“Why doesn’t anyone challenge the High Priest Justine?” asked Alex.

Mr. Today smiled ruefully. “They are afraid to, for of course they would be killed. And no one knows any different, my boy—without knowledge that life can be different, there can be no desire to change it. Their minds are too numb to think as we think. Therefore the thought of challenging Justine simply isn’t possible.”

Alex had another question too. “Mr. Today,” he said rather abruptly, “why don’t you challenge Justine? Why don’t you go into Quill and take over and teach them how to live like we do?”

The old man scratched his head and sighed wearily. He looked out over the land of Artimé, scanning the jungle, the grassy grounds, the mansion. “Because it would expose all of this. Because Justine is not a threat to us as long as she doesn’t know of our existence.” Mr. Today looked at the children, who gathered around him to catch his every word. “Because I don’t believe that starting a war and demanding the people of Quill follow our way of life is ever going to work—they are too set in their ways to handle such an abrupt change. If Quill is to change, it will have to be on Quill’s own terms. One day …” He sighed and trailed off. “Justine is an old woman. I await her death by natural causes. Perhaps then things will change … and perhaps without a war. It is what I hope for. And if I have anything in me at all, it’s hope.” After a moment he added very softly, “And maybe a little fear, too.”

The students, quiet as the grass upon which they sat, held their breath in hopes that Mr. Today would continue. But their leader seemed lost in deep thoughts.

Alex looked out over the sea. He felt that familiar pang of loneliness for his brother, and wished he could figure out a safe way to tell Aaron how to get in without exposing Artimé.

After a while, when most of the Unwanteds had taken the long, contemplative silence as a dismissal to go and explore, Lani alone remained next to Mr. Today, a look of consternation growing on her face.

“Mr. Today,” she said.

The old man startled out of his reverie. “Yes, Lani.”

“What if the next ruler of Quill is worse than Justine?” Lani’s face turned puce as she tried to appear nonchalant. She knew who the next ruler would be.

Mr. Today smiled ruefully at the girl. “Time holds hope for many impossible things. Let’s not give up on your father just yet.”

Mr. Today rose, shook the grass and wrinkles from his robe, nodded to Lani, and continued his walk alone now.

Lani lay back heavily on the grass, thinking about what would happen if Artimé were to go to war with Quill. Determined that if she ever came face-to-face in war with her father, the next in line to the High Priest, she would kill him herself.

Losing Patience

Meghan leaned toward Alex during Actors’ Studio and whispered, “What do you suppose Mr. Today meant last Sunday when he said it wasn’t his choice to—” “Hmm?” Annoyed, Alex looked up from the original Appleblossom script Perseus! Perseus! He was trying to memorize his lines. Mr. Appleblossom scurried about on stage, muttering in his typical rhyming manner, directing the actors who were in the current scene while the rest of the class sat in the auditorium, watching and going over their scripts. Lani and Samheed were onstage, in costume. Flubbing up royally, Alex thought.

Meghan rolled her eyes. “I said, what could it mean that Mr. Today didn’t choose to have the gate locked from the Quill side? Doesn’t Mr. Today have complete control over Artimé and all the spells that are in place? Couldn’t he easily cast an illusion spell that would—”

Alex let the script fall heavily to his lap. He scowled. “How should I know? Why don’t you ask your Magical Warrior instructor? I hardly know a thing about magic, as everyone here keeps reminding me.”

Flinching, Meghan leaned away from him again. “Gosh, Alex.” She drew her lips into a pout. “Nobody’s trying to rub it in. Honestly. Why don’t you ask Ms. Octavia why she hasn’t recommended you yet?”

“No,” Alex said, a bit too gruffly. He remembered the last time he’d asked, and how he’d vowed never to ask again.

“Are you getting all of your required work done?”

Alex stared at her, pointedly. “Not at the moment,” he said, and picked up his script again. His cue was coming up, and he wanted to be ready. He rose from his seat and pushed through the door that led backstage to the props table, grabbed his sword and a pair of winged sandals, and awaited his cue.

Meghan followed him as Mr. Appleblossom set the onstage actors in motion again. “Alex,” she whispered in the dimly lit hallway that led to the stage.

“What now?”

“We—all of us—especially Lani—”

“Are being horrible to me? Yes, Meg, I’m well aware of that.” Alex’s words were icy cold. He ignored the twinge in his gut that told him to stop talking, and continued. “You all need to grow up. Especially Lani.” Alex slipped his feet into the sandals and buckled them tightly.

“That’s not what I—”

“I wish you had a shush button! Now be quiet. My cue’s coming up,” Alex said. He turned away to focus on the stage, a gleam in his eye, his sword gripped tightly in his hand.

Meghan glared at Alex’s back for a moment, then turned and flounced back out to the auditorium, muttering, “We need to grow up? We need to grow up?” under her breath.