His face reddens. “It’s different in here, somehow.”
“No, it’s not. Besides, we’re seven stories up in a tower. Who’s going to know?”
For the next few hours, Oliver and I sit in front of the fire making a small dent in the sumptuous meal. He regales me with stories of practical jokes he’s played on Frump, and gives me brief verbal sketches of each of the characters I am likely to meet. I tell him about my fight with Jules and how my mother tried to cheer me up. Then our conversation turns to a brainstorming session as we try to figure out what we can do to force an exit from the story.
“As soon as the book is opened,” Oliver says, “you’ll disappear, because you aren’t part of the story.”
“Even if that’s true—which you don’t know for sure—you wouldn’t go with me. We’d be right back where we started.”
“But isn’t it better to have at least one of us on the outside, instead of neither?”
I can’t answer that, not honestly. Before, I wanted Oliver by my side, but I didn’t really know what I was missing. Now that I understand what it feels like to be near him, it’s going to be that much harder to have it taken away.
“The book is stuck on a shelf in my bedroom. No one’s ever going to notice it, much less open it.”
“Then we have to force its hand,” Oliver says. “There must be a way to get a book to open itself.”
“Magic,” I suggest, joking.
Oliver looks up at me. “Of course,” he says, raising his brows. “We need to start with Orville.”
I stifle a yawn with my hand, but Oliver sees me do it. “You,” he says, getting to his feet, “have had a very long day. It’s time for you to go to sleep.”
He takes the candleholder he used to lead us upstairs and walks to the door. “You can’t just leave me here alone,” I say, panicking. What if I go to sleep, and when I wake up, this is all gone? I don’t know the rules of this world. I don’t know what’s likely to happen.
“I’m right downstairs,” Oliver says. “One flight. Stomp on the floor and I’ll come running.”
We are standing at the threshold to my chamber. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I say, repeating Seraphima’s words.
He grins, then leans down and kisses me good night. We are both still smiling when we break apart. Oliver starts down the stone steps. “Dream about me, Cousin,” I call out.
I can hear him laughing all the way down the stairs.
