Chapter 17

            “I’m sorry! Who are—” Acacia’s voice faded away when she saw the person spin and dash down the hallway in the opposite direction. Grunts of frustration echoed from the halls. “Who are you?” Acacia called, running after the person.

            Mrs Anonymous continued her mad dash until Acacia fell back, tired from the chase. Whoever it was, wasn’t happy. After all, who would be when you got smashed in the face with a jar of honey?

            Acacia peeked around the next bend in the hallway, but no one was there. Okay . . . .

            What was with that jar of honey? It was almost as if someone had set the trap there, knowing Acacia would walk past that particular area.  The grandfather clock lining each hallway chimed their ominous melody, making goosebumps appear all over Acacia’s skin.

            Between each wooden door in the hallways was a yellow lamp casting a dim light, enhancing the creepiness. “I’m . . . getting out of here,” Acacia said to herself, walking as fast as she could to the courtyard. Lifea’s palace was really scary at night.

            Thankfully, the courtyard was different. Some flowers shimmered with clear crystal petals, while others shined with yellow, blue, or purple. But Acacia’s favourite was the Rubilaeus Titonsifus, or, for short, the Rubils. Their crystallite petals practically glowed under the pure moonlight from the night sky, also reflecting off a million sparkling beams of starlight.

            The emerald leaves and smooth, faceted tree bark added the final touch to the tranquillity of the courtyard. “You’re here,” Bloome’s voice sounded downright relieved. Acacia wondered why . . . . “So,” Acacia squirmed under Bloome’s stare, “what did you want to tell me?”

            “I . . . didn’t actually find anything,” Bloome admitted guiltily.

            “Then why did you ask to meet up in private?”

            “I was just . . . um . . . deciding something.”

            “Something,” Acacia repeated, waiting for Bloome to explain. He didn’t. This was getting a little too awkward. The crystal brown branch above their heads creaked loudly, and for good reason. A thick rope wound around another jar of sticky honey.

            And Acacia only realised the jar had no lid on—and was perfectly poised to slam into her face until it swooped down towards her like an arrow. She yelped as she ducked, waiting for the humiliating splatter or—or anything. So, when nothing came, she peeked through her fingers.

            And then time slowed down. (Not really slowed down, of course. Timestoppers had serious restrictions to their abilities.) That was when Acacia realised that the jar had smacked into Bloome’s face, the sweet and sticky goo dripping all over his clothes.

            “I’m so sorry,” Acacia breathed, even though she didn’t know why she was. She hadn’t set the trap. Although she could have pushed the honey jar out of the way instead of ducking and hiding her face. Bloome used one hand to swipe a chunk of honey off his face. “Ew,” he complained.

            Acacia looked around, then picked up a Saphrie flower with clear crystal petals and crushed the it. The clear water inside the crystal rained down on Bloome’s face, clearing most of the honey away. Drenched and thoroughly embarrassed, the elven boy glared at Acacia. “Did you do that? Did you put the honey jar there?”

            “No! Why would I? You’re the one who called a meeting and convinced me to come by lying about finding something!” Acacia snapped. She’d really thought he found something important. A muffled gasp sounded from a shimmery bush, and Acacia heard tinkling as someone scrambled to get away.

            There were many rustles before someone broke cover and ran for the courtyard entrance. She was wearing a maids dress, probably tending to the crystal garden when she saw Acacia and Bloome.

            Bloome scrubbed the last of the honey off his face. “I thought you liked me!” he shouted.

            Acacia gaped at him. So Claris had been right with all her suspicions. “Seriously, I’m only ten. What’d you expect? And if you want a girl—definitely not me—to like you, you got to make a better impression than lying about something important!”

            Hurt and a little more than shocked, Acacia stormed back into the domed palace and into her room. Claris was there waiting for her. “Did you set those traps?” Acacia glowered. Claris shook her head. “What traps?” Acacia told Claris about the honey-jars-on-a-rope incidents.

            “You’re the only one who knew I was going to see Bloome,” Acacia plopped on her soft bed. Claris scratched her head. “Well, when Bloome asked you out, he wasn’t exactly anonymous with it,” she tried.

             Acacia sighed loudly. “He did not ask me out, for the last time. We’re ten, Claris! Who does he think he is? I actually want to thank whoever set the traps there.”

            “I have a few theories,” Claris mumbled, more to herself than to Acacia.

            “What theories?”  

            “Lifea could have set the traps. I mean, she was clearly Bloome’s girlfriend, and she’s the type to go for revenge,” Claris said. That made sense. Especially since it explained why Lifea was so insistent that Acacia leave with her friends previously.

            “Anyway,”—Claris rolled her eyes— “Annice and I discussed just now, and she thought that Gullen-not-poisoning-you might be because of an ability. You only have two abilities, right? But your genetics are supposed to have three abilities, like me.”

            True . . . . Acacia was a Transporter (Magiability) and Water Elemental (Elemenability). Claris was a Voicer (Superability), Timestopper (Magiability) and another ability she hadn’t gotten yet. Annice was an Electrical Elemental (Elemenability), and she had the unique Tail ability, meaning she had a long, rope-like tail, plus another ability she also hadn’t discovered.

            In Dyia, most people had only two abilities, but in some cases, they had three. There was even a special program for those with three abilities in their genetic line. “How about we talk about this tomorrow?” Acacia suggested, even though she could hardly sleep now, but talking about genetics and Lifea felt like having a saber-tooth tiger chomp on her stretched brain.

            It was midnight.

            “Fine,” Claris grumbled through a yawn. Curfews and bedtime were not her thing. Acacia changed into a pair of actual pyjamas while Claris exited her room. When she was done changing, Acacia flopped onto her bed, trying to make sense of all the feelings rushing through her.

            Bloome’s betrayal (and his warped views of her), Claris and Annice’s finds, why Lifea had set the traps . . . for now, it was easier to just sleep her troubles away.