Protagonist Bound (44 page)

Thankfully, Ravelli wasn’t too far from our schools; it was only about four kingdoms over.

Most of us fell asleep at some point during the trip. I didn’t remember falling asleep myself, but I guess I had because one minute I was staring out at the stars as they whizzed by, the next I was trying to adjust to the light of the oncoming sunrise.

I squinted and rubbed my eyes. Blue, Jason, and SJ were still out. Blue looked really cute with her hood pulled down over her eyes. SJ was sitting up way too straight for someone who was unconscious. And Jason was snoring, but no one seemed disturbed by it.

I turned my attention back to the skyline. It was just ushering in the colors of daybreak. Pinks, oranges, and pastel shades of citrine stretched upwards with the sun rising behind them like a big egg yolk.

Silently, I moved to the seat across from me and peered out the front window. Daniel was as alert as ever with the reins in his right hand. The metallic scabbard that held his sword was hanging from his shoulder and catching the light, as was the golden chain dangling from his left hand.

The chain was attached to the same pocket watch he always seemed to be carrying around with him. I leaned over to try and see it better, but his body blocked its face from view—preventing me, yet again, from taking a closer look at it.

I analyzed the dimensions of the window before me. It was directly behind the driver’s seat and took up a good portion of that side of the carriage with the exception of the actual bench area (about five feet by two feet in diameter). An impulse of curiosity getting the better of me, I decided to open the window and crawl out.

Before Daniel could stop me, I had climbed through and sat down next to him. He brusquely stashed the pocket watch back into his jacket when he saw me coming—careful to keep it concealed as he did so.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously. “Gonna push me off the carriage or something?”

“Oh, please,” I responded as I slid the window shut.

“That’s not a no,” he countered.

“Well, I like to keep my options open,” I replied.

As I said this I realized that he was smiling at me. Not that normal cocky smirk, but an actual, genuine smile. Stranger yet, I realized I was smiling back. We both seemed to notice this irregularity at the same time though, and immediately buried our grins beneath irritable frowns.

“I just needed to get some air,” I assured myself aloud.

He nodded, but didn’t add any commentary.

For a while we sat there enjoying the beauty of the blushing sky. It was nice. The only visible thing beneath us was a valley of clouds so fluffy it could’ve been made of cotton balls. And the wind against my face was bliss. It was like pure freedom—a sensation that I couldn’t remember having felt since, well, ever.

From time to time I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Daniel. He actually wasn’t quite so obnoxious to look at when he wasn’t talking, causing me to wonder if there was any truth to my friends’ claims that he wasn’t such a bad guy. Beyond this though, as I studied him, I wondered even more why he’d chosen me of all people to try and prove the opposite to.

“Daniel,” I suddenly heard myself saying. “Why don’t you like me?”

Wait, did I just ask that question
out loud
?

What could possibly have possessed me to ask him that?

He broke his gaze away from the horizon and tilted his chin in my direction, perplexed. “Who said I didn’t like you?”

Now it was my turn to be confused.
Like, a lot.

“Um, you did,” I said bluntly. “The first day we met. I don’t really care or anything; people dislike me all the time. It sort of comes with the territory when you’re openly sarcastic and rebellious. But with you . . . I mean, you kind of seem to make it a point to get your dislike across, like it’s your own personal vendetta or something.”

All right, I am either suffering from severe altitude sickness, or some type of rupture in my head. Because it is definitely not okay for me to be talking to him this openly!

I’m not even sure I can classify that as talking—blabbering on is more like it.

Daniel didn’t appear to notice how embarrassed I was over my forthcoming-ness, though. He seemed too preoccupied with the assertion I’d just made.

He rubbed the back of his neck like he was trying to massage some type of honesty out.

Eventually he made eye contact with me again. Then he uttered the two words I’d least expected to ever come out of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I almost fell off the carriage from shock. “What?”

Seriously, what?

“It was messed up of me to just take one look at you and judge you off the bat like that,” Daniel continued. “You’re not that bad really, and of all people I definitely should’ve known better.”

