you must be taught how to use the sword sooner than expected." He waved a large hand aside and turned his sparkling eyes to Nemo's right. "By the best swordsman there is in Slumberland. Vince."
"WHAT?!" Nemo quacked, whereas Vince gasped silently, his mouth left open for a second too long as his eyes grew at Father's decision.
Father nodded patiently.
"Nemo, you need to learn to fight as part of being future king. After your coronation, you will be enrolled with the Royal Guard for a few years-!"
"This is fucking bullshit!" Vince scowled, storming off.
Father sighed, rubbing his eyes again. "Vince, don't go. We have to talk about the ball! Vince! I order you to stay! Vince!"
He was already at the doors, and they slammed hard, the walls growling from impact.
Father dragged his fingers under his eyes until the red of them showed.
"Camille, could you please talk to him? He listens to you," he begged.
My hands swooped over my v-neck, a tiny half-moon pendant bumping in my palm.
"Me?"
Father nodded. I looked to Bonbon for silent advice, and she gave me an uneasy smile. Nervously, I turned to Nemo, but all he did was look away, avoiding my gaze. We haven't exchanged a single word since last night. Between us, a painful awkwardness intensified. Cowardly, I let the horrid silence choke us, wondering if it bothered him as much. Not desiring to sit in the uncomfortable silence much longer, my feet began to tap backward.
"Okay."
I twirled around and rushed across the ballroom, glad to leave with permission.
Vince was already down the steps and walking by the large fountain when my voice carried over to him.
"Vince! Wait!"
He stopped and glanced at me, only to look away again. He set his hands on his hips and dipped his head, his boot taping.
I hurried down the steps, stopped to catch my breath, and leaned down a little. The outside air felt hot, almost electrifying, the heavy overcast not helping. I was already starting to sweat under my pits and hated it.
"Just hold on," I gasped, still trying to cool off. I used my hands as fans under my arms.
"Oh man, I hate dresses, especially these ridiculous sleeves," I seethed.
Vince was watching me, slowly smiling.
"Leather armor isn't any better," he reminded.
"Yeah, but at least I can get dirty in it, pour water over my head, and be fine in a minute," I snickered. There were many occasions of splashing my face with cold water after a sword fight or practicing archery on a hot summer day.
My poor bun was already loose, sticking to my cheeks and chest. The puffy white sleeves were not meant for humid weather, getting itchy. I tried not to scratch as I stood there, stuck in Vince's hold, when our eyes locked. Behind him, a glint of the sun made a hot yellow line through a dark, angry cloud. A distant grumble told us the storm was passing.
Falling into Vince's eyes, there were too many sparkles of knowing to sort out, too many thoughts in there to make sense of. They lightened, dark brown sparkling into pools of honey under what little sun could cut through the storm. Small bars of gold stretched across the land, turning our world into snippets of gold. I refused to squint, gladly going blind for as long as we could stand it.
Vince's eyebrows lifted, and he opened his lips, revealing the first glimmer in his eyes.
"King Morpheus died in that last battle, didn't he?"
I blinked slowly, taking in his heavy words, and my eyes watered under the sun's glare.
"He hasn't been himself since," I clarified, back to our deep conversation before this madness started. Before Nemo. Before the tumble at the West Post with Vince. Before I knew that, I loved him.
He licked his lips and nodded. "Yeah. I see it now…" he pressed his lips together and blinked like something was caught in his eye.
"He was a good general. A good friend of my father." He dipped his head and stared down at nothing. "I can see it now. When you fall in love, that's just what happens when you lose them." His eyelids lowered, and his shadows spilled from his dead stare.
"Ain't that the way shit always ends? Well...I won't let that happen to me." He squinted hatred at the invisible enemy of Love.
"Ever."
The wind picked up his hair, revealing more of his sunlit eyes.
I cracked but caught the pieces before they fell at our feet, hoping he didn't notice. My eyes stung, saved by the excuse of an unexpected cool gust when I leaned into it, blinking constantly.
"Yeah. Falling in love is a lot more trouble than it's worth," I tried, partially agreeing.
Vince didn't love me then.
