“We will return,” Rowder snarled, “and in greater numbers. You think this will stop us? You have made a powerful enemy this day, and I will spend every second of the time I have left on this earth making your lives miserable. Remember, your majesty, that you were given a chance. From here on, any blood spilled will be on your hands.”
Zoe nodded toward the reporters, hanging on every word. “I can’t wait to see tomorrow’s headlines. Lucy.”
“No!” Rowder cried. “Don’t! You can’t—”
Lucy raised his little hands toward her. “As the great Cab Calloway once said: skeetle-at-de-op-de-day!”
Tiny explosions, little pops! that sounded like stomping on bubble wrap. One of the suited men disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke. And then another. And then another. Some tried to run, but they did not make it far. Marblemaw let out an anguished wail before she, too, popped and vanished.
Rowder, now alone, her hair hanging in wisps around her face, panted, mouth hanging open. “This means war,” she snarled.
Arthur Parnassus stepped forward, moving until he stood next to his son and his queen, who landed on the ground next to him, taking his hand. Lucy did the same on his other side, and Arthur felt as strong as he ever had. Fire and feather, the phoenix lifted its head in Arthur’s chest, clacking its beak. “Bring your war,” he told her. “Whatever else has happened here, take your banishment knowing this: we will no longer hide. We will not stop. We will remake this world into one it should have been: welcome to all. And since you’re not with us, you’re against us. Lucy.”
Rowder opened her mouth once more, but before she could speak, her forehead began to bulge, then she, too, exploded in a cloud of shimmering dust.
When the cheers started, Arthur wasn’t quite sure what was happening. Later, he’d think that Mr. Swanson was the culprit, followed swiftly by the other employees from the hotel. Regardless, it—infectious, unbridled joy—spread quickly, becoming a roar unlike anything Arthur had heard before. He turned in a slow circle, skin buzzing, heart in his throat as the people of the village—human and magical alike—hugged one another, shook hands, jumped up in the air, their fists pumping. Martin Smythe high-fived J-Bone, both of them talking excitedly. And even better—though perhaps a little stranger—Merle, dancing a jig in the street, his ornery smile bright.
Arthur startled when someone took his hand. He looked over. Linus, watching him with a quiet smile. “It’s starting,” he whispered in awe.
“I am so, so proud of you,” Linus said. “You and Zoe and Lucy. The other children. All of you. This, Arthur. This is what you’ve been working towards. This is what you’ve been building. Can’t you see? You have changed minds.”
Linus was right. They had. Perhaps it was on a small scale, and its reverberations might not be felt outside the borders of Marsyas, but, as he’d taught their children, even the smallest things can change the world, if only one is brave enough to try. It wasn’t unlike the seeds they’d planted at Linus’s former, dreary home. Darkness and shadows, never-ending rain, and yet, color persisted, bursting through and rising, rising toward a blackened sky.
But the queen wasn’t yet finished. As Arthur looked on, she walked through the crowd, the people parting in hushed reverence, some bowing. A child—from the cyclops family—performed a neat curtsy, causing Zoe to laugh in delight and squeeze her shoulder as she passed.
It did not take her long to reach her destination. Standing in front of the reporters, their cameras flashing, microphones extended toward her, Zoe raised her hands to quiet their shouted questions. They fell silent. Everyone did.
Except for Zoe. “Thank you for coming to our home. It’s not normally this exciting, but we do have many things to offer. Which is why I will say this, and you can quote my every word: as Emma Lazarus wrote, ‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, the tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!’” Her wings spread as cameras clicked and shuttered. “To the world outside our home, know this: Marsyas will be for all magical people who seek shelter, who need a place to rest their heads. We will welcome you with open arms, and help you as best we can, be your stay short or permanent. But,” she added, “should anyone attempt to come to our home with despicable intentions, well.” Her expression hardened. “I’ll remind you I’m a queen, and I’ll do what’s necessary to protect my kingdom.” She blinked. “Oh, that sounded ominous, didn’t it? Good thing I have my lady, Helen Webb, who has agreed to continue her role as mayor.”
