Page 6

6

FENELLA

T he morning sun beat down on Fenella as she stood in line along with Jasmine and her cousins at the entrance to Universal Studios.

She shifted impatiently from foot to foot, adjusting the borrowed sunglasses perched on her nose. After fifty years of wandering the globe, she'd somehow never made it to a theme park, and now she wasn't sure it had been a wise idea to let Jasmine convince her to come.

Most of those standing in line were Americans, some speaking English, some Spanish, and here and there, she could spot German, French, and Italian. Everyone looked ridiculously excited about parting with a large chunk of their money for the dubious privilege of baking in the hot California sun and trudging from one silly attraction to the other.

Fenella would have much preferred staying in the penthouse and lounging by the pool with a fruity cocktail in hand.

"How much longer?" she muttered to Jasmine, who was consulting a map of the park while the four girls huddled together, whispering excitedly in rapid-fire Farsi that Fenella couldn't follow even with her translation earpieces.

"It won't be long now." Jasmine folded the map and tucked it inside her oversized satchel. "They're moving the line pretty quickly."

Fenella had to grudgingly admit that Americans were very efficient when it came to moving crowds along. Everything was also clean, which was quite an achievement given how many people passed through these grounds each day.

What made the whole thing worth the trouble was watching the girls bounce with excitement. They didn't look traumatized or scared while standing in line to get in. They looked thrilled, like other young people their age, eager for the fun that awaited them beyond the gate.

Arezoo tried to maintain a veneer of sophisticated disinterest, but Fenella caught the way the girl's eyes darted around, taking in every detail. It was an act Fenella recognized all too well—the careful pretense of being above it all.

Ell-rom stood slightly apart from their group, his tall frame and otherworldly beauty drawing curious glances from passersby, which was obviously making him uncomfortable .

"Don't worry about it." She sidled up to him. "This is Universal Studios Hollywood. They think you are an actor, just another prop as fake as everything else here. Plastic plants, painted concrete made to look like stone, and a man who is too pretty to be real."

He frowned. "Was that a compliment? Should I thank you? Or should I be offended that you compared me to a plastic plant?"

Jasmine laughed. "From her? It's a compliment." She wrapped her arm around Ell-rom's middle and smiled at Fenella. "You're not fooling anyone with your indifferent, snooty act either, you know. For someone who claims to be unimpressed, you've been rubber-necking worse than a first-time visitor to Times Square."

Fenella opened her mouth to deliver a retort, then closed it with a huff when she realized she had indeed been craning her neck to see over the crowd ahead of them. "I'm merely assessing my surroundings. It's an old habit. Always know your terrain."

"Of course," Jasmine agreed, her tone making it clear she wasn't buying it.

"I don't understand the purpose of this place," Ell-rom admitted. "Why are people so excited to visit these structures?"

The poor prince was even more out of his element than she was. Seven millennia in stasis followed by a crash course in modern life on Earth was not the best way to prepare him for a visit to a theme park. Naturally, it would be bewildering .

"It's about the movies," she said. "Did they have those where you come from?"

He nodded. "I wasn't privy to them, but I knew of their existence. I've also watched a lot of television since arriving here, so I know what movies are."

"Good. That makes it easier to explain. So, Universal Studios makes films, and to make even more money from them, they build attractions in this park based on their most successful movies, so people can enjoy feeling like they are inside their favorite stories."

Ell-rom frowned. "So, it's like a physical manifestation of storytelling?"

"Something like that," Fenella agreed, though she suspected he didn't fully understand yet.

"Next!" called an attendant, and suddenly, they were at the front of the queue. Jasmine handed over the tickets she'd purchased online, and moments later, they were through the turnstiles and into the park proper.

The main plaza was ringed with shops, restaurants, and entrances to various themed areas. Music played from hidden speakers while costumed characters posed for photos with excited children.

"Where to first?" Jasmine asked, consulting her map again.

"Harry Potter!" Laleh nearly yelled, then immediately looked embarrassed by her outburst.

