Melody closed the door behind them as Zoë sat down on the bed. She turned, brushing her brown hair out of her face, eyes wide.

  "What just happened?" she breathed.

  Zoë burst out laughing.

  "What?"

  "This is all insane," said Zoë. "Look at where we are!"

  "In a castle," said Melody simply.

  "In a castle," repeated Zoë. "A full-on, legit medieval castle built by a thirteen-year-old girl in a month, with magic torches and some crazy hallways and I don't know what else. And all she wants is for us to be her friends." She shook her head. "What are we doing here, Mel?"

  "We're on an adventure." Melody crossed the room and sat down next to Zoë. Her head nestled into the space on Zoë's shoulder—Zoë was forever grateful Melody was shorter than her, so that it was actually comfortable for them both—and finally relaxed. "Isn't it all just so exciting?"

  "We just watched the magic theater production of how-this-whole-place-exploded last night," said Zoë. "I don't know how excited I can be about us going to the place where everything died, with the daughter of the guy who's largely responsible for it."

  "You don't think…" Melody glanced at the door. "Really?"

  "I don't know, Mel," said Zoë. She laid back on the bed, and Melody followed. After kicking off their socks and shoes, they wrapped up in each other's arms, like they usually did—the happiest and safest place for Zoë, no matter where she might be in the world. "I've heard a lot and I've read a lot about her."

  "What do you believe, though?" asked Melody. "What does your heart tell you?"

  My heart's only concerned with you, Mel. The rest of the world can go away. "I think she's the most powerful person in the world that's not got a 'god' title next to her name, and she's also a scared little kid who's had the worst childhood I've ever heard of."

  "She seems really lonely to me." Melody ran her fingers through Zoë's hair, idly twirling it as she spoke. "I think she just needs a chance to be herself. Maybe she's never really had that."

  "How are we supposed to do that for her?" asked Zoë. "That girl needs professional help. She's changed her name, she's living alone, she's got a mass-murdering psychopathic father, and she's dealt with more in a year than most people in their entire lives. This is psychiatrist territory. You're gonna be a teacher someday, maybe you can help, but I'm just an art-school dropout."

  "You haven't dropped out!" said Melody, poking her in the back. "You're just on a break."

  "You know people are saying she's killed before, right? That she's got a bodycount too?"

  "I don't believe it," said Melody firmly.

  Zoë sighed. "She's got his genes and she was raised by him. Odds are she's willing to kill too. Maybe, maybe not, I dunno. Nobody really had a specific story, just that they're pretty sure she's done it."

  "This is horrible," said Melody, shivering. "Please stop."

  Zoë hugged Mel close. "Sorry."

  They stayed quiet for a while, holding each other close on the bed, while the sunlight in the window crept closer with every passing minute. It began to tickle Zoë's toes as it lit them up, a fresh new warmth to complement the torch fire from the other side of the room.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "I know you're just trying to keep us safe," said Melody finally. "But it's not like we can force Natalie to do anything. If she needs help, she needs it, but it's never going to happen unless somebody steps up. Why not us?"

  "Why us?" countered Zoë. "What makes us special? Of all the people in the camp, why are we the ones who ended up here, who got invited by Rook?"

  "I don't know," said Melody. "But I can't just… let it go."

  She wants magic. This is about awakening. Melody's convinced Natalie might have a way to awaken that doesn't need Grey-eyes. But that doesn't change anything. We're not the right people for this. She didn't voice it aloud, because she didn't want to be mean, but it didn't matter. Melody knew.

  "It's not just about awakening," said Melody.

  "How do you always know what I'm thinking?" asked Zoë.

  "Porque yo te amo, mi Zoë." She kissed Zoë on the cheek again. "I think we need a break."

  "Yeah," said Zoë. They had a long-standing agreement that either could call a break on an argument, if it didn't need to be resolved immediately. There were still a few hours before the big lunch, and even then, Natalie hadn't asked for a decision right away. "Let's just be here for a little while."

  "Oh!" Melody got up and grabbed her backpack, in which she'd stored the present from her parents after Rook slowed down back in the forest. She returned to the bed before the warmth had a chance to fly away, settling back against Zoë before she began to unwrap it. "I got your letter, too," she added, handing it over.

  Zoë sighed. "Let's do yours first."

  "I'm sure it's a Merry Christmas. Your parents care about you too," said Melody. She pulled off the lid, and out spilled a bag of chocolates. "Ooh!"

  "Your favorites," said Zoë, nabbing them before Melody could manage it.

  "We should share them with everybody at lunch. I bet they haven't had chocolate in forever." Melody set aside the chocolates and pulled out something else—something soft and long, with many different bright colors interwoven. "A scarf! Oh, this is just what I needed!"

  That'll look really good on her… Zoë smiled as Melody admired it, though she personally couldn't pull it off in a thousand years.

  "This is definitely my abuela's work," said Melody confidently.

  "And it's got your name on it," added Zoë, smirking out of sight. She pointed, and sure enough, Melody was stitched into one end.

  "Hey, hang on… there's another one." She dug in, and sure enough, another scarf came out—in plain gray with simple white lines marking it, of the same material, and even with a little Zoë stitched into the end. "Oh, abuela," murmured Melody. "Remind me to write her thank you. These are so nice!"

  "She really shouldn't've made me one…" muttered Zoë, though she honestly felt a little overwhelmed that Melody's grandmother had thought of her at all. "I already have a scarf. Looks almost the same as that, too."

  "Well, that's probably on purpose! I bet she saw it in one of our pictures and thought you'd like a hand-made one." Melody wrapped the grey scarf around her neck. "It's really nice, too. Yours was getting kinda old."

  "My turn, I guess," said Zoë, trying to change the subject and get her bearings back. A letter from Dad'll bring me right back down again. She used one of the few nails she actually let grow out to gently slice open the letter—growing up in a high-power lawyer family meant all documentation had to be treated with care—and pulled out the note inside. As expected, it was straight from her father's letterhead cardstock, as if he were sending a memo.

  From the desk of Daryl Portman

  Luther, Renalds, and Portman, Redmond, WA, 98052

  Zoë Alaina Portman,

  Your college tuition has been set aside in a trust under your name. It can be accessed via the attached account numbers when you elect to return to your studies. I trust you will not do anything too reckless during your sabbatical.

  Daryl Portman, Esq.

  "What's it say?" asked Melody, leaning over.

  Zoë shook her head. She dropped the note. "Says my dad is terrible at being nice."

  "This is really kind of him!" Melody took the letter and held it up again. "He's telling you that he's okay with this!"

  I know. It's freaking me out. "It's a start."

  "Just wait, he'll be forgiving you and begging you to come home in no time," said Melody.

  "Uh-huh."

  "And in the meantime…" Melody twisted around, the multi-color scarf in hand. She wrapped it around Zoë's neck, layering it just right against her jacket. "This is for you."

  "...Uhh, isn't this one yours?"

  "No, silly." Melody smiled—and despite Zoë's trepidation about everything outside the room, her smile was still enough to make all the fear and doubt fade away. She waved the end of the grey scarf, where Zoë's name was stitched. "Now I can always have you to keep me warm."

  And I've got her. Zoë pulled the scarf a little tighter. Wow, I love this girl. I didn't see this coming at all.

  An urge struck her, and before she could stop herself, before she could think twice about it or have any doubts or make a cynical joke to break the mood—Zoë kissed her.

  Melody's eyes fluttered with surprise. A moment later, they closed, and she kissed Zoë back.