I scanned the coming morning sun breaking through the clouds, forcing a smile at its light widening. But upon peeking at Vince, I was startled to find him still watching me. The look on his face was unusual for him. Almost peaceful but also sad. Not a hint of anger from the many gallons he carried in his blood. Not a hiss of steam leaking from his iron bones nor his cold eyes hiding all of his insides. No, everything fell out, their warm honey blurring with the sun and the wind pushing back his hair to reveal more of his golden-touched face. He looked at me in a way that ignited fear in my chest, causing alarm at who this peaceful stranger was.
"Vince, what is it?" I asked, afraid.
He finally closed his eyes and shook his head, appearing more like a boy than I'd ever thought possible.
"Nothing."
I then remembered my dream with Galof. His strange hints haunted me all morning.
Vince and I aren't that different.
Did Vince have nightmares? Or was there a darker secret going on?
Ask him.
"Vince…" I sat on the fountain's edge, feeling its spray tickle my back with a welcoming chill. My feet kicked nervously, and I tried again as he waited quietly.
The knight leaned in. "Yes?"
I bit my lower lip. He stepped closer until his thigh bumped into my knee.
I looked up, ready to ask him, but I lost the ability to speak when I got lost in his glowing gold face. He was closer than I expected, his warm breath falling on my face.
"What is it?" Vince nudged, awaiting my word. I've never seen him so interested in what I had to say before.
"Um…" I didn't want to spoil this moment. My hands gripped the stone edge, water splashes falling over my tight knuckles.
"Do you have nightmares?" There. I finally asked him. The weight in my chest followed those words, making me feel lighter.
As for Vince, he cocked his head.
"That's what you wanted to ask me?" He didn't bat an eyelash, more disappointed than surprised.
I blinked up at him.
"Yeah…?" Now I was uncertain.
Vince leaned back, straightened, and crossed his arms, focusing on the sun until he had to squint. He hissed at its light like he remembered he would burn if he stayed out here longer than he had to. Cold, dark eyes returned, and he spat on the gravel.
"What do YOU think?" He gave me a warning look, daring me to ask him again, or I would regret it.
I stilled and said delicately for only him to hear, "I think you do. Ever since you came to Slumberland."
His eyes grew slightly as I continued, dipping my head until my loose bun fell in my peripheral vision, strands waving over my feet.
"I think that's why Father didn't pick you to be the prince. He thought you were too tainted with the Nightmare, didn't he?" I figured it out as I said it. It made sense.
I looked up to find him frowning deeply, the coldness in his eyes sharper than usual.
"And to think, Nemo was better without Nightmare's filth on his hands. Funny how the council manages their decisions."
A jolt cut through my chest.
"But then again, a third of the council is Nightmare Land influence. Don't be a fool and think for a second that someone is NOT steering this Kingdom into trouble by putting that boy on the throne. Morpheus is too long gone to fight with their trickery. He was good in battle, but that's it. Your mother worked behind the scenes for him. Why do you think the Trine Council was made recently? It wasn't because we were at high risk without a monarch figure but because Morpheus didn't know how to run this kingdom without her," Vince lectured.
It was easy to forget how much he knew and how little reputation he had for it.
I sorted through his last long trail of words, picking at what he didn't say, and I found my answer.
This whole time, Vince Layman Shields had been touched by the Nightmare.
How could he still walk and breathe here? How did he endure the curse of Nightmares for so long and still set foot on Slumberland without burning under its high sun?
My lips shook, scared that my dear friend would burst into a dark creature any second and forget me. I snatched my heart when I thought it was going to fall out. Now I know what Vince was trying to run away from.
Vince, no matter how long you stay in Slumberland, the Nightmares still follow you. No wonder you were so eager to run to Middle Land; it wouldn't make much of a difference to the tortures you endure at night.
I wanted to tell him this, but I was left thinking about it instead, choking on its dark truth to leave me mute.
It wasn't until a cold gauntlet hand touched my cheek, startling me awake, and Vince stared down at me with all the seriousness in the world.
"When things get out of hand, you stay close to me, with or without a sword, remember?"
I nodded, taking his cold metal fingers inside my hand and squeezing them tightly.
"I will," I promised, and our eyes held a sturdy chain made by our friendship over the years.
As long as Vince was nearby, love me or not, I knew I would be okay. He's proven that multiple times.
