Island of Fire (The Unwanteds) (33 page)

Sky sucked in a breath.

Meghan clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Sky, your mother,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. She remembered Alex’s promise to rescue the woman, but now, with him so ill, she wasn’t sure what would happen.

“It’s okay,” Sky whispered. “But, um, I need to go. I think I have . . . something . . . ” She hurried out of the room, Meghan following after her for a moment, then stopping and pounding a fist against her forehead.

Sky ran to the shore, where she could be alone. She sat
down near the water’s edge and stretched out her legs so the surf could rush up under her heels and help them sink into the sand, anchoring her there.

She looked to the west, where Warbler stood, and then beyond it, straining her eyes for Pirate Island and finding it in the distance, marked by the spray that crashed against the side of what they now knew was a volcano. Her mother’s face danced before her and she felt a numbness creep over her body as she tried to forget about her mother being pulled away by that pirate, like he was threatening her, hurting her.

And even though her mother had insisted that there was no way to rescue her, Sky couldn’t help but think there had to be something she could do. It was more than a wish. It was her duty. And time—too much time—was slipping by without any word from Alex about going back there. Soon, Sky knew, she’d have to do something. But something kept her waiting for Alex . . . wherever he was.

In the water in front of her the pirate ship floated, and she wondered what would happen if an entire ship full of people got sucked into the volcanic drain. Would they drown? Would the ship stay afloat and come back out again once the
volcano had been filled? Or would the ship get pulled into a different place, where the pirates could collect the goods and people from it? She remembered how elaborate the reverse aquarium had been. A full garden meant they had to get seeds and dirt from somewhere. And the play area for the children—how could they have built that without supplies? There must be a way in and out. After all, her mother ended up in there somehow, and so did all the other pirates and people.

Sky lifted her face to the sun and wondered if Alex really meant it that he’d help her go back to save her mother. He’d obviously been avoiding her ever since they’d returned—and maybe that was why. She hadn’t seen him anywhere. Granted, she’d heard he was pretty bruised still, but it had been days and days since they returned. And he wasn’t in the hospital ward, so he must not be too badly hurt.

She drew a heart in the sand with her finger, and then quickly wiped it away. Alex had made it clear he wasn’t interested in her like
that.
Even though she was certain he’d enjoyed the kiss. . . .

But it wasn’t meant to be. After a moment, she got to her
feet and looked around the beautiful grounds, her eyes stopping at the jungle with its trees and vines everywhere. With grim smile, she set out for it.

In Quill, while Alex slept, Aaron demanded the wall be put back up again. But when it was back up, all Aaron could do was think about how he couldn’t see anything, and what if someone were sneaking up on them right now?

He lasted a day with the wall in place again before he demanded it be taken down once more, this time making it a window up off the ground, rather than a door, so that anyone coming up the hill from the outside would have trouble trying to get in through it without help.

Aaron assigned two guards to stand in front of it at all times, peering out, and then he fired them, not trusting anyone to watch for things as competently as Aaron could do himself.

And so it was that Aaron became quite decidedly obsessed with being attacked by outsiders, so much so that he spent many sleepless nights crawling up into the window and watching for enemies.

I
n the dark of the night on the sixth day after their return to Artimé, Alex opened his eyes for a little less than a minute. He stared at the ceiling, unable to focus. And then he closed his eyes again.

Over the course of the seventh day, he opened his eyes a few more times, but it was too hard to keep them open.

When light beckoned from the other side of his lids on the eighth day, Alex’s body finally decided it was ready to emerge from its cocoon. His eyelids fluttered and then opened. He squinted, having no idea where he was or why there was so
much sunlight in his room when he didn’t remember having a window. Slowly he turned his head to look around.

It seemed like his room, anyway—all his things were there. But it was so much bigger than his room, which was extremely puzzling. “Where am I?” he croaked. His throat was dry.

There was a noise beside him, and soon Simber’s body and face rose before him. “Hey, Sim,” he said. And then he frowned. “How’d you get in here?”

“Alex,” Simber said. The cat peered at him. His nostrils flared, and then he smiled. “Welcome back. You’rrre in your new rrroom now.”

Alex blinked. “What?” He took a breath, feeling muted pain, and everything flooded back to him. “What time is it? I didn’t mean to sleep so late—I have a ton of stuff to do.” He tried to ease up to a sitting position but gave up after a few seconds, totally spent.

Simber told him everything that had happened, how Clive had called for help, how Simber had slammed through the door and walls and destroyed Alex’s room, how he’d found Alex collapsed on the floor. And how they’d brought Alex here, to the mage’s living quarters, and made it his own.

“From what Clairrre can tell, you brrruised severrral rrribs and prrrobably frrractured some too. How does it feel to brrreathe?”

“It hurts if I take a deep breath, but not as bad as it did. How long have I been here? Did I sleep a whole day and another night?” he asked, incredulous. “I’ve never slept that long in my life.”

“Today is the eighth day since we came back frrrom Warrrblerrr,” Simber said.

Alex’s eyes opened wide. “Whoa,” he said. And then a cloud passed over his face and he tried once more to sit up. “Oh no,” he said. “I have so much—”

“Rrrelax, Alex,” Simber said. He pressed a cold paw gently on Alex’s chest. “You have to get well firrrst. Everrrything is fine herrre. We’rrre all pitching in. Clairrre and Gunnarrr arrre back to normal, Lani is too. Arrrtimé is once again a well-oiled machine.”

Alex sank back into his pillows. “So Lani—”

“Fine.”

“Meghan?”

“Fine.”

“Carina?”

