Page 45 of The Fifth Soul

“Don’t worry about Lexi Blue,” Jesse says as he joins us. He is holding a backpack in one hand, a book in another, and a packet of candy between his teeth. “I’ll remind her.”

Isabel gives him an exasperated look. “You sleep on long car rides.” Her pleading eyes turn back to me.

I give her a reassuring smile. “I will remind her.”

Her relieved sigh makes my heart ache. I cannot believe I once hit this pure soul without knowing her. I try not to think about it because I feel bad about it often enough.

I climb in the car. A guard, Lexi Blue, and Jesse are the only ones who will be in this car. Just as promised, Jesse falls asleep thirty minutes into the drive. I remind Lexi Blue only once about the gummies. Unlike the first ride, we don’t stop for anything longer than a bathroom break and the drive is three times as long. Jesse wakes in time to watch as we arrive.

The Pillard family lives on the outskirts of Petra, also known as the City of Stone. From my current view, I can attest that the name fits the city like a glove. Long stone towers surround the city for miles outside the city gates. Inside, however, it looks like it was frozen in time. Much of the architecture resembles the older structures found at Fierno—and I don’t mean the comparison as a jab—this simply looks dated compared to Lux and its modern advances.

The city of Petra sits on the edge of the coast. The royal family’s house sits on a property off to the edge of a cliff where we’ll all be staying. As we near the gates of the massive castle, the windows in the car lower. The crashing waves from the sea can be heard amongst the car's engines. The smell of the ocean breeze and the salty taste of the air fill my lungs, making me feel alive.

The welcome is much like the one we received in the glass castle. Alejandra and I stand behind Brandon as he sits in yet another grand hall. This event is a lot more informal. Many people move around the room, talking casually with the royal families.

Jesse doesn’t sit with his family this time. Instead, he joins Alejandra and me as we stand guard by a wall.

“Is it me, or does Dorty look like that purple dinosaur kids sing about in day school?” Jesse whispers.

I don’t get what he’s talking about until Alejandra nearly chokes on her own spit. I check what she is looking at, and I see it. A poor woman in a flowy purple gown stands at the front of the room. The dress would have been beautiful if it wasn’t for the magenta accents. It truly resembles the kid’s singing puppet.

Jesse snaps his fingers, trying to recall. “What was the name?”

“Dony,” I say flatly. “The dinosaur’s name you are referring to is named Dony. Dony the Dinosaur.”

The resemblance to the young woman’s name doesn’t go above my head, but I fear I will lose my composure if I focus on it.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Alejandra warns us, but I can see the physical restraint in her eyes.

I wasn’t planning to. I’m afraid that if I speak, my laughter will carry. It’s bubbling down in my throat. It’s wrong, I know, but the comparison is simply too funny and innocent.

“Is her name really Dorty?” I ask.

Jesse and Alejandra nod with serious expressions.

“You are all going to hell.” Brandon shakes his head.

He must have overheard us. As he walks away, we hear him singing the theme song of Dony the Dinosaur.

“Dony, Dony, Dony, the dinosaurrrrrrr… oh, oh, oh.”

We fully turn and face the wall as laughter wins over our power of will. From the corner of my eye, I see Brandon smirk over his shoulder before he climbs the steps to greet the hosting family’s table, including Dorty.

Later that night, once the festivities are over for the day, I find the group already in Brandon’s suite. Food and snacks completely cover one table in the room. The rest, as per usual, have books.

“The Island of Terror.” Jesse makes a horror noise as his hands open and close in front of his brother’s face. Brandon bats his hands away.

“What exactly are you two talking about?” I look between the brothers.

Brandon gestures to the island in question. A blurry map picture lies in the book in front of us. I eye the other papers on the table and find that they are all reports, outlines, maps, and transcripts from various sources for the same island.

“Why did you call it the Island of Terror?” All the documents on the table refer to it as Isla Tierra.

“The Pillard family has a very special island off the side of their shore. It’s part of their jurisdiction, but they don’t really own it. Or what is inside of it,” Alejandra explains between chewing.

She doesn’t seem to get as much free time as the rest of us, and I’ve found her eating at the oddest times. On top of guarding the crown prince, she’s also overseeing all other guards. Her rounds are never ending, at least that is what it seems.

“Okay?” I drawl. I’m still lost.

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