Vince didn't smile, but he let his thumb wander over my cheek as though there were tears to clean up.
"As long as I'm here, even tainted with Nightmare, I won't let anything happen to you," he whispered, the sound of a true promise. I don't know what made me tingle more, his cold, metal fingers on my skin or hearing those words. That's when I wanted to tell him. Even if Vince didn't love me, and I had to marry Nemo, just telling how I felt would set my heart free, and we could laugh at it and shake our heads as we skipped stones or slash barrels.
His hand slipped away as he uncoiled, standing tall and sighing towards the main palace.
"Well, I better go back and talk with Moprheus about the bloody ball. What a pain in the fuckin ass."
"Vince…"
He looked at me and instantly softened slightly, detecting my tone.
I looked down, cradling my belly, when it suddenly cramped.
"Look, I…" My heart thumped hard suddenly, sending heat up my neck until it reached my cheeks. Why did I feel dizzy?
"I….um.."
Vince hovered quietly, watching me practically fumble into a mess before him. I instantly regretted starting and wished to backpedal from the beginning. I can shove a sword into a goblin's chest, get caked in its blood, and even lay a hand on anyone who dares not to take me seriously, but I couldn't even say "I love you"?
Say it. Just say it.
"Look, I know this isn't the best timing..." I eased, hoping that adding a few filler words would calm my restless heart, but it only accelerated. My dragging didn't bother Vince, the young man standing there as though he could stand there all day, still as a mountain with his attention never straying.
I took a deep breath, my knuckles rubbing my chest hard, sometimes tapping it until my chest felt like a hollow box.
At some point, I took too long of a pause, Vince butting in when he asked me on the side, "Have you opened your gift from me yet?"
I stumbled, knuckles glued to my breasts.
"What?"
Vince didn't show any emotion, his face frozen. He read me briefly and finally looked away, hiding his face.
"You still haven't opened it. If you had..." He paused and turned slightly to look at the sun's rays, his profile in both shadow and honey.
"I know you have a lot on your plate, but it may help with your anxiety," he hinted, and the corner of his eye steered to me.
Another heated wave pushed me back, and I tried not to stumble.
"Oh?"
Vince studied me carefully.
"Your anxiety has gotten worse..." he observed. I had no idea he noticed, speechless at his close observation. He then swallowed and added cautiously, "Camille, ever since our last hurdle on the border…." He paused, looking back to the sun as though all the answers were held in its glorifying rays through the clouds. He glared hard at it and even grunted before eying me again and asking, "….Have you been having nightmares?"
I was startled at the invasive question. The spotlight shined on me, and I sucked in a breath quickly, holding it as I sorted my thoughts. Vince has been honest. I may as well be.
"Yes," I exhaled, quivering.
He stood there far longer than I was comfortable with, his one eye hovering on me as the profile of his face glowed. Spots of sun hit his cheek, another on his neck.
After a torture of long silence, he finally cleared his throat and looked away.
He shrugged. "Be careful, Camille. You're strong, but..." he looked down and didn't finish his sentence. Already, another of his thoughts shifted, and then...
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I was only able to let out a short croak.
Yes, why didn't I tell him sooner? Maybe I was afraid. I didn't want Vince to see me as this defected Slumberland soul, this whimpering mess, an imposter instead of a princess. Or maybe it was simply because I was afraid he wouldn't care.
Before I could answer, Vince scoffed and kicked the stone path.
"Never mind." He bravely looked at me in the eye. "What did you want to tell me?" he asked, giving me another chance to share my heart.
My almost confession had easily slipped away, its anxieties with it, and I didn't desire to have it return so soon.
I shook my head and forced a smile.
"Nothing. It was nothing," I tried, but Vince hissed and walked closer.
"You're a shitty liar," he groaned, hands on his hips. He got close, too close, his chest almost touching mine, and I had to back away a step, hands up.
"Um..."
"Sir Vince!" a cheerful voice shouted.
I perked, whereas Vince closed his eyes and sighed. "Yeah?" He turned around, and we both stared at a festive guard trotting down the steps. The short man tapped his spear on the ground and cleared his throat.
"His Majesty awaits your presence."
I must've taken too long. I pressed my lips together and looked away to hide my embarrassment, whereas Vince closed his eyes. "Fine, then," he grumbled. The guard hurried towards the steps, expecting him to follow.
