Chapter Six Trey
Ten Days Ago, but Also Present Day
The Kingdom of “Bane”
Waking Up in the Wrong Place
I sat up in bed, panting like I’d been running for my life. Why do I feel like I’ve given that exposition before? At least it didn’t feel like I’d been stabbed this time.
This time … what was this time? Why did I think there were other times?
Next there’s going to be a knock on the door.
Before I’d even finished the thought, the casual thump of Dad’s fist followed and he called out, “Trey? Time for breakfast.”
I scrambled off the bed and ripped the door open.
Dad had already turned to walk away, and he jumped in surprise as the door slammed against the wall. He spun on his heel, hands outstretched to either help me or defend against an attack. When all he saw was me leaning out the doorframe, still wearing my pajamas, he relaxed.
“Where are we right now?” I demanded.
He blinked several times in confusion, then looked at the guard standing outside my bedroom.
A familiar guard. In a familiar hall. Because I’d woken up in my familiar bedroom.
Why did that seem wrong?
“We’re home,” Dad said slowly, then added more details, “The main castle of Bane. It’s about eight o’clock in the morning.”
“What day is it?”
Dad stared at me blankly, then waved his hand in the air. “You know, I can’t remember, but it feels midweek. It’s midweek, right?”
The guard shrugged.
“When did we return from Misfortune?”
“Misfortune,” Dad repeated slowly. “I haven’t been to Misfortune in almost twenty-two years. Gods, why’d you make me admit that? Now I feel old.”
“But we were just—” I stopped myself. Were we just there?
The knowledge seemed so clear in my mind, but no memories accompanied it.
Logically, it would take a week to travel there and another to travel back.
If I’d somehow been unconscious that whole time, I should have a wound to show for it, and Dad would be much happier to see me awake.
Dad watched me quietly for a while, giving me time to pick up the sentence I’d abandoned. After a full minute passed, he asked, “Bad dream?”
“Not bad, just … odd.”
“Do you want to talk about it? Perhaps over breakfast? Because I’m starving and your father is waiting.”
I nodded absentmindedly and started to follow Dad down the hall, but he held up a hand to stop me, lips quirked in amusement as he scanned my pajamas and bare feet. “You should probably change first.”
Properly dressed now, I poked at my scrambled eggs, shifting them around on my plate without taking a bite.
Had everything been a dream? Traveling in a carriage with Kit and Delilah.
A cozy sitting room crowded with books and faceless strangers.
The memories had the same liquid quality of dreams. Solid until I tried to pour them out and examine them, then the details slipped through my fingers, lost forever.
“We were meeting in Misfortune … to discuss the Kingdom Defense Spell.”
The loud scrape of a fork against a plate drew my attention to the front of the table. Father stared at me with wide, concerned eyes. “What did you say?”
Dad paused with a glass tipped toward his lips. Juice dripped slowly over the edge of the glass, staining his front. When he finally realized, he swore and slammed the glass down, sloshing juice all over the table.
Father gave Dad a fond look of exasperation and handed him a napkin to clean up his mess.
“My dream.” That still didn’t feel right, but I didn’t have a better explanation. “It was about the meeting in Misfortune between the five kingdoms to discuss the Kingdom Defense Spell.”
“How did you know about the meeting?” Father asked.
I stared at him. “You told me.”
“No,” he said slowly. “Your dad and I planned to discuss it with you after breakfast.”
“But we already—” Haven’t we?
Dad squeezed Father’s hand and said, “This isn’t the most private location for this conversation. Why don’t we move to—”
Your office. Because that’s where this conversation was supposed to happen.
My fathers rushed through their meal and stood up, then waited for me in the doorway.
I stared down at my untouched plate. In my idle fidgeting, I’d shaped the eggs into a face: two eyes, a line for the nose, closed lips, long strands that might have been hair. Perhaps my subconscious mind was trying to tell me something.
Unfortunately, I was a shit artist, and it looked like an egg face. No one would ever recognize the subject, even if they were standing right next to it.
I abandoned the egg portrait and followed my fathers to the office.
They sat on one side so that they could hold each other’s hands without having to reach over the desk, and I sat on the other side.
I grabbed the chair’s arms, running my fingers along the wood.
Feeling the slick varnish and the crevices of the grain.
Father called my name, voice soft and concerned.
“Just making sure this isn’t the dream,” I explained.
My fathers exchanged another worried look.
Anticipating their questions, I said, “No, I’m not feverish, and you don’t need to call the Good Wizard.”
“The Good Wizard?” Father asked. “Why would we need to call him? Is the problem magical?”
I threw my hands up in the air. “At this point, I have no idea. Everything feels wrong, like a play I’ve rehearsed for, but the director handed me a new script right before curtain call.”
“Fuck,” Dad muttered. Then he cleared his throat and refrained from cursing as he continued. “Tell us what you know.”
“I don’t even know what I know! When I try to focus, there’s nothing, but then you’ll say something, and my brain helpfully supplies my next line, but then you tell me I’m wrong. I don’t know what’s going on.”
Father raised a hand and said, “Deep breath, Trey. We’ll figure this out.” Then he inhaled deeply, his chest visibly rising, and held his breath.
I mimicked him, and we exhaled together. “Can we pretend I know nothing and start from the beginning?”
“If that would make this conversation easier,” he conceded. “But I am concerned about the cause of this memory fog.”
“Me too,” I muttered.
“We’ll consult the Good Wizard later.”
Dad’s face scrunched in silent complaint.
Father launched into his explanation about the conditions of the Kingdom Defense Spell.
As he spoke, my thoughts seemed two seconds ahead of him, giving his words a strange echo in my mind.
“The Kingdom Defense Spell that protects the Desolated Lands only holds together if all five kingdoms are united. There are two ways to do this: the first is through marriage—”
“Which is why the royal family trees are all tangled together,” Dad and I said at the same time.
Dad cringed. “Trey, I’m begging you—don’t predict what I’m going to say. It’s creepy.”
I hunched my shoulders and said, “Sorry, I just …” Nothing I said would make this situation easier to understand.
“We are definitely consulting the Good Wizard.”
Father waited until we’d settled down to continue his point. “The second option is for the kingdoms to send a royal champion on a quest to defeat a great and terrible evil.”
“Well, I’m not marrying Angelica.” I shuddered at the mere thought. “So a quest seems like the better option.”
“When did you meet the Princess of Calamity?” Dad asked. Then he held up a hand to stop my answer. “Wait, no, even I can predict what you’ll say: it’s related to whatever weird magical thing is going on with you.”
I sighed. “I wish it wasn’t.”
“I don’t like not knowing where you’ve gotten this—” Father paused as he searched for the right word “—precognition, but it sounds like you understand what we’re asking of you. This spell requires sacrifice. You might think you want to go on a quest now, but that will put you in danger.”
“You do have an out,” Dad explained. “Since you’re adopted, we don’t actually know if you can represent Bane in the spell. It might only acknowledge blood relations.”
“The only way to find out is if I try,” I said.
This ‘dream’ seemed centered around the Kingdom Defense Spell, so I’d use this opportunity to figure out what was going on.