The room shakes because someone’s flushed a toilet in the boys’ restroom. The pipes must be connected. I ask my question slowly. “By overthrow, do you mean kill?”
He nods.
“I can’t let you kill him.” There’s no emotion in my words. There’s just truth.
“You can’t stop it, Zara. If I don’t, the other king will. It’s just a matter of who gets there first. And honestly? Do you think killing is a worse fate than what’s going on in that house right now?”
I don’t answer.
“The other king has sent scouts too.” His face hardens. “And Zara—he is not like me. He is not even like your father. He is much, much worse.”
“Why don’t you kill him then? Go after his territory?”
“I’m not strong enough to do that yet. I need your father’s forces. I need numbers.”
“Numbers,” I mumble, trying to understand.
“He is strong. He is dark. That side”—his voice goes bitter—“always has an easy time gathering numbers, troops, whatever you want to call it.”
“But you are the side of good?” I swallow, turn away from him, and turn the water on. It rushes out into my hands, my blue hands. “Don’t you think everyone thinks they’re on the side of good? Did that Valkyrie woman?”
“I’m sure she did.” He touches my shoulder. I jump back. He turns me around to face him. The water still runs. It races out of the faucet. It races away.
“I am on the side of good, as are you. Your wolf will even be on the side of good. We all have roles to play,” he says. “Your face reveals that destiny.”
I blink hard a couple of times. His face distracts me. “I don’t believe in destiny.”
We stand like that for a second, then he drops his hand. I remember to breathe.
“So what should I do?” I ask, reaching behind me and shutting off the faucet.
He almost laughs. He goes back toward the stalls and leans against them like that’s sexy or something. Note: leaning against public bathroom stalls? Never sexy. “Well, if it were up to me, you would show me where you are keeping the pixies, let me kiss you, and then you’d be under the protection of the federation and myself. We’d leave here and go to my home.”
“You’re crazy,” I say. “I wouldn’t go with you in a million years. Pixies can’t be trusted.”
“You keep saying that, but I don’t think you believe it anymore.” He smiles. “Let me explain. The five fae races of the Shining Ones all have differences and deviations. Some side with the dark, some with the light. That’s what I meant when I said all pixies are not the same.”
“You’re saying my dad sides with the dark?” It makes sense. Pixies aren’t just good or bad the same way people aren’t just good or bad. That shouldn’t be so hard to get my head around.
“I’m saying that your dad leans that way, but he is not committed. So many of us aren’t committed. The weres especially lack any organization whatsoever. I doubt your wolf even knows of the federation.” He’s almost scoffing.
It hits me the wrong way. I pull my arm in close to my chest and hold it there with my other hand. “Well, it’s not like anyone’s gone out and told him.”
“Listen, Zara. For me to stay here with you for too long?” He straightens himself up. “It would be dangerous. He’d track right to you.”
He turns to leave via the window but I grab his sleeve. “Should my friends and I . . . should we leave?”
“He would find you eventually.” He moves his face enough so I can see his profile: hard, determined, not human at all. “You could come with me. I could protect you.”
All my breath sucks inside of me. I know he’s suggesting only I go with him. “I couldn’t.”
“I thought that would be your answer. I have to go.” His face saddens and then he bounds up the wall to the window, parkour-style, just a foot halfway up the wall and he shoots through the window and is gone.
I stand there.
My breath returns.
I pivot toward the mirrors.
I am still blue.
If I were capable of pulling a glamour I could hide it, but I’m not. The blue isn’t my magic. It’s his—the king’s—one of them, anyway. I press my forehead against the cold, smudged glass of the mirror and try to calm down.
“Big breaths,” I mumble. “Take big breaths.”
It’s not really working. The walls of the bathroom close in on me. The window hovers there, a big, dark square of danger. He got through. That means anything can. Anything. I shudder and look for weapons. I could attack with what? Paper towels? A toilet paper roll? It is pretty hard paper, but seriously? And I can’t go out into the alley because I am blue!
A moan escapes my lips. I text Issie: Come in Bathroom. ASAP. I hit Send. Then I realize that’s kind of bossy so I send her another text that says: Please?
She bounds into the restroom five seconds later. The door flies open into the concrete wall. Issie’s mouth is all wide-open worried. “What is it? Do you need help? Did you get your—”
Her sentence breaks off as she slips on some water that’s on the floor, arms windmilling as she tries to catch her balance. I lurch forward to try to keep her from falling into the sink. I grab her with my good arm.
“Oh!” she gasps. “You’re blue again.”
“Uh-huh.” My voice is little-girl frightened tinged with a lot of big-girl frustrated.
“You can’t go out there blue.”
“I know.”
Her eyes get a wicked light and she untangles herself from me. “Well, I have a great plan.”
“You do?”
“Mm-hmm.” She’s smiling super big. “I know that I am the sidekick and I never get to actually have great plans or anything because that is not my role—”
“You are not a sidekick,” I interrupt.
“Zara? Duh?” She pokes herself in the chest. “I’m the klutzy human in our gang of four. That’s a lifetime sentence of sidekick, okay?”
“But—”
“No buts. I’m cool with that.” She pulls out a package from her oversized purse, which is pink, polka-dotted, and totally cute. “The sidekicks normally get to survive, and don’t have all those big moral dilemmas that the heroes always go through. I am so totally fine with that. Voilà!”