I was unaware of the expression on my face, even more, ignorant of Vince glancing and reading it over his shoulder as he walked away. He spun, walking backward, and his cape hugged the back of his legs.
"How about this? How does one more hack-and-slash anger management session sound? You know, before Slumberland changes forever? Then, you can tell me," he suggested dryly, like it was another chore to add to his day, but he smirked.
Even after all these years, I could never tell if Vince was serious. To save me from embarrassment, I'd always assume he'd never joke, and that's kept me safe thus far—another session with the sword before Slumberland changes forever.
Vince was almost too far away when I waved.
"When?" I shouted.
He used one hand to curl over half his mouth and shouted over his shoulder, "You'll know!" He pointed to the many birds loitering in the gardens and flying over us, a silent hint to say, "I'm not telling you in front of these little spies." And he entered through the doors, gone.
I stood there by the fountain, enjoying the small peace of being alone and soaking in the mixed energy of nervousness and delight in my chest.
I'll know? What could that mean?
My dominant hand hung loosely, and I looked down at it, wondering if I'll ever use it to hold a sword again after the ball. Nemo will get training at the Royal Guard while I sit around, studying the history of Slumberland or learning to sew another bloody stitch pattern-Gods I hated needles. The calluses from my last excursion were healed and gone; a delicate-looking hand again.
Someone cleared their throat, urging me to lift my head only to track Professor Genius with his arms crossed. If he wanted to appear intimidating with his little eyes glaring at me from under the round brim of his top hat, he was doing it poorly, appearing more gangly. His grey comb mustache swept back and forth under his nose, appearing like a tall, angry Scottish dog.
I quickly sensed what I was about to endure and smiled politely at the professor.
"Professor, good morning," I greeted.
But he crunched his thick eyebrows and pulled out his pocket watch to tap at it. Tap. Tap. Tap.
"We have a lot of preparations to do before tomorrow night. Time is ticking," he gasped. Tap. Tap. Tap.
I blinked only to discover Nemo was standing behind the Professor, but he had his back to me, his attention drawn elsewhere while quiet, almost non-existent. He seemed to be present but not fully involved, not even a glance.
I bit my lower lip and sighed, shrinking under the late morning sun.
...
"Until tomorrow night, you two..." Professor Genius waved his ruler back and forth between me and Nemo, sitting before him. "...are glued at the hip," he instructed.
"Great," I muttered, sinking my chin in my hand while reclining on my desk. I glanced at Nemo only to have his face turned away, avoiding any eye contact with me.
Professor G stared at Nemo intently with one hard eye.
"Nemo, did you get that?" he drilled.
"Mmmm," he responded, along with a shrug.
He tried to slip one brown eye on mine, but whatever thick presence lurked between us seemed to shove our shoulders back and forced our heads to turn the other way.
"Ah, don't worry. I will have you two get along like two doves," Professor G boasted, not troubled by the challenge of playing as our cupid and teacher. He even giggled to himself, muttering under his breath how "childish" we were, and he started walking over to the chalkboard to go over our tight-knit schedule for the next day and a half.
The first thing he wrote: The Entrance
"You two will walk together through the grand entrance, hand in hand, in the proper walk. Nemo, I will specifically teach you how to make a grand entrance since Camille is already familiar with her walk. Next..."
I suppressed a groan and sat back in my chair, gritting my teeth while enduring the sound of chalk scraping, and the Professor's side notes that go on for too long, easily losing focus on the main topic. Whenever I watched Nemo, he seemed to be listening, sitting up, or leaning his head to one side, but he stayed quiet for the whole lecture.
Could it get more awkward than this?
"Nemo, stand a little closer!" The Professor quacked, glaring at the huge space between us when we moved things along in the dance hall. It was where I usually practice ballet, a large open corridor on the garden floor. If I wanted to, I could make grand leaps from the mirrored walls to the tulips and lilies.
I crossed my arms and stood still, annoyed and waiting for Nemo to grit his teeth and take one bloody step closer to me, at least enough for the Professor to clap once.
"Now, take the Princess's hand," he ordered.
"Professor, could we just do the walk part side by side," I suggested, but he shook his head.
