Page 5 of Search for the Lost

“How? Why?” Crispin flapped his arms. “How do we switch back?”

Now Leo was slightly offended. “Is my body that awful? I know I should probably exercise more and I⁠—”

“Your body is lovely,” said Crispin, apparently tamping down his hysteria a bit. “But I prefer it on you. And can you imagine what chaos this will cause if we can’t fix it soon?”

Leo was exceptionally good at imagining Chaos. It came with the territory, and he was fond of it in small doses. But he didn’t like when it adversely affected other people, especially Crispin, and he understood that adverse effects were definitely on the table right now. Especially because Crispin had just been made king. He’d be great at it, but Leo would suck at it big time.

“Okay,” said Leo. “I get it. We need a plan to figure out how to swap back and also find your mother. Do you want to grab a notepad so we can brainstorm?”

Crispin was giving him an odd look, as if Leo had said something really strange. He hadn’t, though—a notepad and brainstorming session made total sense. They had to remain calm and go about solving their problem in an orderly fashion or else⁠—

Oh no. Leo took a few deep breaths. “I feel… off.”

“Of course you feel off, you idiot,” chimed in Aspin, who’d been unusually quiet. “You’re a human in a fae body. It’s like stuffing a Strogian Megaslug into a satin gown.”

Before Leo could take offense—or ask what a Strogian Megaslug was—Crispin straightened his back, lifted his chin, and pointed a finger at Aspin. “You will not address my beloved like that in our home. Behave yourself or I’ll have you thrown into the dungeons.”

“We don’t have any dungeons,” said Aspin. But he said it very quietly, and he also cast Leo a look that could be interpreted as apologetic, if you squinted.

Leo decided that imperious Crispin was very sexy—or would be, if he wasn’t stuck in Leo’s body. Wait—what if they had sex like this? That would be deeply weird. But also… intriguing. Leo knew that the tips of Crispin’s ears got really, really sensitive in a good way when they were being frisky, and it would be pretty interesting to see what that felt like.

While Leo’s mind had been traipsing down this path, which was way more fun than the saving the queen path or the magical quest path, Crispin had in fact fetched a pad of paper and a pen. It was one of those feather pens like in old paintings and historical movies, only it was enchanted or something and didn’t need re-inking, and Crispin had made it clear that he’d be seriously upset if anyone else touched it. Even Minkis kept clear.

Speaking of which…. “Where did Minkis go?” Leo looked around. “He was here eating crumpets when the Thing did its thing.”

Crispin frowned. “I don’t know. Perhaps the commotion startled him. I’m sure he’s fine, though. Let’s concentrate on the bigger issues for now.”

“Such as finding mother.” Aspin moaned. “There’s supposed to be a fencing competition next week, and Mother is supposed to be the judge, and⁠—”

“And you’re competing and expect her to pronounce you the winner.” Crispin rolled his eyes. Which were really, at the moment, Leo’s eyes.

“Of course she’ll pronounce me the winner! I am the best, after all.” Aspin wrung his hands, which Leo hadn’t realized was an actual thing. He’d assumed it was just one of those phrases that authors stuck into books so they could suggest emotion without actually coming right out and telling you what the emotion was.

Anyway, the poor guy looked genuinely distressed, so Leo patted his knee again. “I’m sure we’ll find her before then. Or she’ll turn up on her own. I think she’s a pretty resourceful person.” That was an understatement. She was the freaking Queen of the Fae. “How do we know she hasn’t just skipped town for a few days for a little getaway? She could be getting a seaweed wrap at a swanky spa or enjoying the drinks package on a booze cruise.” Neither of those possibilities seemed all that likely, but then, he had no clue what fae royalty liked to do on vacation.

Aspin and Crispin were both shaking their heads, however. “Mother wouldn’t do that,” said Aspin. “Not without telling someone. She takes her duties very seriously.”

Crispin nodded his agreement. “I’m afraid Aspin is right. This is uncharacteristic.” He perched on an elegantly carved wooden chair with beautiful inlays that looked as if it belonged in a museum. It always gave Leo an almost-instant backache every time he sat in it, which is why they’d needed his beloved couch; the couch never hurt him.

“Aspin,” Crispin continued, “tell me what Mother was doing the last time you saw her.”

While Aspin launched into a long, boring description of a meeting with the Red Dukes—who apparently were part of that whole Grimm brunch group thing—and a bunch of people that Leo had never heard of, Leo stared at the Thing. It was so hard and squishy, and its coloring was either neon bright like a holdover from the 1980s or as gray and black as a goth kid’s favorite clothing. It wasn’t moving now. The weird aura still existed but was much more muted, like a humming you could barely hear. He had the sense it was still… alive? Or whatever it had been when Aspin hauled it out of the sack. But now it was dormant or something.

“Crispin? Why don’t you try touching the Thing again? Maybe that’ll reverse the swap.”

Crispin looked up from the pad; he’d been taking notes while Aspin droned on. “I’d prefer not to.”

“I know. But it might work.”

Mouth scrunched up, Crispin sighed and got to his feet, far less gracefully than usual. He reached out, slow and tentative, finally just barely brushing one fingertip against the Thing.

Nothing happened.

Leo scratched his neck where the bowtie felt too tight. “Maybe I have to be the one to do it.” So he touched it a little more forcefully than Crispin had. The Thing was cold and hot, making him sweat and sending a chill down his spine. But it didn’t do anything to put him back into his own skin.

“What if we touch it together?” Crispin raised a fuzzy Leo eyebrow.

“Um, sure?” They tried it, with no more success than the other times. “Was worth a try, I guess.”