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He was surprised to recognize the event—it was one of Florida’s bigger music festivals, held at the end of the summer which aimed to spotlight mostly local talent. He had gone once as a spectator with Remus and Virgil just before high school. He clicked the notification and was brought to the full email.

I know the band doesn’t do too many performances anymore, the email read. It was from the organizers of the event. Apparently, another band suddenly couldn’t make it, and they wondered if Morbid Myth could take their spot. 

Roman turned off his phone without reading past the first paragraph, sending his room back into darkness. Across the hallway, he could hear the whispers of Remus listening to his rock music.

He was reminded of all the times Remus would turn his music on blast, so much so that Roman would yell and bang at the wall for him to turn it down. Maybe his twin finally learned some house manners while Roman had been away at university, or the family conversation that evening had put him in a mood.

Roman wouldn’t be surprised; he wasn’t feeling like his usual self either. He squeezed his eyes shut to push away the memory from that evening of his parents sitting him and Remus down on the sofa, their faces so serious that his first thought was that Abuela had passed away.

That wasn’t the case. Their mom was sick.

“Cancer,” she had said. “Luckily, they caught it quite early.”

Remus, who was always in movement—whose report cards always consisted of something along the lines of “he’s an energetic student but needs to learn to sit still when given instructions,” who broke more pencils than he used by tapping them against surfaces—had sat as still as a statue, not even breathing.

That was the only lucky thing about the diagnosis. That it was highly treatable with chemotherapy.

Roman had sensed Remus’ worry, because he had the same one. It had been a while since they’d been able to read each other’s mind; the last time it had happened was probably before the band split. Before their relationship became strained. A part of him was comforted by knowing what his twin was thinking, that they were on the same page for something as important as this.

Money. That was the worry. While they hadn’t grown up in poverty, it wasn’t as though there was an excess of it laying around. A high school band teacher and a landscaper weren’t exactly rolling in it. Out-of-state summer vacations were incredibly rare, and they’d only been to Disney World once, for their twelfth birthdays. 

Both Roman and Remus helped as much as possible by slipping them money when they weren’t looking (twenties in jean pockets, fives in the couch cushions, a little extra here and there to save their parents’ pride), but they were still only students with part-time jobs.

Roman did have some savings in his bank account that he'd been contemplating using to buy a new electric guitar, but that would have to take a backseat now.

Roman and Remus had glanced at one another, on the fuzzy couch in their living room.

I’ll take out student loans, Roman thought. He would figure out how to give his parents the excess money once it was done. Better to ask for forgiveness than ask for permission.

Remus had jutted his chin down in silent agreement.

The gesture felt like an olive branch in their long-standing cold war with one another. It wouldn’t fix anything, but it was a start.

~~~

Even though they were technically identical twins, it was fairly easy to tell Roman and Remus apart. Almost as soon as Remus was born (two minutes after Roman), he was plagued with various different sicknesses. While Roman was able to go home a couple days after the birth, Remus had to stay there for months to be carefully watched by doctors and nurses. And, even after Remus was finally brought home, he was shuttled to and from the hospital often as he managed to get every and any disease a baby might have.

Because of the constant sickness, Remus had a slightly paler colour to him. It wasn’t noticeable to strangers or passers-by, or even to some friends, but if one really looked, Roman’s golden-brown skin was a couple hues warmer than Remus’. Their builds were also marginally different. Roman’s broader shoulders and larger build were in contrast with Remus’ slimmer look; even when they looked at each other’s shadows, it was clear who was who.

That wasn’t the only effect of Remus being constantly in and out of the hospital. He’d had some pretty serious sicknesses and, despite their parents only talking in hushed whispers after bedtime, Roman would sometimes sneak out of his room and listen as they worried that Remus would die.

So, Remus was always doted on. And, even when he got sick less and less as he grew, everyone seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it never came. It wasn’t as though he was perfect now; when September hit and they went back to school, Remus was always down for a good two weeks. He was a magnet for disease, but it wasn’t deadly, just incredibly irksome.

Looking back, it made sense, of course. However, being a young child, it still felt incredibly unfair. Why was Remus allowed to get little dollar store gifts after a surgery and not him? Why did Remus have special food only he could eat while Roman was having microwave nachos for supper?

By the time Roman grew up and understood Remus’ situation (and his parents’ lack of resources to logistically treat them both equally), he had accepted it. However, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

~~~

When Roman woke up, it was strangely quiet in the house. After managing to roll himself out of bed, he found Remus and his best friend, Virgil, in the living room watching Monster House over bowls of cereal.

“Oh! Hey,” Virgil greeted, glancing back at him for a moment before bringing his attention back to the TV.

Remus kept his eyes glued to the screen.

So, they were back to the cold shoulder.

Roman made his way to the kitchen off to the side. “Hi,” he said. He poured himself some cereal and milk and sat himself at the dining table, listening as the movie wrapped up.

At the credits, Remus stood and stretched. “Lillian should be here in five minutes, then we can go.”

Roman furrowed his brows at the name of one of the kids who did piano lessons with their mom. “Lillian?” he repeated. Their parents were visiting Abuela and weren’t supposed to be back until after lunch.

Remus shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve taken on some of mom’s piano students.”

“Since when?” Roman’s voice was louder than he intended. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, I guess no one told you.” Remus coolly strode off in the direction of the little music room where their mom did her lessons and had its own door to the outside.

Virgil turned off the TV and brought his empty bowl and spoon to the sink.

Roman never knew what Virgil was thinking. Virgil was Remus’ friend first, ever since elementary school, and Roman had mostly stayed away, understanding the silent agreement that, because they shared the same DNA, they were not meant to share the same friends.

However, after they formed Morbid Myth, Virgil became as much Roman’s friend as Remus’. Their friendship fractured when the band broke apart and Virgil, understandably, took Remus’ side.

Now, the most interaction they had was liking each other’s Instagram posts.

“Guess what?” Roman said with a little chuckle, pulling out his phone.

“Hmm?”

“Orange Blossom Music Fest is apparently short on acts and asked Morbid Myth to play.” He opened the email again, this time skimming the rest of the email.

Virgil’s eyebrows drew down, sitting down across Roman. He stretched his arms across the table and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. “They must be desperate.”

Roman's eyes caught at the end of the email, where the organizers listed how much the group would be paid. “Oh my God! We need to do it.” He turned his screen towards Virgil whose eyes bulged.

“Wow, they must be seriously desperate.” Virgil straightened back up, and he bit his lip in thought.

The amount wasn’t so crazy that it would alleviate all, or even most, of the doctor and chemotherapy appointments his mom would be needing, but it wasn’t exactly a number to sniff at. And then, if Morbid Myth continued performing in other places, everything would add up.

It seemed like a miracle landing right in his lap.

Slowly, and choosing his words very carefully, Virgil said, “I wouldn’t be opposed to getting the band back together—I had a great time playing with the both of you, don’t get me wrong—but I’m not exactly the one who needs to be convinced.”

Roman winced. “But if it’s to help our mom, surely he’d agree to it.”

Virgil's lips pursed, and it looked like he was about to say something more but stopped himself. “You should talk to Remus about it.”

“You think he won’t.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t say that,” Virgil said, quick and forceful, but he slowed to continue, “I just think that…the breakup happened two years ago. A lot of time has passed, and perhaps some talking would do the two of you good.”

Roman frowned, a sense of foreboding building in him.

Chapter 2

The next morning, Remus was already gone by the time Roman awoke. Maybe his twin knew that Roman wanted to have a serious talk and was making himself scarce. Or, what was more likely, Remus still had a life here in their hometown since he decided to stay and attend the University of Florida.

After almost two decades living under the same roof and going to the same schools, Roman and Remus finally split when they choose to attend different universities. Even though they were both coming upon their fourth and final year of their respective degrees—a Bachelor of Music in Music Education for Remus and a Bachelor of Arts in English with a creative writing specialization for Roman—Roman was only just getting used to living away from his twin.

And it wasn't as though he even left the state; he was attending Florida State University, a mere two and a half hours away. But, despite their current rocky relationship, Roman would catch himself watching a movie and turning to try to find Remus to tell him something or accommodating Remus' awful food palate when grocery shopping.

"Think he's got his shift at the library," his dad replied when Roman asked for Remus' whereabouts.

"He works at the library?" Roman exclaimed. Of all the jobs his brother might have, a library was not one he would have guessed.

His dad nodded, glasses perched on his nose as he completed the NYT crossword on his phone with his index finger; Roman had showed him how over Christmas break. "Got the job, what?" He squinted at the wall as he thought. "February, I believe?" He looked back down at the screen, rubbing his chin. "What's a thirteen-letter word that means small or tiny?"

~~~

Morbid Myth started out as something casual during ninth grade—something Roman and Remus did in their spare time. They'd been surrounded by music from a young age, being taught piano by their mom before they even started Kindergarten. As they grew older, they broadened their horizons and started "claiming" instruments that would be solely their own. Remus started learning how to play the drums and French horn, and Roman took guitar and trumpet.

They'd recently re-watched the movie School of Rock, and it was Roman's idea to start a two-person band. They began with covers of any genre with Remus on the drum kit and Roman singing while trying to pluck out notes on the electric guitar he'd decided to pick up that year.

Virgil was a natural addition. He'd been Remus' friend since Virgil moved to Florida in the third grade and already knew a little bit of the bass guitar. He fit in seamlessly. With him, their trio was complete. They settled on a genre: pop rock. Their sound was stronger, fuller.

Their first argument as a band was over what their band's name should be. All sorts of names were thrown out; they even asked their parents for ideas. The general vibe was already agreed upon—something to do with mythology since their names revolved around the subject. Remus liked Mythic Maniacs. Roman wanted Messy Myth.

Roman and Remus tried to get Virgil on their respective side. Bribery was involved (baking treats, promising the title of godfather, doing embarrassing acts at school, and more).

Virgil staunchly refused to take a side, wheedling both Roman and Remus to agree with each other. It almost seemed like the band would fall apart before it could truly even form, but then Virgil finally proposed Morbid Myth.

Both Roman and Remus agreed: it was perfect.

They performed at their school's end-of-year talent show, and they were an absolute hit. Their classmates loved them. Their teachers loved them. They signed up for a state-wide youth band competition the next year and won.

It felt like absolutely nothing could go wrong. So many possibilities lay ahead of them. It was an exciting time.

~~~

The library was a fifteen-minute walk away and, when Roman stepped inside, he instantly heard children in fits of giggles. The lady behind the front desk gave him a wave as Roman moved deeper into the building, following the sound of laughter.

He stepped between some shelves so Remus wouldn't spot him quite yet, peering through the books to see his twin brother reading a picture book, a dozen or so children seated around him, completely enrapt.

"The white rabbit was so grateful to have found his carrots," Remus read, his voice animated and bright, eyebrows lifted. The book was resting on his lap, leaning against his stomach, and both his hands were in movement, making specific gestures. "He hopped all the way home to share them with his family. The end." Remus lifted both hands, the back facing out, before flipping them to show his palms.

Roman silently watched as the kids dispersed, a couple staying behind to talk to Remus who had as much enthusiasm as he did while reading, giving the children all his focus. Roman hadn't imagined Remus in a library—he was always so loud and rambunctious—but now he didn't know why he had thought such a thing in the first place. His twin looked at ease in this setting; after all, he was hoping to become a music teacher with his degree. Why wouldn't he try to get experience with children at a library?

As if Remus could sense something off, his eyes slid over to where Roman was standing behind a shelf. His eyebrows only furrowed slightly, and he finished his conversation with the children before striding over to Roman.

"What are you doing here?" Remus said, voice low, a bit of bite to it.

"When did you learn ASL?" Roman asked.

Remus' jaw visibly clenched, and his shoulders lifted and dropped by a centimetre. "Halfway through first year."

"Wait, really?" They had still been close at that point. Not physically, of course, but the band had still been together until the end of that school year, and they'd been doing some gigs over the weekend until then.

Remus didn't say anything.

"That's…that's cool," Roman said after a moment. "I mean it, Remus," he added when he saw his brother's sceptical look.

Remus narrowed his eyes further and crossed his arms. "Why are you here?"

Roman pulled out his phone and showed Remus the email from Orange Blossom Music Fest. "They want Morbid Myth to play." He scrolled to show his brother how much they were willing to pay them, not explaining further because he knew Remus understood, how this would help their mom. "Virgil said he'd be willing to do it."

"Did he?" Remus' gaze slid up from the phone screen back to Roman, voice quiet and rough, dark eyes cloudy.

Roman nodded, feeling a prickling at the back of his neck. He didn't know what was wrong, but he knew this conversation wasn't going how he imagined it. Where Remus instantly agreed, where the band got back together, where they continued booking gigs after Orange Blossom, where they were able to pay for their mom's chemo appointments in full, and she made a speedy recovery. Happily Ever After. The End.

He knew Remus wanted to help their mom as much as possible, so it was clear there was something else, whatever Virgil had hinted at the day before, that was holding him back.

"What is it?" Roman asked, annoyance rising in him. Couldn't Remus see how important this was? Whatever was on his mind could surely be ignored for the time being in favour of doing something that would be a net positive. "I thought you liked playing with Morbid Myth."

Remus pressed his lips together and blew out a short breath of air. "I'm not doing this here, right now," he muttered.

"What's 'this'?"

Remus jabbed a finger at Roman's chest. "I'm not having this conversation now, here, with you. I'm working, Roman." He spun and stalked off. Although, as he disappeared around the aisle, he muttered, "I get off at lunch. I guess I'll talk to you then."

Roman found himself stewing in his thoughts on the walk back home. He wondered if the music festival would accept Morbid Myth with a different drummer. But he knew they probably wouldn't, and it also wouldn't feel the same. The magic of Morbid Myth was that they were siblings, twins, and best friends. They grew up together, argued and fought, but always made up. There was a sort of specialness of having that kind of bond.

That's how it was supposed to go, anyway.

But their last argument that broke apart the band was still unresolved, a string that Roman was intent on pulling on as soon as Remus returned home.

Chapter 3

As a band, Roman and Remus were the ones who butt heads, and Virgil usually was the peacekeeper. They'd always bickered—how they should enunciate a word, when to breathe, what tempo they should play at—but they always resolved it, someway, somehow.

The end of Morbid Myth was not an explosive finale. In Roman's perspective, there was nothing that had set it off. One evening, at the end of their practice, Remus had simply said, "I don't want to be in the band anymore."

That was it.

Roman was rightfully angry when Remus didn't elaborate, but Remus simply walked back to his bedroom and locked the door. And, when Roman turned to Virgil for any explanation, Virgil had just shrugged and said, "I'm sorry."

Not, "Let's just keep playing" or "Let him cool off"—the common phrases Virgil said when Remus stomped off in anger during their fights—just "I'm sorry." This was premeditated. Something Virgil and Remus had discussed beforehand. Without him.

Roman had a test that Monday, so he had to go later that evening to drive back to Tallahassee.

And that was it. The end of Morbid Myth. Five years of an upward trajectory cut down in a single evening. No explanation from Remus, and Virgil refused to say anything, no matter how many times Roman asked or texted or called.

~~~

The house was quiet with Roman returned. He found himself making his way to the music room where Remus' drum kit sat in the corner. When he neared it, he saw that it was coated in dust. His brows furrowed at the sight. He assumed Remus still played the drums, even after Morbid Myth disbanded; he'd loved the drums, the constant movement of it, the way it was the heartbeat of every song.

Roman grabbed a dishcloth from the kitchen before returning to the music room and gently wiping the dust off the drum kit. There were no drumsticks anywhere near, which Roman found strange, but he didn't think too much of it. When their band was still together, Remus had gone through many drumsticks by simply leaving them places and forgetting where. If they were going to get the band back together, they'd need to get a new pair (or five), and Roman made a mental note about it.

When the drum kit was dust-less, he moved to his electric guitar on its stand. It was a fire truck red with a golden pickguard, and it was his baby; he'd used his portion of the money they earned as a band to buy it senior year, a graduation present for himself.

He plugged his guitar into the amp, sat at the piano bench, and started strumming a couple chords, humming along a little.

He loved the idea of getting back on the stage, playing music. With lights so bright it was impossible to see the crowd, music thrumming through his veins, the cheering and clapping and whopping. But it wasn't just that. It was the friendship, the mind-boggling fact that he was making money from playing music and singing songs with his best friends.

And then, suddenly, he didn't have that anymore. He made new friends, of course, in university. But Remus and Virgil—Morbid Myth—there was something special about the three of them together that Roman deeply missed. A part of him ached every time he played the electric guitar without Remus' unrelenting beat behind him, without the buzzing thrums of Virgil's notes, without their voices mixing with his own.

His fingers gradually began playing "Amor Eterno," his dad's favourite song—one he had requested he and Remus learn long before they started their two-person band. Their dad was a soft-spoken kind of type, happy to stay at home but could deal with outings as long as his wife was at his side. He wasn't a big talker, but sometimes when he was in the mood, he would pull out the acoustic guitar and sing songs from his childhood. His voice was quiet, much like him, but that didn't mean it wasn't strong and filled with deep emotion.

"Amor Eterno" was a song about loss and grief and longing, and it was perhaps not well-suited to the electric guitar, but it was the instrument in his hands, and Roman couldn't be bothered to go to the living room to pick up his dad's acoustic one.

Roman didn't hear the front door open and close, just felt the presence of Remus in the house, almost like a ghost.

He was at the last chorus when Remus' voice quietly wove in with his own, standing in the doorway, arms crossed defensively, fingers thrumming against his forearm, although his face showed no signs of his previous anger.

Cómo quisiera que tú vivieras [How I wish that you still lived]

Y que tus ojitos jamás se hubieran cerrado nunca [For your loving eyes to never ever have closed]

Y estar mirando [And to be looking at them]

Amor eterno e inolvidable [Eternal love and unforgettable]

Tarde o temprano, estaremos juntos para seguir amándonos [Sooner or later, I will be with you to continue loving each other]

When the last note of the outro rang out, Roman slowly put his guitar back on the stand. Remus pulled the seat of his drum kit close and sat down across from him. They stared at each other for a second.

Remus slowly took a deep breath, foot tap-tap-tapping against the flooring. Then, in a little voice Roman hadn't heard from him before, he said, "I'm losing my hearing."

Roman's spine instantly straightened. "What? Since when?"

Remus' Adam's apple bobbed. "End of senior year. My tinnitus slowly started getting worse around that time." He sounded so unlike himself, more like their soft-spoken dad, and it scared Roman.

"And I'm just learning about this now?" Anger, sharp and painful, bloomed in Roman's chest, but he quickly stamped it down. This wasn't the time to start an argument; there was still more to the story that Remus had to tell him. Roman needed the full picture—needed to understand why his twin brother had hidden this from him for three years. Roman composed himself and, in a softer tone, said, "Remus, why?"

Remus stared at him, eyes searching Roman's face. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" Roman asked, trying to recall anything. "I know we always fought about you wearing hearing protection."

It was one of their recurring arguments, and it was one where Virgil actually took Roman's side instead of standing blissfully in the middle. It was dangerous to be playing their gigs with loudspeakers without any sort of ear plugs to dull the sound. But Remus hated it, hated how blunted their sound was with ear protection. "I want to hear the true and raw version of us," he always said.

They constantly fought about it, but Remus was immovable. And Roman couldn't force him to wear them if he really didn't want to.

"You seriously don't remember?" Remus asked again. "Junior year. We were performing at the summer festival here in town; it was big for us. There would be hundreds of people watching us. During practice, we fought about hearing protection again, but I think the heat really got to both of us, and it escalated more than usual."

Roman had a vague recollection of this. Not of the argument itself, but the festival, and the nerves, and the heatwave.

"You got so fed up with me that you stomped out of the room, and as you did, you said, 'Don’t come crying to me when you go deaf.'"

The words hung heavy in the air. Roman's throat felt dry, and he swallowed thickly. He truly didn't remember saying that.

"You came back an hour later with some lemonade dad made, and we continued practicing like nothing had happened."

"Remus—"

"—Wait, let me finish, okay?" Remus took a deep breath. "And I know you didn't really mean it—we were both so angry and tensions were high—but I was too proud to say anything when my hearing loss became more noticeable. It felt like…it felt as though I would be burdening everyone again if I told people. And letting you know that you were right," he said with a derisive snort. "And so I rationalized that simply ending the band without explanation was better than just telling you what was going on. I did tell Virgil, and he told me that I should tell you, but I disagreed, and he didn't push me anymore. I thought that being the bad guy was a better role to have than the sick, needy brother again."

His chin began to tremble, and Roman brought his brother in for a hug. They weren't a hugging type of siblings, but the moment seemed to call for it. Remus instantly collapsed against Roman's chest, and he could feel the rapid beating of his heart.

"And now mom's sick, too, and I—I just feel like I'll be an extra burden on top of everything."

"You aren't a burden, Remus," Roman said, instantly. His eyes stung from unshed tears. "And I'm sorry I said that. I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't tell me about your hearing loss."

Remus sniffed loudly and pulled away from Roman's arms. "I want to play at that festival. The three of us. For mom." His voice was more solid now, almost back to normal. "I'll wear hearing protection—maybe double up if I think it's still not enough. I'm sorry I was too much of a coward not to say anything before now. Morbid Myth could have still been playing if I did."

Roman only smiled. "Más vale tarde que nunca." It was one of their dad's favourite sayings. Better late than never.

Remus stood and glanced over at his drum kit. "I guess I'll have to buy new drumsticks, too."

"Where did they go? Did you lose them again?"

"I felt like I didn't deserve to play after I left the band, and I didn't want them to be laying around in case I felt the urge to. I gave them to a kid who frequents the library and started taking out tons of books on drums and drumming."

"You go buy a pair and text Virgil to come over. I'll run over to the store and get some concert earplugs and isolating headphones."

"What? No—they're expensive, Ro. I'll buy them when I go get the drumsticks."

"Let this be an early birthday gift," Roman said. He didn't need to buy a new electric guitar with his savings; the one he had was perfect. It was hard to imagine playing on stage with Morbid Myth without it. "I'm getting them. In exchange, you have to teach me ASL."

"Fine, it's a deal!" Remus exclaimed with a dramatic sigh, although he was grinning.

~~~

A couple months later, Roman, Remus, and Virgil stood on the main stage at Orange Blossom Music Fest, performing once again, their big reunion.

Roman's veins thrummed with anticipation, the sight of Virgil with his purple bass guitar and Remus with his drumsticks hovering over his kit making his heart nearly explode. It felt like a return home.

"Ready?" he asked them both, away from the microphone.

"Yeah," Virgil said, voice strained.

Logan pushed open the door, wearing a blue button up, brown hair a little tousled, and his gaze took in the entire room before finally settling on Virgil. "Patton said you weren't feeling well. Something about the flu?" He walked over to the single window in the room, spidery curtains keeping the room in relative darkness. "You should let some fresh air in," Logan said, brushing the curtains aside and opening the window.

"Ugh," Virgil groaned, putting his arm up to shield himself from the sunlight. "Shouldn't you be at the library?" He asked, eyeing the name tag on Logan's shirt.

Logan came to sit at the foot of the bed. He shrugged, "I asked Valerie if I could take the rest of the day off. With Roman and Remus still in school, and Patton taking over your shifts, I thought you might be a little lonely."

Virgil felt his throat seize up as another petal forced its way up his windpipe. His body bent forward as it scraped his insides and he let out a barking cough, scrambling to grab the dishcloth he had brought with him to cough into. The petal landed safely inside the material.

Logan watched, worried, but didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary and Virgil sighed in relief. He couldn't let Logan figure out what was really wrong with him. He knew Logan would blame himself for everything that would eventually happen as Virgil's condition worsened.

Virgil flopped back up against his pillows. "I hate being sick," he grumbled.

"Do you know who might have given it to you?" Logan asked, idly beginning to fold up a stray hoodie on the floor. "You went to that concert last Saturday, didn't you? Someone probably had the flu and didn't want to miss it." Logan shook his head and clicked his tongue, "Irresponsible, if you ask me."

"Okay, mom," Virgil said with a roll of his eyes. "I would've gone to the concert if I had been sick too. Practically cost me an arm and a leg to buy a ticket in the nosebleed section. I wasn't about to throw money down the toilet."

Besides, Virgil hadn't gotten his sickness from the concert he had attended over the weekend. The smaller symptoms had started nearly a year before; the day Virgil had realized he loved his best friend, Logan.

They had been laying together on a picnic table, stargazing and waiting for the predicted meteor shower to start. Sharing a wool blanket, Virgil had felt Logan's body heat and realized just how close together they were.

And, as the meteor shower began streaking light across the dark sky, Logan reverted to what he always did when he couldn't find the words to express himself: he used someone else's. "Ah, Moon—and Star! / You are very far— / But were no one / Farther than you— / Do you think I’d stop / For a Firmament— / Or a Cubit—or so?"

"William Wordsworth?" Virgil had asked, one out of three poets he could list off the top of his head.

"Emily Dickinson."

Poetry had never really been Virgil's strongpoint, unless you counted all the cringy, angsty, poems he had written in junior high when he was just realizing he was gay. But the way Logan had recited the lines, almost in a dream-like trance, Virgil had the epiphany that he loved Logan.

The discovery had come crashing into him—like a piece of space rock falling from the sky and smacking him in the chest.

The day after they had stargazed together, Virgil's chest had had a weird heaviness to it that was nearly impossible to notice unless he sat or stood up too quickly or exercised too much.

Being a hypochondriac, Virgil had internally panicked but eventually rationalized that having a slightly heavier chest than normal was hardly a medical emergency. So, he ignored it. Dealt with it. Pretended he was fine because fake it 'till you make it, amiright?