"Hands. Now! I need to see how you two walk together," he pleaded, along with an uncomfortable tug on his short grey beard. His fingers locked there, the tall man fidgety when he's nervous.
"Fine," I grumbled, and I shot out my hand only to be waiting for Nemo to take it. He did so with an eye roll and limply wrapped his fingers around my wrist. I tried not to retract into a tight little ball like a potato bug then you disturbed it.
"Aaaaand, walk," The Professor instructed.
I held my head high, taking each step gracefully, whereas Nemo dragged his feet, unable to keep up.
The professor squeezed his nose at how we looked. "No! No! No! Do it again!"
Nemo cleared his throat and stood tall, looking ahead at the wide archway before the small field of tulips. He tried to sync his steps with mine, his hold barely hanging onto me. After a fourth time, Professor G suggested, "Camille, why don't you wrap your arm around his? Like he's a gentleman escorting you?"
I was numb as I looped an arm around Nemo's, taking in each step like it was work, my thoughts elsewhere.
"Nemo, I want you to follow my lead. One, two, three! One, two, three! Yes, walk at that pace," Professor G guided, hovering so close to Nemo to analyze his step with microscopic vision.
Holding Nemo's arm felt limp, unreactive to my touch as we did the movements we were supposed to do. We pretended we were walking over the leading carpet, striding across the ballroom before our honored guests. They will see their future king and queen as a stable couple, shiny on the surface. I will give a flat-lip smile while Nemo flashes his brilliant false smiles, which are too easy to mistake as genuine. He's so good at it; I wonder how long he's practiced.
It took over an hour before the Professor was pleased with our walk. He clapped his hands and announced, "Onto the next task! Dancing!"
Lady Elena, my dance instructor, dropped her glasses down her nose, her rounded face sinking over her short neck as she eyed how Nemo took my hand. She smacked his shoulder with a ruler.
"You are NOT having a dance with a complete STRANGER; she's the PRINCESS! Hold her hand like you are EXCITED to dance with her, for heaven's sake," she thrilled in her crystal-like soprano voice.
I held my breath, Nemo probably doing the same while taking my hand up with his. He hesitated to slide his other around my waist, trying to get away with only gripping a part of my dress, but Lady Elena didn't have it. She smacked his hand, causing him to let go of my skirt. Nemo closed one eye and winced. "Ow," he sighed.
"Around the waist!" Elena ordered.
Nemo tried again, carefully, like I was a ready mouse trap. The thinner the divide between us, the thicker the tension. He smelt of cigarettes again when I accidentally inhaled his breath and turned my head away, seeing his shoulder pad instead of his face. Nemo looked in the opposite, pulling me to him until there were only a few inches of space between our chests.
The orchestra came out today to help us with the music, camping at the pavilion, and awaiting Lady Elena's request. She snapped her fingers at them and ordered, "Orchestra, something for the waltz."
They started to play something flirty, a leisurely pace to follow with a three-step fashion. Emotionless, Nemo guided me, his eyes on my shoulder or down at my necklace. He made the correct moves, his feet in the right places and his hands where they should be, but he didn't seem to be here as though dancing didn't require any brain power. I wondered where his mind went. Lady Elena especially noticed his stiff movements as some infection, her eyes wide at his lack of motivation.
"Nemo, I thought you would be more enthusiastic than this. I heard you are quite a dancer," she pried.
The boy replied with a shrug.
This wasn't the Nemo who showed me "The Charleston" the other night, nor was he the same boy who dragged me along the dance floor, boasting about his roaring twenties and giggly juice. I was dancing with someone who had his tail stuck between his legs, someone who was hiding his voice.
Someone who was hurt.
We danced around the vast hall, a glass ceiling over our heads. Nemo spun me once, frowning at nothing, and glided me across the floor as automatically as a tin soldier. When he pulled me close to him, I finally decided to say something.
"Why are you so upset?" I whispered to his neck. I saw it shake when he swallowed.
"I'm not," he sassed, his first words to me all day, and his leading foot stepped forward while mine went back. In the background, Lady Elena kept shouting, "One, two, three! One, two, three!" I easily tuned it out, even the orchestra fading as I struggled to pry Nemo into a more manageable mood.