“Um, apology accepted I guess,” I said. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’ve been a total jerk to me since then.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Knight,” he said. “I may not dislike you as a person, but being around you isn’t exactly my favorite pastime either. I mean you’re so . . . you’re just so . . .”

He scowled and shook his head. “Look, have you ever met someone who just completely rubbed you the wrong way? Well, it’s kind of like that. You bug me. Plain and simple. That’s the best way I can describe it anyways. No offense.”

Hmm
.
All this time I’d been so consumed with how much Daniel annoyed me, I hadn’t even considered the idea that maybe the feeling was mutual.

To be honest, knowing that it was made me feel a bit better. Like maybe we were more even than I’d originally thought. Or at the very least maybe the unexplainable sense of self-doubt he seemed to instill in me was coincidental, not a reflection of some abnormal ability he possessed to see right through me.

“You know what, Daniel,” I finally replied, “for the first time, no offense taken. Mutual irritation I can handle. I did share a room with Mauvrey for a year after all. And if I could get through that . . . Well, maybe there’s hope for us yet.”

“Yeah,” Daniel said, not meeting my gaze. “Maybe.”

It was strange. I couldn’t believe we’d actually reached some form of understanding. Until that moment I wouldn’t have considered that such a thing was even possible between us. Needless to say I should’ve dropped the conversation at that—called it quits while we were ahead. But no, I just had to go and open my big mouth again.

“I gotta say, Daniel,” I found myself commenting after a beat, “it’s kind of nice to hear you be open about something for a change.”

He raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “Meaning?”

“Meaning you kind of keep to yourself.”

“Don’t you do the same?” he asked.

“No,” I said without even a hint of uncertainty.

“Really?”

“Yes,
really.
I’m pretty open about myself. I’m sure even you can attest to that.”

Daniel sort of studied my face as if he was trying to ascertain whether or not to continue. In retrospect, it was definitely the type of introspection that I should’ve done on myself at least five times in the last few minutes. If I had, maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation now—positioned in just the right place of vulnerability for Daniel to drop the hammer that all of my doubts had long been leading me toward.

“You’re open about the way
other people
see you,” Daniel began slowly, “but, not about how you really see yourself. That’s why what I said to you that night we went to Fairy Godmother HQ bothered you so much. I could tell. I’m guessing the same thing probably happens whenever Lady Agnue, or Mauvrey, or anyone else calls you out in a really personal way. Part of you knows they’re wrong about who they think you are, and has no problem protesting it. But in the end what they say still upsets you because you’re not able to fully convince yourself of
why
they’re wrong about you. Am I right?”

Uh, come again?

I was totally stunned. Like, Mauvrey-winning-the-rodeo stunned.

Why would he? How did he? I mean, what?

I was frozen now. I felt utterly infuriated and undermined and unsettled and . . . it was all because of Daniel.

I immediately had the urge to argue with his very blunt analysis of me. At the same time, I found that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Much as the understanding killed me, something in the pit of my stomach suddenly gave way to the feeling that he may have been right.

When he, or any of my other natural enemies tried to tell me who I was, I always felt confident enough to instantly protest their views. However, in the aftermath (especially lately), their words echoed in my head and rattled my insecurities—forcing me to ask myself for a form of self-assurance that should’ve come naturally if I was as internally sure of my character as my assertions to other people suggested. But, it didn’t. Because, I guess . . . I wasn’t.

I placed my fingers to my temples like SJ did in hopes of pushing out the merciless self-analysis.

So much for my short-lived hope that Daniel’s tendency to read me like a book was merely coincidental phenomenon. For whatever the reason, he really did possess a practically supernatural ability for getting inside my head and forcing me to face parts of myself that I would’ve preferred to pretend weren’t there.

“How do you do that?” I sighed after a minute had passed.

“Do what?” Daniel asked.

I looked away from him in begrudging embarrassment. “Know just what to say to get to me,” I admitted.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffed. “You’re not that complicated.”

