Page 23 of Bad Bunny
“You mentioned an armory?” She tilts her head. “Something magical?”
“Many years ago, there was magic here, in your land. Some of it remains, locked away. Ancient relics, spells, and potions. My father showed me when I was younger.”
Nora’s forehead wrinkles. “Your father? You’ve been here before? In my world?”
“Part of my training to become king was to travel to all the worlds. My father took me. Explained each one. Shared their secrets so I might use the knowledge when I sat on the throne.”
“Allthe worlds?” Nora pauses as if her brain is catching up to that phrase. “How many are there?”
I eye her cautiously. “More than you would find comforting.”
She exhales. “Okay. Sure. Fine. Multiple worlds. No biggie.” She gestures toward the hallway. “What’s in this armory that’s worth running from homicidal rabbit assassins for?”
“A blade,” I say. “One forged to cut through what my uncle has become. The Thornreaper.”
“And that helps you.”
“Yes.” My mind is in strategy mode now, like I was taught. A million scenarios fan out before me, infinite choices, possibilities. I pick through each one carefully, follow their threads until I find the one that ends where I want it. Where Nora is safe.
“We need something else from there as well. The Amulet of Springtide.”
I meet her gaze, the blue of her eyes startling in the morning light. The color of a robin’s egg.
My heart is heavy when I tell her, “That will be for you.”
“What does it do?” Her eyes narrow. “This fancy necklace?”
“It will shield you from the magic my uncle commands. From the hunters, the soldiers, he sends.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, leaning a hip against the counter. “How?”
I hesitate only a fraction of a second. “It washes everything clean. It will ensure that when this is over,” I say carefully, “nothing of my world remains attached to you.”
The words taste like ash in my mouth. Like dust.
Her eyes run over me, searching like she senses the things I hide. “Okay, but where exactly is this magical murder shopping center?”
“Hidden,” I tell her. “Beneath a place where your people celebrate the turning of the season. Where life returns after winter.”
“That could be literally anywhere.”
“It is marked by a great egg of gold,” I add.
Nora goes very still.
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“The Spring Jubilee starts this weekend. At the Botanical Garden,” she says slowly. “They just installed the Golden Egg yesterday for the hunt.” She gets a phone out of her pocket, not her broken one, and quickly scrolls through it.
“Here.” Nora holds the phone out so I can see the flyer.
A riot of pastel greets me. Painted eggs in every conceivable shade of pink and yellow and green tumble across the screen beneath looping script that reads:
THE 100th ANNUAL SPRING JUBILEE
Bring the entire family to celebrate our Centennial Celebration!