"You're upset, and I am as well," I reminded him softly. Nemo catapulted my waist from his hand, spinning me under his other.
"Can we not talk about this," he grumbled, his voice flat. Our hands met, and he pulled me to him again to enter another slow waltz.
I narrowed my eyes at his distant look. "We're talking about this. I won't dance out there in the ballroom with you dragging your bloody feet. You tell me what's on your mind. Got it?"
Nemo took in a long breath, closing his eyes. He squeezed my hand and waist with suppressed frustration. After collecting his thoughts, his eyes opened slightly, and they looked down at me for the first time today, still dull and matte brown like an old and bland chocolate bar.
He had to say only three simple words before I understood where his thoughts had been, and it wasn't "I am sorry."
"I miss him..."
Nemo's face softened, his eyes capturing a glow from the high sun.
I looked down at our feet.
"I know," I whispered, picturing him and his dear friend kissing under the spotlight. What was it like to kiss someone you loved? I've always imagined it warm and tingly, similar to sucking on a Turkish delight or taking that first bite of a strawberry after eating mild foods for a long time. Will my mouth heat up? Will it tingle? Will I taste what the other has eaten or drank? My cheeks burned, picturing Vince's lips. It was simple to drift instead of following the music, Nemo and I were lost in our heads as we swayed back and forth with little feeling. Lady Elena screeched, "Stay with the music's flow!" And we straightened, giving more thought to our dance.
"Camille," Nemo nudged, his voice almost broken. I blinked up to find his gaze had wandered down to my dress. He pressed his lips together, his mouth ready to burst with something he's been seething for a while.
"Why can't Vince take my place? Why does it have to be me?" So, it's crossed his mind, too. I shook my head, dismissing that idea.
"He can't. He's not..." I tried to come up with the right word without revealing too much. It seemed too intimate to share with Nemo that Vince has Nightmares. Perhaps Father knows, but I wasn't going to chance it.
"He isn't the right fit for it," I put it easily, but Nemo seemed displeased, his thin eyebrows up.
"And I am?" He leaned in to add quietly, "Camille, I don't want this." And then his voice cracked when he added, "I want to go home."
Again, the real Nemo presented himself to me. Not a young man spoiled with giggle juice nor displays of grander, but a little boy whimpering, missing his family. I knew then that if he could, Nemo would give up his privileged life, here or in Middle Land, to be with the person he loved most.
But I didn't know how to help him, shaking my head endlessly.
"I don't know to help you," I admitted in a tiny voice.
Nemo's shoulders dipped as he sighed, and he tossed his tired eyes to the garden behind us, the orchestra surrounded by tall tulips the size of church bells.
"I don't expect you to. I'm just scared. I..." he swallowed again. "I'm scared I'll mess everything up again."
I said nothing, uncertain if there was a correct way to ease Nemo of his fears, but I couldn't come up with anything. We carried in silence, dancing with smothering annoyance, but the air soon dipped with a new gloom. Before we expected it, Professor Genius and Lady Elena clapped, stopping the music and halting our step.
"Bravo! That was splendid. Very graceful, you two," Professor G cheered. Elena swayed her wide hips to one side as she muttered, "Yes. That will be a fine performance."
Nemo and I peeled our hands away. He cleared his throat as I fixed my dress, the both of us standing awkwardly. I was uncertain of what to say and ended up curtsying silently. Nemo did a silent bow, his hand sliding over his chest as he was instructed to do after a dance.
"Off to the next thing!" Genius announced with his finger shoved high in the air. But I was fanning myself, my dress clinging to my skin.
"I can't keep moving in this dress. It's too much," I complained. After resisting all morning, I finally caved and scratched my upper arms under the annoying puffy sleeves that collected heat on my shoulders. I scratched until my skin was covered with red marks.
...
As ordered, Nemo and I we inseparable, a guard always behind us to give a constant watch.
"I need to wear something lighter if we are going to keep doing this nonsense," I grumbled.
We were just down the West Corridor; our babysitter was quiet; We just had to pretend he wasn't there. Marble columns loomed over us like tall, thin giants, holding lanterns and drapes of gold from chandeliers too high for any hands to reach.
Then Nemo finally cleared the air, asking the one thing I'd been pondering all day.
"Are we...okay?"