And, for a year, everything was pretty much okay. At least, health- and chest-wise it was.

Then, just yesterday, Virgil was introduced to Janus Ekans. Logan's new boyfriend. Logan had had boyfriends before, but none of them had really seemed all that serious. None of whom Virgil had liked (not that Virgil would say anything to Logan about it).

But Janus seemed like a stand-up guy. He even made Logan laugh. He understood Logan's literary references. And that was the thing: Virgil didn't have anything bad to say about Janus. Virgil fully knew that he was just jealous, but he couldn't very well explain that to Logan without profoundly embarrassing himself.

It had been utter pain to third wheel as Janus and Logan made dove-eyes across the coffee table at one another, Virgil knowing full well that Logan would never look at him that way. Virgil was firmly in the friendzone and there was nothing he could do about it.

And that was when Virgil had coughed up the first daffodil petal, heaving into a coffee shop toilet.

Virgil had come home that evening and, while watching Beauty and the Beast with Patton and the twins, was unable to explain away the petal that had managed to escape his mouth and land in the popcorn bowl.

Patton had been noticeably upset and understandably disturbed as Roman explained the condition Virgil had come down with. "The hanahaki disease," his younger brother had said, a closeup of Gaston's face frozen onto the TV screen behind him. "When a person suffers from unrequited love, they cough up flower petals. It worsens and worsens until the victim starts coughing up whole flowers."

"But why don't all people who experience unrequited love get the disease?" Patton had asked, wringing his hands in his lap, worrying his bottom lip.

"It's still a rare condition," Roman had said, and glanced over at Virgil before bringing his attention back to Patton. Virgil hadn't known how Roman knew about the hanahaki disease, and decided he'd take Roman's word for it rather than search it up himself because he knew he'd fall down the rabbit hole.

A wrinkle had formed in-between Patton's eyebrows. "And nothing can be done?"

"It goes away if the person who Virgil loves loves him back. And, well, if not, you can get surgery, but then the feelings for the person are eliminated along with the disease."

"No! You can't do that—I don't want to go through any surgery!" Virgil had said, suddenly sitting upright, a wild look in his eyes. He couldn't have his feelings removed like it was just a diseased organ.

"Virge—" Patton had said with a sigh.

Virgil remembered cutting in with, "—Roman, how long do I have?"

"A good couple of years, at least," Roman had replied with, and Virgil could see the visible relief rush into everyone's faces. "It only gets bad when you start coughing up whole flowers."

Remus, ever the comedian, had tried to lighten the mood. "So, when are we going bungee jumping? Gotta start crossing things off that bucket list sooner rather than later."

Autumn

Virgil sat across from Logan in a study room in the university library. Plenty of natural light filtered in from the large window, nearly taking up the entire wall. Almost too much light, if you asked Virgil. He wished there were blinds.

Now that school was back in session, Virgil hardly saw Logan anymore. The only times he could were between classes when Logan holed himself up in a library to work on essays or make notes on required readings. (Virgil had once asked Logan why he'd willingly hang out in a library if he worked in one, to which Logan had responded, "The anticipation in my heart / All those books—another world—just waiting / At my fingertips." Virgil had asked, "Shakespeare?" and was only met with a snort.)

The one thing Virgil had to promise when keeping Logan company as he studied was to keep the conversation to a minimum. It had been hard before, but now Virgil was grateful for it. If he talked too much, he'd eventually cough up another daffodil petal. Or, rather, multiple petals. Two weeks ago, he had started coughing up two or three petals at a time, red flos adonis petals mixing in with the bright yellow of the daffodils.

Virgil didn't mind just sitting in the vicinity of Logan, anyway. His time was limited; any moment with his best friend was one to be cherished. It was kind of odd, to be honest. Knowing that he was going to die in a couple years almost made it easier to swallow the idea that he was going to die in general. Of course, he wasn't looking forward to it, and he wasn't about to lose all his anxiety because of it. But it was almost…comforting knowing he could do nothing to stop his imminent death.

Logan and Janus were still going strong, and it physically hurt to see them be so content together. Virgil couldn't be around the two of them for long without running off to the bathroom to flush flower petals down the toilet. Whoever said that time healed all wounds had clearly never loved someone who didn't love them back.

"Are you okay?" Logan asked, cutting through the silence, and Virgil snapped his head around to look at his friend. Logan's eyes were still trained on his computer screen, typing something out but, at a pause, he finally locked eyes with Virgil. "You seem…awfully quiet today."

"Just thinking about life," Virgil said, which wasn't a lie. "I guess I'm in a little bit of a funk." Understatement of the century, but it would have to do. Coming up with lies on the spot had never been Virgil's strong point.

The space between Logan's eyebrows wrinkled, and he frowned. "Have you been exercising and eating regularly? Sleeping well? Do you need to make an extra appointment with your therapist?" Logan pushed Virgil's metal water bottle towards him. "Drink some water."

Virgil let out a hacking cough which led to a coughing fit, petals climbing up his throat, tickling and chafing his insides. He grabbed the opaque, purple, water bottle and pretended to take a drink as he spat out four soft petals into the water. Virgil couldn't believe something that soft could feel like metal in his mouth.

Virgil wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and twisted the cover of the water bottle back on.

Logan was still watching him intently, his mouth pursed together. "You should get that cough checked out. It looks painful."

"It's not that big of a deal," Virgil said, waving his hand away, not meeting Logan's eye. He suddenly wished he'd stayed at home, curled up in his dark bedroom and watching The Nightmare Before Christmas.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed even more. "Virgil, this isn't like you at all." His voice was coated with worry. "You can tell me anything, you know that right? I know I don't understand a lot of feeling-type things, but I'm always here to listen and learn."

"I—I…" Virgil began, feeling his eyes starting to sting from unshed tears. Why did Logan have to be so understanding? Logan was being such a thoughtful person. Why couldn't he be ruder about everything? Say, "That's cool," and dig his head back into his computer, never to bring it up again.

The study door creaked open, and Janus slipped through, wearing a black hoodie and yellow Doc Martens. He was holding a coffee cup in his hand. "Hey," he greeted, as he shut the door behind him. He settled into a rolly chair next to Logan and handed him the coffee before looking over at Virgil apologetically, "Sorry, Virgil, I had no idea you'd be here today or I would've asked if you wanted anything."

Virgil wanted to scream and shake Janus by the shoulders, wanting to know who he should blame for giving Logan such a good boyfriend and making Virgil fall desperately in love with his taken best friend. The Fates? Aphrodite? God? Someone was having a good laugh at him from above.

"It's fine, really," Virgil said instead. "I'm more of a tea drinker anyway."

"Me too!" Janus exclaimed, both his blue and brown eye lighting up. Virgil sometimes had the silly thought that Janus faked his heterochromia with contacts, but Virgil knew fully well he was just making things up to hate about the other man. "Coffee makes me nauseous."

Logan stared at Virgil for a little longer, clearly having trouble dropping their previous conversation. "Thanks, Jan," he finally said, picking up the coffee cup and taking a little sip. "How are your applications?"

"Oh, you know," Janus said, giving a stressed smile to no one in particular, "It's been painful trying to get people to respond to my emails asking for references."

"What are you applying for?" Virgil asked curiously—maybe a job in rural Nunavut, far, far away?

Janus grinned, "I'm running away to join the circus. Specifically, as an acrobat. I'm hoping to find a place here in Florida but I'm also going to widen my horizons and apply out of state. Who knows what'll happen?"

Virgil nodded, honestly curious. He hadn't known Janus to be an acrobat. Then again, Janus hadn't been doing great feats of acrobatics on Logan's kitchen table. "What kind of acrobatics? Like, doing stuff on a big ring? On a long piece of fabric? Or like Zac Efron and Zendaya in The Greatest Showman?"

"If you're going to be conversing, you can do so out of the study room. I've got a 3000-word paper due in three days," Logan piped up, in his usual Logan-y way that didn't indicate hostility. "You can wait outside—I've only booked this room for another thirty minutes."

Virgil and Janus exited the study room, exchanging small smiles. Virgil could see him and Janus becoming great friends in a different timeline; years down the line, they could share inside jokes with one another or hang out with no troubles. If only that timeline was this one.

Winter

Virgil supposed the one good thing to come out of having the hanahaki disease was that his brothers were actually nice and helpful for a change. The four of them even had movie nights twice a week where they piled onto the couch and popped ungodly amounts of popcorn with extra butter. Can't die of a heart-attack if you're about to die soon anyway.

"What if you sold your petals?" Remus asked on one of these nights in February. The credits for Gnomeo and Juliet were running in the background. "Join Patton's wedding planning troupe and sell all the stuff you cough up. Little kids could chuck them down the aisle. You'd make a killing."

"I doubt people want flower petals that come out of my mouth," Virgil said, dubiously.

"Well, you don't have to tell them that."

"Virge," Patton said, who had been oddly silent all evening. "Why don't you just tell Logan about this? Communication is key, right? Maybe he does have feelings for you, he just hasn't realized it yet."

Virgil vehemently shook his head. "Absolutely not. He's in a happy relationship with Janus; telling Logan wouldn't be fair to either of them. I don't want them to break up because of me and I don't want Logan to feel like he has to love me—" Virgil's sentence was cut short as his chest stuttered as he breathed in. He clamped a hand over his mouth as he went into a coughing fit, new petals making their way up his throat. Remus slid the popcorn bowl away. When Virgil could feel that all the petals were in his mouth, he gestured for Patton to pass him the metal bucket before coughing the petals out into it. The familiar red and yellow petals softly landed among the other petals.

"It could also accelerate the disease," Roman piped up, his eyes not leaving the bucket of petals. "If Virgil tells Logan, and Logan rejects him, that is."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Virgil said, the talk about his hanahaki disease beginning to grate on his nerves. "Let's watch another movie."

And, because Virgil was going to die soon, everyone let him pick what they'd watch next.

~~~

The next week was Logan and Janus' six-month anniversary since getting together. Virgil, because he just loved to put himself through even more pain than what he was already going through, texted Logan the afternoon before.

Are you planning to do anything tomorrow for your six months?

Logan was never one for big gestures, but that didn't mean he wasn't thoughtful. For Janus' birthday, Logan had gifted his boyfriend a gift card for the local pet shop so Janus could buy pet food for his hamster, Sacagawea.

Not even five minutes after Virgil sent the text, Virgil's phone lit up with a video call from Logan.

"Logan?" Virgil asked after he accepted the call.

Logan's face took a moment to appear on Virgil's screen and, when he did, Logan's glasses were askew, and his face looked like he had just run a marathon. "Do couples actually celebrate their six months or are you just being facetious?"

Virgil blinked twice. "Uh, no." And, after another pause, "Wait, Logan, are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, I am," Logan said, and ran a hand through his hair. "I even completely forgot tomorrow's our six months—I wrote down the initial day we got together but I changed my calendar for the new year. I think I only marked down our one-year anniversary. I didn't think people actually celebrated months being together." 

Virgil had never heard Logan sound this stressful; not even exams worried him this much. "Okay, this is fine," Virgil said automatically. "You've still got half a day to figure this out. You've got plenty of time."

Logan straightened his glasses and put his face into his hands. "I am quite possibly the worst boyfriend."

"Hey, that's not true," Virgil said, and he was highly aware that the two of them had switched roles. Usually, it was Logan talking Virgil off the brink, not the other way around. "This is a simple mistake Janus doesn't even have to know about. And hey! You were great at getting stuff weeks early for Valentine's Day. Apparently, our flower shop was full of boyfriends buying roses the day of."

"That's because Valentine's Day automatically comes printed on my calendar."

"Breathe, Logan," Virgil prompted and, as soon as he said so, noticed the irony of the sentence. "This is less important than a birthday. Just get some reservations at a nice restaurant or buy him something nice. That's legit all you have to do."

Logan didn't say anything for a second, taking Virgil's advice to take three deep breaths. Finally, he said, "Can you come with me to find something to buy for him?"

"What?"

"I don't want to get him just another gift card. I've heard that it may be just a little impersonal."

"Where did you hear that?" Virgil asked. While not unnecessarily false, Logan giving gift cards for special occasions was as a part of him as sheep growing wool. "Did Janus tell you that?"

"Of course not!" Logan said, looking offended that Virgil would even say such a thing. "I was listening to a podcast where they were discussing Christmas gifts. But we're getting off topic now; will you come help me pick something out?"

Virgil didn't think he could and, frankly, he didn't want to. Following Logan around while he was searching for the perfect anniversary gift for Janus? Virgil now regretted even reminding Logan of the date. Helping Logan come up with a strategy was fine—Virgil didn't want to ruin Logan and Janus' relationship completely—but Virgil being a part of the strategy and helping out? Out of the question. Virgil didn't want anything to do with it.

It was such a hard balance in loving Logan and wanting to be with him while also wanting Logan to be happy, even if that wasn't with Virgil. Maybe Virgil was being illogical with this decision, but love did that to a person.

"No, I can't do that," Virgil said, voice coming out shaky despite himself. He knew this wasn't like him at all. "I'm sorry, you'll have to do this yourself." And he quickly ended the voice call, already feeling flowers forming in his lungs, threatening to ascend.

~~~

Logan came over a week later, claiming he had a surprise that couldn't be told over the phone. Virgil was hesitant because Logan didn't bring up last week at all, which was unlike Logan who was usually straight to the point and didn't let things linger.

"Guess," Logan told him once he sat himself on the edge of Virgil's bed, his blue eyes alight with excitement.

Warily, Virgil said, "Give me a hint." He could feel anxiety swirling around in his chest, which was not helping his current situation in his lungs. Something told him this was not good news for him.

Logan thought for a moment before reciting, "In a blazing brick and plated show / Not far away a 'villa' gleams, / And here a family few may know, / With book and pencil, viol and bow, / Lead inner lives of dreams. Thomas Hardy."

When Virgil didn't say anything, Logan just came out with it. "Janus and I are thinking of moving in together."

Something large formed in Virgil's windpipe. He bent over quickly, letting out a hacking cough to try and push it up. It grated against the walls of his trachea. He let out rough, dry coughs, feeling the thing slowly but surely making its way to his mouth. Every time he breathed in, the thing fluttered and allowed small bits of air down into his lungs.

"Virgil? Virge?" Logan asked, surely about to execute the Heimlich maneuver but was quickly pushed to the side by Roman, home sick from school, who suddenly burst into the room, shoving Logan out into the hallway, telling him to go home.

Roman pounded on Virgil's back for a good three minutes before the thing finally plopped onto Virgil's bed, its petals unfurling like a monstrous octopus extending its tentacles.

A green carnation.

"A full flower," Roman whispered, his eyes wide with fear as he stared at its bright, toxic, green.

Virgil gulped, a bead of sweat sliding down his forehead. "Get Patton."

Spring

Sleeping was now the only refuge from the flowers. He couldn't remember the last time he dreamed. Every time he would awake, he only knew he had fallen asleep due to the fact time had passed. The rare times he was awake, he saw the green carnations, daffodils, and red flos adonis' littering his bedroom floor. He felt like he was living in Isebela's bedroom from Encanto.

Now that the snow was melting, Patton kept Virgil's bedroom window open and a fan always on to get the scent of flowers out of the room.

On a Wednesday in April, Virgil awoke to Logan's voice, coming from the kitchen.

"You have to bring him to the hospital; he can't stay here." Logan's voice was tense and slightly pushy. "If you could just tell me what's wrong with him—"

"—Listen, Logan, I appreciate your worry but there's nothing we can do about it. Virgil doesn't want medical help." Patton just sounded exhausted. "Believe me, if there was something that could be done, we would do it in an instant."

"There truly is nothing that can be done about it?"

There was then silence, the only noise coming from the blowing of the fan in Virgil's room. He strained his ears to listen, wincing when he noticed the roughness of his throat as if he had a cold.

"Pretty much," was all Patton answered with.

~~~

Virgil had heard of out-of-body experiences before, but only because Logan had written an essay on them in high school. They often occurred when a person was near-death. Virgil had always wondered what having an out-of-body experience would be like.

Two weeks later, Virgil didn't have to wonder anymore.

He had just closed his eyes for a midday nap when his eyes flashed open, and Virgil found himself floating above his own bed like a ghost. Someone had swept away most of the flowers, leaving a single green carnation on Virgil's bedside table.

Virgil himself was curled up in bed, head dug into his pillow and arms wrapped around his torso. Virgil had seen himself plenty of times in the mirror but hovering above his physical body was just plain weird.

Virgil's bedroom door creaked open and Roman and Remus rushed inside, closing the door behind them.

"Where's Patton? I thought he was supposed to be manning the shop downstairs!" Remus whisper-shouted.

"Gone to therapy. Don't you remember? Today's the second Saturday of the month," Roman said in a similar fashion. "Logan must have come up the back entrance. What do we say? Tell him to go away?"

Remus glanced over at Virgil, asleep in bed. "He hasn't awoken since yesterday afternoon," he muttered, changing the subject, and sounding the most serious Virgil had ever heard him. "He needs to eat. Maybe we should have brought him to the hospital; then they could have tube fed him."

Roman sighed and rubbed his temples. "I think we should tell Logan."

Both Remus and Virgil's eyes went large.

"We can't! Virgil doesn't want us to!" Remus exclaimed.

"No, listen," Roman said, frowning deeply. "We'd just tell Logan that Virgil has the hanahaki disease. We wouldn't tell him who Virgil loves. But I think Logan ought to know at this point. They're friends. Maybe it'll put Logan a bit at ease knowing there is legitimately nothing to be done because, at this point, I don't think Logan believes us when we say we can't do anything more for Virgil."

"Except for Logan returning Virgil's feelings."

"Exactly," Roman said with a slow nod. "Okay, well, I'll bring him in. We'll let Logan have a short visit before sending him back home."

Virgil waited with bated breath as he heard the twins returning with Logan. While he was a little stressed about Logan finally learning what was ailing Virgil, it didn't feel nearly as bad as Virgil thought. Maybe it was being out of his own body or perhaps just the fact that Logan still wouldn't know he was the person Virgil loved.

"—He's still asleep," Roman was saying as he, Remus, and Logan entered Virgil's bedroom. "But we think you should know what's really going on. I don't think Virgil has much time left, if I'm really going to be honest with you."

Logan's spine visibly straightened, and he turned to look at Roman. "Okay," he said slowly. "Tell me."

And so Roman told him. About the hanahaki disease, and how Virgil's symptoms had sped up uncommonly fast that day when Logan had told Virgil he was planning to move in with Janus. Remus slowly made his way behind Logan to brush the green carnation off the bedside table.

Logan didn't say anything for a long time afterwards. When he did, his voice came out hoarse. "Unrequited love?"

Roman nodded, lips pursed.

Logan looked over at Virgil's sleeping body, and Virgil could practically see him putting the pieces together. Virgil held his non-existent breath. He knew this was a bad idea, why did Roman and Remus decide to tell Logan this? It was stupid, utterly stupid—

"It's Janus, isn't it?" Logan said, face looking pained.

Behind Logan's back, Remus face palmed.

Roman managed to hold it together, but Virgil could tell by his face that Roman was utterly bewildered by Logan's statement. "What do you mean?"

"His symptoms started showing after Janus and I got together, and then it got serious when I told him we were planning to move in together. Oh my—" Logan couldn't finish his sentence. He sat down right on the floor and put his head in his hands. "He loves Janus."

You idiot, Virgil wanted to say, although a part of him was grateful Logan still didn't know. You loveable idiot.

Roman bent down slowly. "Logan—" Roman began, and Virgil's vision went completely white.

Virgil let out a halting breath, back in his own body. He could feel a flower halfway up his windpipe, but Virgil breathed shallowly; he didn't want the others to know he was awake. He needed to hear what was going to happen next.

"Janus is gone," Logan said, his voice small. "He got accepted to a circus in England the day after I told Virgil we were planning to move in together. His flight was March twentieth."

Virgil didn't move a muscle, but he opened his eyes to just slits, allowing himself to get accustomed to the light. Janus was gone? He had been gone since February? Virgil suddenly felt bad for not being there for Logan even though there was no possible way for Virgil to have known.

"If only I had known earlier—I could have set something up between the two of them," Logan continued, voice muffled. He was still sitting on the floor, his knees pulled up.

"You'd be willing to let Janus go to maybe save Virgil?" Remus asked, dubiously, standing awkwardly to the side.

There was a sniff from Logan. "We broke up."

"You broke up?" Roman exclaimed, echoing Virgil's own screaming thoughts. The flower was now nearly unbearable to hold down. It was going to force itself up soon, whether Virgil liked it or not.

"Long distance…it's hard for me. Having Janus live on a whole other continent across the ocean would be difficult. So, we decided to break up. It was mutual."

"No other reason?" Remus prompted, to which Roman smacked his twin brother's arm.

Logan's gaze shifted to Virgil, who snapped his eyes shut once again. Virgil didn't think he could hold the flower much longer. He needed to cough it up.

"I…I think I love him." Logan's voice was so quiet Virgil wasn't sure if he heard right.

"You love…who?" Roman asked, unable to keep a little bit of excitement out of his voice. "Who are you talking about?"

Virgil tentatively opened his eyes once again to see that Logan was staring at the ground, his Adam's apple bobbing. Finally, Logan whispered, "I love Virgil."

Virgil's heart nearly exploded, and he let out the most hacking cough yet, a green carnation flying out of his mouth and smacking Logan right in the side of the head. And then…nothing. Virgil felt no more flowers trying to make their way up his windpipe. His chest felt lighter than it had in years.

Logan's head shot up to stare at Virgil. "You're…you're okay. I thought you were about to die…" His words faded off as the realization struck. "Not Janus."

Both Roman and Remus slipped out of the bedroom, matching grins on their faces.

Virgil shook his head with a small smile. "No, not Janus." After Logan didn't say anything, just stared at Virgil, slack-jawed, Virgil said, "Well, are you going to recite any love poems to me?"

"I think I'd rather use my own words at this moment," Logan said. "I love you."

Virgil grinned. He didn't think he would ever tire from those words coming from Logan's mouth. "I love you too."

It was slow going, climbing the wall, but they both knew they had a good ten seconds before the government would be notified that there was unauthorized movement against the wall and send police and soldiers over. Maybe even extra as the government contemplated whether or not it was a false alarm. With Remus and Virgil spending many random nights at random points climbing the inner wall and running away into the night before police could reach them, it consistently took officials more and more time to arrive on the scene.

Virgil didn’t even flinch as the wailing alarm at the top of the wall, set ten feet away from the next one and the next one after that, began. Usually, this was when they deactivated their gloves and boots, landed smoothly on the grass, and ran off. They usually used the old, forgotten, tunnels beneath the city that lead to The School. They’d be back in their dormitory, forcing their breaths to be steady in bed, before Mr. Winston did his 1:30am rounds.

But this was the day he and Remus would finally climb their way to the top of the wall and escape their city. The wall seemed unreasonably tall and Virgil only had to trust in his and Remus’ math that, if they kept going their usual pace, they’d make it to the top and over the wall with a couple seconds to spare.

Huffing and puffing, Virgil could feel his muscles straining, sweat beading at his hairline. Little by little, he was slowing down with Remus pulling ahead by a couple of feet. Swearing under his breath, Virgil forced himself to speed up. He hurriedly placed his foot down on the wall and put his weight on it, reaching out his hand to pull himself up.

However, his foot slipped and the wind was knocked out of him as he jolted downwards, only managing to slap his left hand onto the wall and it gripping onto the polished surface.

Heart thumping, Virgil craned his neck upwards to see Remus staring down at him with wide, frightened, eyes. “Virge!” He hissed fervently.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Virgil mumbled, outstretching his arm as far as it could go to pull himself up. Quick, quick, quick, Virgil’s thoughts repeated over and over again. He had to get over the wall. He just had to. This was his and Remus’ plan. He couldn’t be the one to let the team down.

As Remus pulled himself over the top of the wall, Virgil could hear the distinct sounds of sirens.

Remus’ eyebrows furrowed together and he stuck his feet to the wall and leaned down it, his arm a few feet away from Virgil’s own. “Quick, I’ll pull you up—that’ll be quicker.”

Virgil climbed the last remaining distance up the wall until he was sure he could reach Remus’ hand. He quickly shot his hand up and grasped Remus’ glove, feeling their gloves linking to one another.

The previously still night quickly turned from peaceful to vigorous winds and both Remus and Virgil paused to glance up in the night sky. Virgil could feel Remus’ hand tighten around his own as they both saw the same thing: a helicopter.

Remus began pulling Virgil up the wall with all his might and, slowly—almost magically—Virgil was dragged over the top of the wall. They paused there to catch their breath for a moment and Virgil could see the pure adrenaline rushing through Remus’ body. His bright green eyes were alight and his mouth was formed into a determined smile. Virgil probably looked like a drowned cat in comparison.

All of a sudden, a massive spotlight flickered on and Remus and Virgil hid their faces away, nearly blinded by the abrupt light piercing through the thick night.

“We gotta go,” Remus said, wiping sweat off of his brow.

“Phase two,” Virgil nodded, cracking his knuckles in preparation. “Evade the police.”

This part of the plan was not nearly as meticulously planned as the first phase. For one, there could be no actual practice of running away from the enemy unless you counted Virgil’s first couple of years at The School being bullied by the older kids until he eventually befriended Remus.

With a quick glance at one another, Virgil and Remus pushed themselves off the wall, sliding down the metal like a perpendicular slide. As they got near the bottom, they forced themselves to tumble onto the cracked dirt ground, landing on their butts.

Hurriedly, they got to their feet and began running towards the treeline off in the distance. The area they were currently in was bare save for a few low lying shrubs. It was probably made that way so escapees were easy to spot.

Virgil could hear the helicopter drawing nearer, sirens getting louder in his ears. He could see the spotlight from the helicopter pinned on him and Remus as soon as they passed over the wall.

“Surrender now, and we will not shoot,” a voice came from the helicopter. It was low and almost friendly. “You young boys have a promising future waiting for you.”

Remus and Virgil exchanged a glance. They didn’t stop running. Their future inside The City was obliterated as soon as they crossed the threshold into The Wastelands. There was no turning back now. They were criminals. Fugitives. Outlaws.

They were nearing the treeline now and Virgil could hear the screeching of something happening behind him. “Remus,” Virgil exclaimed, glancing at the other boy who was slowly falling behind. “They’re gonna shoot. We gotta get to cover.”

Remus gritted his teeth and, with a burst of power, sprinted forward with all his might, letting out a scream that tore through the night. He passed through the forest with Virgil right on his heels.

Something landed a few feet behind him and exploded, making Virgil’s ears ring in the aftermath, and kicking up dirt all around them.

“Run!” Virgil yelled over the helicopter and more explosions raining down behind them, getting increasingly closer. His eyes were tearing up from the dirt.  “All this debris should prevent them from following us, at least for a little bit.” He couldn’t hear or see Remus anywhere near him, but Virgil ran deeper into the forest, hoping Remus was right behind him.

