“Maybe I’ll uphold my family legacy and open a bakery.”
“A bakery?”
His mouth curved into that signature half-smirk of his. “You can’t see it?”
“Um. No. I mean, why not? I just . . . um.”
“Peach pie can become the signature dish.”
My jaw must’ve come completely unhinged, because the look that crossed Remo’s face was wickedly bright.
“Relax. I’m just teasing you, Trifecta. I much prefer strategizing over baking.” His teeth flashed and so did his eyes.
“But you like to bake?”
“Surprisingly, I do.”
“Who are you, and what did you do with Remo Farrow?”
He grinned a little wider, then inclined his head toward the magical vessel. “Come on. We’ve got a train to catch.” He started to turn but must’ve noticed I’d grown too stiff to move, because he grabbed my limp hand and all but dragged me into the glossy carriage.
“If you ever bake me a pie,” I said, as he punched the two buttons, and the train began to rattle, “I’ll unfriend you.”
He leaned back against the console, closing his fingers around the edge and crossing his legs at the ankles. “Unfriending me implies you’ve friended me. Are we friends, Amara Wood?”
I studied him from my lower vantage point. I’d taken the precaution of sitting so as not to be tossed around. “Wouldn’t that be an unexpected twist in your story? The hero and the villain becoming tight . . .”
“I draw the line at getting matching tattoos.”
The smile, which had appeared on his lips earlier, didn’t grow in size but in intensity. Slowly, it smoothed his roughened edges and dispelled the shadows from his face, and like mortar sealed the first brick to the foundation I’d lain out.
21
Neverra
Relief swept from my spine into my furthest extremities when we arrived inside the next world. “It’s over,” I murmured.
“What’s over?”
“Our imprisonment. We’re obviously home.” The portals gleamed like miniature ponds beside the forest of calimbors whose crowns were drenched in a ribbon of mist so thick it obstructed the lavender sky.
“Don’t you think there’d be more people if we were home? And what about the Pink Sea? I don’t see it. Do you?”
I whirled around to find that Remo was right, even though he hadn’t needed to be so snarky about it. There was no pink stretch of water; only tall cliffs frosted with mist. Disappointment flooded me, penetrating to my very marrow, washing away any lingering relief. “Cruel. So cruel.” I didn’t even want to leave the platform.
Remo hopped off the floating platform, which seemed to be woven from volitor fronds. He started walking but then backpedaled toward me and raised his arms to help me down.
“I’m not going.”
He frowned.
“What’s the point? A calimbor will surely squash us, because something shitty’s bound to happen. It’ll probably flatten a third of our bodies but spare our skulls, because what would be the fun in ending us too quickly?”
“No calimbor will fall over us, prinsisa.”
I still didn’t feel like jumping down and trotting around this poor replica.
“Maybe this is the cell in which we meet others.”
I looked down at him, totally unconvinced.
“It seems hospitable enough.”
I narrowed my eyes. “No, it doesn’t.” I realized then that the trees were lined up just like the houses had been in the last worlds, all tidy and symmetrical.
He didn’t lower his arms. “We’re partners.”
“The villain wants to sit this one out.”
“Fine.” His arms began to drop. “Stay up there. If I die again . . .” He let his voice drift off.
“I promise not to board Train Hell until you resurrect.”
“What if I don’t resurrect?”
Ugh. I couldn’t believe Remo was resorting to guilt tripping. He must’ve sensed me softening, because his arms arced back up. Even though I really wanted to get down on my own, I would probably fall face first at his boots. I chose the lesser of two mortifications, sat, then sprang toward him.
He caught me. “Can’t believe you trusted me to catch you,” he said as he unwrapped his fingers from my waist.
I whipped my gaze to his eyes, trying to surmise if he would’ve tricked me into a false sense of security. “You wouldn’t have dared . . .”
“Are you sure? I’m a pretty daring person.”
In truth, I wasn’t sure. Allying ourselves to face this dimension didn’t automatically make us best friends.
The green in his irises dimmed. “I wouldn’t have dropped you, Trifecta,” he grumbled before carving a path through the soft moss, leaving me to stare at his straight back.