“They’re a power couple,” Phee breathed with stars in her eyes.
“What about the land?” a reporter called. “How can you possibly tell the magical community that they can come here when there isn’t enough room?”
“I’m glad you brought that up,” Zoe said. “If you would be so kind as to follow me, I’d be happy to show you what I have in mind.” With that, she spun on her heel and walked back toward Arthur, Linus, and the children. Halfway, Helen fell in step beside her, taking her hand and kissing the back with a loud smack. “How’d that feel?” she asked as they approached.
Zoe shook her head. “Strange. Unreal.” She paused. “Right.”
“Crown wasn’t a bad touch.”
“Not too much?”
Helen laughed. “Ask me that again later when we’re alone. Bring the crown.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When the women reached their family, Zoe went to the children first. They gathered around her, all speaking at once, aside from Sal, who stood at the rear, head cocked. Zoe looked at him and said, “This was because of you.”
Sal’s forehead bunched up. “What do you mean?”
“You,” Zoe said gently, “and the strength of your convictions.” She looked at each of the other children in turn. “The way you stood up for David, refusing to let us conceal him. The way you have each other’s backs, even when the odds are stacked against you. I may be a queen, but it is you who have the true power. Never forget that.”
Queen Zoe Chapelwhite bowed before them, the chains from her crown dangling around her face.
It wasn’t Arthur who bowed next; no, it was Linus, one hand across his chest, the other behind his back. Then J-Bone. Merle. Helen. Mr. Swanson, the employees from the hotel, the girl who sold kites, the man who owned the antique shop. The new ice cream parlor owner, the librarians, the guys, gals, and nonbinary pals from the bookstore and coffee shop.
It was all of them. Every single being—be they human or something else entirely—bowed for the children.
The wide-eyed, astonished look on each child’s face as the village of Marsyas honored them. This was hope; the children, love letters to a future that had yet to be decided. Yes, Arthur thought as Sal grinned shyly, hope was the thing with feathers, but it was also in the hearts and minds of those who believed all was not lost, no matter the odds.
Which was why when Zoe said, “I’ll need you, I’ll need all of you,” Arthur wasn’t surprised. They had come this far together. It made sense that they would all see this through to the end.
“What are we going to do?” Phee asked as Zoe took her hand.
“Something I should have done a long time ago,” Zoe said. “We’re going to change our world.”
If a visitor had come to Marsyas at that very moment—say, arriving for a pre-planned vacation, the relief palpable as they stepped off the train for the first time, breathing in that warm, salty air—they would have witnessed a most curious sight: hundreds of people following a woman wearing an armor of shells, a crown atop her head. On either side of her, children, all of whom were asking question after question. Two men followed close behind, both a little frazzled. Mixed in the crowd, reporters, shouting, asking if they’d thought this through, what are you going to do when they come back, are you saying you’re at war with the government?
They were ignored, at least for now. They had seen enough; what they did with what they knew was out of Arthur’s hands. Either they’d report the truth, or it’d be spun as it always was. The time for caring about such things was drawing to a close.
Arthur wasn’t surprised when Zoe led them to the docks, located in the half-moon bay of the village. Off to their left and right, boats of varying shapes and sizes: small watercrafts, paddleboats for rent, speedboats, and a couple of yachts. At the end of the longest dock, Merle’s ferry, waves lapping at its base.
As she stepped onto the ferry dock, Zoe glanced over her shoulder. “Arthur, Linus, please come with us. Merle, you too. The rest of you, stay on the shore. It’ll be safer that way.”
No one argued with the queen. They gathered at the edge of the dock, people lifting their children onto their shoulders, still others standing on their tiptoes, trying to see what was about to happen.
The wood of the dock creaked under their feet as they walked toward the ferry.
Arthur and Linus, dazed and more than a little tired, held their heads high, moving with barely disguised excitement. When Zoe had come to him to tell him what she had planned, Arthur had tried to grasp it as best he could. “Seeing is believing,” she’d said with a spark in her eyes.