~~~

Virgil didn’t know how long they ran for. Long after he couldn’t hear the buzzing of the helicopter and even longer since he saw Remus puffing and panting.

They only stopped when they passed a tiny stream. Cupping their hands together, Virgil and Remus drank the cool liquid eagerly, droplets of water running down their chins and under their shirts.

Virgil swatted at a fly near his head and slumped against a massive tree.

“We did it,” Remus finally said, his voice sounding more like a croak. “We’re out.”

“And we’re alive,” Virgil added in, pulling out a granola bar from his pocket. It was squat as thin as a pancake but it was one of the only things they could’ve brought along that was slightly healthy and didn’t need to be cooked.

“We’re alive,” Remus repeated, a smile breaking out on his face. Energetically, Remus took another slurp of water from his hands. “We can start a new life. Explore the rest of the world!”

Virgil bit his lip. “What if they still come after us?”

“Oh, c’mon, Virgil,” Remus said, getting to his feet and offering him a hand. “We’re officially a part of The Wastelands. This forest is thick and massive. How would they find us?”

Virgil took Remus’ hand and pulled himself to his feet. They began walking at a brisk pace. “I dunno, but I don’t feel right thinking we’re completely free. It almost…it almost seems too easy. Escaping The City is supposed to be really hard.” Virgil scrunched up the granola bar wrapped in his hand and pocketed it.

“That’s what they want you to think,” Remus replied. “If people knew escaping The City was easy, everyone would do it!”

“I suppose so.”

The next week or so was relatively peaceful. Virgil and Remus talked, ate off the land, and slept in hollowed out trees or abandoned burrows large enough to fit them. Virgil only heard the sounds of the helicopter in his dreams.

It was a week after their initial escape that they happened across a forgotten town. It had a bunch of dilapidated houses and nearly empty stores and businesses. Virgil could see a moderate mountain in the distance.

Remus was ecstatic. “A whole town. Just for us.” He cartwheeled across a lawn of wildflowers and tall grass. He giggled and then picked up an old baseball bat. He walked over to the nearby house and swung the bat, shattering the front window.

“Remus!” Virgil exclaimed, running up to him and trying to yank the bat away. “You can’t just go around destroying a town.”

“Why not?” Remus asked, his head cocked to the side. “There are no rules here. We aren’t in The City anymore!” He let out a maniacal laugh and jerked the baseball bat back into his own possession. Remus ran through the hole he made and into the musty smelling house.

