Alice’s heart was pounding, and her breaths shook in her chest as the panic grew. She fought the beginnings of sobs down, breathing past them until she felt steadier. Throwing a panicked tantrum would not help convince the princess to stay. And if she left, she almost certainly would be caught – it was too early, and there was no guarantee she would meet the hero. Nothing was more important than making sure the princess was safe. That Aurum was safe.

“I’m sorry. I would offer to leave, but then I don’t expect you would trust me to. I can stay and help you. You can keep an eye on me, so you know I won’t go find the witch. And I can help. I know things, things that are going to happen. I can help guide you so you win.”

Aurum was looking at her like she had grown a second head. Right. She thinks I’m crazy now. Alice was floundering. She couldn’t keep hiding the truth, and she didn’t want to lie. But there was no way that Aurum would believe her. Maybe she’ll think I’m a harmless sort of crazy. That could work! She might decide to let me stay around that way and I can help. Or she might let me go and then I’ll be able to help her from the sidelines. One thing Alice knew, though, was that she could not stay here, no matter what Aurum decided. Whatever happened here, she would have to leave the cottage. Alice swallowed.

Eventually, after a too-long pause, Aurum responded. “You are from another world.”

Not the best response. Alice felt like laughing. “Yes.”

“You know everything that’s going to happen here.”

“No. No, I only know the basics. And I only know what’s supposed to happen, not what will happen.”

Aurum raised her eyebrows. “What’s the difference?” she asked drily.

Alice thought hard. It wasn’t simple to explain. Although it was magical, and there was probably plenty about magic Alice still didn’t know, this world didn’t have prophecies or any concrete rules about free will versus destiny. As far as Alice knew from the books she had been reading, those ideas were completely foreign to the sorcerers and magicians of this world. And of course, thinking of her own life as a story would make no sense to Aurum.

“I know what was written originally, before I got here. And what was written is what would have happened if everything was normal, if this orld was… undisturbed. But I wasn’t part of the story. I’m an… an anomaly. I’m not supposed to be here, and I’m not part of the story. So I need to make sure I don’t ruin – that I don’t change anything important.”

Another long pause. An owl hooted outside, the night now deep and dark.

“Have you?”

Alice had been spiraling, thinking of all the ways Aurum would reject her explanation, and the question caught her off-guard. “What?”

“Have you changed anything important?”

“I think – I think so. I think I may have ruined it. If you leave now, then I don’t know what will happen. You won’t be safe. You are supposed to stay here for a long time, another month at least, and then go into town for supplies for the first time. You find – you find someone who will help you, and then you learn –”

Aurum cut her off. “Are you sure telling me all this is a good idea? You said you could change things. Maybe telling me more will change everything.”

“No. I’m not sure.” Alice shook her head. “But I can if you want me to. Knowledge is power. I’ve stolen this cottage from you, so I need to help you however I can. You are the main character, so whatever happens, you need to be safe.”

Finally, Aurum snapped. “Main character? This isn’t actually a storybook. I’m a real person. This is real, Aliss. You need to accept that. And – and you need to accept that you are real, too. You didn’t steal from me, you just got here first. You – you probably don’t know what will happen at all. You said yourself things are going differently. Maybe it was just a bad dream, or your imagination. Knowing the future is impossible, and this is the only world we get.”

Alice winced. There was no way for Aurum to know that she had just cut to the core of Alice’s deepest fears – not that her foreknowledge was a dream, but that this entire world was. That soon she would wake up and find herself back in a world where she was completely alone. No cottage, no magic, no princess. Just Alice, and her tiny apartment, and her lonely life.

Shaking it off, Alice struggled to think of a rebuttal.

“Think about it. How else would I know about the witch? How else would I not be enchanted too?”

Aurum shook her head, but Alice kept on.

“It’s because I wasn’t here when the spell was cast. I’m from another place entirely. I only got here three days before you came to the cottage. You had been on the run for what, a week? A little less?”

Aurum nodded.

Emboldened, Alice kept on theorizing. “Or maybe I’m also immune to magic since I’m not from here. Maybe it can’t hurt me, and that way I can help you fight.”

“No, you aren’t. You weren’t immune to the cold magic before, remember? I don’t know how it works, but all the magic the witch can do is based in cold magic.”

They sat quietly for a while. There was nothing left for Alice to say. She had made her arguments and had told the truth as she knew it, and she could only hope Aurum would listen.

“I need to think about this. It doesn’t make any sense. You don’t make any sense.”

Alice hesitated. “But you will stay here?” If Aurum ran now, there was no question that she would be in danger. And if that happened, Alice could and would follow and try to help, but even if she did have a mild form of magic that allowed her to help plants grow, that was no match for a witch’s minion, much less the witch herself. Aurum was right – the incident on the road had proven Alice was too weak to help by fighting. What could Alice really offer the princess? How could she make sure she was safe?

Aurum didn’t answer. Instead, she stood up and set the kettle to boil again, then started gathering the food she had set out for dinner. Alice moved to help and was unable to hold in a quiet groan of pain as her back protested. Aurum gave her a pointed look.

“Go sit back in the armchair. I’ll have the food ready soon. We still need to eat even if it’s late. You’re still healing.”

And with that, the conversation was over. Head spinning, Alice went back to the fire and sat with the quilt pulled tightly around her as though that might protect her from the feelings swirling inside her. The fire flickered comfortingly, but it could not ease the turmoil in Alice’s mind.

What if she decides to leave without telling me? What if she does believe me and realizes how much I stole from her by coming to the cottage? No matter what happened, Alice was certain that she would lose her new home soon. And while that pained her, so did the thought of losing Aurum’s… companionship? Friendship? Something. Whatever it was, it would hurt to lose. Thinking of Aurum’s cold look before, Alice sighed. Maybe I’ve already lost it.

With those uneasy thoughts, Alice sat and watched Aurum work. The silence was heavy, and even the cottage’s warm presence and attempts to comfort her were not enough to calm her.

Dinner was an awkward experience. The food was decent – Aurum was getting much better at cooking simple meals – but they exchanged only the occasional word asking the other to pass something over the table. Aurum was pensive but seemed calm, unlike Alice who had nothing to ponder but Aurum’s potential departure. It ended without incident, and Aurum healed Alice again before ushering her to bed. Reluctantly, Alice complied, but when she had been left alone for a few hours the quiet got to her. Worried that Aurum had left, she crept out to her door and cracked it open, ignoring the twinge of her back. Aurum was sitting in the chair, wide awake, staring at the fireplace.

“You have a strange taste in friends, cottage.” Alice heard her say. Aurum kept speaking, the words too quiet for Alice to hear from the doorway.

Alice was unsure what to make of that comment. I should probably be offended. Nevertheless, she was comforted that the princess had chosen to stay, at least for now. Alice went back to bed. She kept her ears tuned for the sound of the front door, too intent on her listening to fall asleep. She lay there, awake and straining to hear, until dawn came.