“Care to do the honours?” Morgaine said, letting go of my arm to present the door.

I slipped the key in the lock and, using two hands, turned it stiffly to the right, then the left and to the right again. But nothing happened.

“You need to push,” Morg said.

“Oh.” I gave the door a giant shove with my hand, then the entire right side of my body. It gave way, creaking with protest as it slowly opened. “How long has it been since anyone’s been in here?”

“The gardener comes in a few times a day, but no one except you is allowed in here, and those you personally invite.” She bristled with pride. “I’ve never even seen the inside.”

“Weren’t you here when they built it?”

She shook her head. “It was built when Lilith was a child. I wasn't ‘created’ until about thirty years later.”

“Oh. So, how does the gardener get in here if that door never gets used?”

“Secret passage.”

“Hm.” I breathed out through my nose, smirking. “Should’ve guessed.”

As we stepped through the thin branches of wilting willows and into the garden, the sweet essence of summer filled the air. I closed my eyes around the beauty of stone steps, shining gates atop, opening out to a cobblestone path.

“Come on.” Morgaine transformed into the epitome of a little girl, taking my hand and leading me to the garden steps. We pushed through the gates, and I stopped, letting my arms fall to my sides. The cobblestone path led away between plants and trees, and at the centre sat a large square pond with marble edging—a place you could sit to read a book. White swans and plain ducks bathed and dived in the water, and blossoming lilies floated on the top, home to frogs I could hear singing but couldn’t see.

“That path leads right around the gardens,” Morgaine said. “I was told Lilith had it laid when she was a woman, so she could pass each of her favourite scents as she walked—a way of clearing her head.”

“Well, then, we should walk it.” I took Morgaine’s hand again and started the path, smiling as daisies, roses and tulips greeted each step—a kaleidoscope canvas of colours. I tried to make out the edge of the walls around the garden, but vines and trees and all manor of plant life completely hid it—as if we were in some alternate universe—no walls. I could imagine the garden went on forever, and this magical feeling, this sense of something present here that couldn't be touched, made me think I wouldn’t be surprised if it did, in fact, go on forever.

“Morgaine?”

“Yes.” She looked back from the tops of the trees.

“Everything we say in here is in confidence, right?”

“Yes.”

I placed one hand then the other behind my back and watched my blue ballet flats blend in with the tiny multi-coloured stones of the path. Everything felt so bright and richly-hued, like this whole garden was a painting.

“What’s on your mind, Princess?”

“I…” I blinked back tears.

“That bad, huh?”

After a long sigh, I smiled and told Morgaine all about the dreams I’d been having. We walked the entire path, coming to rest by the rectangle pond again, in a circled section that housed a small white seat and a sundial, surrounded by wispy little stems with snowflake flowers.

“So, you think you’re in love with Jason?” she said as we sat on the edge of the pond.

“No.”

“It sounds like it. And I get the sense that you are.”

I sighed, watching a dragonfly whiz past, then drop down and kiss the white and pink blossoms that fell into the water, coming in diagonally on the whisper of the breeze. “I don't know what to think. That’s why I'm talking to you. I'm confused.”

“Okay, so, what are you confused about—your feelings or what your feelings mean?”

I had an answer on my tongue, but hesitated. “Does dreaming about Jason mean I don't love David?”

“Do you love David?” she asked simply.

I laughed, looking inside my heart to the place I always felt him. “Yes.”

“Then, no, it doesn't.”

“Well, am I cheating on him—by having a dream, or…memories?” I asked. “I mean, I held Jason’s hand—kissed him. Is that cheating, when I—”

“Amara.” She placed her hand on my shoulder. “Calm down. Seriously. Jason’s dead. Okay? So, you haven't done anything wrong. You can't control your dreams. Sometimes, Princess, they don't make any sense at all.”

“I know.” I dipped my fingertips into the cool water. “But, I wanted him, Morg. I wanted Jason like I want David.”

“It’s just the spirit bind, Ara. You would never have done that stuff with Jason if he hadn’t made you believe you loved him. And you wouldn’t do it now, would you—if Jason was still alive?”

I shook my head, feeling a little unsure in my heart.

“Good, then don't worry about it. It’ll pass.”

“Do you think I should tell David?”

“No,” she said in short, her mouth making a circle. “No. I would leave that alone until this thing resolves itself.”

“Serious?”

“Uh-hu. You don't know their history like I do. Jason’s not here for David to go and strangle anymore, so he’d have to find some other way to vent his anger, and it wouldn’t be pretty.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Trust me, Amara. He is far better off in Mushroom Land than Truth City.”

“Huh?”

“Mushroom Land, you know? Kept in the dark and fed bull—”

“Uh.” I held my hand up, then laughed. “Ok. I get it. But I don’t like it. I feel like I'm lying to him.”

“Well, then tell him—and what you see on his face will make you wish you hadn't.” She took my hand. “Princess, it was a dream. Nothing happened. Nothing has changed. You don’t need to hurt him for no reason.”

“Well, if I've done nothing wrong then he’d have no reason to be hurt.”

“Except to know that his brother, even in death, is still causing trouble.”

“He already knows that.”

“Leave it in the past, Amara. David's suffered enough. That much I do know. And I know he won’t delight in you admitting you wanted Jason, even in a dream—especially since you don't actually feel that way,” she said, sighing. “It wasn’t real, Your Majesty, it doesn’t make sense to hurt him for something that you don't truly feel.” She looked at me then, and frowned. “Or do you?”

