because it sputters another burst of lightning. This time the ledge

where the satellites are hooked up catches fire, right where Gwen

sits.

“How do you turn this off?”

“You control it!” she yells, dusting herself off the ground.

Kurt is running around the roof looking for a source of water.

“Stop getting excited.”

“Yeah, I have that problem.” I give my scepter a shake, but it’s

not a remote control with nearly dead batteries. I close my eyes. The

crackle of flame whips in the wind. I breathe and imagine, like Arion

had me do when coasting into the cove. I can feel the current

retreating, containing itself.

Gwen shouts my name.

The flames are six feet tall and getting taller with every gust of

wind. Kurt is entranced by it. He crouches down, pressing his hands

against his temples.

“You okay, man?” But of course he’s not okay.

I set the scepter on the ground before I set anything else on fire

and run back inside the building where the fire extinguisher is. I

take my shirt off and wrap it around my knuckles to break the glass. I

run back upstairs to where the flames are twice as tall as Kurt.

“Stupid child lock!” I cut myself on the plastic but it doesn’t

matter. I’ve set my building on fire. I point the nozzle at the flames

and the cold pressure blows all over the place.

I kneel beside Kurt. “It’s okay. It’s out.”

Even Gwen rubs his back and shoulders.

“I hate fire.” He’s breathless and shook and rambling, so all I

can make out is: “My parents” and “dragons” and “fire.”

“Come, let’s go back inside,” I say once I make sure the fire is

completely out. “Even if no one’s called the fire department, I’m

pretty sure they called their satellite providers.”

***

First, Gwen and I take a shaking Kurt under our arms and leave him

on the couch.

He repeats the same words, “fire, mother, father, dragons,” like a

mantra.

Then we race back to the rooftop for the fire extinguisher. I set

it on the Command Central floor and my scepter on the table.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper to Gwen.

She stretches her arm around my back and rests her chin on my

shoulder. “He’s in shock. It’ll pass in a bit.”

“I know he said something about hating fire.” I run a hand through

my hair. “I had no idea it was like that .”

“Many of our warriors were like this. When they came home from

battle.” She presses her forehead against my cheek. Her breath is warm

on my neck. “Those who made it home.”

I stand, tugging gently away from her grip. “We call it PTSD.

Post-traumatic stress disorder. My friend Jerry, his brother’s a

Marine. It’s our version of warriors. When he made it home, he shut

down completely.”

“He wasn’t fighting dragons or fey, was he?” She asks so

innocently that I can’t laugh at her.

“No,” I say.

Gwen nods, studying the pins on the Command Central maps. “Seems

silly, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

She traces the length of the map. North to south. West to east.

One big invisible cross. “We’re all fighting for a bit of home, and

even if we get it, we’re not satisfied because it isn’t really home,

is it? It’s still just an ocean. A bit of land.” She turns back to me,

and I can feel the shift in her body.

“Where is your home, Gwen?”

Startled by the question, she stutters, then laughs. “I suppose

court. With Elias gone, I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“I’ll always have a sleeping bag for you,” I say.

“I’m not certain if I should thank you or not.” She reaches out to

touch my face. But I go to the fridge and get cold water. Despite the

AC, I’m sweating.

“I’d better go,” she says.

“Where do you go off to?”

She takes my water and drinks from it. “I know things didn’t work

out with Sarabell, but perhaps I could learn a few things they’d never

say with you there.”

“You mean spy on then?” I take my water back. “You’d do that for

me?”

Sometimes I think Gwen’s eyes are going to burn a hole right

through me. It’s like staring into the stormiest sky and not knowing

if you want to run from the rain or stand there and let it fall all

over you.

“For you.” She presses her lips on my jaw, just under my mouth.

“And for the kingdom.”

One look at our freshly scrubbed guilty mugs, not to mention the

glaringly empty fire extinguisher on the kitchen floor, and Dad asks,

“What happened?”

Mom has a bag of ice cream in her hand. “We passed Gwenivere in

the lobby, and she smelled like smoke.”

Kurt joins us in Command Central. We exchange one look of

solidarity as he sits beside me. It’s not like we stole the car and

went for a joy ride, which, if this wasn’t all happening now, would be

pretty sweet to do in this weather.

So I give my parents the SparkNotes version of visiting Greg, the

papers, the landlocked on the boardwalk, and the fire. I leave out the

parts with Sarabell and the moment on the roof when I felt awesome

blowing stuff up. “I’ve seen CSI and my fingerprints are all over the

fire extinguisher.”

Dad cleans his square glasses on his untucked work shirt. “The

super is downstairs fighting off an angry mom because their cable

isn’t working.”

“Technically,” I point out, “I only burned down the satellites on

the roof. Including ours.”

“What were you thinking?” Mom yells. “There are cameras up there!”

“Actually, last year Janie said the landlord was too cheap to

install a real system,” I point out. “Only the elevator and lobby ones

work.”

“Janie? The super’s daughter?” Dad asks, trying to keep the grin

off his face in front of Mom.

“Dad-”

“What matters is that no one is hurt.” Dad points to me, giving

off the guilty smells of dirt and the excited burn of fireworks.

Underneath all of that is Mom’s melting strawberry ice cream. “Just,

no more fires in the house.”

I hold my hand up. “Merman’s honor.”

Dad rubs his hands together, like twiddling an invisible stick to

make invisible fire we’re not supposed to have in the house. “We’re

actually glad you’re here. We have something to tell you.”

“We do as well.” Kurt clears his throat, the familiar stoicism

returning to his posture. “We were waiting for Lady Maia.”

Mom brushes his hair back tenderly. “Kurt, please. I’m not a lady

of the court anymore.”

“You’ll always be a lady to me,” he says, softening under the

gesture. “My mother would’ve wanted me to address you as such.”

“I’ll just stick with ‘Mom.’ Hey, Mom. Greg says he was your

teacher how many years ago?”

She flushes like she’s going to whack me on the head with her

spoon. Dad throws his hands in the air and chooses the safer option of

the sofa instead. “You’re on your own, kid. I’m not going near that

one.”

“Come on, guys,” I say. “Just trying to lighten the mood. Greg

gave us all this riddle stuff and we need your help.”

Kurt spreads out Greg’s parchment papers.

“I can’t believe Greg is alive.” Mom wipes her hands on a towel.

“The old crab. I could’ve used his knowledge when I was pregnant with

you.”

“He wasn’t exactly happy to see us,” I say. “What with ol’ Grandpa

firing him and all that.”

Mom shakes her head. “That’s not what Father told us.”

“One of them is lying,” I say. “He wouldn’t leave a cushy gig on

Toliss for a house that’s falling apart, would he?”

Side by side, Kurt and my mother are mirror images, each with one