Alex’s mind whirled with information, but he knew he had to get down to the bottom of Gondoleery’s intentions. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “Gondoleery Rattrapp took over Quill. Okay, I get that. And I get that she cast this ice spell and it affected Artimé and even a bit of the sea all the way around the island. But other than this severe inconvenience, does Artimé have something to worry about here? Seems to me she’s got her hands full trying to get Quill figured out, and we’re just victims of the spell because we happen to share the island. Is that the correct assessment?”
Haluki began to sign the questions to Charlie to make sure the gargoyle understood the complexity of what Alex was asking, but before he could finish, Sean spoke up. “No, Alex,” he said. He paused and looked wearily around the circle. “She wants the mansion. She is the one person in Quill who has the magical ability to keep Artimé alive if you die. And believe me—she wants all of us dead.”
They sat in silence. And once they’d each thought about it, no one was particularly surprised. Hadn’t the people of Quill always wanted the people of Artimé dead? It was a common theme.
“Well, that’s just great,” Florence said. “Can I please just go pay a visit to the palace and have a little meeting with her?”
Alex might have laughed if the day weren’t so bleak. “Sure. And then two days later the next person will take over and decide Artimé should be destroyed. And the next, and the next.” He sat up. “You know, I’m starting to have an identity crisis. Why does everybody hate us so much?”
Even Sean managed a small smile. “We’re the most despised people in the whole world,” he said. “Just because we like to create things. No, not just create things, because everyone creates things. The problem is that we create things that they don’t think are the right things. And that’s what makes us so despised.”
“Which makes it even more strange that the pirates captured Aaron, of all people. You’d think if they despised us and were out for revenge, they’d have come here.” Alex tapped his finger to his lips, and then he said, “Charlie, can you ask Matilda what was on the paper that the pirates held up?”
Charlie nodded and a moment later he signed something to Haluki.
Haluki knit his brows, and then he looked at Alex. When he spoke, his voice was guarded. “She says it was a drawing of Aaron’s face.”
One by one, the advisors looked up, and then at Alex. And as the truth dawned on him, Alex’s face grew pale.
“Oh,” he said softly. “They thought Aaron was me.”
A Confession
After the meeting, Alex pinned a large canvas to the wall next to the Museum of Large. He lit the hallway brightly so he could see all the nuances of the door, and he began to paint. It had been such a long time since he’d had a chance to paint anything at all, and even though he was exhausted and his heart ached for Meghan, he found comfort in working on his art again. And it was important for him to get the 3-D door finished quickly to allow Lani access to Mr. Today’s personal library so she could help him look for a book about elemental spells. Thankfully it was a simple door, so it wouldn’t take much time to replicate.
While he worked, he thought about the whirlwind that had consumed every moment since he’d arrived back in Artimé. His community had never seen this much grief—they’d never lost so many people before. His best friend was gone, just like that. He still couldn’t process it. It was so strange . . . so horrible. He hadn’t even had a chance to say hello, much less good-bye. And poor Sean! He loved his sister so much. They had a very special sibling relationship. It was something Alex envied. But he didn’t envy Sean now.
Alex thought about his relationship with Aaron, and he knew he couldn’t relate to what Sean was feeling, even though it seemed possible that Aaron could be dead now. As much as Alex had wanted a relationship with his brother like the one Meghan had with Sean, it wasn’t meant to be.
After a while, Alex heard a sound at the mouth of the hallway and looked up. It was Samheed, hanging on to the wall and hobbling toward him.
“Thought I’d find you here,” Samheed said, breathing hard.
“They let you out of the hospital ward?” Alex asked, hurrying into his living quarters to grab a chair for his friend.
“Nah, I snuck out. Figured I could hide up here. I just needed to get out of there.”
Alex nodded and picked up his paintbrush. “Are you feeling better?”
“I guess.” Samheed’s face clouded over.
Alex glanced at him. “What’s wrong? You thinking about Meg?”
“Yeah. I’m so stinking mad at her, I can’t see straight.”
Alex paused his brush stroke, and then continued painting, saying nothing.
“She jumped in front of me,” Samheed went on. “She pushed me out of the way. You know?”
“Yeah.”
“Why’d she have to do that?” Samheed’s voice was filled with pain.
“You’d have done the same for her.”
Samheed was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. But still . . .”
“I know.” Alex put his brush down. “All I can think to say is that she’d do it again if she had the choice. All of us would. You, Lani, me—none of us would think twice about pushing each other out of the way.” He sighed and started painting again. “That’s what made us such a good team, I guess.” His vision misted over, forcing him to paint blind for a time, but he couldn’t stop or he knew he’d break down.