Virgil rubbed his forehead and decided to let Remus have his fun. As for him, perhaps he could find a house among the fifty in the town to claim before it was doubly destroyed by his partner in crime.

~~~

Virgil had stopped counting the days since he and Remus had escaped. The sounds of helicopters only occasionally visited his dreams. Sometimes, he even destroyed stuff with Remus in the designated Smash Zone.

On most days, though, Virgil explored the houses in the city, picking through people’s belongings and piecing together their lives. Where had they gone? What happened to an entire town?

He stole someone’s empty notebook and began jotting down some of his favourite memories. He wanted to remember all the good so, when the bad would inevitably try to drag him under, he had a buoy to grab on to.

One of those good days was when he and Remus explored the outskirts of the town. They found an abandoned farm and pond with a family of ducks swimming in it.

Remus, always one for bad ideas, stripped down to his underwear and cannonballed in, splashing Virgil in the process and startling the family of ducks. “C’mon, Virgil!” He yelled out. His eyes were as bright as the night they escaped. “Have some fun! Let loose a little!”

With a wry smile, Virgil pulled off his hoodie and slowly waded into the water, the chill seeping into his clothing.

At that moment, Remus rushed up and tackled him, completely soaking Virgil’s hair through.

“Hey!” Virgil protested but he could feel the smile grow on his face. He bent down in the pond a little so only his head was above water. “I’m gonna get you…” Virgil said with a smile and reached out his hands in slow motion.

Remus squealed and began swimming to the other side of the pond. Virgil, who didn’t feel the cold water as much now, dove to the bottom of the pond and began swimming towards Remus’ flailing body.

Virgil brushed by Remus’ ankle and came up for air. When he broke through the surface, Remus was bent over with laughter and he splashed Virgil. “You’d be a very good shark.”

Virgil floated on his back to stare up into the endless blue sky and he could hear Remus following suit. They laid there for almost the entire afternoon until their fingers and toes became wrinkly and Remus’ stomach began to grumble.

Another memory in Virgil’s journal was the time they hiked up the mountain, starting at the base of it in the night, a picnic basket in hand.

Remus kept the conversations light, often resorting to inappropriate songs or jokes to make Virgil laugh.

They saw little bunnies on their trek up and passed some strawberry plants which they kept note of in case they wanted to bring some back down to their little town.

Eventually, they made it to the peak of the mountain and set up their picnic on a grassy area. Eating pickles from a jar (they had found someone’s doomsday bunker filled with canned food and other preservatives), they watched as the sun rose above the scene in front of them. It bathed their little safe haven in a soft, orangy, light.

Had Roman seen Virgil since then? Roman honestly couldn’t remember. But then Roman remembered scarfing down his supper one day and Janus telling them that he was worried about Logan and Virgil.

As for Roman’s twin brother, Remus wasn’t really one to tell the other sides their plans.

Roman ate the rest of his fried egg in silence, trying to piece together the last few weeks. By the end of it, Roman had a broad idea of what he had missed. Logan had locked himself in his room after what happened with Patton. And Virgil, who had been worried for him, went in a couple days later. Then, Janus, worried for the both of them, went in next.

In both events, Virgil and Janus had gone into Logan’s room and not returned, at least as far as Roman knew.

Roman tried to ignore the feeling that something was wrong and wrote another couple of pages of his screenplay. But the silence of the mind palace nagged at the back of his mind so much that he decided to take a break at 11:30.

He feared that he would spiral into a writer’s block because of this. But he was more worried for his friends who walked into Logan’s room and hadn’t come out. He missed the domesticity of the mind palace. Virgil was always one for night time snacks. And Janus always came to the large bay window in the afternoon when the sun was the strongest.

Roman stood in front of Logan’s door and hesitantly knocked. “Lo?” He asked. “Are the others in there with you? Are you okay?” Roman knocked again on the door to no answer. He contemplated coming back to the door later that night but Roman slowly laid his hand on the doorknob. It twisted open.

Roman slowly pushed the door open. At first glance, the room looked normal, if not a little messy. But Roman could see a breathing lump in the bed that resembled Logan’s sleeping position—sleeping on his back, like a log.

But, at a closer look, the doorway looked to have some kind of shimmery film over it. It reminded Roman of when he would create worlds inside his own room to explore. His door was always there, no matter the world, and that silvery film would be across his doorway. All Roman would have to do is step through that silvery barrier and he’d be back in the mind palace, right in front of his doorway.

Roman frowned and brought his face up close to Logan’s door, his nose almost passing through the barrier. As far as he knew, he was the only side who could create worlds from his imagination. He was creativity, after all.

Roman straightened up. Maybe Logan somehow got the powers to create worlds and he and the others were lost and couldn’t find their way back. It was the only possibility Roman could think of. He closed his eyes and stepped through Logan’s door.

When Roman opened his eyes, he was in a hallway that resembled the one in the mind palace that held each side’s rooms. But, when Roman looked closer he found family pictures on the wall.

Roman was taken aback as he noticed these pictures were all of Logan and Patton in different places—at the park having a picnic, laying on the beach, in the library, at a Build-a-Bear.

None of the places were familiar. They didn't even live near a Build-a-Bear.

Roman slowly inspected each photograph. He halted at the last photo in the hallway. Logan and Patton standing behind two pearly-teethed children.

“That’s little Arthur and Connie.”

Roman spun around and legitimately pinched himself at the sight of Patton in front of him. His smile was uncannily large and he looked real...lifelike. Roman resisted the urge to tackle him into a bearhug.

What had Logan done?

“Uh, I’m Roman,” Roman extended a hand. Surely this was just some kind of fake Patton. Something like a ghost.

But Patton shook Roman’s hand happily. He was as solid as Roman himself. “Nice to meet you, I’m Patton.” Patton didn’t look the least bit confused as to how Roman got inside this weird house.

Roman swallowed. “Um, excuse me,” he managed to say. “I-I have to go. Sorry.” He turned to find the first window he saw, the hallway window. It was tiny but Roman pried it open and wiggled through. He could feel the sweat bead down the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he said again and ran as far away as he could.

Roman ran a hand through his hair as he ran through an unfamiliar town. He past familiar faces on the way. Joan going into the grocery store. Tayln on the bench talking to Jamal. Valerie and Terrence buying samosas from the man on the side of the street they always passed when going on their runs. Roman could see people in a nearby cafe and in an office, drinking their coffees and clicking at their computers. Everyone seemed completely unconcerned.

Everyone here must be created by Logan, Roman rationalised. Roman could often create people in his own worlds too, solid ones like the occasional royal for his story, but they required incredible mental strength and they all took a toll on him because he was the one who had to control their every move.

Creating all these people and controlling them all? Roman had been creating worlds since he was a child and he still could only create and control seven people, max.

Creating and controlling an entire city? It was impossible. How had Logan done it then? Roman couldn’t wrap his head around everything.

He passed a gas station and almost did a double take. Virgil was blowing bubble gum behind the counter.

Roman raced inside the gas station and the bell tinkled above.

“What pump?” Virgil asked boredly, not looking up from his phone.

“Virgil! It’s me, Roman!” Roman exclaimed, running up to the desk, out of breath. “Where have you been? What has happened to Logan?”

Virgil blew an especially large bubble before looking up at Roman. “Look, man, I’m just a minimum wage worker. Just choose what you want to buy and I’ll ring you up.”

“No, that’s not—”

“You want to rob the joint?” Virgil opened the cash and turned to look back at his phone. “Go ahead, I don’t care.”

Roman leaned over the desk. “Your phone isn’t even on! Virgil, what is wrong with you? You’ve got to help me! I think Logan is stuck in this world he accidentally made!” Roman placed a hand on Virgil’s forearm.

As if waking up from a bad nightmare, Virgil jolted like he was electrocuted and he blinked rapidly. His breathing became erratic. “You have to help us, Roman.” Virgil’s voice was hoarse and pained. His eyes were wild. “It’s Logan! You have to stop him!”

“What do you mean ‘it’s Logan’?” Roman asked, shaking Virgil a little by the shoulders. “I know he created this world. Have you seen Patton? And they have children?”

Virgil opened his mouth to reply but, as if someone grabbed him by the neck, he gasped for air. Roman stepped back, scared. What was happening? Virgil blinked a couple more times. He rolled his eyes and blew a large pink bubble. “So, what is it that you’d like to buy?”

Roman looked at Virgil incredulously. “What the hell,” he muttered, waving a hand in front of Virgil’s face.

“Dude, if you aren’t going to buy anything, just leave. Go annoy some other random minimum wage worker,” Virgil said dryly, looking back at his phone.

Roman put a hand on Virgil’s shoulders again and the other side jolted again. “Ro! He knows you’re here. You have to go,” he gasped in a strained voice. His face changed and he popped another bubble. “I won’t hesitate to call the cops,” Virgil said, leaning sourly on the counter.

Roman sprinted out of the gas station as fast as he could. He stood in the middle of the empty street and desperately looked for a hiding spot. His eyes saw the large brick building of the library. Probably not the best place to hide; Logan could be in there for all he knew.

Roman ran inside the building next to it, a squat little one room schoolhouse. When he came inside, the wooden desks were completely empty except for the teachers desk which held...

“Janus!” Roman exclaimed, fast-walking down the aisles of tiny desks to the larger desk where Janus was sitting, a grin plastered on his face.

“Hello,” Janus greeted, almost robotically. “Are you here to sign up your child for school?”

Roman reached out to touch Janus’ shoulder, to break whatever hold Logan had on him, but paused inches from the yellow cloth. It seemed that Logan could detect when people were no longer under his control. Example: Virgil.

But Roman needed somebody else’s help. As much as he boasted about being the knight in shining armour and being able to, single-handedly, save damsels in distress, Logan was an actual person who was going through tough emotions—not a figment of Roman’s imagination.

He stood in front of Janus’ still body, staring into his blank stare. Was it worth trying to get Janus on his side? He’d always have to be near the side so Logan wouldn’t try to control him again.

“I didn’t know Mr. Stick Up His Ass had a sense of humour. Putting Janus in the role of a school teacher?” Remus snort-laughed. “I need to hang out with him more after he’s through with his crisis.”

“Remus?” Roman exclaimed, spinning around and seeing his brother leaning against the large bookshelf. “Wha—How?”

Remus spun his moustache around his finger. “Thought this world might be fun. Instead, I get a dead side returned, a brother who’s too stuck in his own world to realise anyone’s missing, and a side who is too love-stricken that he manages to create an entire world.”

“But how are you not under Logan’s control?” Roman said, turning his attention away from Janus and to his twin brother.

Remus frowned and placed a hand to his heard. “I’m offended, Ro, I’m also creativity. Whatever you can do, I can do.”

Roman paused, thinking this through. Remus did have a point. “How long have you been here?”

“A couple of weeks, in this world’s time. We’re as stuck in Logan’s world as a wet booger on a finger.”

“And you haven’t tried to talk to Logan?” Roman asked, exasperatedly.

“Who do you think I am? A therapist or something? I’m just a fun guy who eats fungi.” Remus blew a raspberry.

Roman wiped off Remus’ spit from his own face and began dragging his brother out the door. “Two is better than one. C’mon, we need to help Logan. He’s grieving.”

“Isn’t time the answer to everything?” Remus asked, shaking free of Roman’s grip. “Just leave him be. He’ll eventually figure his stuff out.”

“And how long will that be? A month? A year? No, Remus, we need to help Logan. He’s created a fake Patton, that isn’t healthy.”

“Well I think that Logan is getting through this in his own way,” Remus said. “We shouldn’t try to push him too much. Who knows what he’ll do? He could create a Godzilla for all I know.”

“We need to go speak with Logan,” Roman stated.

“We?” Remus repeated.

“Fine. I’ll speak with Logan. You can just be there for moral support,” Roman said with a sigh. He felt stronger with his brother next to him and maybe he could get through to Logan by himself.

***

Logan’s house was painted a bright blue and had kids toys littered around the yard. The flowers around looked almost fake. Neighbours around the cul-de-sac smiled and waved from their porches.

“Logan looks happy here. What if we just left him in this alternate world?” Remus’ voice was quiet and surprisingly serious as they climbed the couple of stairs to Logan’s doorstep.

Roman turned to Remus, mouth agape. “Are you kidding me? Logan has created an entire town with kids and a husband who is actually dead. You don’t see a problem with Logan living in a lie? Besides, we’re stuck here too. Or have you forgotten?”

Remus leaned against the house and dug his hands into his pockets. “I dunno. But I just think reality will catch up with him soon enough. Anyways, he can’t keep up this charade forever. And living here isn’t too bad. There are no repercussions to anything I do.” Remus grinned toothily and was inches away from knocking on the door.

The door swung open itself. “Hello! Is there anything I can do for you?” Patton asked, looking down at Roman and Remus curiously.

“Is your…erm…husband home?” Roman asked, suddenly uncomfortable. He didn’t like seeing Patton alive again. It made him miss the old side who used any opportunity to make cookies.

“He is! He’s making supper now for us and the kiddos—”

“What do you want, Roman?” Logan’s voice came from behind Patton. His voice seemed strong and concise which was nothing different. But when Patton moved over a little to make space for Logan, Roman noticed a clear tiredness behind his facade.

“I want to speak with you…privately,” Roman replied, glancing over at Logan. Whether or not Patton was fully under Logan’s control, Roman wasn’t sure he wanted to openly talk about Patton’s death in front of Patton.

“I want whatever you’ve made for supper,” Remus interrupted loudly, elbowing his way around Patton and Logan, disappearing down a hallway.

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply.

“Do you know those guys?” Patton asked quietly, his eyebrows drawn down in confusion. “Are they friends from your time at uni?”

Uproarious laughter came from, presumably, the kitchen. “Patton, can you go check on the kids and make sure Remus isn’t teaching them anything inappropriate?” Logan nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” He made his way down the hallway, glancing back only once.

As soon as Patton was out of view, Logan grabbed viciously at Roman’s shirt sleeve and began dragging him across the living room. “You’re lucky I can’t control you,” Logan muttered through gritted teeth. They made their way to a closed door which banged open as soon as Logan flicked his wrist.

Logan pushed Roman down onto the bed. He crossed his arms. “You have five minutes to talk to me and then I’m going to kick you and Remus out and will not be allowing you two back in.”

The entire monologue Roman had been planning out in his head on his way here completely evaporated. Whatever he had been planning to say was logical and coherent. But now that he was facing Logan, he couldn’t remember anything. His eyes found a picture to the left of Logan’s furrowed brow.

It was a glossy photo of Patton in Disney World, a Mickey hat on his head, and laughing into the camera. Another event that never actually happened.

But Roman’s eyes were drawn to it. His words came out before he could stop them. “I miss him. He always knew what to say to us to make us feel better.” Roman couldn’t count how many times Patton had helped him get over a break-up or through an especially rough writer's block.

Logan’s strained face softened, following Roman’s gaze to the photograph. He took the frame off the wall and stared at it. When he looked back up at Roman, his face was even stonier than before. “Then you understand why I have to do this.”

“Logan…I…I know what you’re going through. We all do. Patton was our missing puzzle piece. With him gone, it does feel empty. But we can’t change what’s already happened,” Roman tried, gently pulling the photo of Patton out of Logan’s grip.

“You don’t know anything about what I’m feeling,” Logan grimaced and yanked the photo back. “And I’m perfectly content in this alternate universe I’ve created. It was going great before you arrived.”

“Logan, I’m worried for you. Virgil and Janus and I are worried for you. Remus probably is as well. Patton wouldn’t want you to be like this. He’d want you to come back with us.”

“Don’t you dare speak for Patton,” Logan growled, jabbing a finger in Roman’s face. “And if Patton can’t come back, I’m not coming back.”

“Is that the kind of life you want to live forever?” Remus’ voice came from the doorway. Even Roman was surprised to see his brother. Logan whirled around. “To live with a man who has died with children who don’t exist? To be constantly feeding them memories about their fake life and then feeling left out as they talk about them because you can’t give yourself those same happy memories?” Remus’ voice was like a viper and his words were much more intense than what Roman had been planning.

Yet the words actually seemed to get through to Logan. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he quietly placed the framed photo back up on the wall, meticulously straightening it.

Logan’s next words came out soft and broken, staring at Patton’s photo, pointedly avoiding Roman or Remus’ gaze. “I can’t just go back and forget about him.”

“We aren’t asking you to forget about him, Lo,” Roman begged. “We would never ask you to do that. In fact, once we all get back, we should keep his memory alive.”

“Figuratively alive, of course,” Remus interjected, a slight smirk on his face.

Roman silenced Remus with a glare. You aren’t helping. “Do you remember how Patton always knew our hot chocolate orders by heart during movie night?” Roman asked. “Extra marshmallows for me, milk in Virgil’s, piping hot and whipped cream in Janus’—“

“—Mine with some marshmallows and filled to the brim with,” Remus tried and failed to hold in his laughter, “cream.”

“I’d have plain and Patton would have extra everything,” Logan reminisced with a smile.

“Remember when I accidentally spread some kind of sickness with my…prank…and Patton, even though he was also sick, made the time to help all of us?” Remus poked a toy on the floor with the tip of his shoe.

“He always gave the best gifts too,” Logan continued, a nostalgic smile on his face. “I still use my antler pencil when organizing everyone’s calendar.”

“I love the deodorants he gave me!” Remus exclaimed.

“Logan,” Roman began in a gentle voice, meeting the other side’s eyes. “Why don’t we all head home and sit around the couch, telling each other our memories of Patton?” He began to stand up and gently laid a hand on Logan’s forearm. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Logan’s arm flexed under Roman’s grip. Uh oh. “What’s that saying?” Logan said slowly, his voice growing icy. “Home is where the heart is?” He jerked his arm away from Roman and pushed him backward onto the bed. “I can’t go home. There is no home anymore because he has my heart.” Logan’s voice broke and his legs collapsed underneath him. Roman and Remus barely made it to soften his fall.

“Patton is dead,” Logan managed to choke out, hiding his eyes with his hands. Roman squeezed Logan into a hug. Remus began to awkwardly pat his back. “This is the only place where I feel anything worthwhile. Without Patton…I’m…I feel like a robot. Like an empty shell of myself.”

“Logan?” Patton’s voice was small and all three of the sides whipped their heads around to see Patton standing outside of the doorway. His eyes were wide and his hands were shoved in his pockets. “What did you mean when you said that I’m dead?”

“Patton, I—I can explain,” Logan instantly stood up from the floor and wiped his eyes, taking his glasses off to clean them in his shirt. He then took a step towards Patton, an arm outstretched.

But Patton stepped away from Logan’s hand, fear clearly written on his face. “What’s happening? While you were inside here, it’s like the world froze. Even Connie and Arthur. When I ventured outside, I saw two other men running towards our house, telling me that I had to talk some sense into you, Logan, and that I was dead.” Patton paused and Roman saw that his hands were shaking. “I don’t know what’s real anymore. Am I dead?”

“Patton,” Logan started, glancing behind him at Roman and Remus. “I—I’ve not been entirely honest with you. Actually, I’ve been completely lying to you.” Logan gently took Patton’s face into his hands and when Patton re-opened his eyes, Roman had a sense that Patton knew. He knew everything.

“After…after you died, I couldn’t handle it. I stayed in bed for days on end, not doing anything but think of you and cry. I hardly slept. I don’t know how long this went on for until, one day, I woke up, and I walked down this street where you, Connie and Arthur were playing outside. When the three of you saw me, all of your eyes lit up and began exclaiming, ‘dad’s home! Dad’s home!’”

A tear ran down Logan’s cheek and he frantically rubbed it away. “It was like my perfect fantasy. You were alive and well and we had a beautiful family. As time went on, I remembered conversations I had with Roman and began creating an entire city around us, with people, businesses, and schools. I started giving you and the kids memories of trips we didn’t take, things we didn’t do.

“It was exhausting but I was actually happy. I was laughing and, even though it wasn’t real, I was living. You taught me happiness. I feel like I’ll never feel it again” His words hung thick in the air.

“Pat,” Logan said, this time too many tears on his cheeks for him to wipe away. “I don’t want to go back home if it means leaving you. I can’t do it again. I’m not strong enough.”

Patton brought Logan in for a hug and quickly kissed his nose. “You are strong enough. You, Logan, are one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. And you can and will leave. You’re destined for great things out there, Logan Sanders. And I will be forever proud of you. Promise me you’ll try to live life to its fullest, to stop and smell the roses, to be happy once again. Maybe it’ll hurt less as time goes on, maybe it won’t. Maybe you’ll smile when my name is mentioned after a few years, or maybe it’ll still leave your chest aching and your eyes stinging. I can’t promise you it won’t be hard once you leave, but you have to promise me you’ll try to be okay.”

Patton’s lip quirked up. “Besides, think about it, because you conjured me up, I’ll always be a part of you once you leave.” Patton placed a hand over Logan’s heart. “I’ll always be inside of you.”

Remus snickered and Roman elbowed him in the gut.

“I promise,” Logan said, either not hearing Remus or deciding to ignore him. “I’ll try for your sake.”

Patton smiled and hugged Logan one last time. “Come, the kids are all ready for bed. How about one last goodnight?”

Logan seemed to want to reject the idea but bit his tongue. He nodded curtly and glanced at Patton, “one last bedtime story?”

Patton smiled and nodded as well. The two of them began to walk down the hall, their arms around each other’s waists.

Once Roman could hear voices in a nearby room, he began to sit up from the bed that he had slowly made his way to once Patton appeared. “I can’t believe you,” he muttered to Remus. “You have to turn everything into a dirty joke, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Remus said, fluttering his eyelashes. “Besides,” he said, shaking his head, “everything turned out alright, didn’t it?”

Roman sighed as they made their way outside to give Patton and Logan some privacy. “I suppose it did. And…you did good back there, Remus.” Roman awkwardly rubbed his neck. “Thank you.”

Remus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise but, before he could say anything, Virgil and Janus came barrelling towards them.

“Roman!” Virgil exclaimed, “you did it!”

Roman shrugged his shoulders and glanced at his twin brother. “Honestly? It was a team effort. Remus was the one to get through to him at first.”

“Really?” Virgil asked while Janus just smiled a little over at Remus.

Roman nodded and then asked, “are you two alright?” He couldn’t imagine what being under Logan’s “spell” was like. He didn’t think he’d ever ask. He was glad everyone else in the town was completely imaginary or copies of other people in the real world.

“A little drowsy, to be completely honest with you,” Janus replied with a half-smile.

“That was not my experience,” Virgil grumbled, arms crossed. “It was like I was in a constant battle. ‘Walk,’ Logan’s voice would tell me. ‘No,’ I would tell him back. Back and forth and back and forth.”

The four sides went silent as the door to Logan and Patton’s house opened. Patton and Logan exchanged one last word with one another before they kissed and Patton closed the door shut. Logan jogged down to where Roman and the others stood.

“It’s time to go home,” Logan said, trying to sound brave but his wobbly voice gave him away.

Logan made a flourish with his hands and an opened door appeared in front of all of them. “I think this might be the first and last time I create a world,” he said. “My hypothesis is that I was going through such a great deal of grief that I touched into a power that all of us have but only Roman and Remus have access to it easily and on a larger scale.”

Roman smiled and placed a comforting hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Let’s all sit on the couch together. We can watch a movie and talk about our memories with Patton.”

“I think I have a bunch of photos in a box under my bed and pinned around my room,” Virgil added in. “You could make a scrapbook.”

Logan took in a deep, steadying, breath. He turned around to look at the blue house behind him before saying, “I’d like that. And, um, if you guys want, I can prepare everyone some hot chocolate.”

Oh, she'd want it 

If she knew 

She could take it, 

I thought too 

Be careful be cautious, but you just wished harder 

You waited smiling for this

Logan sat in the dark of his room, his curtains drawn shut to block out the full moon outside. His lights were off, his computer on, and his glass empty. His cursor blinked at him as his eyes followed the letters of his title--an essay on “The Murder of Roger Ackroyd”.

He made no move to start writing. All he had done was the standard MLA format his professor wanted and the title of his five paged essay due in 24 hours.

Logan was thirsty and, for the thousandth time, picked up his empty glass, hoping to get even a tiny drop of water into his dry mouth. He couldn’t do his work. He couldn’t even get up to fill his glass with water.

But they love you, over and over

They love you

Thousands and thousands of eyes just like mine

Aching to find who they are

Oh they love you

Oh you can feel how they love you

Coated and warm, but that's all they can do

Words only get through if they're sharp

Logan glanced at his bedroom wall, filled with high school and middle school awards for math, science, and English.

“Logan Sanders is destined for greatness”, his local newspaper had written with a picture of him on his high school stage, giving his valedictorian speech. That article seemed permanently stuck to the fridge with its pristine edges and smooth paper. He wanted to rip it up into a million tiny pieces and never see it again. 

“His work ethic is immaculate”, his math teacher had told his parents on parent teacher night last year. “He will excel in university, no doubt about it.” What if they all knew he was atrocious at studying and only crammed the night before? He had coasted through all 13 years of his schooling and never once managed to get the work ethic or study skills needed for university.

Logan took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He thought of his parents, currently fast asleep in their bedroom, and couldn’t get the image of them crying at his graduation, their eyes shining with pride. What if they knew about his math mid-term grade he had been hiding for weeks now?

Oh how fitting for one so fake

Make me a fairy whatever it takes

And just like her tale my dream was a scam

You waited smiling for this

I am burnt out I smell of smoke it seeps through her cracks and so I start to choke

Sentences sit in her mouth that are templated

You waited smiling for this

Logan only managed to heave himself out of his chair when his bladder was about to burst.

Washing his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror and saw tears running down his face. He hadn't even remember when he had begun to cry. He quickly looked down, avoiding his red-ringed eyes and left the bathroom in a rush. “I’m fine,” he muttered to himself.

Only when he sat back down again did he realise he could have brought his glass to the bathroom to fill it up. Logan wanted to scream. Instead, he gripped his pencil and snapped it in two. It felt oddly therapeutic.

But they love you, over and over

They love you

Thousands and thousands of eyes just like mine

Aching to find who they are

Oh they love you

Oh you can feel how they love you

Coated and warm, but that's all they can do

Words only get through if they're sharp

Logan picked up his phone and, his thumb, on autopilot, almost swiped over and clicked the blue Twitter app. He had to physically restrain his brain from tapping it.

Instead, he redirected his thumb to the messages app and he opened Roman’s contact. He stared at the tiny profile picture he had of him. It was taken the day of graduation and Roman had tipped his graduation hat down to reveal the glittery rainbow he had painted on it a couple nights before.

How Logan wished he could be like Roman. Roman had known exactly what he wanted to be when he grew up--an actor. And so, Roman went into acting school. Roman had something to look forward to. He had something that kept him going.

And what did Logan have? The only reason he went to university was because everyone expected him to. He hadn’t even chosen a major yet. He was just doing general courses. Everyone expected him to choose something in STEM and they all had the same reaction when Logan told them he was just doing general courses to “keep his options open”.

And, even if he did have a goal in mind, would that change anything? Or would it make failure even worse?

Maybe I'll talk about it

I can just talk about it

I'll never talk about it

No, I cannot talk about it

Logan began typing out a message to Roman. Are you awake? He deleted it. Of course Roman wasn’t awake--Roman didn’t suffer from insomnia like he did. Roman slept like a baby. 

How did your date go? Backspace again. Too casual for a time like this. Who even asked that question at three in the morning? 

I feel exhausted and want to curl up in a ball for the rest of eternity. Oh hell no. Logan aggressively hit the backspace button again, turned off his phone, and threw it onto his bed next to him.

Don't build hope on something broken

I am not cartoon

Cry for help, I am not joking

I might just leave soon.

Logan spent another hour staring at his computer, doing absolutely nothing. He scrolled through Twitter, did some research on the black plague that was purely recreational, and came up with a whole new Sherlock Holmes book in his head.

By the time four o’clock rolled around, Logan decided to turn in for the night. He quickly checked his calendar and barely managed to process he had a 9:30am class the next morning.

He rolled out of his chair and onto his bed. He could feel something jabbing into his side. It took him a moment to realise it was his phone he had thrown over earlier but made no move to pick it up or change his position.

His door creaked open and his cat padded into the room. It jumped up on the bed and laid down across Logan’s chest. The pressure felt nice--like his cat was a weighted blanket.

Roman watched with bated breath as Patton kneeled down and ran his fingers over the boards carefully. He paused at one specific spot and dug his fingernails between the boards. They creaked and eventually gave way, half of the board flipping up so it looked like a seesaw. Patton pulled up a couple more boards so the three of them could get down into the little room below.

Once the three of them got in, Roman was pleasantly surprised by how roomy it was. There was a small desk and two chairs with plenty of extra space.

“Whoah, even I didn’t know about this place,” Satomi said, stomping her feet on the stone floor and inspecting the chairs.

“I found this place last year,” Patton explained with a smile. “I was studying for exams one night and I think I was a little loopy. I had heard there were secret rooms and passageways in the castle and wondered if my dorm had them. I took what was supposed to be a thirty minute break and happened upon this place. Cool, huh?”

Roman eyed the desk and noticed a dark book. As he reached out to grab it, Satomi smacked his hand away. “Don’t touch that unless you’ve got gloves! We don’t want your fingerprints and finger oils all over it!”

“Uh,” Patton said, scratching his neck awkwardly, “I already touched it plenty of times before.”

Satomi crossed her arms, miffed, and stood on one of the chairs so she could climb out of the secret room. “I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t touch anything else while I’m gone. You hear me? Nothing.”

Five minutes later, Satomi came back in with three pairs of disposable, blue, gloves the hospital would have and a notebook and pencil. “They’re non-latex,” she added in as she passed them out.

