Page 27 of Search for the Lost

But Crispin shook his head, bounced off the bed, and then began to pace the room. “It’s all gone so wrong. I know you’re used to that, but I’m not, and I’m very uncomfortable with it. I like to know what’s going on. I like to be in control of things. Of myself, at— Oof!” That last bit came when he tripped over a carved toy soldier and almost fell flat on his face. Which was Leo’s fault, because while Leo fell over things all the time, Crispin never did. Crispin was always graceful and elegant. Now, in Leo’s body, he clomped around like a blind elephant.

While Crispin did manage to keep his feet, the near-tumble didn’t improve his mood. “And why does he have to be here? Watching me fail. Having his low opinion of me confirmed once more.”

Leo stood and intercepted his partner, then led him gently back to the bed. He took a not-so-wild guess about which he Crispin had just referred to. “I don’t think Aspin’s blaming you for this.”

“Of course he is. He’s undoubtedly expounding right now to his masseuse about what a colossal fark-up his brother is, and how mother made an enormous mistake in putting me in charge, and⁠—”

“Crispin!” Leo sat next to his beloved and grabbed his hand, not especially gently, while considering a diplomatic way to deliver some heavy truth. “Look. I’m an only child, right? I always wanted a brother or sister, but Mom and Dad must have had more than their hands full with me, so….” In fact, he wondered whether his parents had feared that Leo would inadvertently harm a sibling. A fear that wasn’t completely off the mark, considering that he was likely somehow responsible for their deaths. People didn’t normally meet their mortal ends in a camel attack.

“I’m sure you were a lovely child,” Crispin said, not meeting Leo’s eyes.

“I was a walking disaster zone. Anyway, no sibs for me, so I can’t claim to know exactly how you and Aspin feel. But maybe an outsider’s objectivity isn’t a bad thing here. I know you’re hurt because your mother has always seemed to favor him, and because, well, Aspin is just so extra about everything. He’s a hard act to follow.”

“He’s perfect at everything,” Crispin said sadly.

“No, he’s not. I can see how you’d feel that way, but you have a lot of amazing qualities too. I’d always choose you over him.” And that was true. Yes, Aspin was handsome and athletic, and he was skilled at the sorts of things fae princes were supposed to be skilled at. But he lacked some indefinable quality that Crispin possessed, and it was Crispin whom Leo loved.

Crispin seemed marginally less gloomy. “Thank you. I’d also like to think that I’m less of an ass than he is.”

“Oh, for sure.” Leo chewed his lip for a moment. “But I think you need to make an effort to see it from his point of view too. He’s always been the golden child, but then suddenly your mom passes him over and hands the crown to you. That has to sting. Plus it turns out that you’re this amazing mystical-order being, while he’s an ordinary fae. If, um, there is such a thing as an ordinary fae.”

Scowling and picking at the edge of what remained of his shirt, Crispin didn’t answer.

Leo decided to push just a bit more. “He’s no angel. But all I’m saying is that maybe some of his assness is understandable. Or explainable, anyway. Also, he hasn’t been entirely awful during this adventure. Maybe you can be the bigger fae and try to make peace with him.”

While Crispin continued to destroy what little remained of his clothing, Leo contemplated. Which was a rare enough activity for him anyway, but what he was contemplating was how he’d just given someone mature, sensible advice for possibly the first time in his life. And… it felt kind of good to adult like that. Not that he planned to take up the habit permanently, but he might be interested in dabbling in responsibility now and then in the future. Unless this was simply a side effect of inhabiting Crispin’s body, in which case he’d eventually go back to his old, slapdash self. He wasn’t sure what he thought about that prospect. He liked himself. He enjoyed being casual, maybe a bit devil-may-care. Sometimes chaos was fun. But… sometimes it really wasn’t. Like how having ADHD was sometimes a super power and sometimes a major bummer when you couldn’t remember to turn off the bathroom light.

Finally, Crispin looked at him. “I don’t want to be the bigger fae.” Usually he was excellent at being stubborn, but not now, when he seemed more sad than anything.

“I understand,” said Leo, patting Crispin’s leg.

“I want to get back to my home. To our home. And to my normal life. I want— What is that?”

Leo twisted around quickly and saw that a large animal had entered the room. It was a solidly built creature, with longish white fur adorned with black splashes. For a moment Leo thought it was a Holstein cow, but then he realized that it was actually an enormous dog. Which might have been alarming, except its tail was gently wagging in a friendly manner. Also, it wore a white lace cap and was carrying a wicker basket. It approached the bed and set the basket down near their feet. Then it gave a quiet bark that sounded for all the world like an instruction of some kind. Still wagging, it turned around and ambled out of the room.

“What was that?” Crispin was frozen in place.

“A dog. Um, a Landseer Newfoundland, I think.” Leo had once worked at a doggy daycare, which had been a really great job until the afternoon he’d accidentally broken something important in a water line and the big yard had flooded. The dogs had a wonderful time—labradoodles, chihuahuas, golden retrievers, corgis, frenchies, and all the others frolicking blissfully—but the dogs’ people had been less than pleased to pick up pets who looked more like mud monsters than canines.

Pushing that unhappy memory away, Leo lifted the basket onto the mattress to examine its contents: several flavors of crumpets, and thermoses of something that resembled warm milk but wasn’t. “Did the wizard honestly think we’d be hungry after that feast?”

Crispin was staring at the basket, his eyes wet. “This is what my nurse gave me at bedtime every night when I was very young,” Crispin said. “I’d almost forgotten.”

Ah. “Well, help yourself.”

Something was tickling at Leo’s brain, but he couldn’t quite catch it. The almost-idea just sort of flitted around like a moth—thankfully not the giant man-eating kind. Or like the little green light that was currently darting and swooping around the room’s high rafters, emitting a faint sound of chiming bells.

Leo squinted at the light. He gave the room another visual survey, noting that it had all the trappings of an oversize nursery. And wait. That painting on the wall over there… wasn’t that a pirate with a hook for one hand? And a crocodile lurking in the painting’s background?

“Peter Pan!” Leo exclaimed.

Crispin stopped with a crumpet midway to his mouth. “What?”

“It’s an old kids’ book. And a play, I think. Also a cartoon, and probably a movie, and then there’s the theme park ride⁠—”

“As usual, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Leo rolled his eyes but also slowed down. “Peter Pan is a story about some children in, uh, London, I think. And a group of boys who never grew up. There’s also a fairy named Tinker Bell. And some other characters.” It had been a long time since Leo had seen the animated film and his memory was fuzzy.