Chapter 29
DREAMSCAPE, PART TWO
ALICE
“Ithink Harley has a crush.”
“What? On who?” My attention whips to Jessa. She’s got this sneaky squint to her eyes as she stares at the boys who wade in the shallows, each holding a long fishing pole.
“Don’t you think?” she adds, leaning close. “Why else would he let Ori teach him how to fish. Harley doesn’t want to fish.” Her nose scrunches on the last part, as if the idea of fishing insults her.
“You think he likes Ori?” I ask.
“That’s what I said.”
“Oh.”
“So?”
“So, what?” I ask, confused.
“Does it make you mad?” Jessa presses.
I shift on the large sheet Harley laid out for us, sticking my feet out of the shade and into the sun. My toes wriggle against the strange airy-yet-solid texture of the cloudy expanse.
“Why would that make me mad?” I ask, genuinely confused. “People can like whoever they want.”
Jessa sighs, scooting closer, her feet joining mine in the sun. We painted our toenails black the other day, and we already have matching chips in the polish.
“Because,” she says, voice teetering on the edge of annoyance. “You like Ori.”
“What?” I say, too loudly. At the same time the boys look back at us, Jessa slaps a hand over my mouth.
“Shhhh,” she hisses. “They have good hearing.”
Harley cocks his head, shooting us a thumbs up—his way of asking if we’re okay. Jessa drops her hand from my face, and we both plaster on stiff smiles, waving back. It takes a second for him to turn his focus back on the water, but Ori helps with that, snaping in Harley’s face.
I speak through clenched teeth, “I don’t like Ori.”
“Yes, you do,” Jessa says, like I’m a big old dummy. “You’re his fated Champion. You’re supposed to fall in love, just like his parents did. Plus, I can tell.”
“No, you can’t,” I mock back. My arms cross over the frilly bathing suit Ori’s mom got me. “Clearly. Because I like you all the same.”
Jessa’s mouth puckers and her eyes squint as she stares me down. I mirror her, doubling down. I’m not lying, so it’s easy to hold my ground.
Finally, Jessa huffs and flops backwards, landing on the striped sheet with a dull thump.
“Dang it,” she groans. “You’re too nice.”
“Am I supposed to be mean?”
“No,” Jessa says, waving a raised hand in the air. “I thought you’d have more of a reaction though. I heard humans get weird about this stuff.”
“I don’t care if any of you like each other.” I shrug. “So long as you guys keep being my friends.”
Jessa’s head pops up, one eye squinting at me. “What about if one of us likes you?”
“Do you?” I ask.
“I like you all the same,” she says, quoting me back. Then her nose scrunches again, her lips pulling back like she tasted something sour. “Well, except Ori. He’s too grouchy.”
I laugh. “I like grouchy.”
“Today, we’re going to discuss the arena itself,” Memaw says, scratching a lopsided oval on the blackboard with chalk. I shiver at the grating sound. “And how it changes based on the trial you’re in.”
The old woman turns around, toothpick dangling out of her mouth.
She always has something tucked between her lips; the queen doesn’t want Memaw smoking inside, so whenever we have our lessons or a big dinner all together, she chews on those.
Or gum. I didn’t think Arcadia would have gum, but it does.
“One of you remind me what the tourney is,” she asks without asking. Her questions always come out like commands.
Maven’s hand shoots up, and Memaw nods in her direction.
“The tourney occurs when the Heirs and Champions turn thirty. This competition determines which pair will preside over the crown of Arcadia and all the power that comes with it,” Maven says.
She speaks matter-of-factly, as if she’s reading straight from a textbook.
“There are three trials that determine who’s fit to rule.
However, there are multiple ways to win.
You can go through all three trials and come out on top,” Maven rattles on, ticking off her fingers.
“Or someone can forfeit. Or if a pair isn’t complete at the start, they automatically lose. ”
“What a comprehensive answer,” Memaw deadpans, then looks at me. “Anything you want to add, Alice?”
“Uh…” My lips part to add what Harley showed me in one of his books.
That Arcadia’s magic is influenced by those who wear the crown; their intentions can allow the land to flourish or cause it to rot.
But I decide against it, remembering how Maven reacted the last time I ‘showed her up in front of grandma’.
I shake my head. “No. Maven covered it all.”
Memaw frowns. “Alright.”
She turns back to the board and starts scratching out words in cursive; chalk dust floats to the floor with every curve, loop, and stroke. When she’s done, she taps the board with the chalk three times, dotting down the list she’s made.
“The arena doors open at midnight leading into your birthday and close at midnight twenty-four hours later. Once those doors are closed, no one can come in or out until the tourney is over,” Memaw says.
The chalk strikes the board again, screeching down in a long circle around two of the bullets she’s written.
“Three trials. One for the Champions. One for the Heirs. One for you both.”
There’s a beat of silence where Memaw stares at us scrutinizingly with her wrinkle-framed eyes.
I tentatively raise my hand. Memaw nods her permission to speak. “Are you going to tell us what they are?”
“Yes and no,” she says, dropping the chalk on the metal ledge at the bottom of the blackboard.