Roman wondered how often Satomi used these disposable gloves. He pictured a box of them on her nightstand in her dorm.

“Now you can pick up the book,” Satomi said with a nod, laying her notebook and pencil on the desk.

Roman greedily reached his hands out to pick up the thick book. He flipped to the first page. The handwriting was so loopy and regal it was almost too hard to pick out.

This diary belongs to Philomena Scharf

Satomi grabbed the book out of Roman’s hands. “Sorry,” she muttered apologetically as she began flicking through the pages quickly, her eyes roving over the writing. Was she a really fast reader or was she just looking through the diary to find one specific word? Whatever Satomi was thinking was something important, Roman could tell. The tension in the room was crushing.

“What is it?” Patton asked, looking over her shoulder, eyebrows furrowed.

Satomi hadn’t finished flicking through when Roman could practically see the light bulb go off in her head. “I think Philomena is the founder of this school! Her handwriting is exactly like Ronan’s,” Satomi said, putting down the journal.

“Are you sure?” Patton asked, scratching his head. “We learned about Ronan M.V. Gighe-Lapillio in history class and I did a project on him. Him actually being Philomena doesn’t really make sense. I mean, just the fact that—” Patton’s eyes went as large as saucers.

“What is it?” Satomi demanded impatiently.

Patton picked up the notebook and pencil Satomi had laid down and began scrawling something on it, biting his lip in the process. “Have you ever thought…” he began, then trailed off as he erased something. “Have you ever thought,” Patton tried again, “that the M and V in Ronan’s name doesn’t actually stand for anything in particular?” He threw the notebook down on the desk in victory, a smug smile on his face.

Both Roman and Satomi looked down at the page in curiosity.

Ronan M.V. Gighe-Lapillio

R O N A N M V G I G H E L A P I L L I O

L O G A N V I R G I L P H I L O M E N A

Logan & Virgil & Philomena

Roman slowly turned to Satomi and Satomi slowly turned to look at Roman. They both swiveled to look at Patton.

“H-how?” Satomi asked, shocked. She picked up the notebook and began double-checking it, chewing the top of her pencil as she did.

“I knew all those word-scrambling apps I downloaded on my phone would be useful one day,” Patton said with a grin. “I kinda got obsessed this summer. Remy said I had a problem.”

“This is incredible! This proves that the three of them didn’t die in the resistance attack!” Satomi exclaimed, jumping up and down. “I have to show mom! I have actual proof this time instead of theories without evidence…”

Roman picked up Philomena’s journal idly as Satomi kept rambling on, and flipped to a page that seemed close to where Satomi had left off. His parents always complained about how kids these days couldn’t read handwriting and it hadn't really bothered him except now because it took him a good minute to decode a word like “especially” in Philomena’s writing.

A small piece of ripped paper delicately fell to the floor. Satomi stopped speaking and all three of them looked at it for a good minute before Roman bent down to pick it up.

The page was yellowed with age and one corner seemed to be burnt. Roman recognized the handwriting from the alleged letters between Prince Logan and Prince Virgil. This time, the handwriting was easier to read.

“This is a ruined letter anyway,” Roman read aloud. “I will burn this once I let some of my thoughts out. Yesterday, I told everyone I was going for another walk to pick up Virgil’s letter. I don’t think I can use that excuse anymore as Lillian looked at me rather oddly. I believe she’s becoming suspicious of me and all my walks. Maybe I’ll get Mabel to distract her next time. If there is a next time. It takes too long to write letters then find a good time to walk into the woods and then wonder when Logan will respond and take another walk. It’s worth it, though. I’m glad—” Roman paused, furrowing his eyebrows. “That’s all that’s there.”

Satomi inspected Philomena’s journal. “There’s nothing in here about that letter. I assume when Logan burned the letter he didn’t burn all of it and Philomena found it later on. Although you would think she’d write about it in her diary…” she said, trailing off.

“What about that?” Patton asked, pointing at the diary.

Roman quickly wrapped around Satomi to see what the two of them were goggling at. “Oh,” he breathed. Two full pages were blacked out with what looked like charcoal. None of the words on those pages were readable.

“Why would she do that?” Roman asked.

“Either Virgil and/or Logan did it without Philomena’s permission or Philomena did it herself after Virgil and/or Logan asked her to,” Satomi said.

“You think it’s possible she was in on the secret?” Roman said.

“Of course. After all, the person she was supposed to marry ended up with her brother. I don’t think it would be really easy to hide that kind of thing,” Satomi replied with a roll of her eyes. She straightened her spine in excitement, “c’mon, we gotta show my mom! First, we got to go to my dorm and pick up the biography of Ronan so we can prove the handwriting is the same as Philomena’s.”

Satomi’s dorm was in the basement close to the kitchens. She shared it with five other girls. “Apparently a couple of valets used to live here,” Satomi explained with a shrug as she grabbed the biography. And then they were off again.

The three of them rushed through the hallways and up the stairs to Ms. Yano’s classroom where she was quietly organizing her books.

“Mom! Mom! You gotta take a look at what we found! You’re not going to believe this!” Satomi practically yelled, sprinting to the desk and dropping Philomena’s diary, Ronan’s biography, and the notebook on it with a loud bang.

Ms. Yano turned around and cocked her head to the side. “Yes?” She asked with a closed lip smile, her eyes wide in false-listening. She sat down behind her desk but she looked like she would rather be anywhere but.

“Mom, look,” Satomi opened up Philomena’s diary and then a page in Ronan’s biography. “Patton’s room is Prince Logan’s old room and we found Philomena’s diary in a secret room below.” She began explaining everything, pointing to the notebook where Patton had unscrambled Ronan’s long name into the two princes and Philomena’s names.

Ronan and Patton listened excitedly and watched as Ms. Yano’s face grew more interested in what her daughter had to say.

Patton silently took off his gloves and gave them to Ms. Yano who quickly put them on and instantly picked up Philomena’s diary. “Amazing…although I wonder why it wasn’t found earlier…”

Satomi showed the half-burned piece of paper written by Virgil. “And this is a messed up letter Prince Virgil wrote!” She pulled out her phone and brought up the pictures of the letters they had seen at the library. “The handwriting matches up perfectly to whoever ‘Sweet Violet’ is. Which is Prince Virgil. Which means my theory that he and Prince Logan were in a romantic relationship is fully backed up!” Satomi breathed in deeply and grinned excitedly. “What d’ya think?”

“Am I…interrupting something?” A voice asked.

Roman snapped his head around and saw Headmistress Crespo in the doorway, looking much less regal with her honey-blonde hair piled on top of her head and in a simple t-shirt and jeans.

Satomi deflated and she scowled at the headmistress. “You are, actually.”

Ms. Yano shot a glare her daughter’s way before bringing her attention back to Headmistress Crespo. “I’m sorry, Emilia. My daughter and her friends were just showing me something.” She stood up from her desk.

“I brought the book you were looking for, the librarian had it under her desk which is why it took so long…” the headmistress met Satomi’s cold gaze and trailed off. “Maybe I could come back some other time…?”

“That would be a good—” Satomi began but her mom cut her off.

“No, stay. This is important and you should probably know about it too.” Ms. Yano cocked her head to the side and looked over at Satomi. “Would you mind explaining it to her?”

“I would mind, actually,” Satomi said, stubbornly sitting down at one of the front desks. “You always say you listen when I’m talking so let’s see if you were telling the truth. Tell Emilia what we figured out.”

Ms. Yano’s cheeks flushed a little and her eyebrows drew down in anger. “Young lady, that is no way to treat your elders. You should call your headmistress by her proper title.”

Roman and Patton exchanged a glance. Maybe they should leave? They both inched closer to the exit.

“And by her proper title do you mean step-mother? Is that any way to treat dad?” Satomi yelled, stomping her foot, her voice cracking.

Both Ms. Yano and Headmistress Crespo took in a sharp breath at the same time, glancing nervously between each other.

Satomi crossed her arms as Ms. Yano rushed to her door to quickly close and lock it. Roman and Patton seemed to be invisible at the moment. “I saw you two together when me and mom were supposed to have our nightly hot chocolates in her room. I open my door and what do I see? My mom and another woman locking lips!”

Headmistress Crespo gulped.

“Satomi…” Ms. Yano said gently. “Please, calm down, I can explain.”

“You can explain why you’re cheating on dad? Why, in every aspect, you’re a cruddy mom? You never listen to me and every time I say something you always have to find a way to criticize it. Oh, Prince Logan and Prince Virgil were in a secret relationship? Satomi,” she said, raising the pitch of her voice, “there’s absolutely no facts on that theory, oh, you can be so funny.” Her voice went back to normal, “and that was that. You didn’t even think about them as a possibility. Because everything I say you never take into consideration!”

Ms. Yano looked close to crying, she was as still as a statue. Roman felt very out of his depth and wanted to leave. “Satomi,” she said, “you have every right to be angry—”

Satomi looked up at her mom defiantly, chin raised high, “you’re absolutely right. And dad has every right to know what his wife’s been up to these past couple of years when he’s been having a grand ol’ time in Germany, huh, mom?” She grabbed her phone off the desk.

Pure panic took over both women’s faces but Headmistress Crespo was the first to speak. “Satomi, I know our relationship has been…rough.”

“Understatement of the decade,” Satomi said, searching for her dad’s contact on her phone.

Headmistress Crespo held her breath. “I’m not a descendant of the Sanders,” she said, all in one rush, bursting out crying.

This made Satomi pause for a second. “You want me to feel bad for you?” She continued on scrolling. “I’ve known that from the first time I’ve met you. Ah, here it is.”

“I’m actually related to the old head chef, Emese, not even actual royalty,” Headmistress Crespo continued, her mascara beginning to go spidery.

Ms. Yano stepped up to comfort her but one look from Satomi made her freeze. “You never told me about that,” Ms. Yano said softly. “Weren’t her and the queen good friends?”

Roman could hear the quiet ringing of Satomi’s phone.

“They used to be,” Headmistress Crespo wailed, pulling hair out of her mouth. “But then Emese blackmailed Queen Alice into doing her bidding because she knew that the queen had an illegitimate baby with the king before their marriage!” She broke down into even more sobbing.

“What?” Satomi said sharply. “Queen Alice and King James had another child before Prince Logan?”

Headmistress Crespo nodded. “I’ve heard you tell people that I’m fake royalty and it’s true. I'm incredibly sorry for what I’ve done to your family. I don’t want to be my ancestor and do horrible things to people. I know you won’t forgive me but please let myself and Akemi be the ones to tell your dad.”

“Squirt? That you?” A male’s voice asked, coming from Satomi’s phone.

Satomi didn’t say anything. She stared at Headmistress Crespo, hard.

“Satomi? You okay?” Satomi’s dad tried again, a little more worry in his voice. “Are you there?” He paused. “Akemi?”

“Uh, hi dad!” Satomi finally said, her voice strained. “Sorry, I must’ve butt dialed you.”

“Well, shoot. How have you been doing?”

Satomi glanced around nervously and breathed a sigh of relief when the loud bell rang. “Oh sorry, dad, I’ve got to go. That’s the warning bell. Call you later? Our usual time?”

“Of course. See ya squirt, have fun at school!” The line went dead.

Ms. Yano and the headmistress both visibly sighed out in relief. “Thank you, Satomi.” Headmistress Crespo had stopped crying and was pulling out her bun and beginning to redo it.

“I didn’t do it because of you,” Satomi said sharply, glaring at the headmistress. “Dad should hear that his wife’s been unloyal from his wife, not his daughter. But you better do it sooner rather than later,” she added, pointing a finger at her mom.

“Of course,” Ms. Yano said with a nod and the room was thrusted into awkward silence.

“This, uh, illegitimate royal child…” Roman began, awkwardly clearing his throat. “You don’t suppose that’s who I’m descended from?”

“That would make sense,” Satomi said, seemingly unbothered by the fact that she had just had a very personal conversation in front of two people who were not part of the picture. She turned to Headmistress Crespo glaringly. “What do you know about Queen Alice’s firstborn?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. All I know is that the little guy wasn’t even named—he was sent off to some other kingdom and put up for adoption practically the moment he was born. It would almost be impossible to figure out what happened to him.”

The late bell rang and seemed to break everyone out of their stupor. Headmistress Crespo walked over to Ms. Yano’s desk and ripped out two pages from Satomi’s notebook. “I’ll write you three late passes, then you should probably hurry along to your classes.”

“Satomi?” Ms. Yano asked as they were about to leave the room. “Why don’t you come up to my room for hot chocolate tonight after your call with your dad? You can tell me about anything you want. I’ll listen. I’m sorry I haven’t been paying much attention to you recently. I wanted to give you some space since you’re getting older and I, myself, find it hard to pay attention for long periods of time when others are talking. I’m going to try to get better, I swear. What do you say?”

Satomi looked at her mom for the longest time before finally nodding. “Sounds like a plan.”

***

“I’ve always loved surprises and mysteries but I think I’m all mystery-ed out,” Roman said, following Satomi down to the basement. It was a couple weeks later and everything seemed a bit smoother. Satomi and her mom were having nightly get-togethers whenever they could, Ms. Yano’s husband was arriving at Violet Branch in a couple of weeks, and Patton was officially going to stay home next year for his senior year with his boyfriend.

“This is the last one,” Satomi said. “I thought I should probably share this place with someone else,” she added in with a shrug. She stopped at her dorm door and knocked. “Anyone in there?” She cracked open the door and peeked inside. “Empty. Come on in.”

“Where are we going?” Roman asked hesitantly, glancing around the large room.

“I found this place one evening in the summer a couple of years ago running from Crespo after I put glitter in her shampoo,” Satomi explained, walking to the furthest wall and kicking over a heavy rug which revealed a trapdoor.

At Roman’s apprehension, Satomi said, “it’s not too long, I promise.” She pulled open the trapdoor and jumped down inside. “I’ve found a couple of tunnels underground. A couple of them lead to Betrug, across the woods. But this one. This one isn’t like the others.”

They began walking, using Satomi’s trusty penlight to light the way. Roman’s chest was buzzing with curiosity and he felt like he was about to see something momentous. This felt different from when he and Satomi were going to the library. He couldn’t explain it, but it did.

“So, I hear your two roommates have begun to date,” Satomi said with a small smile.

“I feel happy for them,” Roman said, nodding. “They really work together. Oskar knows what Maxime’s saying without him saying it. It’s like magic. I just hope if they ever get into arguments, they won’t keep me awake,” he added in with a laugh.

They began climbing a rope ladder.

“I put in a new ladder after I found this place, the old one practically disintegrated into my hands,” Satomi said, popping the penlight into her mouth.

This was the first secret tunnel Roman had been in that had a ladder. It wasn’t his favourite thing ever, he decided as he felt his hands burning.

“Here we are,” Satomi finally said, letting go of one hand on the rope ladder to push up the wooden door above her. It creaked violently before giving way, the cool, evening, air rushing down.

After Satomi helped Roman up, he finally got a good look at the place.

“It’s the tallest tower of the castle,” Satomi said quietly, the harsh wind whipping her hair around.

Roman walked over to the edge, leaning over the rail. It was smoothed down from years and years of hard weather.

Satomi pointed upwards and Roman couldn’t help but breath out in wonder. Stars. So many of them. They twinkled and shone, the lights from the town and the castle casting a soft glow around them. Where they were so high up, the night sky looked endless.

“It’s beautiful,” Roman muttered, bringing his sweater closer to him. “Freezing, but beautiful.”

Logan closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, imagining going for walks through their kingdom like how Philomena and Virgil did. It sounded so exciting and different. He wished his own kingdom could work like that.

As soon as the carriage made its way into the Scharf’s kingdom, Logan was blown away by how bright Betrug was. There seemed to be large trees and greenery and flowers everywhere he turned. The citizens seemed happy and were wearing colourful clothes, the houses stained blue, red, yellow, and green.

However, upon closer inspection, Logan noticed rotten walls, sunken in rooves, and very few glass windows. The buildings in his kingdom were made of stone and, while bland and grey, were at least sturdy and kept out the cold.

The carriage made its way past the large pond in the middle of the kingdom where there were probably two guards for every person lounging on the bank with blankets and picnic baskets.

Soon, Logan was at the entrance of the massive stone castle which looked regal and strong compared to the little wooden houses surrounding it. King Eric, Queen Isolde, Philomena, Virgil, and their three other siblings were at the doorway, looking very menacing. Is this what Philomena and Virgil felt when his family greeted them when they stepped out of the carriage?

The coachman opened the door for him and Logan stepped out, back straight and his head up. Just what his parents expected. The words his mother told him before he left rang in his ears: “You must be a good prince in front of the Scharf’s. Being with your future wife’s family, you must be extra careful and vigilant.”

Logan had been conflicted—he had always been careful and a good prince. Was there something that could suggest he wasn’t? Through most of the carriage ride, he had gone through anything that could have possibly tarnished his image as the perfect prince. But nothing came to mind.

“Logan!” King Eric bounded down the steps with a smile on his face. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Logan made his way to the king, not daring to look at Virgil in case his face would go pink or his heart would start hammering so loudly that King Eric would hear.

Logan bowed, “it’s a pleasure to meet you as well, King Eric.”

King Eric patted Logan’s back. “Aw, we don’t need all this formality—we’re all royals here. Just call me Eric.”

Logan would rather jump off a cliff than ever call King Eric Eric. But he smiled anyway, goodnaturedly. “I’m afraid not, Your Majesty, my mother taught me to always address royalty and nobility with their proper titles.”

“What a respectful young man,” Queen Isolde said with a small smile, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around King Eric’s left arm. She glanced over at her children playfully, “some of you ought to take notes.”

Logan was utterly flabbergasted by the informal-ness of it all. His parents wouldn’t be caught dead telling people to call them by their first name or joking with him. It was just another way the Scharf family was different from his own.

Some maids and valets began unloading his things for the five days he would be staying at Virgil and Philomena’s castle.

King Eric gestured for his children to come forward, “come introduce yourself, children.” He lowered his voice, “they are very excited to meet you,” he winked, “it’s not everyday the prince from across the woods comes to visit.”

The youngest one got to Logan first. “Hi Prince Logan, I’m Peter. I can’t wait to have another older brother! Maybe you can play hide-and-go-seek with me,” he pouted.

Logan’s lips quirked upwards but didn’t say anything.

“My name’s Mabel,” Mabel said with a short curtsey. “Glad to make your acquaintance.”

Lillian firmly locked her gaze with Logan before saying, “I’m Lillian. I hope at least you’re tolerable.”

“Uh, thank you?” Logan said, not liking how it sounded like a question.

Philomena smiled and discreetly rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind her, come on, I’d like to show you around Betrug.”

“Be back before tea,” King Eric called out as Philomena and Logan made their way away from the castle and into the bustle of the town.

“Virgil, you go along with them and watch out,” Queen Isolde added in.

“When did I become a personal guard?” Virgil grumbled but walked over to Philomena and Logan nonetheless.

When they were out of earshot, Logan said, “I thought you said that you could walk around your kingdom without any guards?”

Philomena sighed. “You usually can. But, recently, there have been whispers of a resistance.”

“A resistance? What are they possibly upset about?” But then Logan remembered the rotting houses, the cracks in all the wooden buildings…but, if it was about housing, wouldn’t the resistance be created long before that?

Philomena didn’t respond—she just wrung her hands tightly near her stomach. Logan glanced back for a response from Virgil. “They’re upset that Philomena’s marrying you.”

Logan stopped dead in his tracks.

“It’s only a small portion of citizens and they wouldn’t try anything in broad daylight,” Philomena said, but Logan was already spiralling. He knew his kingdom had a bad reputation compared to Betrug, but he didn’t think it was worth creating a resistance. “Do you guys know who they are?”

Virgil shook his head, “No. They’re taking extra precaution to keep everyone’s identity a secret. However,” he lowered his voice, and Logan’s eyes lingered on Virgil’s lips a little too long, “their leader seems to be a woman, Ann, but it’s a pseudonym because there is no one named Ann in this kingdom.”

Logan exhaled, thousands of incidents running through his mind. “Is it possible that the resistance could strike while I’m here?”

“It’s entirely possi—I mean, hey!” Virgil said as Philomena jabbed her elbow in Virgil’s side. “I’m just being honest!”

“You’ll be fine,” Philomena reassured him. “As I said before, nobody would dare try something in broad daylight. The resistance’s views are the minority.”

“Do you have a percentage on that?” It would be comforting just to see how little the population hated him. Unless they were lying and there were more people who hated him. In that case, he was comfortable in staying ignorant on the exact numbers.

As they continued through Betrug, Logan could feel the underlying question just waiting to be brought up by one of them as soon as they were completely alone. What are we going to be doing about the wedding?

***

“There has to be some way to stop it from going ahead,” Virgil muttered, later that day after tea. They were in a little hidden room near the kitchens which was bustling with activity with supper preparations. It was the perfect noise to hide their voices.

“There is no way to do this without being banished or jailed,” Philomena said, tapping her quil against her journal in thought.

“Or dying,” Virgil added in.

“Or dying. Yes,” Logan nodded, leaning against one of the walls and racking his brain for something useful. “We could…” Logan trailed off and Philomena and Virgil turned to stare at him. “We could fake our deaths.”

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” Philomena asked skeptically. “It would have to be convincing and if we don’t want to frame somebody, it’ll have to look like an accident.”

“And it’s not like we can just pretend to fall off a cliff because there has to be a body to prove that we’ve died,” Virgil added in.

“We could bribe someone to be our fake witness,” Logan said again. “Then, they won’t need bodies.”

“But they might think that that poor fellow murdered us. And we’d need to find someone trustworthy enough to not tattle on us and get a greater reward for turning us in,” Philomena said, biting her bottom lip.

If Irwin were still around, Logan knew he would help them in a heartbeat. But if Irwin had been here, would they have kissed all those weeks ago? Perhaps everything had happened how they were supposed to. Logan wasn’t sure he believed in fate but it was the only way he could conclude this train of thought.

Virgil glanced over at him curiously. “What are you thinking about?”

Logan pursed his lips and turned away just slightly. Should he tell Virgil about Irwin? He felt guilty even though there was nothing to be guilty about. He sighed and finally relented, telling Virgil and Philomena about his relationship with Irwin and how Irwin wanted to show him something the night the siblings arrived and how Irwin was fired by his own mother because she saw them holding hands.

“I’ve come to realize that our relationship was kind of one-sided. He helped me get through so many things and I hardly know anything about him…” Logan finished, wincing at how that sounded. He wished he had asked more questions instead of being on the receiving end of them. “But he was my only friend at the time…”

“Your mother fired Irwin?” Philomena repeated.

Logan nodded slowly, Virgil came around and held his hand.

“I think you’ve got it all wrong,” Philomena said, rustling around until she was holding up a page in her journal.

“What are you talking about?” Logan asked, confused. “My mother fired Irwin.

Philomena cleared her throat and read: “While walking through the halls of the Sanders’ palace, I overheard two women in a room. I didn’t try to eavesdrop—but they were whispering rather ferociously. One of them sounded like Queen Alice! She addressed the other woman as Emese.”

The head cook, Logan thought, eyes wide.

“They were obviously arguing and it seemed to be about whether or not to fire a valet. They didn’t mention a name but the queen seemed adamant about keeping him while Emese seemed determined to fire the poor fellow. I didn’t know what the valet’s crime was but, if the queen was defending him, I believed the valet was in the right. I felt bad because I think Emese won the argument.” Philomena looked up from her journal and stared over at Logan. “I don’t think your mother wanted to fire Irwin.”

“But she’s the queen, she could have kept him if she wanted to!” Logan exclaimed, voice breaking.

Virgil squeezed his hand tighter, “Emese and your mother must have been close. She must have told Emese about what she saw and didn’t want to lose their friendship.”

“Again,” Logan said sharply, “she’s the queen.”

Philomena fiddled with her skirt. “If they were close,” she said slowly, “what if Emese knew something your mother didn’t want people to know? Then Queen Alice would want to save her image and fire Irwin so Emese wouldn’t spill.”

“What could Emese possibly have on my mother?” Logan asked out loud, knowing no one really knew the answer but asking it anyway.

“It would have to be something big,” Virgil said. “Really, really, big.”

That night, at supper, Logan felt slightly overwhelmed. It seemed that everyone was talking over each other and someone was always asking him a question which he just barely managed to answer before being thrown another.

“Do you have any pets?” Peter asked, shoving food into his mouth. “We used to have a dog but he died.”

“Uh, no,” Logan shook his head.

“It must be so lonely without siblings,” Mabel said, pity in her eyes. “And no pets to keep you company.”

“I would love to be an only child,” Lillian grumbled, loud enough that only Logan and Virgil managed to hear.

“What’s the food like?” Peter asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“They’re in the same country as us, Pete,” Lillian said with a roll of her eyes. “They’re just across the woods from us.”

“Yeah, the food is pretty much the same,” Logan nodded. Probably better here, he added in his head. Most of their old chefs had quit in the past couple of years and they had had to hire new ones which weren’t as experienced.

“I hear your garden is exquisite,” Mabel said. “Do you have a favourite flower? Mine are roses.”

“Trust Mabel to ask the boring questions,” Lilian grumbled quietly as she ate her food. “She even has the most boring favourite flower. Honestly? Roses?”

“Uh, I like cornflowers,” Logan responded, shrugging.

“How are James and Alice doing?” Queen Isolde asked, cocking her head to the side. Logan’s parents would have someone fired for addressing them by their first name. It even sounded wrong in Logan’s ears.

“Oh, uh, they’re fine. Doing well,” Logan nodded awkwardly. He glanced at Virgil for a split second before bringing his attention back to the queen.

“I heard about all the unrest over there,” Queen Isolde mentioned, pityingly. “Horrible, really. Do tell your parents if they need any help, they can just send us a letter and we’ll try to lend a hand.” She winked, good-naturedly, “us royals have to stick together.”

“Why does your kingdom look so grey and bleh,” Lillian cut in, making a face.

“That’s because almost all of our buildings are made of stone,” Logan explained, noticing the queen giving Lillian a look.

She immediately straightened up and plastered a smile on her face. “I hope you’ll sleep well tonight,” Lillian said in a fake-happy tone.

Mabel turned to her sister, agast. “What did you do to his bedroom?”

“I didn’t do anything. I’m just saying that I hope he has a good night's sleep. I thought I was merely being polite,” Lillian shrugged.

“It is polite unless it’s coming from you,” Philomena said, pointing her fork at Lillian. “What did you do this time? Spiders? Snakes?”

Logan’s eyebrows drew down in confusion. Spiders and snakes in his bedroom?

Lillian rolled her eyes but she was grinning. “Can’t I have any fun around here?”

“Young lady, I want you to clean up whatever mess you made in Logan’s room, you hear me?” Queen Isolde snapped, pointing a finger down the hall.

Lillian stood up. pushed herself away from the table and walked leisurely away. “I was done eating anyway,” she said as she turned the corner and disappeared.

“We’ll assign you a different bedroom,” Queen Isolde said, apologetically. “Lillian thinks these pranks are funny.”

“She rubbed some kind of itch-inducing powder on my pillow last week,” Philomena piped up.

“She put that same stuff on my clothes too,” King Eric exclaimed with a boisterous laugh.

Queen Isolde shook her head, “sometimes she goes too far. I thought she would grow out of it eventually…” she trailed off.

“Mom, she still is a child—let her have her fun,” Mabel said with a sigh. “Dad told me that at seventeen you pranked dad by pretending to be a ghost in the castle for a good eight months. Flour on your face…long, white, nightgown…staring longingly out lit windows…”

Queen Isolde slapped her husband on the arm playfully. “Eric,” she said, but she was smiling, “when did you tell her about that?”

King Eric just laughed and banged the table until the glasses were shaking and the whole table had erupted into laughter. It was the happiest Logan had ever seen a family.

***

The next morning, Philomena and Virgil showed Logan more of the castle. The Scharf’s castle matched its kingdom—falsely bright. Hundreds of paintings adorned the walls that hid the dirty and cracked stone.

Lillian sharply turned the corner and almost banged into Philomena who was in the front. Virgil and Logan stepped away from each other quickly.

Lillian grinned mischievously. “Perfect timing,” she grabbed Philomena’s arm and began dragging her off. “I gotta show you something.”

Once their footsteps had faded away Logan snuggled up closer to Virgil and intertwined their hands together.

Logan smiled contentedly. “What do you suppose she wants to show Philomena?”

Virgil shrugged. “Probably some prank she set up for our mom. I can’t imagine why she needs Philomena.”

“Maybe she wants a witness to her chaos,” Logan replied idly as they continued on down the hall.

Virgil chuckled, “maybe.”

They made their way to the castle’s grounds which were filled with colourful flowers, fountains, and tall, symmetrical, trees.

“Your place is beautiful,” Logan mumbled quietly, touching a rose’s red petal gently.

Virgil didn’t say anything, just squeezed Logan’s hand.

That was when they heard the first shriek. “Help! Someone!”

Virgil dropped Logan’s hand. “Philomena,” he said, eyes wide, and he began running towards the noise.

Logan struggled to catch up but soon they had vaulted over the stone fence and into the woods that separated Logan and Virgil’s kingdoms.

Up ahead, Logan could see a figure in a black cloak with what looked like Philomena with a burlap sack over her head. She wasn’t making any sounds—probably gagged. Then, they turned behind a massive oak tree and vanished.

Virgil skidded to a halt at the tree. “Wh-how?”

“Must be some kind of secret base underground,” Logan panted out, trying to catch his breath. Maybe he should take up jogging. Virgil didn’t even look fazed by the intense running.

Virgil began running his hands along all the oak tree and trees nearby, inspecting the ground. “It looked like they just disappeared into thin air.” He paused before saying quietly, “they wouldn’t…kill her, would they?”

“No,” Logan shook his head confidently even though no one could ever be sure. “If I were the resistance, I’d keep her alive and use her as leverage against your parents.”

Virgil calmed a little at this. “Y-yeah. Of course. Leverage.”

Logan joined with Virgil’s searching, thumping his feet on the ground, listening for anything that sounded suspicious. If they went underground, there had to be some kind of hole to actually get down there. “Do you suppose they have Lillian too?”

Virgil became stricken at the words. “They must.”

“But we only saw one person in a burlap sack. Maybe she managed to get away,” Logan said, thinking, continuing to search for anything that could lead them to Philomena.

“Well maybe we should go find her,” Virgil said. “Maybe Lillian saw whoever took Philomena.”

All of a sudden people in matching black cloaks and cloths over their mouths sprung out from behind the trees and tied their hands behind their backs.

Logan struggled and yelled until someone gagged him as well. He saw Virgil kick someone in the face.