“I'm confused, Morg.” I dropped my head into my hands. “I don’t know what I feel.”

“Then don't tell him until you do,” she concluded.

Mike walked ahead while I followed, taking in the scenery—the soaring, airy trees, some of them yellow, others green, and the dry, leaf-covered forest floor. It actually wasn't that scary in here—for an enchanted forest. I expected a little more…enchantment.

We strolled in silence for a while, leaving the summer behind on the border, where the shorter trees, with full leafy branches, stood as fairy-tale sentries. The deeper we walked, the darker and cooler it got, and the trees seemed to soar up to the heavens, spaced further apart, though the canopy seemed to close in, miles up into the sky.

Mike stopped in front of a large, grey rock and turned to face me. “This is the Stone of Truth.”

“What?” I unfolded my arms and walked over to the big lump of slate in the middle of the clearing. “It looks like a rock.”

“It is a rock.” He smiled. “What did you expect?”

“I don't know—maybe an elaborate altar or something.”

“Nothing great is ever made of gold, Ara.”

“What does that mean?”

“If it looks like a rock, people will only see it as a rock.” He ran a flat hand over it. “It’s safe that way.”

“How did it get magic? Like, what is it?”

“You don’t know?” He frowned.

Feeling sheepish, I shook my head.

“Come here.” He patted the spot beside him as he leaned on the unpretentious altar.

“You’re leaning on it?”

“Yeah. Don't worry, baby, it’s not disrespectful.”

“It’s not?”

“No more than picking an apple from a tree. It’s a rock—a part of nature.”

When I let my hips and butt fall against the Stone, I felt a vibrant warmth coming off it; it seemed so small here, surrounded by so many tall trees, spread so far apart, making a clearing around it, like it had some kind of disease the rest of nature didn't want to catch. “It feels lonely.”

“What does?”

“The rock.”

“How can a rock feel lonely?” He looked behind him to the grey stone.

I shrugged. “I don't know. I just get the sense that it’s lonely.”

His brow arched. “You are one weird girl.”

I smiled. “I know. So, anyway…how did it get magic?”

“Well, legend has it—according to the Lilithian’s version—that the original Lilith stole a seed from the Fruit of Wisdom and carried it away. One day, she decided to plant it—to profit from its fruit and its knowledge. When she covered the seed with soil from impure lands, it grew out of the ground, tall and magnificent, then, shrivelled away and turned to stone.” He jerked his thumb behind him. “They say a great forest grew around it over many centuries—said to be enchanted—to protect the Stone from any who seek to misuse its power.”

“So it was a tree, and it died, but kept its power?”

“Or maybe it never died. Maybe the tree is alive in there somewhere.” He rapped his knuckles on the Stone. “And this is just an outer shell.”

I stared at in wonder.

“But anyway, like I said—it’s a legend.” He shrugged. “I don't care for the rest of it, and neither should you. Just being a vampire is enough weird for me. I can't even think of the fact that my best friend has to cut herself open and bleed on this rock to satisfy the sick, twisted traditions of a nation that lives on second-hand stories.”

“You'll be swearing an oath on this rock soon, too.”

“Yes, and then I’ll be your slave for life.” He bowed low, smiling.

“Which will be different to now, how?”

“Very funny.” He folded his arms. “So, back to the guided tour; the first part of the ceremony is held here. After you cut yourself and bleed, you make some freaky magic promise that’ll stain the skin all over your body with painful tattoos—”

“They fade when the ritual is finished, Mike. You know that.”

“Yeah, but they burn, don't they? That’s what everyone says.”

“So I've been told.” I looked at my smooth white skin, trying to imagine being covered in black runes. “But, I'm not the only one getting them, Mike. So don't worry about me.”

“Yes, but it’s different for me, Ara. I’ll only get one here.” He pointed to his upper arm. “You’ll have them everywhere, and we’re not allowed to show pain during the ceremony. No emotion at all, remember?”

“I’ll be fine, Mike. I'm strong.”

“Then why are you shaking?” We both looked down at my hands. “Come here.” He sighed and wrapped me up safely in his strong, warm embrace, until the shaking died down to tiny trembles.

“I'm not that scared—not really.”

“You are. You’re obviously scared.”

“It’s not the ritual that scares me, though.”

He looked down at me, releasing his hold gently. “Then what is it?”

“It’s…I'm actually more afraid I’ll stuff something up—say the wrong words or trip over.”

He laughed. “Really?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear that, then. It means my best friend is still in there somewhere.”

“Somewhere?”

He looked down at me, his caramel eyes bright with his smile, and wrapped his arm across my neck. “You’ve grown up a lot in the last few weeks. I don't feel like slapping you quite so often.”

“Urk! I can feel the love,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

“Aw, you know we love ya, baby.”

“I know. So, the walk—where do I go after I bleed on the Stone?”

He pointed to a path between two tree trunks that looked like Ents with big noses. “Right through Boris and Bert.”

“Boris and Bert?”

“It’s what we call those trees, because they look like funny old men with weird names.”

I chuckled lightly. “That sounds like something I’d name them.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” He rocked back, laughing once. “Funny thing is, it was actually Lilith who named them—when she was a child.”

“Cool.”

“So, you go past Boris and Bert, and once through, the ceremonial crowd will disperse and wait for you to arrive just before dawn on the rim of the forest outside the Throne Room.”

“And I have to walk at human pace, don't I? I can't just do it all in one run then sit on the ground for the night?”

“Uh, no.” He half laughed. “Don't do that.”