I paused, hands laced at my back, and eyed Nemo to hold his gaze. He smiled lamely, his shoulders up. I blinked slowly and looked down at my feet, reminding myself to keep walking when I wanted to stand around instead.
"I don't know..." I put it honestly.
"Yeah, I don't really know what to say," Nemo added, rubbing the back of his head. His bruised eye squinted at the endless ceiling, the chandeliers tiny as insects. "I guess I should explain..."
"There's no need," I whispered, stepping in closer to keep our conversation out of our baby-sitter-I mean, guard's ears. Nemo opened his mouth but said nothing, shocked at my response. But I was being truthful; there's no need for him to explain anything, I get it.
"I understand," I assured, my hands clasped in prayer. We carried through the hall and entered where more sunlight could bask the corridor with a white-yellow glow. I could feel the heat on my right cheek, urging me to turn and watch the view of the East side of the palace, the gardens, and stretches of flower fields, a glittering rainbow spread between each column. Beyond that, a glimpse of The Lake of Dreams, its calm waters reflecting the hot sun to make the water appear white-gold.
I smiled at the heat.
"You had someone back at home. I..." I flashed back to the Lake of Dreams, seeing Vince telling me to stay close to him and his hand brushing away my hair. I thought of his eyes when he looked at me this morning, something I'd never seen before, as though something in him cracked open. What was he thinking back there?
"I had someone in mind as well, but this is the reality of it. We must do our best, Nemo," I encouraged and flashed him a stern look. He smiled, but I knew it was false, the light not reaching his eyes even when he, too, looked out to the view.
"Yeah...I guess so." He looked away, the sunlight too much to bare. "Time heals all," he muttered dryly.
We entered the part of the wing I dreaded, the one in my dreams. Through here, I quickened my step, Nemo having to keep up with a light jog. He looked up at the start of the Slumberland mural above, almost tripping over his step.
"This place..."
He stopped and stared at the long, dreaded hallway, making me sweat. I knew Nemo was still pondering over that secret door I'd mentioned. I swallowed as his eyes wandered about each lantern, the walls well-lit with sunlight pouring in from the windows.
"How about I just wait here with my new friend," Nemo suggested, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He smiled.
I lifted a brow. "I suppose." I eyed him hard, wondering if I should trust his smile.
Nemo leaned against a pillar and jabbed the guard in the stomach, making him cough.
"Yeah, we'll wait here," he insisted and smirked at the guard doubling over, coughing while his arm wrapped around his colorful vest. "Yes, sir. That will be swell," he squeaked.
I turned, ready to go on ahead. "Fine, then. I'll be quick," I sighed, carrying on the rest of the corridor alone before bending into the apartments.
When I entered my room, I went straight for my wardrobe, opening it and sorting through my dresses. I desired a short one to give my legs room to breathe, to let my ankles touch a gust and not feel like a million degrees under my armpits. Did I always have this many dresses with puffed sleeves? Long sleeves, satin, and translucent sleeves, every dress to hide most of my skin. I found a dress with a shorter skirt and pulled it out when something on the floor caught my eye.
It stood out easily, a lump of something near the balcony doors. The curtains danced around the object as though it came from outside.
How long has that been there?
I tossed my garment on the bed and walked closer to pick up the thing, finding it a fist-size rock with a note tied to it. Was it from Vince? I held my breath as I tugged on the knot, loosening the twine to free the folded paper.
I unfolded it and read:
Stars are too dark, birds are too loud.
Red spills from a sword, Father is proud.
Flames burst upon the high wall,
To tell that all is clear before the grand ball.
No signature nor name. I could only assume Vince came up with a little riddle in case someone else stumbled upon this note. A servant would easily believe it was a poem from an admirer or some random message with little threat. Easy to disregard.
I folded it back into a small square and tucked it inside my strapless bralette. Undressing, I thought little of Vince's riddle, knowing he meant around sunset. It isn't too dark nor too light, and when you hold a sword up, the blade touches the sunset colors, turning red. Were the flames upon a high wall a metaphor, or will there be a torch or a light?
I glanced at the sun still high in the sky, though it had started to descend. The distance tall towers of the city will touch the sun's glowing skin in another hour or two. Another urgent thought crossed my mind: how do I slip away alone?