Suddenly, another figure appeared and stood right in front of the now gagged and bound princes. She seemed much more powerful and the others glanced her way. Ann, Logan’s mind supplied.

Ann waved her hand and a person near Virgil untied his gag.

“I’m going to murder you,” Virgil spat out.

“Of course,” Ann replied with a kind nod and Logan couldn’t help but think her voice sounded familiar. She waved her hand again and someone untied Logan’s gag.

“Where is Philomena?” Logan asked, glaring at the woman.

“All in due time, Prince Logan,” Ann said with another nod of her head.

Why is she being so nice? Logan asked himself, curling his hand into a fist. It was infuriating.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked, ice in his voice. “You obviously aren’t here to converse in pleasant conversation with us.”

Ann’s eyes crinkled, smiling. “Ann would like an audience with you.”

Both Virgil and Logan swiveled their heads to look at each other, obviously thinking the same thing: she’s not Ann?

Virgil turned back to not-Ann, biting his lip as he contemplated the woman’s offer.

Logan could practically see the gears turning in Virgil’s head. If Virgil spoke to Ann, there was a chance of getting revenge. “Fine. Ann can come here.”

The woman laughed a little. “Oh no, we’re bringing you to Ann.” She waved her hand again and their bound hands were free once again.

“How are you so sure we’re not going to kill you?” Logan asked.

“I’m not the one you’re upset at.”

“But you’re a part of a group who kidnapped the eldest Princess,” Virgil said.

The woman didn’t even turn around as she made her way to the oak tree. “Go ahead and kill me, but you won’t get to meet Ann.”

Virgil visibly bared his teeth but made no move against the woman as he followed her.

The woman glanced upwards and knocked on the trunk of the tree in an intricate pattern that Logan didn’t even try to commit to memory.

“Aren’t you going to blindfold us or something?” Logan asked.

“Always the practical one,” the woman said with a quiet chuckle.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“There’s no need for one,” the woman responded just as a wooden platform dropped down, rope on either corners.

Logan kept his mouth shut but still couldn’t get the nagging feeling that he knew this woman. He began going through all the possible answers which weren’t that many.

The platform they stood on rose high up the tree trunk until they were brought up to a large branch of the oak tree where a door was carved into the trunk. Inside the tree, another pulley system was set up and they slowly descended underground.

They walked for what seemed like twenty minutes in an underground tunnel until they found themselves under a trapdoor.

Logan had been silently mapping this all out and it wasn’t possible they were still in Betrug. There were either in an unmarked part of the woods or smack dab in the middle of his own kingdom.

They climbed up the ladder and found themselves in a small room, a little lantern on a shelf nearby.

“Good morning, Logan and Virgil,” a new voice (yet somehow familiar as well) said and Logan snapped his head around to meet a new cloaked figure. “Welcome. I’m Ann.”

Rage filled Logan but he pushed it down. He wanted to hear what Ann had to say. There must have been a reason to bring both of them here. He would lull Ann into a false sense of security before striking.

The woman that had taken them here nodded her head and stood behind Ann who was sitting in a chair.

Virgil advanced a couple of steps, hands turned into fists.

“Logan, please restrain your boyfriend,” Ann said in a bored voice, crossing her legs.

It occurred to Logan that she was quite short. He made no move to stop Virgil though, he was more shocked to hear that Ann knew about them being together. The only other person to know was Philomena.

“Where is my sister?” Virgil snapped. “And you should be calling us by our proper titles.”

Ann rolled her eyes. “I don’t think I will.” She snapped her fingers. “Go get Philomena before this one goes feral.”

The woman left through the only door in the room and Logan could glimpse bright sunshine before the door was closed again.

“How could you kidnap my sister,” Virgil growled and lunged for Ann.

Ann stood up and moved out of the way quickly. The height difference was more apparent this time without Ann sitting in a chair.

Virgil flung his right hand out and smacked Ann right across the face.

Ann stood stock still and her eyes narrowed. “Are you quite done, Virgil?”

“I don’t think I am—“ Virgil was cut off as Ann reached up and smacked Virgil across the face.

Logan lost control of his rage. “How dare you! Do you not realize who he is?”

Suddenly, the door opened and the woman poked her head through. “Philomena is refusing to come.”

Ann sighed tiredly. “Always stubborn, the Scharf’s are,” she said in a wry tone.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Logan asked coldly, not liking the way Ann was speaking. He couldn’t imagine anyone speaking to royalty like this.

“Follow me if you want to see Philomena,” Ann said as she walked out the door.

Logan squinted at the sudden natural light streaming through the high-set windows as he made his way through the door. “We’re in our old food storage building…”

“You mean the one with the missing goods?” Virgil asked quietly.

Logan nodded. It was completely empty save for a couple of chairs. It wasn’t very large so he could see what he assumed was Philomena at the end of the room, bound and gagged.

Virgil opened his mouth, but Ann beat him to it. “Let her go.”

“Are you sure?” Someone asked.

“Let. Her. Go,” Ann repeated, this time more firmly.

Once Philomena was out of her bounds and ungagged, she went right into Ann’s face. “I don’t know who you are but I don’t think you just realized the severity of what you just did. Kidnapping me? I should just walk out through that door right now.”

“You won’t,” Ann said calmly, crossing her arms definitely.

“And why won’t I?” Philomena asked, glaring down at Ann.

“Because you’re going to hear what I have to say.”

“And why should we listen to you?” Virgil said, stepping up and standing next to Philomena.

Ann pulled off her hood and pulled down the cloth covering most of her face. “Because you will listen to me.”

And there, standing in front of the three of them, was Lillian Scharf. She glared up at her older siblings, no longer looking like the quarrelsome teenager Logan met back at the castle.

“Lillian?” Philomena said, shock written all over her face.

“Sit down—all of you,” Lillian grimaced, pointing her finger at three chairs.

The three of them complied.

“So…this resistance isn’t about the arranged marriage between Philomena and I, isn’t it?” Logan asked.

“What an obtuse observation,” Lillian said dryly.

“Lillian,” Philomena scolded.

“You’re not my mom,” Lillian exclaimed. “Now, listen to me.”

“Why is there a secret tunnel leading to my kingdom and my family’s personal storage building?” Logan demanded. All the anger had drained away and now he was just plain confused.

“Think hard, Logan. Why do you think there’s a secret tunnel leading here, huh?” Lillian paused and, when Logan just gave her a blank look, she sighed. “My parents framed you.”

And that’s when it clicked. Logan’s eyes widened. “Your parents stole the missing goods and planted them here!”

Lillian nodded. “Exactly. And my spy tells me that most of your kingdom’s so-called problems stem from one, single, person.”

“Emese,” the woman who had brought him and Virgil through the tunnel said seriously. She pulled down her own hood and face mask and Logan could clearly see his parent’s most trusted adviser, Clara. “She blackmails your mother into doing things that don’t quite make sense—going easy on the criminals and sending regular citizens to prison, raising the taxes.”

“Do you know what Emese has over my mother?” Logan asked hopefully. Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth a kingdom’s favour.

Clara shook her head. “Unfortunately, no.”

“How long have you known?” Virgil asked hoarsely, face turned downwards, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Since I was 9. I’ve always been a snoop. Although I didn’t actually do anything until I was 11,” Lillian replied.

“She gave me and the rest of the resistance a mini heart attack when she came to one of our meetings,” Clara said with a little laugh.

“Why did you kidnap me?” Philomena asked Lillian. She didn’t look nearly as upset about the realization that her parents were crooks as Virgil was.

“If I kidnapped you and made sure Logan and Virgil heard it, then I’d have all three of you with me without raising suspicions,” Lillian replied.

“Why do you need us?” Virgil asked.

Lillian grinned mischievously. “I technically don’t need you, but I have a proposition to make.”

***

Down below, under the Scharf castle, Logan, Virgil, and Philomena huddled in a small, stone, room. It was completely dark, save for the thin space between the wooden floor and the trapdoor that hid them.

Virgil was shaking next to Logan and he desperately wished he could say anything to make him feel better. But it wasn’t everyday you found out your own parents weren’t as great as you thought they were after years of putting them on a pedestal. Logan just held both of Virgil’s hands tightly instead.

While Virgil was shaking, Philomena was fidgeting. Probably wanting to continuously ask when it would start but Lillian had given the three of them strict orders to be silent.

Logan silently scoffed—since when did he listen to the orders of a fourteen year old?

And that was when the first screams began. Logan could hear one of the servants shriek and then the floor vibrate as she began running, “fire! Fire!”

It sounded like chaos in the castle. The shouts and yelling only got louder and Logan felt Virgil’s body tense up at the sound of someone’s voice going “they’ve got Princess Philomena, Prince Virgil, and Prince Logan!”

But then came the full on shaking and loud bangs. “Lillian didn’t say anything about this…” Philomena whispered, trailing off. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know…” Logan said, feeling his own heartbeat quicken and begged it to slow down before Virgil could sense it. “This wasn’t a part of the plan.”

Virgil shot out of Logan’s arms. “The cannons. They’re using the cannons!” Virgil began hyperventilating and almost knocked the glasses off Logan’s face in searching for the handle of the trapdoor.

Logan blindly flung his arms up and brought Virgil back down against his chest. “You can’t go out there, Virge, you’ll be killed. The power of those cannons could knock this whole place down. We’re safer here.”

“But mom, dad, Mabel, Peter…Lillian!”

Philomena’s hand grazed Logan’s side before, assumingly, finding Virgil’s shoulder. “Lillian’s smart and tough. I’m sure this is all part of the plan. Maybe something went wrong. I’m sure our family’s fine.” But she sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than Virgil.

Another massive boom and then shake and Virgil wiggled out of Logan’s grip. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

But then everything was silent. Oddly silent. The three of them held their breath.

Someone above opened the trapdoor and Logan squinted up before seeing Lillian’s familiar face and sighing in relief. He didn’t see the fat tears rolling down her face until Philomena gasped and asked what happened.

Lillian explained through sobs as she helped the three of them out of the secret room. “They-they went behind my back. All of them. They fired the cannons and brought the whole castle down in ruins…”

As Logan stepped onto the floor where there should have been an enclosed hallway around them, he saw blue skies and rubble all around him. The whole place seemed to be blanketed in smoke.

Lillian brought her two siblings into a hug and her cries wracked her whole body. “Everyone that was in the castle is dead. Our family.”

Philomena began rubbing Lillian’s back soothingly.

“Clara said that the only way to bring in a new era was to get rid of the old monarchy. I can’t believe she’d do this to me—I thought we were friends.”

Logan felt his blood boil. “Where are they now? Where’d they go?” He needed to speak to Clara. He couldn’t bring the rest of the Scharf’s back to life but he needed to do something about this.

“They didn’t tell me,” Lillian sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Clara was the last person to speak to me. She said that the resistance decided to spare me because none of them believed I could do anything about it.”

Logan kicked a massive stone.

“The resistance underestimated you,” Virgil said slowly, his voice hardening. “You can do plenty to get them back.”

Bit by bit, Lillian stopped crying. Her eyes flashed determinedly. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” She paused. “But I need to create a plan.”

“Whatever you come up with, we’ll help you as much as we can. However, I suggest we first find someplace to go. My castle’s out of the question—everyone thinks we’re dead,” Logan said, tapping his foot, thinking about his poor parents without an heir. Now that he had spent his time at the Scharf’s, his parents didn’t seem nearly as bad as he thought.

Roman, who had been so excited to share, suddenly didn’t know how to bring it up. Fragments of sentences bubbled up from inside of him. “The princes! Virgil and Logan! Their relationship. Did you pick up on it? That they were in a relationship?”

Satomi smiled widely. “Yes,” she banged her fists on the table, causing a couple of students nearby to look at her oddly. “Someone finally picked up on it. I’ve been trying to tell mom for years but she never listens to me—she never listens to me a lot of the time anyways,” she rolled her eyes. She plonked three massive waffles onto her plate. “You’re the first person I know who’s realized it.”

“Is there any proof?” Patton asked, looking curiously at Satomi.

Satomi put on her mysterious face as she poured a heaping of maple syrup on her waffles. “Yes and no.”

“How’s that possible?” Roman asked.

“There are letters that I think were sent between Virgil and Logan. However,” she rolled her eyes again, “mom says that since they aren’t signed specifically by Logan and Virgil, it’s jumping to conclusions that they corresponded with each other.”

“Love letters?” Roman repeated, eyes as wide as saucers. “Why do you think they’re between Logan and Virgil?”

Satomi sat thoughtfully as she chewed, contemplating this. Finally, she said: “I don’t know.”

“So how are the letters signed?” Roman said curiously. “And do you have them?” He wondered what Virgil and Logan talked about. Were they like John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton? Like Alex Claremont-Diaz and Prince Henry from one of his favourite books, Red White and Royal Blue?

“One of them sends it to ‘Infinitesimal Professional’ while the other sends it to ‘Sweet Violet’,” Satomi explained to an eager Roman. “The letters are careful to avoid conversation of anything that could be proof—and if they do, they use codenames—but I’m almost sure that they are letters between Virgil and Logan.”

Roman thought back to his books. “So, in that case, these letters must have been sent between the time when Virgil and Philomena went back to Betrug after they visited Logan’s castle. Because they hadn’t known each other before Logan’s castle and they died right after Virgil’s!”

“Exactly,” Satomi nodded enthusiastically. “And as for where they are, they’re in the library.”

“Perfect!” Roman exclaimed, beginning to shovel the rest of his breakfast into his mouth. “Then we can go before class.”

“Uh, not exactly,” Satomi frowned. “The library as in the public library. In town.”

Oh. Roman deflated. They weren’t allowed to leave Violet Branch’s grounds unless it was for a field trip. And none of his teachers said anything about an upcoming field trip to town.

Satomi shrugged. “We’ll just sneak out tonight.” She said it so nonchalantly that Roman almost didn’t process what she had said.

Patton, who had been uncharacteristically quiet up until this point, put his foot down at this. “Uh, you are not sneaking out of school and going to the public library.” He looked shocked that Satomi even suggested it. “What if you were to get caught? And not even that, you’ll be breaking and entering.”

Roman probably should have known this was coming.

“I’m not letting you two run off to—”

“Get killed or worse expelled?” Roman cut in quickly, trying to make a joke. “C’mon, Patton. This is really exciting. What if Prince Logan is my great great grandfather or something?”

“Actually, he would be roughly your great great great great great great great grandfather,” Satomi interjected.

“Roman, I’m not allowing you to sneak out,” Patton said, ignoring Satomi’s comment. “I—” he began, but promptly shut his mouth as soon as that single letter got out.

Weird, Roman thought.

“—I just can’t. It’s not right,” Patton finally finished, his face a little flushed.

“I can just sneak out myself and bring the book back to you,” Satomi replied with a shrug. “Either way works for me.”

Patton’s eyes bugged out of his head.

Roman could practically hear Patton’s thoughts in his own head. Steal a book? Steal? He rolled his eyes. He would like to go with Satomi when she retrieved the book. But obviously Patton wasn’t going to allow it.

Roman swallowed. “You’re right,” he told Patton with a nod.

Satomi looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

He gently kicked her leg under the table. “It is wrong. And Satomi shouldn’t get the book herself either. She shouldn't steal from the public library. Besides, someone might’ve taken the book out and it might not even be in the library. I can ask to go whenever the first field trip will be.”

Patton looked at Roman with narrowed eyes, as if trying to detect if he was lying. Roman kept his face sincere, as if he really believed what he was saying, and eventually Patton turned away. “Good.”

***

Roman had math first and he was glad he and Satomi shared that class. On their way to Ms. Cirenza’s room, they planned how they would get to the public library. Well, Satomi planned it.

“There’s actually a secret passageway leading to the library,” Satomi explained as they walked. “Both it and the library are old. I sometimes wonder what the library used to be before it was a library. The plaque on the building said it was created in 1903. Must’ve been important for a secret passageway to lead to it.”

Throughout the class, they whispered about their plan to get pictures of the letters between the princes. They were looking for anything that could point to Prince Virgil or Prince Logan. Satomi had already been through them but she obviously couldn’t remember everything. Anyway, a new set of eyes could prove useful.

Roman hoped he could find something.

And, although Patton didn’t know any of this, Roman still wasn’t positive Patton believed him when he told him that he wouldn’t go steal the book. Roman knew Patton wouldn’t call him out or anything—that just wasn’t Patton’s style. Roman thought that perhaps Patton would make a quick visit into Roman’s dorm to see if he was still there when they decided to put their plan into action.

So, in his mind, he enlisted the help of Maxime and Oskar. He hoped they were willing. Throughout the day, Roman thought of what he would say to Maxime who was definitely more likely to be like Patton and be against him being out of bed after curfew.

Besides Roman and Satomi’s plans to go to the library, Roman was introduced to two new teachers and their classes. The first class was drama with Ms. Neville. Oskar was in that class too and they had a lot of fun participating in the exercises.

The second was an elective he had had to audition for before he even arrived at Violet Branch: choir. It was the only class Roman shared with Patton. Roman didn’t know which class he liked better. It was like he was living in a dream.

On Thursday, the day Satomi said would be ideal for their plan because of the teacher rounds that evening, Roman put their plan into motion. If there was anything he learned about faking sick, you had to do it hours beforehand. You couldn’t just magically have a stomach ache right before trumpet lessons. No, you had to claim a bellyache as soon as you came home from school. And you had to constantly complain about it (but not too much that your parents forced you to take medicine). And, by the time trumpet lessons rolled around, you had a perfectly good, and convincing, excuse not to go.

“Oof, I think I must’ve eaten something at lunch that’s not agreeing with me,” Roman said to Patton, holding his stomach.

Patton looked over at Roman worriedly. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the nurse’s office?”

Roman shook his head and put a determined look on his face. “No, I’m not missing choir.”

Then, at supper he didn’t eat much and complained a little again. He told Patton he was going to go to bed early and excused himself, going back to the dining hall once Patton left to get a proper supper.

And then he was off to his dorm room to put the next part of the plan into motion.

However, as soon as Roman arrived at his dorm, he found that he had assumed incorrectly. His impression that Maxime wouldn’t be likely to help him was wrong. It was Oskar who didn’t want him going and lying to Patton.

When he had told them in quiet voices his plan (not about sneaking off to the public library with Satomi, but about them lying to Patton that he was sick in bed part), Maxime had just shrugged and went back to reading his book while Oskar was adamant that he shouldn’t break any rules. At least not yet.

“We’re only in Year 1, Roman,” Oskar whisper-shouted. “We’re at the bottom of the food chain. I wouldn’t mind so much if we were in Year 4 or 5 and you were doing it, but Year 1?”

Roman glanced over at Maxime, hoping for backup, but found that Maxime had quietly slipped out of the room. He fixed his gaze back to Oskar. “Listen, I won’t be caught, okay?”

“You can’t promise that! You don’t know what’s going to happen. Some teacher or another student might just be happening by and rat you out. And what if your brother demands to see your face? What are Maxime and I supposed to do?”

Roman tried to calm him down. “I’m telling you, the recording should work.” He was rather proud of the sick sounding voice he had mustered up while lying face-first into his pillow.

Oskar still wasn’t convinced, though. “What if he forces himself in? Or calls a teacher? I can’t not let a teacher in our room if they’re right there. And what are you even doing, out of bed past curfew!? It’s our first full day here, what could you be possibly doing?”

“Does it have anything to do with the portrait that looks exactly like you but is actually a prince from the 19th century?” Maxime’s voice piped up and Oskar and Roman jumped up in surprise.

“What?” They both asked in unison, swivelling their heads to look over at their roommate.

Maxime held up his phone and plopped down on his bed. He showed it to the other two boys expectantly.

Oskar looked over at Roman, glancing at the picture of Prince Logan’s portrait on Maxime’s screen. He snapped his head back to Roman. “He looks exactly like you.”

“How did you know about that portrait? It’s in a dead end hallway,” Roman said.

Maxime shrugged. “I had my first art class today and Ms. Nomura had us explore the castle for our favourite portraits and stuff. I happened upon it and was a bit confused…”

“It’s like you’re twins,” Oskar marvelled. He turned to Roman. “But what does that have to do with your little expedition?”

So Roman explained a little to get both of them up to speed. It took a little less than five minutes but, by the end, Roman was out of breath.

“You’re going with Satomi?” Oskar repeated at the end of it all.

“Yeah.”

Oskar put a hand over his chest and breathed out a sigh of relief. “You could have told me that first! That girl’s in my gym class and she looks like she could be some kind of super spy.”

“Oh,” Roman said, his eyes widening slightly. He didn’t really understand where Oskar was coming from but, at least now he was on board with the whole plan. “Well, yeah, she’s coming with me.”

As if in cue, there was a light rap on their door. All three boys jumped up, startled at the sudden sound.

Roman quickly climbed off of his bed and quietly opened the door. His eyes lit up as he saw Satomi who was grinning in a dark hoodie and pants.

Roman glanced back at Oskar and Maxime who gave him a thumbs up and smile. “You know what to do if Patton comes, then?”

“Yup,” Oskar whispered back.

Roman grinned and shut the door with a click.

And then they were off.

Satomi led him through the smaller hallways, avoiding the larger ones. She told him in a hushed voice that the teachers on duty only went through them every hour while they patrolled the main ones every thirty minutes. She knew the schedule of all the teachers and told him this was the ideal teacher combination. None of the real strict teachers (including her mom) were on duty.

They hurried down a spiral staircase in the back—Roman was sure Satomi had led them into the staff part of the castle but he wasn’t sure, everything was so dark and looked the same.

The basement of Violet Branch was pretty empty. It housed the kitchens and a ton of dorms which used to be staff bedrooms.

Satomi stopped so abruptly at a stone wall that Roman almost smacked into her.

“Here we are,” she whispered. Roman couldn’t see her face but he knew she was smiling in excitement.

The wall was any ordinary wall. Stone. Hard. Grey. The usual. There was a large wooden utility wardrobe, however.

Satomi reached out and pulled one of the doors open. She pulled out a penlight, flicked it on, and shoved it in Roman’s hand. “Hold it for me, will you?”

Satomi pulled out a large rug and mop and broom before sliding the back panel over, revealing a gaping hole.

Roman eyed it nervously and pointed the light into the hole.

“C’mon,” Satomi urged, gesturing for Roman to go in first. “I have to put the things back in the closet.”

Roman swallowed his fears and stepped into the wardrobe. It creaked just slightly at his weight and he immediately went onto the stone platform of the passageway.

Satomi grabbed the rug and mop (how strong was she?) and walked into the entrance of the passageway backwards, placing the items in their spot before replacing the back panel.

She turned around, grinned, and pointed forwards. “Let’s go.”

The stairs led downwards and Roman would have hated walking down without Satomi’s penlight. He assumed the people in the past brought lanterns down with them.

They continued down the stairs until it gradually turned into just a straight floor with gradual inclines and declines.

They walked in mostly silence until Satomi finally spoke. Her voice was a hushed whisper. “What’s your relationship like with Patton?”

The question took Roman off guard. “What? What do you mean?” Did Satomi think he was a bad brother or something? He became defensive. “My relationship with Patton is just fine.”

“Oh, sorry,” Satomi said. “I-I just thought…” she shook her head. “Nevermind.”

“Uh, no. You can’t just say something like that and not say what you were thinking,” Roman said, flicking the penlight all over the stone walls.

Satomi didn’t say anything for the longest time. “I just…from the vibes I got from your brother he…” she trailed off.

“What?”

“He just seemed…I dunno…like he didn’t want to be here?” She said this all in a rush with her fists clenched.

Roman, who had been about to explode in questions, suddenly deflated like a balloon. He furrowed his brows together. “Huh? What do you mean?” He stopped short. “What do you know about Patton? He’s my brother.”

“Like I said, nevermind,” Satomi shook her head once again. “Forget I said anything.” A second of silence passed through them before Satomi spoke again. “You know, what I’ve been thinking for a while is that, if Prince Virgil and Prince Logan were gay and Logan never had a child with Philomena, then how are you here?”

Roman, who had been thinking about Patton and analyzing everything his brother had done since coming to Violet Branch, stopped in his tracks. Satomi’s words finally sunk in. “Hey yeah…you’re right. Could it have been possible for Philomena and Logan to have a child?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, they didn’t even get married so it’s highly unlikely Philomena could have been pregnant with Logan’s heir.”

Roman thought for a long moment, mulling two very different things over in his mind.

“Ah, here we are,” Satomi said, bringing Roman out of his thoughts.

Roman shined the pen light ahead more and he could just make out the beginnings of a ladder.

Satomi went first. She took the pen light and put it in her mouth so she could see the little hatch in the top. Then, she unlocked the hatch before pushing upwards with all of her might. The wooden hatch groaned and creaked before finally giving in and swinging upwards. She disappeared through the hole.

Roman quickly followed suit, the floor creaking under him as he popped his head up through and saw a room filled with books, a light bulb already on above. It looked like they were in some kind of back room.

Satomi was inspecting a bookshelf on the back wall.

Roman pulled himself through the trap door and glanced around. “Is the book here?” He asked excitedly. He could feel the dust in the room and let out a sneeze.

“Bless you,” Satomi said, spinning around to face Roman. “I don’t think so. It should be in the main building.” She reached out, opened the nearby door, and flicked off the light.

The library was full of massive bookshelves with windows above the tall shelves so there was enough light to see without Satomi’s pen light. She walked quick and silently through the bookshelves, as if she was a ghost.

Roman hurried to catch up with her, still thinking about Patton and Virgil and Logan. Why would Patton not want to be at Violet Branch? The place was perfect. It was magical and cool and amazing. Patton wouldn’t have come if he hadn’t wanted to. It had been Patton’s decision, anyway.

But still, Satomi’s words stuck with him.

“Ah! Here it is!” Satomi exclaimed, pulling out a large binder. She walked swiftly to the nearest table and opened the binder. The letters were yellow with age and in permanent plastic sleeves to keep them pristine. She opened the binder and flicked through about a dozen letters before going back to the first one. Satomi pulled out her phone and began to take pictures.

Roman watched silently. Some of the letters were longer than others and the two handwritings were distinctly different. The letters to ‘Infinitesimal Professional’ were scratchy and slanted while the letters to ‘Sweet Violet’ were even and steady and small.

He caught a couple of words and snatches of sentences as Satomi flipped through the binder. He couldn’t wait to read them. What kind of secrets could be unlocked between love letters between two princes?

***

Satomi and Roman snuck back into the school the way they came and Satomi dropped him off near his hallway, telling him that they’d meet up after breakfast and before first class to check out the first couple of letters in the library.

Roman came to his dormroom’s closed door and breathed out in relief as he didn’t see a line of light from under it. He pushed open the door quietly and shut it behind him before whispering into the dark, “I’m turning on the lights—brace yourselves, if you’re up.”

Patton stared at him, sitting cross-legged on Roman’s bed.

Oskar was fast asleep under his covers and Maxime glanced, wide-eyed, between Roman and Patton. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mouthed to Roman before saying, “I’m going to use the bathroom,” and stood up and left the room.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to sneak out with Satomi to look at those letters,” Patton whispered. He was in his light blue PJ’s and Oskar’s spinning night light made dark shadows flicker against his face.

Roman stood in the doorway. “You don’t understand Pat,” he said, keeping his voice low so he wouldn't wake Oskar. “I need to know what’s going on. I need to know what happened in Prince Logan’s life.”

Patton frowned deeply. “You’re right. I don’t understand. These people are in the past. If historians haven’t figured it out yet, I doubt two teenagers will. And, anyway, you can’t just break into a public library. There are consequences.”

Roman stepped forward and stared into Patton’s blue eyes. Satomi’s words rang in his ears. “Do you want to be here?”

Whatever Patton had been expecting Roman to say, it wasn’t that. “What?” Patton asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you want to be at Violet Branch?” Roman repeated steadily.

“I don’t understand,” Patton sputtered. “Of course. I have to be here.”

Roman walked even closer until he was at the foot of his bed. “You didn’t answer my question, Pat. Do you want to be here?” Something was flowing through him and he wasn’t sure if it was anger or sadness.

Patton ran a nervous hand through his hair and he swallowed. “I-I...why are you asking me this?”

“Patton.”

Patton sighed and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, he said, “you don’t understand.”

Roman sat down at the end of the bed. “Then explain.”

Patton bent down and held his head in his hands. He sighed. “When you first presented Violet Branch’s pamphlet to mom and dad and they said they would think about it, they actually were planning on not sending you at all. You stomped up to your room because they didn’t give a definite answer but I stayed at the supper table where they said they didn’t want to send you all the way to England alone at just 14 years old. So I said that I’d go too and then we’d be together at school.”

“I didn’t really want to go and be so isolated but I wanted you to go. You always got so passionate about things and always knew what you wanted. I didn’t want your dreams to be crushed if they didn’t have to be. So…yeah,” Patton shrugged. “I told mom and dad that I’d go to Violet Branch too.”

Roman felt his heart sink. “When you were 14 and went to your first year, that was a month into your relationship with Remy…” He had sent Patton off to England just when he had started dating his boyfriend. He closed his eyes. “Oh my gosh, Pat, I feel awful.” His whole body was numb.

“No, it’s okay. Uh, England’s nice. The people here are kind.” He shrugged again but he wouldn’t look Roman in the eye.

Roman straightened his back defiantly. “I’m telling our parents to not enroll you next year. I don’t want to be the one to come between you and Remy.”

“Roman, you can’t do that. If I come home then you have to come home too. Didn’t you hear me? Our parents don’t want to leave you here by yourself.”

“But they left you here for two years until I came up!” Roman retorted.

Both Patton and Roman’s mouth clamped shut as Oskar let out a loud yawn and rolled over to his other side.

“Yeah, because I would only be left alone for two years. If they just let you come up here on your own, that would be five,” Patton hissed.

Roman took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m calling mom and dad. I can take care of myself.”

