A Return to the Office Desk

Downstairs in his office, Aaron dropped the sack of components on the floor, collapsed at his desk, and buried his face in his hands. He felt like his gut was being torn to shreds. He didn’t even understand what had just happened. What was so wrong about Aaron wanting to rule over the entire island, including Artimé? And what was so wrong about wanting to do it from the nicest location in the land? Just because the mansion happened to be magical, and just because it happened to be created by Unwanted trash, and just because it was surrounded by wickedly awful creative people, did not make Aaron sympathetic to the Unwanteds, or worse, some sort of jealous admirer.

Artimé was rightfully his, but not because Aaron deserved to be Unwanted—no one knew about his infractions but he and his brother, who had taken the blame when they were ten in order to save him. And no one knew what Aaron’s life would be like now if he’d taken responsibility for his own creativity. Alex’s sacrifice had been a gift that any intelligent person wouldn’t think twice about accepting! For that was what Aaron was. Intelligent. Strong. Wanted. Period.

And none of this changed the fact that something sinister was happening with General Blair. Aaron didn’t trust him—not now. Not after that meeting.

He lifted his head and stared across the bare, gray room, and his heart sank. He was on his own again. He didn’t have the Quillitary after all. He was on his own, and undoubtedly about to fail once more. It was the story of his life.

At least he could let General Blair do the hard work of conquering Artimé. That was an easy enough decision—it was going to happen whether Aaron wanted it to or not. And of course he wanted it to happen. The impossible part would come after that, when Aaron would have to take over the mansion from General Blair. And if General Blair really was just using Aaron, did that mean that the general was also planning to get rid of him when he was no longer needed?

Aaron groaned into his sleeve. The uncertainty and the anxiety were killing him, he was sure of that.

His mind turned to Secretary. The old woman grew more dear to him the longer she was gone, and he wished her back in this room again. She’d know what to do. But there was no bringing her back from the panther’s jaws.

The panther—just one of his many failures. There had been so much promise there. It was such a shame that all the jungle and its creatures were useless to Aaron now. He couldn’t trust them to obey him, even though they seemed like they wanted to.

Aaron massaged his temples. Maybe he had moved too fast with the jungle animals. Maybe he hadn’t spent enough time teaching the panther what he wanted her to do. Could that have saved Eva? He was always so impatient. And now he would never know.

Three days left until General Blair attacked Artimé, and here Aaron sat, helplessly awaiting the general’s takeover, and not really sure he had a place in the angry man’s future plans. Perhaps a takeover of the palace was next. Maybe that was why General Blair wanted him to lock himself inside—to make his own capture that much easier.

“I’m such an idiot,” Aaron muttered, flopping down on the desk in despair.

“Yes, you really are,” came a woman’s voice from the hall.

It was the elusive Gondoleery Rattrapp.

Aaron lifted his head and frowned. “What do you want?”

Gondoleery stepped into the room. “I was just nosing about to see how you were coming along in your quest to take over Artimé,” she said. “Care to fill your favorite governor in on the plan?”

“Not really.”

“What’s that you say?”

Aaron shot her a pointed look. “Things are coming along fine,” he said. “I’m working with the Quillitary and we’re going to attack soon.”

“Soon? When?”

“Soon enough,” Aaron said. “That’s my private information.”

Gondoleery laughed. “I’ll go ask Blair myself if you like.”

Aaron recoiled. “How did you—how do you—?”

“How did I know he was still alive?” Gondoleery purred, obviously delighted to see the surprise on Aaron’s face. “Maybe because I’ve been working with him too.”

Aaron stood up, feeling the heat rise to his face. “I knew it! I knew he was—! You traitor!” He whipped around the desk and lunged at Gondoleery.

She pointed at him, and a skewer of ice coupled with an arctic blast shot from her fingers and flew toward Aaron. It struck him, the point burying itself into his arm. He yelped and fell back against the desk. The spear of ice hung from him, and then crumbled and dropped to the floor.

“Next time I won’t stop it from going straight through you,” Gondoleery said with a sickly sweet smile. “Don’t touch me, Aaron Stowe. Don’t ever, ever, touch me.”

Aaron’s mouth hung open. He righted himself and rubbed his arm where the icy spear had jabbed him. Without taking his eyes off her, he slowly walked around to the other side of the desk, putting it between them for his protection. He glanced at the sack of spell components, out of reach on the floor, and useless until he knew the proper things to say with them. He looked down at the drawer that had once contained heart attack spell components, but he’d used them up on the panther.

He was out of luck.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean to threaten me,” Gondoleery said cheerily. She picked at her teeth with a fingernail. “Did you?”