“Daniel . . .” I said, frustration edging my tone.

He paused. “Knight, maybe we just have more in common than you think, all right?”

“Yeah, okay,” was the only sarcastic response I could muster to such an ambiguous statement.

I began to fiddle with the hem of the dark green dress I had on over my leggings. The brown pleats in the skirt matched the color of my trusty combat boots. I tried to focus on counting their twisted laces in an effort to block out the thoughts swirling in my head, but to no avail. Daniel’s voice was practically a part of my conscious now—unwanted, but unable to be completely silenced nonetheless.

What had I been thinking,
I thought to myself bitterly.
Like he and I could ever be in close proximity to one another without chaos ensuing.

His assertion that we might have more in common than I thought was ridiculous. Frankly, I sincerely doubted that we had
anything
in common. The very idea that we shared even a single characteristic was absurd. We were nothing alike. Starting with the fact that he was a total jerk-face, and I was not.

Still . . . I couldn’t help but ponder what he’d meant. If I truly irritated him in the way he claimed, why would he not only acknowledge, but also confess to such a shameful realization? What did he believe we had in common that could’ve been important enough for him to deem worth admitting to like that?

One look at him and I wondered if there was even a point in asking. I suppose I had to try but, based on his track record, I garnered my hopes of getting anything out of him were pretty dismal.

Ugh. Why does he always have to answer with those cryptic one-liners? A bit of elaboration from time to time would be nice. I mean, hello, I’m not some kind of oracle.

“Okay, Daniel,” I said, disrupting the silence once more with a slight change of subject. “You seem to think you know a whole lot about me. I’m not saying you’re right about half the junk you’ve said. But, I’m going to give you a courtesy you’ve never given me and actually ask you a few questions before I make any more snap judgments about you. It’ll be like a little experiment. I ask you something, and you try to give me a straightforward, non-mysterious answer. Got it?”

He shrugged. “Fine, whatever.”

“Alrighty then.” I cleared my throat. “You never answered me before. What is so awful about your prologue prophecy that it made you decide to come with us to find the Author?”

“I already told you, Knight, that’s none of your business,” Daniel responded. “Why are you even so determined to know anyways? Jason’s on this quest with us too and you don’t seem so obnoxiously compelled to find out this type of personal stuff from him.”

“Because I don’t have to,” I said bluntly. “I’ve known him for a long time for starters, but, more than that, I respect his privacy because we’re friends.”

Daniel tilted his head and gave me a look that I did not recognize. “And we’re not?” he asked.

Whoa, awkward.

The truth was, I didn’t know what to reply because I myself had wondered the same thing before and had never come up with a conclusive answer.

Daniel made me angry in ways I didn’t even understand, and in a lot of ways I definitely
did
understand. Still, he was Jason’s friend, and Blue and SJ didn’t seem to mind him. He’d spent an awful lot of time with us since the school year had commenced. And, to be fair, he’d been more or less a team player since we began this whole future-changing venture. So I supposed he was kind of, technically, by definition, a friend.

Then again, what kind of friend insulted a person the way Daniel constantly insulted me?

Ninety percent of the time we were with one another we were arguing. The other ten percent of the time the only reason we weren’t was probably because we weren’t speaking at all. For crying out loud, a minute ago he sent me into a massive internal tailspin because, although he barely knew me, he was still able to look through me like glass and say things that, well, that I just didn’t want to hear.

To put it simply—it was complicated.

Don’t get me wrong, his very presence made me shudder with aggravation. That much was easy to observe. Even so, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t view him completely as an enemy. He may have said things to me that were hurtful, unnerving even. But I didn’t see meanness in his eyes when he looked at me. There was some jaded coldness and traces of shrewdness, as if he was dead set on calculating the best way to keep me at a distance. However, beyond that I saw no ill will. In fact, in those rare moments when we weren’t at each other’s throats (like when I’d first come out here) I could sense the presence of something else—something ardent and strong, but tinged with a sadness I did not yet understand.