In the Eyes of the Queen [ Labyrinth ] ✔

Chapter Four

"I wish it was clean already!"

My hands fly to my mouth. Forehead creased, eyes closed tight, and lips pursed beneath my clasped hands, I hesitate even to breathe. The words were spoken carelessly, brought on by reveling too long in this in-between world, my barriers additionally weakened by my presence in the house of my childhood fantasies, and where childhood fantasy abruptly became a cruel, beautiful reality.

I reach out my senses as if I can, without sight, determine whether or not my wish was granted. I smell nothing, but I am unsure if the company left a smell behind in the first place. I feel, more than hear, a distantly familiar humming, and my skin prickles. Slowly, I open one eye, knowing I cannot delay the inevitable.

Everything is clean and tidy. My mind wanders momentarily, wondering how so vague a wish was answered so precisely, but I push the thought aside.

What is done, is done. I sigh and check the remainder of the house. Merlin is sleeping on his bed as if nothing unnatural occurred. Satisfied that the house is in order and the last remnant of humming has faded away, I retire to my bedroom.

The room is almost entirely different than it was in my early teenage years. Even the wallpaper is different. The walls are bare, even of the shelves that once hung on them. The books, stuffed animals, and figurines are hidden away somewhere in the attic (my stepmother insisted on keeping them) along with the scrapbook of my mother's (and Jeremy's) exploits after she left us for semi-stardom and probably the old quilt and canopy from my bed. A wider bed with crisp white bedding and two pillows has replaced my old bed, but my other furniture has remained. They are now uncluttered, except for an expanse of white cloth over my vanity mirror, in place for propriety's sake should one of my friends initiate contact rather than waiting for me to call. It is a rarity, but it has happened before, and I do not want to imagine Sir Didymus's reaction should he have timing bad enough to see me dressed less than appropriately.

I give one final sigh for the night and fall onto my bed. I roll over to the backpack I brought with me and pull a book out of its depths. I am unaccustomed to having no schoolwork, so I feel odd reading a fictional book for entertainment rather than working tirelessly toward my degree.

My schooling was a great success, and I have to admit it would not have been possible without the realizations that I was actually rather intelligent, I needed to stop daydreaming, and that life was—rather than unfair—whatever I made of it.

The problem is that working tirelessly toward my degree and filling up my free hours with part-time and seasonal jobs and the occasional visit with my otherworldly friends did not lend itself toward a very successful (non-Labyrinthian) social life or help me decide what to do now that all that is accomplished. I have my expenses paid for by Dad, even now (he insists), and my schooling was paid through the program and scholarships. I have been saving all my money in order to pay Dad back, and I am waiting for the time when I believe he will accept it. Since the apartment is so cheap, and I used my lighter summer course load and school breaks to take on extra hours at work, I have already saved enough to pay him back. Now I just have to wait until he will accept it. I have tentatively applied for teaching positions since I seem to have an affinity for children (or small unlearned creatures), but I have not obtained any formal training or certification yet. I suppose that will be my next move.

What do (almost) nineteen-year-old girls pursue? Or what do university graduates pursue? I suppose a job of any kind, enjoyable or not, is on the list once school is completed, and romance is probably a prevalent addition, at least for women. Perhaps marriage and family, or touring the world.

None of it draws me, though. I mostly enjoy my job. I will keep it until I obtain another along my path toward a career. It is not as if I do not think of romance, but until I recover from my current infatuation, no human man is likely to catch my eye, and I am not sure I would give up the companionship of my friends and goblins for that of a man. I suppose love does funny things, though, so who knows? I cannot imagine it now, though. I cannot imagine loving anyone else, let alone giving up my world for him. I am mostly happy now, despite a certain lack of goals for my life.

Touring the world holds a slight appeal. I do almost enjoy the idea of exploring. I have continued saving my money beyond what I need to repay Dad, so maybe I will have enough to backpack Europe or something. Of course, Toby and Freddy would be upset about my absence, and I am unsure if I can trust the goblins with them if I am absent for longer than a couple of months. How long would I stay away? Forever almost sounds good. I guess the adventurer in me did not die.

Idly, I wonder how long it would take me toexplore the extent of the Labyrinth, but I find myself smacking my forehead. Stubbornly, I open the historical fictionnovel I borrowed from the library and let myself focus solely on thecharacters' world. I only glance up whenmy stepmother peaks in to say good night. I look at the clock. It is a fewminutes past one. She does not admonishme to go to sleep.