“Fine. They’rrre all fine.”

“Even—” He blushed. “Never mind.”

“She’s fine too.”

Alex put his hands over his eyes and tried to hide his dumb grin. “Ack,” he said. “The cat knows all. The cat knows all. When are you going to get that through your thick skull, Stowe?” He shook his head slowly, furious with himself for being so obvious. “Stop looking at me.”

Simber snorted.

Alex peeked out around the side of his hand. Simber was looking pointedly at the wall where Clive hung, though the blackboard’s face had yet to make an appearance. Simber chuckled to himself.

Alex’s blush faded and he hastily changed the subject. “Where are all of Mr. Today’s things?”

“Packed in a giant chest in the Museum of Larrrge. It’s all therrre for you wheneverrr you want to go thrrrough it. Oh—except forrr this.” He turned his head suddenly and padded to the side of the enormous room. “We found it on the drrressing table. It has yourrr name on it.”

Simber brought him a book, setting it on the bed. “It looks
like he meant to give it to you beforrre he planned to leave on his holiday.”

Alex picked it up. The corners of his mouth rose a fraction as he read his name in Mr. Today’s handwriting. He removed the note and looked at the book, reading the title:
The Triad: Live, Hide, Restore.
His mouth dropped open. He paged to the third section and read a few sentences.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said. He looked up. “Is this a joke?”

Simber shook his head. “Why?”

“The restore spell. It’s right here.” He quoted, “
Wearing a robe, stand on the back stoop of the gray shack (near the gate). Say the words ‘Imagine, Believe . . . ’
 ” Alex snapped the book shut and let his head fall back on the pillow, not even sure how he was feeling. “Seriously,” he muttered, staring dumbfounded at the ceiling. “Seriously, Mr. Today? You couldn’t have handed this to me an hour earlier?”

Simber ducked his head.

“It’s not funny,” Alex warned. “There is nothing funny about this.”

Simber lowered his head farther, his neck shaking.

“Don’t even,” Alex said, disgusted. He threw the book at the wall, which didn’t quite have the velocity to hit it, seeing as how Alex was so pathetically weak. It flopped to the floor. Alex stared at it, shaking his head. And then he pressed his lips together to keep them from twitching. “You are a bad,” he said with a little hiccup, “bad cat.” He tried to breathe slowly, but soon he was trembling. “Ow,” he said between laughs. “Ow. Seriously. You’re killing me, man.” He snickered and winced.

Simber was laughing so hard the bed shook.

When at last the shaking stopped, Alex was sore and exhausted. But there was also something huge missing from his life.

“So,” he said, “you got any food in this fancy place?”

Within a few days Alex was walking around his room with a cane that Henry and Crow had carved for him and sent along with Simber. Those who could access the secret hallway to visit did so, updating him on everything that was going on and bringing him more and more flowers and gifts as the days passed and word got out that he’d been badly injured and had been recovering all this time. But he never heard from Sky.

He began to puzzle over Sky and Crow’s mother’s rescue, knowing that it would be very difficult. Late in the evenings he would scratch out notes and sketches, ideas of how to do it, but he found flaw after flaw in all of them. But each scrapped plan made him more determined to find the perfect way to succeed. On one visit by Ms. Octavia, he questioned her quite thoroughly about everything he could think of regarding the sea, and came away with even more thoughts that churned inside his head, trying to turn into real ideas. The only thing he needed was time for his subconscious to sort them all out.

When he was able, Alex began to walk and move around as much as he could in the secret hallway, gaining his strength back, calling on his muscles to work and grow again.

Samheed came by every now and then. He wore a pained expression whenever Alex asked about Lani, but Samheed never admitted they were always together, and Alex pretended not to know, though from the big picture window he’d seen them wandering the grounds holding hands. As boring as things were hanging around his room all day, it gave Alex a bit of perverse pleasure to see Samheed feeling uncomfortable about it.

Alex had accepted it by now, and he wasn’t sad. He and
Lani had always felt more like friends anyway, and he thought it would be pretty easy to just be that again.

Whenever he thought about Sky, though, his chest ached. It was like her heart was inside him, pressing against his cracked ribs. It was probably good that he hadn’t seen her in a while, though he longed to. Better to get her out of his head. But when he closed his eyes at night, he could feel her cool, spongy lips pressing against his, and his stomach flopped inside him.

“You have to stop,” he said one day, covering his face with his hands. There was no place for romance when one was the head mage. Was there?

“You know,” Simber remarked on one occasion as they played a hand of cards, “Marrrcus was alone because he was still marrried to his wife—Clairrre’s mother. He always hoped she’d come live herrre. He trrried to convince her many times, but she rrrefused. Still, he waited, just in case, because he loved her.”

Alex flushed. He didn’t know what to say. But the words slipped in, creating a sliver of hope. “She never came?”

“No.”

“Is she still living in Quill?” Alex sat up, curious.

“No. She was sent to the Ancients Sector a few years ago.”

It seemed there was a lot about Mr. Today that Alex didn’t know. But he’d learned something new. And maybe, one day, there was hope.

Sadly, he’d ruined things with Sky by now. He hadn’t even sent her a message or anything all this time, even though he knew she was dealing with her mother’s situation. He hadn’t even asked how she was doing. And it was too late now—it would look like an afterthought. Better to talk to her in person once he was back to normal.

But still, every day, he walked to the window at the end of the not very secret hallway and looked out, wondering if he’d see her.

One day, finally, he did. She was coming from the jungle, walking toward the shore, doing her very best to balance a freshly made raft on her back.

Alex’s cane clattered to the ground.