"Definitely Harry Potter." Donya seconded her sister's choice, putting a supportive arm around Laleh.

Jasmine smiled. "The Wizarding World it is. This way."

As they made their way through the park, Fenella was constantly distracted by the sights—enormous, detailed re-creations of movie sets and iconic locations, improbably cheerful employees, and masses of people who seemed thrilled to be spending exorbitant amounts of money on overpriced concessions and souvenirs.

It was ridiculous. It was garish. But if she was being honest with herself, which she rarely was, she had to admit that it was fun.

"Here we are," Jasmine announced as they rounded a corner, and the Wizarding World of Harry Potter came into view.

Fenella stopped in her tracks, momentarily speechless. Before them stood what appeared to be an entire village plucked straight from the films—crooked buildings with snow-capped roofs, cobblestone streets, and at its center, the imposing silhouette of Hogwarts Castle perched atop a rocky crag.

The scale was nothing like the movie, which was understandable, but it was still breathtaking.

"Bloody hell," she muttered. "Now I'm really impressed."

The girls' reactions were even more dramatic. Laleh gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Donya let out a squeal of delight that she quickly tried to convert into a more dignified sound. Azadeh's eyes widened to an almost comical degree, and even Arezoo abandoned her pretense of sophistication and grinned.

"It's exactly like in the books and the movies!" Laleh whispered with reverence in her voice.

Every shopfront, every sign, every costume worn by park employees was meticulously designed to create the illusion that they had stepped into the fictional world of the Harry Potter series. Fenella had watched a few of the movies years ago in a rundown cinema in Budapest, but she had never read the books. Still, even she could appreciate the craftsmanship involved.

"I'm a Ravenclaw," Arezoo said decisively as they paused before a store window displaying school uniforms. "Intelligence and wisdom are the most important qualities."

"You're totally a Slytherin," Donya countered. "Ambitious and cunning."

Arezoo looked momentarily offended before conceding with a shrug. "There are some Slytherin qualities I can admit to."

"I'm definitely Hufflepuff," Azadeh said. "Loyalty and patience."

"What about you, Laleh?" Jasmine asked the youngest.

Laleh hesitated, chewing her lower lip in thought. "I think... Gryffindor. Not because I'm brave now, but because I will be one day. "

The simple honesty of the statement caught Fenella off guard, a lump forming in her throat. These girls had endured horrors that would break many adults, yet here they were, braving a trip into a fantasy world.

"Let's go in," Jasmine suggested. "We should all get properly outfitted."

Inside the shop, Jasmine began selecting items—skirts, shirts, and ties in the colors of the various houses. The girls reverently held on to each piece, parading in front of the mirror and debating which combinations looked best.

Within minutes, Jasmine had amassed a sizable pile of merchandise on the counter, and Fenella's eyebrows rose higher with each item added to the growing stack.

"Who's paying for all this?" she asked in an undertone as Jasmine pulled out a credit card.

"Kian gave me a clan card a while ago and never asked me to return it." Jasmine looked the card over sheepishly. "I'm still using it, and I hope that's okay. I haven't had time to talk to him about money yet and how much I'm allowed to spend."

"That's one hell of a sweet arrangement," Fenella murmured, watching as the cashier rang up a total that made her wince. Living on her own for decades had made her acutely conscious of money—where it came from and how quickly it could disappear. "Must be nice to have all your expenses covered like that."

"You'll get a card too." Jasmine signed the receipt. " All clan members receive an allowance, and housing is provided free of charge."

"I'm not a clan member," Fenella pointed out.

Jasmine laughed, gathering up the shopping bags. "Not yet, but soon. You'll find a nice guy to settle down with. Maybe Din, maybe someone else."

The mention of Din sent an unexpected thrill through Fenella, which she firmly ignored. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

But the idea wasn't entirely unappealing. After fifty years of wandering the world like a nomad, never staying anywhere long enough to form real connections, always looking over her shoulder for danger—the thought of having stability, security, and people who had her back was more tempting than she cared to admit.