Patton opened his mouth to oppose but Roman cut him off. “What’s done is done. Satomi has the pictures of the letters. I promise to not break any more laws while in school here. Patton, if you don’t like it here, you shouldn’t be forced to be here because of me.”

Patton began crying and Roman pulled him into a big hug. “I love you,” Patton muttered.

A single tear escaped Roman’s left eye and he smiled. “You’re the best brother ever. And you deserve to be back home with your boyfriend and mom and dad.”

Virgil hit his shoulder with his own as he passed by. “Stop thinking so much,” he said, dropping the bag of flour on the table. “Just knead.”

Logan rolled his eyes and began kneading the dough again.

Once Philomena had seen the little kitchen on the top floor she had insisted on teaching Virgil and Logan how to make bread.

“It’s not like I can stop,” Logan said. Thinking was a part of him. It wasn’t like he could shut it off just like that. It was a blessing and a curse all in one because, while he loved solving problems and thinking intricate ideas, he also enjoyed sleeping.

“Make sure your hands are well floured,” Philomena told them, “or the dough will stick to your hands even more.” She then turned to Logan. “You just need a break from daily life. Where you don’t need to worry.”

“Easy for you to say,” Virgil said. “You don’t have to worry about becoming a king.”

“I’d much rather be a king. At least it would be more acceptable to not marry,” Philomena shot back at her brother before glancing at Logan once again.

“I’m just saying,” Philomena continued on, still kneading her bread. “Logan just needs to forget about his problems for a bit. Have some fun.” She paused. “Like baking bread! That’s what me and mother always do when we need some good fun. It also helps out the cooks.”

Logan couldn’t help the small smile from forming on his lips. He didn’t want to admit to her that these past couple of days had been the best break he’d ever had in a long time.

“Oh my gosh, he’s smiling!” Virgil exclaimed, pointing at Logan and covering his eyes. He pretended to faint and, in the process, tripped on the flour that Virgil had spilled earlier and landed flat on his butt. “Oof.”

Philomena sighed and crossed her arms. “I thought I told you to bring a broom with the extra flour.”

Virgil shrugged and chuckled a bit. “I guess I forgot.”

Philomena walked over to Virgil and began rubbing her floury hands over his head. It fell like snow onto Virgil’s hair, little bits of dough rubbing off as well. “That’s your punishment.”

“Hey,” Virgil exclaimed but he was grinning. He pulled himself up and shook himself off like a dog. He scooped up a bit of flour off the counter and began flicking it at Philomena.

Philomena shrieked with glee and ran back to her space on the other side of the counter, beginning to collect her own handful of flour off the counter.

Virgil began throwing little bits of flour over the counter and Philomena retaliated by throwing her own. Soon, above the counter was a massive flour cloud and the three of them were all coughing.

It was like seeing a snowball fight in his own kitchen. Logan began inching away, he didn’t really want to get flour on his clothes. Besides, what would his mother think if she saw him engaging in a flour-snowball fight? Her perfect prince. Soon to be wed.

But then a flour-ball hit him square in the chest. His head shot up. Logan wasn’t sure who threw it but he didn’t care. His competitiveness had been provoked and had snapped free from its chains. “Oh, it is on,” Logan said, a slow grin beginning to spread onto his face. He ran to take cover at a free end of the counter and began piling excess flour off of the counter into his cupped hands.

Seven minutes later, Logan had flour down the inside of his shirt, Virgil’s hair was covered in flour, and Philomena’s face was full of flour that made her look like a crazy ghost.

All three of them decided to stop the game before someone walked in on them. They were playing a dangerous game and, the longer it lasted, the higher the probability one of Logan’s parents would just so happen to walk down this hall.

They decided to clean up the kitchen before taking a secret passageway only Logan (and Irwin) knew to get to his bedroom so it would be easier for Philomena and Virgil to get to their own.

They all voted for Philomena to go find a broom as she was the least dirty. All she had to do was clean her face with some water whereas Virgil needed a deep hair-clean and Logan needed a new outfit. She wasn’t perfectly clean, but she was definitely better than them.

Virgil and Logan watched as Philomena went off down the hallway, following Logan’s instructions as to where the nearest broom would be (in a guest room a couple of turns away and in the closet).

Logan was amazed at how his and Virgil’s relationship had changed in just a day. If Philomena hadn’t intervened yesterday, Logan would’ve dreaded being alone with Virgil. In fact, Philomena probably wouldn’t have left them alone in the first place.

Logan glanced over at Virgil who was beginning to kick some of the flour on the floor into piles so it would be easier to sweep up.

A long, stretched out, piece of dough hung to one of Virgil’s hairs and dangled down, just out of Virgil’s view.

It bothered Logan and he swiftly walked over to him. “You’ve got something in your hair,” he stated. Virgil grinned like a cat and bent down very dramatically so they were the same height.

Logan scowled and rolled his eyes. “You aren’t that much taller than me,” Logan insisted as he began pulling the dough string out of Virgil’s hair.

Virgil chuckled. “Sure. Whatever you say, my infinitesimal professional.”

Logan didn’t know why the blood began to run to his cheeks or how, for a second, he stopped thinking. But then his thoughts began again, whirling like a steam-powered machine. “Doesn’t infinitesimal mean very large?” His eyebrows drew down in confusion, still trying to pick out the dough. He hadn’t known how sticky dough could be.

“Are you joking with me?” Virgil laughed a bit. “Infinitesimal means small. Have you ever read a dictionary?”

“Obviously,” Logan said, genuinely serious. “I used to read it before bed every night when I was younger.” He had wanted to expand his vocabulary when he was around nine and even wrote down words onto paper and cut them out, pocket-sized, so he could carry them around.

Virgil barked out a laugh. “Of course you did,” he said and Logan loved how he laughed. It was somewhere between a scoff, snort, and chuckle and he wanted to make him laugh again. “But I’m positive that it means small, not large.”

Finally, Logan pulled the string of dough out. “There,” he said, placing it on the counter. “It’s out.”

Virgil began to straighten up and Logan was aware of how very close he was to Virgil. While trying to get that piece of dough out, he had subconsciously moved closer. Logan took a quick step backwards to let the usual amount of space go between them.

However, he must have stepped onto the pile of flour Virgil had been creating because his foot slipped out from underneath him and suddenly gravity was doing its job and he was plummeting down, down, down. He shut his eyes, waiting for impact.

Before Logan landed on the pile of flour, arms swooped underneath him and began to pull him up.

Logan opened his eyes and came face to face with Virgil’s unblinking eyes. They were stunning to look at, like a cat’s. They were brown with little flecks of gold. Logan could feel his whole body heat up and his heart begin to race.

“Are you alright?” Virgil asked. He began lifting Logan's torso up but seemed to think for a second before stopping.

Logan’s legs were dangling and, while he felt safe in Virgil’s arms, he was acutely aware that he was inches off the ground.

Virgil’s face was incredibly close to Logan’s own and he noted that this was the second time in a 24 hour timespan that they were very close to kissing. But it was soon gone again and, surprisingly, no other thoughts replaced it.

His mind was absolutely silenced. So peaceful and uncommonly still that Logan wondered if he had actually hit his head on something.

Logan didn’t remember what the question was and didn’t know exactly what to say. His brain was trying to recover and he attempted to recall if he had said anything or if Virgil had said something. His brain drew a blank for the first time in his life.

But then there were footsteps and Virgil almost dropped Logan back on the floor at the sudden sound. They both blinked, as if waking up from some stupor, and Virgil yanked Logan up so suddenly that Logan lost his balance and slid down Virgil’s arms. Virgil tried to make up for this and moved his arms down and bent forward, still trying to heave Logan up. But, with everything happening all at once, Virgil fell forward and Logan fell backwards into the pile of flour so that everything went up in a puff of white.

The footsteps drew closer and Logan could see Philomena in the doorway, holding a broom. Her eyebrows drew down and she instantly dropped the broom. “Oh my goodness. What happened here? I leave for five minutes and look at what’s happened!”

Logan was under Virgil and he could feel Virgil’s racing heart like a fast drumbeat. He assumed his own was similar.

“Don’t ask,” Virgil muttered, beginning to climb off of Logan, lending a hand down which Logan took graciously.

Philomena looked at the two suspiciously for a couple of seconds before bending down to pick up the broom. She shoved it into her brother’s chest. “You sweep. Me and Logan will form the dough and put it in the oven.”

Virgil took the broom and immediately began sweeping. “Let’s catch them on fire,” he said, nonchalantly. Philomena glared over at her brother. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

Logan's cheeks were so hot that he was sure they could have cooked the dough on his cheeks instead.

***

“So you’re telling me you never go for walks around your kingdom?” Philomena asked, aghast. “Even with guards around you?”

The idea was so unbelievable to Logan who only took walks in his own garden or into the woods far away from his own kingdom. “No. Of course not. My kingdom isn’t safe for royalty to take walks into the kingdom. I could be killed or kidnapped.”

All three of them, freshly cleaned and changed, were out in the garden, under Logan’s favourite gazebo.

When he had turned 19, his parents had insisted on a portrait being done. He had only agreed if he could choose where he was placed. He didn’t want to be in some stuffy room in the castle. If he was going to be sitting anywhere for long periods of time, it would be under his favourite gazebo.

“Your kingdom would try to kill you?” Philomena asked. “I mean,” she amended, “I knew there was unrest in kingdoms but I didn’t think here. What do the townsfolk have against your family?”

Logan really hated talking about his own kingdom. Especially to Virgil and Philomena who’s kingdom sounded so drastically different from his own. But it was necessary. Philomena had to understand what kind of kingdom she was marrying into.

“Oh, plenty of things,” Logan said with a roll of his eyes. “To name a few: tax is too high, my parents are too lenient with the criminals and too severe on everyday citizens who commit small criminal offences, they hoard the money and food, they don’t import enough goods, they don’t care about the citizens, they aren’t expanding the kingdom yet the population is steadily demanding it.” He listed these off on his fingers and watched as Philomena and Virgil gaped at him.

“Do you think it’s factual? That your parents are actually doing those things?” Virgil questioned. Logan still couldn’t get the scene of him and Virgil in the kitchen, faces so close to one another, out of his head.

Logan bit his lip in thought. He had always wondered this, alone in his bedroom when he probably should have been asleep. Which side was he on? Did he agree with the people or did he agree with his parents who claimed to be unaware of half of the things the citizens alleged?

To be honest, he always fell asleep before he came to a conclusion or he just came to the conclusion that that decision would be for another time. Another night. Another year.

And now two people were curious to know his opinion on something he had been putting off for years.

Virgil and Philomena looked expectantly at Logan.

Logan chose his next words very carefully. “I’m not quite sure…” he trailed off slowly.

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked.

Logan let out a little breath of air before responding. “Some of the things my parents do definitely aren’t the people’s choice but I see how they are helpful and I understand both sides. Like the higher taxes. People are paying more but everyone’s houses are pretty much stable and won’t crumble at the first signs of a storm or a hard winter. But other things just don’t add up. They just don’t make sense.” He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses. “Like the import thing—I don’t understand it. We import around the same amount of goods as any other kingdom near us yet the people are adamant that we import less than them.”

“Has anyone looked into it?” Virgil asked worriedly. “Maybe people stole it.”

Logan pursed his lips. “They did look into it, a couple of years ago.”

“And?” Philomena prompted.

Logan rubbed his face. “They found the missing goods in one of the castle’s personal food storage buildings. We interviewed all of our staff and they swore that they didn’t know how it got there. The people were furious.” He paused. “After that, we stopped trying to find the missing imports. And we don’t use that storage building anymore.”

Philomena was playing with her skirt and she looked deep in thought. “Could your parents have put it there, not the staff?”

“Philomena!” Virgil exclaimed.

“No,” Logan said, shaking his head. “My parents may be cold and calculating but they aren’t thieves. Especially taking things from their own kingdom.”

“Sorry, but you’re right. It doesn’t make sense,” Philomena said thoughtfully.

“Could your people be doing it, trying to overthrow your parents?” Virgil suggested.

All of these ideas Logan had thought of before. And every single time they came through his mind, he always hit a brick wall. “No. Our people wouldn’t do that. They’ve been unhappy for some time now. I doubt they would keep up the hoax for over ten years. They would probably try to assassinate one of us before planning something in the long run.”

“Has someone tried to reason with your people?” Virgil asked.

“Yes. A while ago, perhaps three years into the missing goods we showed a couple of the lords proof that we had imported these things but they didn’t believe us and thought we had created the proof just to silence them.”

“That’s horrible,” Virgil said.

“It’s going to be so different travelling to Betrug,” Logan said honestly. “It’ll be a nice change of scenery.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet our parents and siblings,” Philomena gushed.

“Oh right, you have three other siblings, right?” Logan asked. “Exactly how young are they?” Being an only child and not ever interacting with other children around his own age (except maybe the odd royal who visited) meant that he wasn’t exactly the best with children or with meeting new people. Which worried him since he was expected to have an heir and raise them.

“Well, there’s Philomena, obviously, then me, then Mabel at 17, then Lillian who’s 14, and then Peter at 9,” Virgil explained, listing each sibling off on his fingers.

“Wow, I can’t imagine having that many siblings,” Logan said. He would probably be fine with maybe one sibling although he wasn’t sure which he preferred—a sister or brother.

“It definitely gets rambunctious at times. Especially Peter. He’s a little rascal,” Philomena said, wrinkling up her nose.

“Yeah but Lillian taught him everything. She’s worse than Peter because Lillian is actually smart,” Virgil argued.

“I’m sure that when Peter grows up, he’ll be plenty smart. He’s nine. Of course he isn’t as smart as Lillian. Just like Lillian isn’t as smart as Mabel and so on and so forth.”

Virgil rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re just saying that because you think you’re smarter than me.”

Philomena opened her mouth, “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that, as people get older, people get smarter and wiser.”

Virgil pointed to Logan. “So you think you’re smarter than Logan?”

Logan intervened before the lighthearted argument could take a plummet. “I think everyone’s smart in their own way.”

Philomena laughed. “Good point.”

***

Lunch passed way too quickly and soon Virgil and Philomena’s carriage was on its way to take them home. Logan would have to wait another month before seeing them again.

He didn’t want them to go. Logan knew the castle would be too quiet. Too lonely. There was no Irwin and now Philomena and Virgil would be going home.

Logan put those thoughts away for now, they weren’t gone yet. Currently, they were in the guest room that he had directed Philomena to in order to find the broom earlier that morning. It had a view of the road to the castle so all three of them would know when the carriage would be arriving.

All three of them were oddly silent.

Everything just seemed to be sinking in. What this whole meeting was supposed to be about. It was just supposed to be a couple of days for Logan and Philomena to get to know each other.

But Logan felt like it had been much more than that. He didn’t know what his feelings were. They were like a massive knot and he didn’t know how to unravel and make sense of them.

He felt guilty that he wasn’t thinking about Irwin. Shouldn’t he be thinking more about him? Shouldn’t he be thinking more about his fast approaching wedding? But, instead of this, all he could discern from his knot of feelings was that he didn’t want Virgil to leave.

Philomena broke the silence. “This isn’t the last time we’re going to see each other.” She tried to put on a smile but it wavered. “We’ll see each other in a month.”

Logan and Virgil didn’t say anything.

Philomena rolled her eyes. “You two are acting like it’s a funeral.”

Logan awkwardly scratched the back of his neck while Virgil slipped his hands underneath him and stared down at his feet.

Philomena sighed and finally stood up from the rocking chair she had been sitting on. “I can’t just sit here anymore. I’m going to do a sweep of our rooms in case we forgot anything. Virgil, just come get me when the carriage arrives.”

Virgil nodded absentmindedly as Philomena walked out the door.

Once Logan could no longer hear her footsteps, his mind wandered to earlier that morning, when he had been in Virgil’s arms. And the two almost kisses.

He didn’t know what he was feeling about the other prince. It felt so similar yet incredibly different than his feelings towards Irwin. Perhaps if he could figure out the differences, he could understand himself better. It felt like such a massive task that seemed so impossible that Logan wasn’t sure if he was up for it.

The galloping of horses made Logan snap his gaze up. His heart fell and thoughts of Irwin disappeared as he stared over at Virgil who stared back at him. Neither of them moved from their places in the bedroom.

It was only when Logan thought that maybe the carriage was halfway down the road that finally Logan stood up, feeling like weights were tied to his feet. He could hear Virgil slowly follow.

Logan thought back to his conversations with Irwin and, with a start, realized that almost 98% of their conversations was Irwin advising Logan. Whether on feelings or just regular advisory. And then Logan tried to think if it had ever been the other way around. He thought long and hard, making his way to the wing where Philomena and Virgil’s rooms were, but drew a blank.

Looking back at their relationship, objectively, it had been rather one-sided. Logan’s palms were beginning to sweat. What did this mean? Was their whole friendship a lie? What did his feelings mean? Did Irwin feel the same? Their whole friendship was based around the fact that Irwin helped him get through life. Did Logan know the intricacies of Irwin’s feelings and opinions like Irwin did him? Did he do that on purpose or was it more of a subconscious thing?

And what about Virgil? Whatever was happening between him and Virgil was definitely not the same as him and Irwin. He barely knew Virgil yet Logan felt a similar warm, fuzzy, feeling that he did with Irwin.

Did Logan even like Irwin? Of course, his feelings seemed to argue. But his mind wasn’t so sure. Was Irwin just a person he depended on to unknot his feelings? It made him uncomfortable admitting it to himself but he couldn’t deny the facts.

Then Logan’s mind went to Virgil and how he didn’t want him to leave. Was that because he depended on him like Irwin or was it because he genuinely liked him?

His heart rate quickened and he could feel his cheeks go hot. Maybe he didn’t have to decipher his feelings in order to answer that question. All he had to do was watch for the signs.

Maybe a part of him still liked Irwin—he was his very first friend, after all—but Virgil was nothing like Irwin. And he seemed to really like him whereas he might have just depended on Irwin because he was more of an advisor.

They were almost to Philomena’s bedroom when Logan barely registered the sound of Virgil’s pace quickening. And Logan’s wrist flamed and tingled when Virgil grabbed it and pulled him around to face him.

“Logan…” Virgil’s eyes were wide and Logan’s brain malfunctioned again and went quiet like earlier that morning in the kitchen. But this time his brain didn’t immediately recover because suddenly they were kissing.

Had he been the first to initiate it or had Virgil? Logan didn’t know, he couldn’t remember. All he knew was that he was kissing Virgil and it was definitely wrong because he was supposed to be marrying his sister but he couldn’t help but feel that this was it. This was how it was supposed to be.

Virgil pulled away after a moment, looking frightened. Logan worriedly wondered if he had initiated the kiss and Virgil didn’t feel the same way about him. But, if that was the case, Virgil would have pulled away as soon as their lips touched.

Virgil blinked and Logan was close to running away and never showing his face again. “Are you…alright?” Virgil asked hesitantly, his eyes searching Logan’s face for something.

Logan held Virgil’s forearms, still slightly in shock—his heart was beating rapidly and his face felt like it was on fire.

The next class was English which was taught by a short, older man named Mr. Losnedahl. Oskar was in that class.

Math taught by Ms. Cirenza (Satomi in that class) and Creative Writing with Ms. Wren flew by so quickly that Roman felt like he blinked and they were both over.

If this was how his days would go, Roman wished he could slow time because soon he’d be on the plane ride home back to America for summer.

On his way to Ms. Yano’s class, Roman bumped into Maxime also on his way to her class. “How has your day been?” Roman asked him excitedly, feeling his body beginning to buzz. He had been looking forward to this moment since last evening.

“It was good,” Maxime said simply.

Roman was still not used to how un-chatty Maxime was. So far, the longest conversation he had had with his roommate was about Harry Potter yesterday morning.

“Do you have any classes with Oskar?” Roman tried again. “He and I share science and math class.”

“Yeah, English and my nature class.”

They arrived at Ms. Yano’s class and, when Roman walked in, he was momentarily blown away by all the art and portraits hung on the walls and the patterned tapestry hung like a makeshift ceiling. Most of the rooms in the castle were high-ceilinged, very open and large. But the tapestry made the whole classroom seem like some kind of den. Like a cottage in the middle of a flower field.

Roman would meet the rest of his teachers tomorrow but he knew that none of their classrooms would compare to Ms. Yano’s.

Ms. Yano herself stood over to the side, speaking quietly to a student who Roman recognized as Spencer from math class.

Ms. Yano was of average height and her black hair was cut severely at her shoulders. She wore blood red lipstick that made her look like some kind of vampire. But it oddly suited her. She was, however, no doubt Satomi’s mom for she had practically the same face as her.

The desks were in pairs and Roman and Maxime found a spot together near the front without a word being uttered between them. Roman began opening up his notebook and made sure there was enough lead in his mechanical pencil to last the whole class. If Ms. Yano would be spilling the tea on the Sanders’ and Scharf’s then he couldn’t have any issues with writing all of it down.

Maxime looked confusedly at the opened notebook. “Is she the type of teacher to teach on the first day?” He hesitantly began opening up his own notebook and pencil case.

“Oh, no. At least, I haven’t heard anything about that. But I’m hoping she’ll shed some light on the royal family who used to live in this castle and the family who used to live in the castle across the woods.”

Maxime seemed to want to say a lot of things at once. “What castle across the woods…? Oh, are you talking about those ruins?”

“Ruins?” Roman’s eyes grew wide. No one said anything about ruins. What had happened to the Scharf’s castle?

At that exact moment, Spencer and Ms. Yano seemed to finish their conversation and Spencer sat themself down next to another student near the back of the classroom.

Ms. Yano fixed a small pile of papers on her desk before finally looking at her last class of the day. Her eyes drifted over her students and then stopped at Roman’s face. Her whole body froze and she looked like she stopped breathing. Roman was fully prepared to help her if something happened.

Ms. Yano blinked once and then she seemed fine. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she had momentarily stopped breathing.

Roman couldn’t help but feel that he had caused whatever had happened to Ms. Yano. She had been looking at the class and stopped at Roman. Unless it was some kind of horrible coincidence.

Disappointingly, the class was like all the rest he had been to that day. Introductions. Roman learned Ms. Yano’s first name (Akemi), where she was born (Japan), her husband’s name and occupation (Stan, a freelance artist), and even her favourite colour (red). But Roman learned absolutely nothing about the Sanders’ or the Scharf’s.

Roman had been patient enough to wait for today but waiting another day and possibly more? He didn’t think he could take it.

So, once class was dismissed for the day he told Maxime that he was going to ask Ms. Yano a question and that he could go on. Maxime was probably glad to be away from Roman’s extroverted self anyway.

As the room emptied, Roman walked over to Ms. Yano’s desk like a fish swimming upstream.

Roman was about to ask about the Sanders when Ms. Yano suddenly stood up and gave a tight smile to him. “Roman, do you want to go for a walk to the library?”

Roman’s eyebrows drew down in confusion. “The library?” He repeated. Could Ms. Yano read his mind? Or did Satomi tell her mom about his interest in the Sanders’? That was a possibility. “I was going to ask about the Sanders’ and if you could tell me about them. I know that you’re going to tell us about it in class but I’m beyond curious. I have to know.”

Ms. Yano nodded and she pursed her lips, looking at Roman so oddly that he wondered if he had anything stuck in his teeth. “Yes, I’ll tell you on the way to the library.” And then she began walking.

“As you probably know, the last royals who lived in this beautiful castle were the Sanders’. This consisted of King James, Queen Alice, and Prince Logan,” Ms. Yano began, slowing her walking just slightly. Roman listened very carefully, not wanting to miss a detail.

“When the prince was around 19, he was put into an arranged marriage with the eldest princess from Betrug, just across the woods.” She gestured to her left where Roman assumed the Scharf’s castle to be. “The Scharf’s. It’s said that they got along just fine. Her name was Philomena and she brought her brother, the crown prince, Virgil Scharf to their first meeting.

“Prince Virgil was in an arranged marriage, himself. To a princess from France. Anyway, that’s not necessarily important to this story. The two princes were said to be very close, like best friends. Philomena and Logan got along just fine as well, acting much more like friends than lovers but, then again, they were practically strangers to one another.

“When Logan visited the Scharf’s a couple weeks later, some of the citizens there took Philomena hostage—” Ms. Yano suddenly stopped short and Roman blinked. He felt as though he had just woken up from a long nap and was trying to remember where he was.

They had passed the library doors and Ms. Yano had led them down a deadend hallway where he assumed no one really went. Roman glanced up at Ms. Yano, perplexed, but the teacher seemed transfixed on something else. Her face was tilted up and Roman followed her gaze up the wall where a massive portrait was hung.

“It’s me,” Roman breathed.

“No,” Ms. Yano said, shaking her head softly. She pointed to the gilded metal nameplate at the bottom of the portrait. “It’s Prince Logan.”

Roman sucked in his breath. “Prince Logan?” He repeated, in awe. “We could’ve been twins.”

Logan, maybe late teens, was sitting on the steps of a gazebo that Roman remembered looking at when he explored the gardens outside with Patton earlier that morning. His face was serious and his light brown hair was brushed back. He was surrounded by dark blue flowers. And, although Roman was 14, there was no mistaking how uncanny the resemblance was between him and Prince Logan.

“Roman, how well do you know your ancestry?” Ms. Yano asked, tearing her gaze away from the portrait and, instead, looking back at Roman.

Roman rubbed his chin. “Well, my dad has Irish roots and my mom, well, my mom’s mom was adopted, just like Patton is, and my mom’s dad has Scottish roots.” He paused. “Do you think I’m related to Prince Logan?” The idea seemed so surreal coming out of his mouth and, had Prince Logan not looked exactly like Roman, he wouldn’t have believed it himself.

“Does your mom know anything about her mom?” Ms. Yano asked and Roman tried to think of anything. But nothing came to mind.

“No, my grandmother died a couple of years ago. She was adopted as a toddler so I don’t think she would’ve remembered anything anyway,” Roman replied.

Ms. Yano sighed and stayed silent.

Roman was about to ask Ms. Yano to finish her story. Did they ever get Philomena back in time for the wedding? What about Prince Virgil?

But another teacher Roman didn’t recognize hurried up to Ms. Yano. “Akemi! The staff meeting is about to start!”

Ms. Yano pursed her lips and she glanced at the watch around her wrist. “Of course,” she muttered and looked down at Roman apologetically. “I’m sorry, Roman. I have to go.” She gestured to the library. “I suggest you take a look in the library. They have a couple of books on Prince Logan that you might enjoy.” She hurried off and Roman was left alone with the picture of Prince Logan staring down at him.

At this point, Roman was desperate. He had been given a little taste of the story of Prince Logan and he would do just about anything to know the end. He made his way out of the hallway, looked at the library, and sighed as he made his way inside.

The library was nice, Roman supposed. It was definitely old and he sneezed almost as soon as he entered. He asked the librarian where the books on Prince Logan were and she directed him to the back of the library.

Libraries were not Roman’s thing. He found them too silent and foreboding. And way too serious. But he needed to know what happened to Prince Logan and the Scharf siblings.

He kept his steps quiet as he progressed deeper and deeper into the library. It was nearly empty, Roman only passing a couple of students. Some of them weren’t even reading, they were just speaking in hushed voices.

Roman supposed it was better than hanging out in the bathroom, which a lot of kids at his old school used to do which was just disgusting and weird.

Finally, he made it to the back of the library where an unlit stone fireplace was. On either side of it was a reading nook where two massive leather armchairs were placed, a wooden, round table between them.

In the nook to Roman’s left, he recognized Satomi reading a brown book. She was upside down in the armchair, her legs sticking out over the back rest. She seemed very interested in her book as her face was scrunched up.

Satomi glanced up, as though she could detect someone near her. “Hi Roman,” she greeted, pulling her legs back down and sitting up normally. “Are you here for books on the Sanders’?”

Roman nodded and took the armchair opposite her. He sank into the chair, and felt as though he could sleep in them. He might come to the library more often just to sit in the armchairs. “Yeah.” He gestured to the book she was holding, a finger keeping her page. “What book are you reading?”

“Ronan M.V. Gighe-Lapillio’s biography,” Satomi responded, flashing Roman a view of the brown cover.

“Ronan M.V. who-now?” Roman tried to repeat. It was almost as confusing as Dumbledore’s full name. “Who’s that?”

“The founder of Violet Branch,” Satomi said with a shrug. “Although it’s rumoured that Ronan was just a pseudonym.”

There were so many mysteries that they were beginning to make Roman’s head spin. “Well, wouldn’t people know his real name anyway?”

“You’d think so, but no. Ronan was a secretive and private man and no one ever saw him, at least, not without knowing. He made no public appearances but it was said that he was a fast worker and an even faster runner, able to be in one place before being in another, totally different place a couple minutes later.”

Roman couldn’t help but have the thought that Ronan was just one letter away from his own name. Maybe it was just because he just saw his own face on a portrait that was painted two centuries ago. It seemed everything was connected back to him somehow.

Which made him remember what Satomi had asked when she first met him. Have I met you before? The, at first, weird question suddenly made perfect sense. “Hey, Satomi, I think I know why you thought you met me before.”

“Oh?” Satomi’s eyebrows jumped up and her eyes, which had been gradually roaming back to her book, shifted back to Roman.

“Your mom showed me a portrait of Prince Logan. He looks exactly like me.” Even saying it made Roman feel weird.

Satomi’s eyes widened. “Of course!” She exclaimed so loudly that the librarian who was near furiously shushed her. “Sorry,” she said, quieter, but it didn’t look like she was. “That makes so much sense. And it can’t possibly be a coincidence. You two practically look like twins. So you must be a descendant of Prince Logan!” Her voice kept growing as she continued but she spoke the next part more bitterly. “I always knew Crespo was a fraud.”

“Whoah, whoah, whoah,” Roman interrupted her train of thought. “It’s possible that me and the headmistress are descendants.”

Satomi rolled her eyes and she had a look on her face Roman hadn’t seen before. “Humph. I doubt it.”

“What do you have against her?”

“I don’t have anything against her,” Satomi said, crossing her arms and looking down angrily at her shoes.

