I wanted to go home but couldn’t even if Bollard would let me because I was stuck. If I went back, no one would believe Grandma was suffering from the incurable Tennabris. At least in this world, the disease had a name and experts, but even then, I didn’t know the first thing I could do to help.
Grandma believed I would find a cure for the disease. I was her only hope, and it wasn’t just because of the fortuneteller or my quest to find the necklace and the words. I was her only hope because I was the only person in our world who knew the truth.
The more I stayed in my room though, the more frustrated I became. I had had enough with thinking about things and not understanding. I was done. I needed to escape, to get my mind off everything, but the room was void of anything entertaining or not related to the Merrics.
I kicked off my stupid heels and shimmied out of my fancy dress. I threw on the only comfortable clothes in my closet, a pair of PJs, my lovely white house robe, and a pair of heavenly slippers, and I took a walk to the library.
Books shelves lined the twenty-foot-high walls. Each shelf overflowed with materials. Rolling ladders leaned against the walls. I read the spines of the books. Some I recognized: Charles Dickens, Alfred Lord Tennyson, E.E. Cummings, JK Rowling, Shakespeare. But others were foreign: Marcel Glackslow, Jack Livingston, and Cherry Fina Theremin. The most curious book was a collection of poems by Abraham Lincoln. I settled on reading the poems of the greatest president when the toe of my slipper nudged something on the floor. The corner of a book peeked out from underneath a bookshelf. I picked it up. Where Aspens Fall and Other Tales of Woe. I flipped through it. The book appeared to be a book of fairy tales or fables.
I wanted an easy read, a short story with a happy ending.
I snuggled onto a pea-green sofa before the large fireplace with Where Aspens Fall and Other Tales of Woe. I opened the cover and read by the light of the embers. On the first page was a handwritten inscription: There’s only one way through the vipers. They signed the book Love, TC.
There’s only one way through the vipers was an odd phrase, but I supposed it was a line from the book.
The first story told about a forest locked in an endless winter. A cardinal became convinced he could bring the spring if he faced a blizzard straight on and without seeking shelter. The bird flew into the storm, and the poor thing froze to death. The snow ended and spring finally arrived. A maiden found his dead body and picked him up and hugged him. I was thinking the story would end with her kissing him and the bird would turn into a prince, or hey, at least bring it back to life, but oh no. The girl took him home and plucked all his feathers and used them to decorate a hat. True, everyone loved the hat, but come on, what kind of ending was that?
The next tale was about a duck who believed she had one great purpose in life and all she needed to do was figure it out. A girl on an adventure, so immediately I liked her. She paddled every river, flew every mountain. She traveled the world, searching for her purpose. One day she was flying to visit her favorite lake when a hunter shot her with an arrow. The hunter ate the duck for dinner.
At that point, I threw the book across the room.
I opened Lincoln's poems. Mid-way through the first poem, The Lament, the door opened.
“She is so mad. We are all in trouble. She… she is so mad and so untrained. You’ve seen what happens when a Merric gets angry.” I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Manon.
I supposed she was with Enzo because they were friends, but the voice that replied was not Enzo. “Can’t you tell she isn’t like them? She is fine, darling.”
Darling? I only half recognized the voice, and it wasn’t my uncle. Carefully, slowly, silently, I turned and looked over the back of the lounger. Rudolf was holding Manon to him while she cried.
“Her guards love her. I’ve never heard any guards speak so favorably of a Merric. They would gladly die for the girl. You saw them; they weren’t even the least bit afraid of her anger. Even after she stormed out, they wanted to talk to her. They weren’t worried she was angry; they were more like… I don’t know, like they missed her.” A knot formed in my belly. My teachers—no, bodyguards—really cared for me. They must have. Rudolf didn’t know I was sitting there.
“So they say.” Manon’s voice was muffled as she spoke into Rudolf’s coat. “But her anger? You sensed it too?”
Sensed my anger? I wondered. What was she talking about?
“No.” Rudolf laughed. “I felt nothing. She reacted like a normal person. I think you’re sensitive to it because of what happened between you, Claudette, and Bollard.”
“Wouldn’t you be too?” Manon asked. “I hate this world, living like this. I hate having to be here. I never should‘ve agreed to come.”
I wanted very much to know what they were talking about, and I wondered what had transpired between Manon and my family.
“Manon.”
“If Bollard ever found out, he’d— “
“Don’t think of it,” Rudolf said.
Manon hiccupped,