The girls changed into their new Hogwarts attire, complete with house-appropriate ties. They left the store, each carrying a shopping bag with her clothes and a matching Hogwarts sweater, which was too warm to wear right now.

"What about you?" Jasmine asked. "Didn't you want a Hogwarts uniform? It's not too late."

Fenella chuckled. "You keep forgetting how old I really am."

"I don't," Jasmine insisted. "But you are never too old to have fun."

The truth was that Fenella couldn't remember the last time she'd done something purely for fun. Her existence for the past half-century had been focused on survival, on staying one step ahead of trouble, on earning enough to eat, and on finding safe places to sleep. There had been moments of pleasure, certainly, breathtaking vistas witnessed from mountain trails, the satisfaction of a well-played poker hand, and the occasional physical connection with a stranger who asked no questions and expected no commitment.

But this—wandering through a fantasy land with no purpose beyond enjoyment, surrounded by people she considered friends—was new and far more enjoyable than she wanted to acknowledge.

It was also insanely frivolous.

"Can we go to the Three Broomsticks for lunch?" Laleh asked as midday approached.

"Excellent idea," Jasmine agreed. "I'm starving."

The Three Broomsticks restaurant was designed to look like the pub from the novels and films, complete with exposed wooden beams, long communal tables, and servers in period costumes. The girls examined every detail, talking among themselves about elements they recognized from the books.

"They even have butterbeer," Donya noted as they examined the menus.

"What the hell is butterbeer?" Fenella asked.

"It's a special drink from the books," Arezoo explained. "Non-alcoholic, of course."

"I know what it is in the movies. I just want to know what it is made from."

No one knew how to answer her .

"We should all try it and find out," Ell-rom suggested.

When their drinks arrived—frothy concoctions topped with whipped cream—Fenella eyed hers suspiciously. "It looks like bath water with foam on top."

"Just try it." Jasmine took a sip of her own.

Fenella cautiously raised the mug to her lips and took a tentative taste. The flavor burst was intense—sweet, butterscotch-like, with hints of vanilla. It was ridiculously sugary, completely indulgent, and utterly delicious.

"Well?" Jasmine prompted.

"It's not terrible," Fenella conceded, taking another, larger sip.

Ell-rom's reaction was more dramatic. His eyes widened with surprised pleasure, and he stared at the mug as if it contained some profound revelation. "This is remarkable," he declared.

The girls giggled at his reaction, and even Fenella had to smile at his childlike wonder. It was easy to forget that beneath his regal bearing and alien heritage, Ell-rom was experiencing many elements of human culture for the first time.

As their lunch arrived and the girls chatted about their favorite scenes from the books, comparing them to the same scenes in the movies and complaining about everything that hadn't been done right, Fenella was content to just observe, to be part of this improvised family unit without needing to maintain her usual walls and defenses.

It was a strange feeling—unfamiliar—but not unwelcome.

After lunch, they continued exploring the park, eventually making their way to a shop selling replica wands from the Harry Potter series.

"Each wand is unique," a shop employee explained with practiced enthusiasm. "Just like in the books, the wand chooses the wizard—or witch."

The girls took this ritual very seriously, handling different wands until they found ones that 'felt right.'

"You should get one, too," Jasmine told Fenella, holding out an intricately carved wand.

"Don't be ridiculous," Fenella scoffed. "I'm not a child."

"Neither am I," Jasmine countered, "but I want one for a souvenir. Come on, admit that you want one, too. Don't you want to pretend that you are a witch? When was the last time you let loose and allowed yourself to play? And I don't mean poker to swindle unsuspecting guys out of their money."

"Fine," Fenella relented, accepting the wand. "But only because I have an idea for a wand game to play with the girls when we get home and because you are paying for it. I would never waste my own hard-earned money on a plastic stick."

By mid-afternoon, they were all in need of a break. They found a café with outdoor seating where they could rest tired feet while enjoying cold drinks. The girls were comparing their souvenirs, still buzzing with excitement despite hours of walking.