She begins to pace, plucking the toothpick from her mouth with two fingers.
It’s waved around in the air like one of her weird-smelling cigarettes.
“The arena changes for each trial, picking what it thinks is most appropriate for the crown’s candidates.
Usually, it tests the Heirs and Champions on what they’re lacking, to see if they can overcome their flaws.
The combined trial is meant to test compatibility.
All three may be physical or mental, so we’ll prepare you for both. ”
“I hope the combined trial is a duel,” Maven says.
“Why would you hope for that?” I ask. “You want to fight me?”
Maven scoffs, her dark red bangs puffing out with the huff of air. “Of course. I love fighting.”
I shrink in my chair. “I don’t.”
Maven doesn’t comment, but I can tell she heard me. She listens to the rest of the lesson Memaw gives with a smirk on her face. It’s like she thinks she’s better than me—knows it.
The thirty minutes pass slowly, and I count each one of the ticks coming from the desk clock to distract from the scrape of chalk on blackboard.
Puzzles. Riddles. Croquet. Obstacle courses. Chess. Memaw explains the different types of trials we might encounter. Some are stranger than others—what does croquet have to do with ruling a kingdom?
Duels are brought up again. Memaw makes note about how I’ll begin training with Jessa’s father soon. Maven preens about how her lessons are going, and Memaw stares at her with disinterest but doesn’t stop her from blabbing on about how she’s graduated to a real sword from a wooden one.
Memaw moves on to other categories. Magical beasts. Archery. Mazes. Magic.
I try to pay attention, but end up doodling in the notebook Ori gave me instead.
Memaw ends her lesson and leaves; I’m too focused on finishing my drawing to care. Or to notice that Maven is looming over my desk with a scowl. Her pale white hand slams down over my notebook, making my pen swipe a haphazard line across the sketch.
“What the heck, Maven!” I whip a glare at the girl. Her pink lips are tugged into an unnerving, tight smile. “You ruined my drawing.”
“You can make a new one,” she says. “We need to talk.”
“About what?” I huff, crossing my arms and slouching in my chair. The stiff wooden back digs into my neck.
Maven lifts her hand off my notebook, and sneers down at my doodle. “What’s this supposed to be?”
“It’s a dragon…” Sort of. It’s not very good, but Nana says that you have to practice if you want to get better at art. I snatch the notebook back from her and hug it to my chest. “What did you want?”
Maven sighs, and all the pretend niceness falls off her face. Jessa told me about it a while ago—how she thinks Maven is pretending to be their friend. I didn’t believe her at first, but the longer I’ve been in Arcadia, the more I think Jessa’s right.
Maven gives me the creeps.
“Do you want your family to die, Alice?” she asks.
“What?” I squeak.
“Because that’s what will happen, if you stay here. Champions don’t get to have families back home.”
“No,” I say. “If that were true, the queen would have told me.”
She’s asked me about my family many times, and I’d told her all kinds of stories about Mom and Dad and Nana. She never once said anything about them dying while I was here.
Maven rolls her eyes. “Of course they’ll die, stupid. You’re going to be here for, like, forever if you compete in the tourney. And if you win and get crowned, then you’ll definitely never see them again.”
I blink up at Maven, confused. “I don’t understand.”
“All the Champion’s families die. That way, you’re alone.
And you have no reason to leave.” She plants both hands on my desk, leaning forward.
I try to lean farther back, but I’m already scrunched so low in my seat, there’s nowhere else to turn to.
“I got here first, and mine are already dead, Alice. So, you should leave Arcadia before it’s too late for you. ”
“B-but what if I can’t come b-back?” I stutter.
Maven starts to sneer something at me, but the heavy slam of the door against the wall cuts her off.
“Alice, there you are,” Ori says. He strides into the room like he owns it—which I guess he does, since he’s an Heir.
He’s only an inch taller than me, and the same height as Maven, but he seems bigger now.
His attentive navy eyes don’t waver from me as he steamrolls Maven’s dark presence.
“C’mon, we need to leave if we want to make it to the Lake for sunset.
” He finally glances at the red-haired girl. “Oh, hey Maven.”
Maven is frozen, bent over my desk and staring daggers at Ori. I take the opportunity to slide out of my chair.
“I think Enzo was looking for you,” Ori adds once I’m at his side.
“He’s always looking for me,” Maven says.
An awkward moment passes where they glare at each other.
“Well, bye,” Ori says, grabbing my hand and dragging me into the hall.
“Thanks,” I say when we’re far enough away that I know Maven won’t hear.
“No problem,” Ori says. He doesn’t look at me; his focus is trained on our route through the maze of castle halls.
“You’re always saving me,” I say, shyly. “I feel bad.”
I’ve gotten lost in the Woods too many times to count, and he’s had to come find me and bring me back to the castle. He often backs up my opinion when our friends are arguing about where to go that day. And he never lets me be alone with Maven.
“Don’t. It’s my job,” Ori says, in that grumbly way of his, but there’s a fondness that lingers after the words are spoken. His ears go pink. “I’m your Heir. You’re mine to protect.”