“Marcus,” Octavia said, “what we need is to get the boy to forget about his brother. Get him busy training immediately. Keep his mind occupied so he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. How hard can it be? Human siblings have done it for years here without issue!”

Mr. Today’s eyes narrowed sharply. He glanced at Claire, then back at Octavia. When he spoke, it was in a most serious and hushed tone. “You must understand, my dear lady, that it is very, very different with twins. There’s a connection. A loyalty that exceeds all others.”

Claire stared at her hands in her lap.

Octavia closed her lips over her teeth, folded several arms across her chest and frowned. “So it’s inevitable, you’re saying. The connection between twins is that strong that he’ll never give up?”

“That is what I believe.”

“He’s capable of figuring spells out on his own eventually, with or without the training,” Octavia muttered, shaking her long head. “How soon before it all begins?”

“I can’t say,” Mr. Today said. “But I’m uneasy. I don’t know what it is, but something else is brewing. Sigfried told me of some suspicious behavior on the part of a few of his actors. Costumes gone missing, fights breaking out. Something’s going on.”

“What?”

“I don’t yet know. But I’m feeling cautious for Artimé. We may be in for some trouble.”

Octavia snapped her jaw angrily. “Then we are doing Alex a great disservice by forcing him to be vulnerable, unable to protect himself.”

Mr. Today regarded Octavia for a moment, and then Ms. Morning. “Claire?”

Claire, who had been biting her lip anxiously throughout the conversation, closed her eyes and opened them again slowly. “There is one other way to make Alex forget about Aaron,” she said quietly.

“You know I won’t do that.”

“Well, then … I agree with Octavia,” she said finally.

Mr. Today dropped his head in his hands, took a deep breath, and then looked up. His eyes were weary again. “It is decided, then. Octavia, begin the boy’s training at once. And Claire …”

“Yes?”

A look of sorrowful understanding passed between them.

“I’m afraid it’s come. It’s time. Prepare our warriors for battle.”

The Way It Is With Twins

Alex tossed and turned in his sleep, his anxiety over-flowing into a clutch of frightening dreams. He dreamed of Lani and Meghan taunting him, pointing their fingers; of Mr. Today’s disappointment in him; of the sea turning back into the Great Lake of Boiling Oil; of the entire civilization of Artimé frog-marching him to the edge of the lake and shoving him in as he screamed.

He dreamed of Quill, only instead of the drab colorlessness and simplistic functionality of it all—from the single road that encircled the land, to the rusting Quillitary jalopies that had been used for training on and off for the past fifty years, to the quadrant of land where crops and farm animals were raised—he dreamed that Quill was brighter than it used to be. That things were painted, and that children were allowed to laugh and make things with sticks, and that Aaron and he still shared a tiny bedroom, but now they were allowed to whisper into the night and laugh after finishing each other’s sentences and tell each other about the dreams they’d had, rather than keeping them all inside and wondering.

He dreamed that Aaron was mourning for him. That Aaron missed him, just as Alex longed for Aaron. That they met again, and Aaron was so glad to see him. That Aaron wrapped his arms around his brother and said how terribly, awfully sorry he was that Alex was Unwanted, and that there had been a mistake—but that they had thought it was too late, that Alex was already dead.

In the dream Aaron couldn’t believe there was a magical land where hundreds of other Unwanteds lived, and so Alex convinced Aaron to come and see for himself. And when he did, Aaron didn’t want to go back.

That was a happy dream, and Alex, though he didn’t know it, smiled in his sleep. He was thrilled that Aaron knew he was still alive. And when Alex reluctantly delivered Aaron back to Quill, he whispered excitedly, “Promise not to tell anyone—not anyone. Maybe next time you can stay with me for good!”

“I won’t tell,” Aaron said. “I promise. You have to come back again soon!”

And just as they waved a satisfied, heartfelt good-bye, and Alex turned away to enter the gate into Artimé again, he looked back over his shoulder one last time, and his heart stopped. In place of his dear brother, Aaron, appeared the sinister face of High Priest Justine.

“ALEX!”

Alex jumped awake and shouted, “No!”

“ALEX! Please don’t make me shout through your bedroom door. My voice is delicate after so many weeks of misuse.”

“Clive? Is that you?” For a moment Alex didn’t know where he was.

“Oh, boy,” Clive said, and rolled his eyes.

Alex scrambled off the bed and opened the door to the sitting area. “Why are you shouting at me? It’s seven o’clock in the morning, for crying out sideways.”

“Ms. Octavia is waiting to speak with you. Put on a shirt or something, good gracious. I’ll deliver her as soon as you say you’re ready.”

Alex groaned as all the memories of the previous day came flooding back. More trouble, he thought, for skipping yesterday’s lesson. He slid a T-shirt over his head, pulled on his shorts, and waited, breathless, in front of the blackboard. “Okay,” he said.