Fenella kicked her shoes off under the table and sipped her iced coffee, when the harsh ring of Jasmine's phone cut through the ambient noise of the park.

Jasmine pulled it from her purse, glancing at the screen with a frown. "Unknown number again," she murmured, then answered cautiously. "Hello?"

Her expression cleared almost immediately. "Oh! Yes, she's right here." She held out the phone to Fenella. "It's Din."

Fenella took the phone, trying to appear casual despite the sudden dryness in her mouth. "Din? What's up?"

"Fenella. How's your day going, lass?" It seemed just a bit strange for Din to call again so soon.

"Fine," she replied, turning slightly away from the table to create at least the illusion of privacy. "Jasmine's taken us to Universal Studios. It's all very..." She searched for a suitably dismissive description, then settled on "American."

Din chuckled. "Aye, I imagine it would be. Having fun despite yourself, are you?"

Fenella bristled at being so easily read, even from thousands of miles away. "It's entertaining enough," she allowed. "Why are you calling? Aren't you supposed to be in the air on your way over?"

"Ah, well, that's the unfortunate part," Din said, his tone shifting to apologetic. "There's been a bit of a setback. Massive traffic accident on the way to the airport—lorry overturned, blocking all lanes. By the time they cleared it, I'd missed my flight."

Disappointment hit her with unexpected force, followed immediately by a creeping sense of unease. "So, you're not coming?" she asked, hating the hint of vulnerability in her voice.

"Not today," Din clarified quickly. "I've rebooked for tomorrow's flight. Just a twenty-four-hour delay, that's all."

A superstitious chill ran down Fenella's spine. In her experience, delays and obstacles were rarely coincidental—they were warnings, signs from a universe that had saved her skin many times by creating roadblocks when danger lay ahead.

"Maybe it's for the best," she said. "Perhaps you shouldn't come at all."

"What?" Din sounded confused and offended. "Why would you say that?"

"Things like this happen for a reason," Fenella explained, lowering her voice further. "It could be a bad omen."

"An omen?" Din repeated, sounding amused. "I didn't take you for the superstitious type, Fenella."

"I've learned to pay attention to signs," she said defensively. "It's kept me alive this long."

There was a brief pause, then Din's voice returned gentler now. "It's not an omen, lass. It's just a traffic accident. These things happen all the time. Planes get delayed, and roads get blocked. Doesn't mean anything beyond the fact that some poor driver is having an even worse day than me."

His pragmatic response should have reassured her, but the uneasiness lingered. Not just about Din's journey now but about Max and Kyra's mission as well. What if the universe was trying to warn them all of an impending disaster?

"Still there?" Din prompted when her silence stretched too long.

"Yes," she sighed. "I suppose you're right. It's just a delay."

"Indeed," he agreed, sounding relieved that she wasn't going to argue any further. "I'll be there tomorrow, barring any more unexpected calamities. Just wanted to let you know so you won't be waiting at the airport for me."

"I wasn't planning to go to the airport," Fenella admitted, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I don't have a car or money to pay for a cab," she explained.

Din chuckled again, the sound sending another unwelcome flutter through her chest. "Of course not. I wasn't really expecting you to come. Well, enjoy your day at the park. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

After he ended the call, she handed the phone back to Jasmine, aware of the curious gazes of the girls fixed on her.

"Din missed his flight," she explained, aiming for casual indifference. "Traffic accident on the way to the airport. He'll be arriving tomorrow instead. "

"That must be disappointing." Jasmine's expression was sympathetic.

"Not really." Fenella took another sip of the overly sweet drink. "It's just a delay."

Despite her dismissive words, though, the sense of foreboding refused to dissipate. She should have been more insistent and convinced Din to cancel his plans. Heck, she could have told him that she would come to him instead. Anything to keep him from boarding the next flight.

Perhaps she should call him back.

Except, she had a feeling that the stubborn ox wouldn't listen to reason.