The question occupied my thoughts as I changed clothes. Upon a glance across my room, I reflected upon the vanity mirror to study the new dress: Gentle blue floral pattern with a ruched bust and loose sleeves around the shoulders. The best part was the hem of the dress above my knees, making me feel the air dance around my ankles and sneaking up to my thighs. It was freeing! But my hair was a mess. It was lumpy in some places, frizzy in others, a long tangle of ginger red.
I took a seat on my vanity and worked with my hair. First, I ran my hands through it and then collected it all over one shoulder. I saw it when I reached for a brush and held my breath.
The envelope.
Vince's Birthday gift to me.
It leaned against the mirror's gold rim, a stuffed envelope with Vince's writing flashing my name. I couldn't recall how the letter got there until I remembered Bonbon had it last, in case I was to burn it with a vengeance. She must've placed it there for me.
In mid-air, my hand froze, undecisive. To reach for the brush or the envelope?
My heart thumped hard, urging me to pick up the gift. It was heavier than I thought, perhaps many pages of paper folded to fit in the perfect square. No ribbon. No gold ink. Nothing fancy. Vince was never the gaudy type.
I held his gift delicately in both hands, flat upon my palms, thumbs brushing over my name in quick-looking, thin writing.
It's not a letter.
If it wasn't a letter, then what could it be?
I turned it over, spotting the seal with Vince's family crest of the "S" over a blotch of dried red wax.
Vince, I'm sorry I haven't opened it yet. I've been distracted, practically forgetting about opening it, birthday or not. I couldn't even recall what day anymore, a part of my punishment for not getting a birthday, a long and forgotten stressor.
I ran my fingers over the seal; the wax was hard and bumpy, and it was the only thing keeping me from opening my gift-!
Knocking came at my door. Immediately, I thought I had taken too long; Nemo was impatient.
I settled the envelope back against the mirror and gave it a final look before heading toward the door. I opened it, and a cry was already blown on my face so hard, I thought my hair blew back.
"Princess!"
The guard I left with Nemo had his hands in the air with panic.
"Princess, have you seen Nemo?!" he cried, a little breathless like he ran around the hallways.
I blinked at his state and replied, "No. I'm alone." I then surveyed the corridor around us to find no other soul.
"You lost Nemo?" I asked, my voice rising.
The guard sank his face in his gloved hands.
"I'm so sorry! I was admiring the view for only a minute, and then he just disappeared," he wailed.
Oh no...
I clutched to my chest, wishing I had a necklace to toy with or a long earring to fiddle and calm my nerves. Instead, I rubbed my knuckles up and down, rattling across my collarbones.
"He couldn't have gone far. I suggest arranging a small search party before Father finds out—no need to trouble him for this small fickle. The palace is rather large, after all," I demanded. The guard didn't object. He nodded, breathing fast and having his hands slip down his cheeks.
"A good idea, Princess! I will go and search for the boy," he proclaimed with a mighty fist in the air.
"And I will help," I concurred. "I'll search the rest of these corridors. You go on ahead and make your party." The guard bowed, his pointy hat almost poking at my chest.
"Yes, Princess!" He twirled and disappeared. I waited for his footsteps to fade before I wandered down the West Corridor, eying each lantern skeptically.
Nemo must've found the correct one and vanished into a hidden door; there's no other reason for his disappearance.
"Nemo!" I called out, half hoping he was playing a prank and simply hiding behind a pillar, but dreadfully, I heard nothing. I called out to him as I got on my toes and pulled at a lantern. Nothing. I went in order, taking one pillar and crossing the hall to the other in an ascending zigzag notion.
It didn't seem real, just a game Nemo was putting me in. He could've wandered off or even escaped to his room for a moment of peace. He couldn't have found-!
I wasn't expecting it when I pulled the tenth lantern. It jerked towards me, and suddenly, I couldn't feel the floor under my feet anymore.
I was back in my nightmare, my voice gone when I opened my lips. I wanted to scream as I fell feet first, but nothing came out; my voice was gone. My fingers slipped off the lantern, pulling farther away as the sunlight shrunk from my vision, turning into a tiny gap of light above.
Down the rabbit hole I went.
Was I dreaming?
Like a giant and toothless beast, the cold darkness swallowed me whole.
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