Roman scoffed. “Sure, okay. I don’t believe you for one second.”

“I just don’t like her and I don’t believe Prince Logan’s her ancestor.”

Roman still wasn’t so sure of her answer but he decided to let it drop. He stood up, “you think you can show me the best books on Prince Logan then? I think I might die if I don’t find out what happens.”

Roman left the library with two books, one rather thin and another which had some weight to it. Satomi said they were the best two to read to get a grasp on what had happened without the annoying authors’ biases smacking you in the face and spitting on your unconscious body. Satomi’s words, not his.

Roman had the quickest supper he had ever had in his entire life and then he was off to his dorm to start reading, something he had never done before.

He decided to read the thin one first, hoping that maybe he’d get enough information from it without having to read the other one.

By the time Roman finished the first book, around three in the morning, Roman had a good idea of the events that had happened in this very castle. His butt was sore from sitting on the toilet seat (he had moved to the bathroom to read after Oskar and Maxime went to bed) and, while his body was stiff and tired, his brain was whirling.

Because there was one thing he wasn’t expecting.

Philomena’s head shot up and Logan didn’t know what to say to her tear-streaked face and red-rimmed eyes. It seemed that Philomena didn’t know what to say either for all she did was wipe her face with the back of her hand.

Logan wasn’t sure whether he should leave or walk closer so he just stayed rooted to his spot. When he finally began to speak, his voice came out hoarse. “Are you feeling well?” Then he instantly regretted the question—of course she wasn’t fine. They were both in the same position. They were both being married off to someone they didn’t know. “No, that’s a stupid question—”

“—No, it’s quite alright,” Philomena sniffed and closed her journal. “I suppose I’m fine.”

Logan wasn’t the best at reading feelings but he knew that everything was not fine. She was crying in his sitting room. He asked himself what Irwin would ask him if he were in Philomena’s position. “Well, how are you feeling?”

Philomena sniffed again and hugged her legs closer. “I don’t know.” She stayed silent for a while and Logan began searching for things to talk about. But then she began speaking again. “I mean, I should be fine with all of this—being in an arranged marriage and all of that. Women like me should be happy to be marrying someone. Wedding days are supposed to be one of my happiest days along with birthing children.” She shuddered through this.

Logan crept closer and sat on his favourite couch, putting his oil lamp on the floor next to him, watching as the flickering flame made shadows dance across the wall. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who don’t want to get married. Theoretically, you can’t possibly be the only one feeling like this. There are about a billion people on earth, it’s improbable that you’re the only one.”

“Maybe, but I feel so alone. And nobody I’m close to can remotely relate. Not even Virgil.”

Logan bit his lip and thought for a moment. Whenever he felt alone he read books. “What exactly can they not understand?”

Philomena shrugged. “The idea that I don’t have the urge to get married or have children.” She spoke slowly and Logan listened carefully. Was this how Irwin felt listening to his problems? “Some people don’t want to get married because they want to be independent but I just…don’t have that feeling inside me. My feelings towards…sex is the same as well. I just have nothing. I feel nothing towards it and I don’t want any of it.”

“I…don’t relate,” Logan said, slowly and carefully. Philomena seemed to collapse in on herself and she dug her head into the skirt of her nightdress. “But, maybe I have something that might help.”

She popped her head up, her eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Logan hadn’t even realized she stopped crying until now. “Do you want to go for a walk to the library?”

As they both made their way to the library, Philomena didn’t act or feel like the same princess Logan had met earlier that day. She seemed more real. Like him, with problems and questions.

Eventually, as they were climbing the steep stairs up to the second floor, Philomena said “so you don’t think I’m different? Broken?” Her voice seemed so small and earnest like a child.

Logan turned around. “Broken? What do you mean?” He genuinely had no idea what she was talking about. How could a person be broken? His philosophy was that a person was born whole. A person was not born with missing parts or broken. It was a living thing with flaws and strengths. Maybe a person looked or acted differently but they were whole. Perhaps when science got better in the future some parts of his idea would change, but the fundamentals would stay the same. “A person can’t be broken.”

Philomena didn’t answer his question and stayed silent until Logan pushed open the double doors to the library. “So how are books supposed to help me?”

But Logan wasn’t paying attention to Philomena anymore. He had his nose to the book shelves, holding the lamp so close to his face that he could feel the warmth radiating off of it. He hoped Irwin didn’t take the manuscript when he left.

Logan walked easily around piles of books and furniture, continuing deeper into the massive library, breathing in the scent of old books. It smelled more of home than the other parts of the castle.

Logan barely realized Philomena was following him, the only way he knew was the soft padding of her footsteps.

Finally, at the back of the library, Logan pulled a massive, red, velvet curtain aside to reveal a little nook where a bookshelf used to be before Logan and Irwin moved it a couple years ago. In its place were two armchairs, an oil lamp, and a little table with a few scattered books on it as well as on the floor.

Logan’s heart thrummed in his chest, seeing the familiar poorly bound manuscript under a couple of books by Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. He pulled it out and brushed off whatever dirt or dust had accumulated on it.

He gestured for Philomena to sit down and once she hesitantly did so, Logan followed suit. He put the manuscript in his lap and stared down at it with its stained and crinkled pages. “One of my friend’s relatives wrote this book, but never got it published. I think it might be helpful because the character has the same feelings as you do.”

Philomena’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? I've never read a book with a character who’s like me.”

Logan passed her the book gently. “It’s quite long and the penmanship is hard to read but I think you’ll like it.”

Philomena smiled. A real, genuine, smile. “Thank you Logan.” She hugged the book to her chest then began picking at her nightgown. “Listen, I’m sorry for Virgil. I don’t think he really understands you all that well—“

“—No, it’s fine. Really. You don’t have to apologize for him.”

“I’m going to talk to him about tonight, if you don’t mind. Maybe he’ll change his mind.” She chuckled. “Sometimes I think he feels like an older, protective, brother when he’s actually a couple years younger than me.” She stood up and glanced over at Logan again. “Thank you again for this but I should probably go back to my room. I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that, she swept out of the little nook.

Logan stayed sitting until he could no longer hear her footsteps before retreating to his own room.

The only thing he could think about was Irwin and Virgil.

What was Irwin doing and, when Philomena told Virgil about tonight, would he think any differently about him?

***

The next morning at breakfast, everyone was oddly silent and Philomena was yawning seemingly every second.

“Philomena, are you alright?” Logan’s mother asked at the table. “Were you not comfortable last night?”

Philomena straightened her spine and shook her head forcefully. “No, I’m quite alright, thank you though.”

Logan glanced curiously over at her but Virgil’s icy glare stopped him from looking too long. So perhaps nothing had changed with Virgil. Maybe Philomena forgot to tell him. Logan tried to push these thoughts away—why was he focusing so much on how Virgil thought of him anyway?

Breakfast was not nearly as long as last night’s supper since church began at 11 o’clock and everyone had to get ready.

Logan was not necessarily a religious person so church really felt more like a chore to him. But, he knew how much his parents valued going so he went anyway. It was expected of him.

As his valets helped him get ready, Logan’s mind wandered back to Irwin. Where was he? Was he doing alright? Had he moved? Would Logan never see him again? His stomach lurched at the thought.

Logan was ready in no time so he wandered through the castle’s walls, searching for an out of place brick or an abnormality of the building that could lead him down the secret passageway Irwin had wanted to show him.

He knew several of the castle’s secrets, some he was sure his parents didn’t even know about. There was the obvious passageway to the kitchens running between them and the dining room and the ballroom as well as the one at the back of the castle underneath a floor stone that led outside. Another one was right in the middle of his bedroom where a small bunker lay that could probably fit a few people comfortably.

“I don’t know what your plan is but I’m on to you.”

Logan spun around, heart thumping inside his chest at the sight of Virgil. He looked even more regal in his Sunday best but his usual scowl seemed even deeper than yesterday. Logan ignored his heart rate and stared up at Virgil, hating how he had to crane his neck upwards to look at him. “What are you talking about?” He was impressed at how steady and cold his voice sounded.

“Philomena told me about your little gathering last night.” Virgil came closer so the height difference was even more profound.

“And? What’s the problem with comforting your sibling who was crying alone last night?” Logan snapped, pointing a finger up at Virgil.

“She wouldn’t be crying if she wasn’t in an arranged marriage with you!”

“You think I want this? I want this just about as much as you do but at least I’m not so heartless that I left your sister there when she was obviously looking for comfort!”

The sound of Logan’s mother’s footsteps shut them both up and they instantly put on a face. “So, what is your kingdom like?” Logan changed the subject quickly, putting on a pleasant smile.

“Oh, it’s just lovely,” Virgil said through gritted teeth, eyes firey with anger. “I think you would enjoy it,” he added in just as Logan’s mother turned the corner.

A smile similar to Logan’s formed on her own face as she walked over to the two of them. “Oh, it looks like you’re getting along just fine! I thought I heard raised voices!”

Virgil shook his head, smiling down at Logan’s mother. “Oh, you must have heard the servants. We were just talking about my kingdom and how your son would love it over there.”

“What a great idea!” She responded and Logan’s heart sank. Oh no. “I’ll have a talk with your parents, Virgil, and see when Logan can visit!” She turned to Logan. “You’ll be able to get better acquainted with Philomena's other siblings and her parents!” And she hurried away again.

Once she was well out of earshot Virgil spun to Logan. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault?” Logan retorted. “My fault? You were the one who said that I would like it over there! If anything, it’s your fault!” He narrowed his eyes. “And you think that I think I’m always right,” he scoffed.

“Well if you hadn’t started the conversation about my kingdom then maybe I wouldn’t have said what I had!”

“Virgil! Logan!” Philomena barked and both of their heads instantly shot up at the sound of her voice. “Honestly, you’re like two cats who can’t be left alone in the same room without getting into a fight.” She yanked Virgil’s arm and pulled him closer to her.

“He started it,” Logan said, but the vexed look on Philomena’s face told him that it was the wrong thing to say. So, he started to elaborate. “He just came up to me saying, ‘I don’t know what your plan is but I’m on to you’.”

Philomena hit Virgil in the arm.

“Hey! Why are you taking his side?”

“Because at least he’s smart enough to not start fights in someone else’s home,” she retorted. “You haven’t even given him a chance.”

“I don’t have to give him a chance because I’m not marrying him,” Virgil made a face and crossed his arms.

“Yes, but you’ll be brothers in law and you’ll be seeing each other quite a bit, I believe,” Philomena said.

Virgil opened his mouth to defend himself.

Philomena beat him to it. “Don’t you dare say anything else. Logan’s parents are probably waiting for us.” And she began dragging Virgil by the arm down the hallway.

Logan trailed after them, silently sulking. How could Virgil blame the whole thing on him? All the facts pointed to Virgil. Was Virgil that self-righteous that he couldn’t see when it was his fault?

The silence was deafening and the echoing footsteps didn’t help at all.

Up ahead, Logan could hear the forceful whispers between the siblings. He couldn’t understand them, unfortunately, and he wasn’t sure if they’d notice if he quickened his pace to eavesdrop. Before Logan could make a decision on whether he should be virtuous or a snoop, his parents came into view, waiting at the doors of the castle’s private church.

His mother was the only one smiling.

“You’re late,” his father stated.

Philomena dropped into a bow, all tension that was previously on her face gone. “I’m sorry your majesty, I had a dress malfunction and both Logan and Virgil stayed with me.”

The king didn’t reply and just opened the doors to the massive room. It had high ceilings and tapestries hung on the stone walls depicting all kinds of scenes from the Bible. There were wooden balconies above and a red carpet led all five of them down to the front of the room where a pope was standing behind a podium.

They passed their valets and ladies in waiting in pews and began filling up a single pew. Logan’s father went first and then his mother. Virgil was about to go in next but Logan’s mother beckoned for Philomena, “come, let us ladies sit together and let Logan sit in between you and your brother.”

Philomena hesitantly stepped forward with a nod. She seemed to harden herself—she squared her shoulders and sucked in a deep breath. She was halfway to Logan’s mother before glancing back at the two of them. ‘Behave’, she mouthed with an icy glare.

Logan filed into the small space after Philomena and he could feel Virgil’s heated steps behind him. Of course, he grumbled to himself as he took a seat in the pew. One complete hour in an uncomfortable pew sitting in between his future wife and her brother who seemed determined on hating him.

***

After the service and after changing out of his uncomfortable clothes, Logan’s parents allowed them some free time to get to know each other better. Apparently, Philomena thought this was the perfect time to amend the bitterness between Logan and Virgil.

Philomena brought the two of them to the gardens behind the castle, under the main gazebo. It was the largest of the three but, personally, Logan favoured the one that was surrounded by a bunch of deep blue cornflowers further into the palace’s grounds.

Philomena sat them both down next to each other while she stood in front of them like some kind of teacher telling them off. “—And I don’t know what’s going on between you two and I honestly don’t care who started it. I want you to get over whatever hostilities you have towards each other and make up.” She didn’t even allow him or Virgil to speak. “I’m going to stand over there,” she pointed to the massive crack willow tree in the distance, “and I’m going to come back in ten minutes and I expect you two to have made up.” And then she began walking away. The tree was far enough that it gave Logan and Virgil some privacy but not enough that if one of them were to leave or if a fight broke out, she’d be able to see it.

Both Logan and Virgil watched as Philomena walked away and leaned against the trunk of the crack willow.

Logan was too stubborn to speak first so he firmly pursed his mouth and avoided looking at Virgil. Why should he start? Virgil was the one to start all of this. He should be the first one to speak. It was only fair.

It seemed that Virgil was thinking the same thing for he shifted a couple centimeters away from Logan and crossed his arms defensively.

A bird began chirping somewhere in the distance. Finally, Virgil broke. “Listen, I’m only doing this because of Philomena,” Virgil said. He was still looking at the wooden boards of the gazebo. “She wanted someone to accompany her here.” He paused and then said, “I’m not much of a showing-my-feelings person.” He began nervously tapping his foot.

“At least we have one thing in common,” Logan grumbled. He didn’t look at Virgil either and instead focused on his shoes.

There was a long stretch of silence except for the tapping from Virgil. He then suddenly stopped and he spun to Logan with a glare that could have burnt him to a crisp. “I don’t understand why you hate me so much.”

Logan met Virgil’s gaze and blinked. Why did Logan hate Virgil so much? He was taken aback. “I should ask you the same question. It’s like you came to my castle and, without even speaking to me, you just hate me with a burning passion!”

Virgil blinked a couple of times as well and then turned to face forward again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I don’t hate you.” He said the last part quickly.

Logan laughed at the audacity. “You don’t hate me? You’ve got to be joking. You’ve had it out for me as soon as you saw me.”

“I could say the same for you,” Virgil snapped and he pointed an accusing finger at Logan. “Who was the one who was glaring at me yesterday in the sitting room?”

“I wasn’t glaring at you!” Logan exclaimed defensively. At least, he hadn’t been trying to. Irwin had always said his neutral face looked glower-y. Logan hadn’t believed him. When Virgil gave him a skeptical look Logan frowned, “I swear! I was just curious about you!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know!” Logan said, his hands flying up and down on their own accord. “But you’re the one who assumed all those things about me! And you were glaring at me, you can’t even deny it!” He drew his face closer to Virgil and because Virgil was slumping they were more close in height.

“I was only doing that because I thought you were glaring at me before we even spoke! I thought you were just like everyone else, judging me without even getting to know me!” Virgil exclaimed, bringing his face even closer to Logan’s.

It occured to Logan that he could move his face in just a bit more and he and Virgil would be kissing. The two of them didn’t say anything for a long time, practically breathing on each other. It seemed that they were at a stalemate.

Virgil had thought Logan hated him when, in fact, Logan was just merely looking at him. Logan thought that Virgil hated him because Virgil thought that Logan did. So…everything stemmed from Logan, even if he hadn’t meant to. Which meant…

“I’m sorry, then. I should have been more careful about what my face was saying. I truly didn’t mean it,” Logan finally relented, moving his face away from Virgil’s. He hated apologizing and realizing he had made a mistake.

Virgil didn’t say anything for a long time. But after a moment or so he placed a surprisingly gentle hand on Logan’s leg. “And I’m sorry for assuming things. I often do that…assume people hate me.” He said this a little quieter and turned his face away.

The spot where Virgil was touching him on his leg tingled with warmth and Logan felt, momentarily, at a loss for words. But then Virgil’s hand fell away and Logan wished for him to put it back. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, are we on good terms then?”

Virgil gave a small smile. “I suppose so.”

Logan felt his whole body tingle when Virgil smiled. What was happening to him? He had never felt this way before. The closest thing he could compare to whatever was happening to him was when Irwin held his hand. But this feeling…it was a thousand times stronger.

“Listen,” Virgil began again, “Philomena told me what you did for her last night. I just want to say thank you. I think the book you gave her really helped.”

Patton tied a knot around the box and Roman put his finger on the small knot and continued speaking. “This is my biggest dream and now it’s coming true!” Patton began tying a bow. “Ever since I saw that castle over in England I knew I was supposed to be taught over there!”

Patton grinned and let the rainbow bow fall from his fingers.

***

Roman probably should have been feeling jet lagged. A flight from his hometown in the USA to England surely should make him feel tired.

He should be like his older brother Patton, who was currently passed out in the bus seat next to him. He was hugging his stuffed elephant his boyfriend, Remy, gave him before they left.

Roman stared out the window at the green fields that seemed to go on forever. Because he lived in the city, he only saw this much green in pictures online.

He glanced at the watch around his wrist. 2 PM. Only fifteen more minutes until they arrived at Violet Branch Boarding School.

Ever since the pamphlet landed on his lap at the bus stop and Roman had seen the majestic castle on the front, he knew that the school was calling him.

Going to school in a real castle that royals used to live in? Sign him up!

That had been when he was nine. Now he was fourteen and heading to his very first year at Violet Branch Boarding School.

Patton had been going there for the past three years and Roman had made Patton swear to not tell him anything about the school. Roman wanted to experience everything for the first time, in the flesh.

After five years of waiting, Roman’s time had finally come. He closed his eyes and vividly pictured the massive brick castle with five towers, soaring upwards in the sky. The lush grounds which it rested on. Would he meet the love of his life? Would this be like Harry Potter and they’d defeat an evil wizard?

Roman not-so-patiently waited for the grand castle to appear on the horizon. He didn’t have to wait long.

Soon the whole bus, filled with new and returning students, was abuzz.

First the tops of the towers came into view and Roman was amazed by their colossal size. Grey-green stone showed just how old the castle was. Next, the roof, then the main building, then the grounds filled with lush greenery and flowers.

Roman shook Patton awake. “We’re here!”

Patton groggily awoke and Roman just managed to catch the patch worked elephant from falling to the floor.

“Good catch,” Patton grinned, gently taking the elephant back and putting it in his blue backpack.

Roman pressed his face against the window, eyes as wide as saucers.

The bus pulled up to the castle and Roman squinted up at it as he stepped off of the bus, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. “Incredible…” he breathed.

Patton knocked their shoulders together gently. “C’mon, you’re slowing everybody down.” He was grinning too, gripping the two straps of his backpack.

The two of them made their way to the front entrance, stone steps leading up to the massive wooden doors which were opened welcomingly.

A man in a cream coloured turban greeted them. “Welcome! I’m Anav Divan and I’m one of the science teachers here! If you would, please continue down the hallway to meet my colleagues.”

At every turn was a different teacher introducing themselves and directing the students through the maze-like castle.

To be honest, Roman wasn’t really listening to the teachers. They’d probably introduce themselves again once classes started anyway.

Roman was, instead, soaking up the grandness of the castle. He wondered who lived in the castle in the past. Were they good rulers? What kind of drama happened between these walls? Oh, Roman would have loved to be a prince in the past.

Roman turned to Patton who was a couple steps behind him. “Does anyone know who used to live here?”

“Actually,” an Asian girl cut in. “It’s a pretty interesting story.” She was a bit ahead of Roman and when they both turned to look at each other, the girl narrowed her eyes. “Have I met you before?”

Roman stared at the girl for a moment. She was short and her glasses looked too big for her face. Her black hair was cut to her chin and Roman had no recollection of her in his memory. “Uh, no. I don’t think so.” He held out his hand for her. “I’m Roman Eero.”

The girl shook his hand but kept staring so intently at Roman that he wondered if he had met this girl before. “I’m Satomi Yano.”

This time Patton spoke up. “You’re Ms. Yano’s daughter!”

Satomi nodded. “Yeah. And you’re Patton Eero.”

Patton’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “How do you know my name?”

Satomi just shrugged. “I try to make sure I know everyone’s name in the school.” Then, she continued on down the stone hallway.

Both Roman and Patton jogged to catch up. “You said something about how the rulers who lived here had an interesting story. Can you tell me?” Roman asked curiously. He wanted to know. He wanted to know who exactly walked through these halls like he was now.

Satomi had a twinkle in her eye as she shook her head. “My mom will explain it much better in History class. But if you can’t wait that long I suggest going to the library. There’s a lot of stuff about The Sanders’ in there. Did you know my family’s related to one of the old staff that used to work here? His name was Irwin.”

Roman didn’t really hear what Satomi said. All he heard was Sanders. “Sanders?” He repeated, “was that their surname?” Roman wasn’t planning on going to the library so he decided that Ms. Yano’s class would be his favourite.

“Oh yeah. Their life is definitely interesting. Wait until you hear about The Scharf’s, the royals whose used to live just across the woods. Now those royals were an interesting bunch,” Satomi explained excitedly.

The Sanders’? The Scharf’s? Roman mentally put the names in an important file in his mind. “I can’t wait to learn about them.”

Satomi suddenly went serious. “But if you’re looking for a nice, all strings tied up, ending, The Sanders’ story definitely won’t be your cup of tea.”

“What do you mean?” Roman asked. He loved Happily Ever Afters. “What happened to them?”

Satomi turned around with a wicked grin on her face. “I guess you’ll have to go to class to figure that out.”

Roman blinked. He turned around to look at Patton who looked just as flabbergasted. When Roman turned back around Satomi had disappeared. “Where’d she go?” He asked frantically.

“There are rumours of secret passageways running through the school. Being the daughter of a teacher probably means she’s been here for a while and has found secrets that the average student hasn’t,” Patton explained, running his hands over the rough walls.

“Secret passageways?” Roman repeated. “This school just keeps getting better and better!”

***

Because the school wasn’t built to be a school, the bedrooms were placed in odd spots as the creators of the school must not have wanted to destroy the original look.

The castle had so many rooms that a lot of the dorms were just rooms spaced out around the castle. Because each room was a different size and shape, each dorm was special in its own way.

Patton’s dorm was on the top floor which he shared with five others. It had an astounding view of the woods behind the school and when Roman helped Patton unpack he could almost see the Scharf’s castle which didn’t look nearly as grand as the Sanders’.

Roman’s room was in the center of the castle on the first floor. Apparently it had been a small sitting room, according to the teacher who showed him the way. Where it was so small, Roman only shared the dorm with two other First Year boys.

One of them was Maxime Dumont who was from France. He was short with curly blond hair and seemed to be more on the quiet side.

The second was Oskar Regenbogen who Roman was almost positive was somehow part of the LGBTQ+ spectrum. He had dark skin and sounded so fluent in English that Roman was surprised when he said he was from Germany.

After introductions, Roman began unpacking his sheets and pillows from the suitcases that were already brought up. His duvet was firetruck red and, as soon as he had made his bed, Roman flopped on it. “Oof.”

Oskar laughed and followed suit, falling onto his forest green quilt. “This place is awesome. My sister’s in Year 5 and she took pictures to show me but they just don’t do this place justice.”

Roman smiled up at the ceiling, following every imperfection and dip of the stone with his eyes. “My brother is in Year 3 and I made him swear not to tell me anything about it because I wanted to experience it for myself.”

“Why did you come to England?” Maxime piped up. He was sitting on his own blue bed, legs crossed. “You said you are from America?”

Roman shrugged as he propped himself up on his pillows. “I dunno. I saw a pamphlet for Violet Branch Boarding School and just knew I had to attend. It’s like it was calling to me.”

“I expected it to be more like Hogwarts,” Maxime said again, quietly. “Dorm-wise anyway.”

Roman spun around to Maxime and sat up straight. “Hogwarts?” He repeated. A massive grin spread across his face. “You like Harry Potter?”

Maxime nodded. He had a much smaller smile on his face but he rummaged around in one of his suitcases and pulled out The Prisoner of Azkaban. Instead of the English cover, it said Et le Prisonnier D’Azkaban and the cover was purple-ish with some branches around the sides with Harry’s Patronus under the letters.

“Whoah,” Roman gaped. “Your covers look so cool! I’m a Gryffindor, what’s your house?”

Maxime scrunched up his nose. “I’m a Poufsouffle although I’m thinking the Americans have a different name.”

“Hufflepuff, is what I’m guessing. Hannah Abbott?” Roman suggested and Maxime nodded.

“Hey, hey, hey, let me in on the conversation too!” Oskar said. “I’m a Harry Potter fan as well! I’m a Gryffindor as well but the German version didn’t change the houses to fun words like ‘Poufsouffle’.”

“My two roommates are Harry Potter fans?” Roman smiled so brightly that his face muscles began to hurt. “I’m the luckiest person ever.”

***

The dining hall was a massive stone room. Whereas in Hogwarts there were four tables separating the four houses, Violet Branch had multiple circular tables inside of each other like rings.

The first, outside, table was massive and took up almost the entire room. There were multiple slits in the table where students could go to the next table and then the next table and then the next table. Overall, there were seven wooden tables. The seventh table seemed to be the “popular” spot where the older kids sat. Roman couldn’t wait until he was old enough to sit over there.

As soon as Roman stepped into the room, he was bombarded by the smell of turkey and buttery potatoes.

It didn’t take long to find Patton in the second ring, near the back, not really sitting next to anyone or talking.

Roman slid into a spot next to his brother. “What? You’re telling me you’ve been going here for two years and don’t have a meal-buddy?”

Patton lifted his head up and took a sip of water. “I normally do but I couldn’t find them.” He shifted on the bench to face more towards Roman. “How were your roommates?”

“Incredible! They’re both Harry Potter fans! Can you believe that?” Roman asked as he began dumping food onto his plate. “Anyway, my roommates is this French guy, Maxime and a German guy, Oskar and I swear to you, Patton, he’s definitely—“

A hush went over the dining room and Roman peered around until he found out why.

At the very back right corner of the room, there seemed to be a singular circular table where the teacher’s table was. Roman hadn’t noticed it before.

In the middle of the back wall was a raised floor where a short woman stood quietly, a serene smile on her face.

“Who’s that?” Roman whispered without moving his gaze from the woman.

“That’s the headmistress. Her name’s Emilia Crespo,” Patton responded, just as quietly.

“Silent but deadly, I swear she looks into your soul. I suggest not making eye contact,” Satomi said and Roman glanced around to find her seated across from him and Patton. He hadn’t even noticed her. “She can command a room without even speaking a word. She claims that her ancestors were the Sanders’ although she has no proof and nobody really cares except her.”

Headmistress Crespo waited until the room was so silent that Roman swore he could hear the kitchen workers beneath them.

“Welcome to a new year at Violet Branch Boarding School!” She exclaimed, lifting both her arms up. Roman could pick up a little accent in her voice, perhaps Italian? “To new students, welcome for the first time and I hope you’ve had a good half-day! To returning students, welcome back and let’s hope this year is better than before!”

There were a couple of whoops and cheers which mostly came from first years but instantly died once they realized no one else was doing it.

Headmistress Crespo definitely wasn’t what Roman was expecting. He was expecting a Dumbledore-esque character who was like a grandfather that Roman never had (or at least remembered since both of his grandparents died when he was a couple months old and three).

“For those of you who don’t know, let me introduce myself. I am the headmistress of Violet Branch Boarding School, Emilia Crespo. Throughout the year, you will learn new tools to better yourself and continue on to become beautiful adults. I hope that you will make lifelong friends while you stay here and enjoy the gorgeous architecture of my ancestor’s previous household.”

Roman could hear some shocked whispers from first years and felt slightly proud of himself for knowing this before them, even if the fact had been told to him seconds beforehand.

“When you retreat back to your dorms for the night, your schedules will be on your nightstands. All the rules and what we expect from you will be explained by your first period teacher. Thank you and enjoy your meal that our wonderful cooks have made for you.”

“The kitchens are so cool,” Satomi said once the chatter swelled up once again. “Sometimes I visit the chefs—they’re all so nice—and just hang out with them. Sometimes I help around too.”

“Wow, do you think you could show me? And the secret passageways?” Roman asked excitedly. He could picture dark, narrow, tunnels with deep stairs that seemed to go downwards endlessly.

“Maybe. I don’t often show other students the secrets of the castle because technically you’re not supposed to know.”

“Oh.”

But Satomi grinned. “But I don’t know. We’ll have to see. Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

“Of course!” But then Roman thought for a second. “Well, I’ll tell Patton,” he turned to his brother. “But you won’t tell anyone, right?”

“Of course not,” Patton shook his head.

Satomi smiled even wider. “Good.”

“So are you going to show us?” Roman asked excitedly. “When? Tonight?”

“I’ll let you know,” she replied and stabbed a piece of carrot.