Robin's Song

Don't Interrupt the Tour Guide

Robin

"Please, keep talking. I only yawn when I'm super fascinated," Fox's jaw stretches to a yawn.

Today I decided to give my friends a tour of my house. We've already visited half of the rooms and now we've arrived at the study room. Within this room, I keep all of my sword-fighting trophies. I hadn't planned on showing them off, but Arlo insisted. I just couldn't ignore the excitement on his face. But I could ignore Fox's groans of boredom.

Arlo studies the labels of the golden trinkets carefully. He tells me how he's never competed in a sword competition, but he often traveled with his family to watch them. "This was a tournament in the East, correct?" Arlo asks while squinting at a smaller trophy in the shape of a sword.

"Mhm. I competed in that one when I was fifteen. I won the gold for my age range." I'm trying to stay humble but I haven't been able to brag about my sword skills in a long time. I think Fox is getting jealous that I have proof of being a good swordsman.

"No way," Arlo breathes and stands up to face me. "I watched that tournament that same year. It's crazy how we've been in the same place before we knew each other." Eden laughs about how cute that idea is while Fox stares at a portrait picture on the wall.

"Is this a picture of you Robin? I can see the resemblance," Fox giggles at her joke. The painting she's looking at is a picture of my older uncle. He's got wild balding hair and crooked teeth. I'm not so sure why the painter didn't try to flatter him more.

"That's my Uncle Frederick. He was known for owning a snail farm," I tell her while walking out of the study room.

The next room I take them in is the library. Probably one of the grandest rooms in this building. Even though we started the tour from the bottom floor, I wanted to show them the top part of the library. The room is two stories and the second story is made of a large balcony that overlooks the lower level. The books in this room have been passed down by tons of generations. Scientists and literature come from all over the world to look at our selection of books.

"And this," I pause with my hand on the doorknob for dramatic effect, "Is the library." The door swings open revealing large shelves of numerous types of books. A collective gasp sounds from all three of the visitors.

"This is stunning," Eden compliments as she takes Fox's hand to explore the jungle of shelves. Arlo stays close by me as we follow the sisters through the library. Excited shrieks can be heard by them as they scan the different genres.

"So, how many of these have you read?" Arlo asks me as we stroll around. He coughs a few times and apologizes because he's sensitive to dust. I don't blame him, we have librarians to take care of the room, but since it's so large, it's hard to clean.

"Not many, I will admit. I've never been big on literature," I answer. Books have always been an option, but I prefer to fill my time with other things.

Arlo hesitates before talking again. "I was trying to in case your privacy, but I stole a glance into your room and saw the stack of books in there. That's an impressive collection for someone who doesn't read. Again, I didn't mean to snoop."

I don't react to what Arlo tells me. Those books are special to me but nothing that has to be kept secret. "Those books are my mother's journals. I didn't want them to come into the library just in case someone buys them, so they're in my room."

Arlo's mouth forms into a small 'o' and nods in understanding. We were silent for a few minutes before he continued the subject.

"We don't... we don't know much about your mother. Assuming that we haven't seen her here, is she...?" Arlo's careful with the question. It's not one I'm unfamiliar with. People always feel the need to be careful around the subject. It's probably because I don't bring myself to talk about my mother's passing that often.

"Yeah, she passed away due to a disease when I was ten years old," I tell him honestly. "The only thing she left me was those journals, my father, and a key," I chock on the last word. I wasn't supposed to tell him about that. Hopefully, Arlo didn't see my shocked face.

"A key? Like the one you wear around your neck?" Arlo asks innocently. I know my attempts at hiding my key aren't the best, but most of the time people don't pick up on it or just assume it's a fashion choice.

"That's the one," I tell him quickly before looking for where Fox and Eden had run off to. I need to change or drop this conversation quickly. Even though Arlo's my friend and should know private things, I don't feel comfortable. "Let's catch up with the other two. If we don't find them soon, they might start to build a fort in here so they don't have to leave."

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The sun has gone down. Only the warm lighting from the lamp illuminates the couches we sit on. It was decided that instead of getting the rest of the tour, we would stay at the library. I managed to dig up an unused sketchbook so we could all play a game suggested by Eden.

"Fox, it's your turn," I tell her as I look down at our scores. She's in last place. In far last place. She's not a sore loser, however, and seems to be enjoying the competitive game the most.

Fox grabs the pen from the table and begins to scribble on the paper that's positioned for us all to see. Different images pop three my mind of what her drawing could be. Fox scribbles away messily. Not bothering to make the picture she's trying to draw obvious.

"Is it a horse?" Arlo questions. Fox shakes her head indicating that he's wrong.

"Oh! I know, it's a candle holder," Eden confidently answers, but is wrong as well.

My mind races at all the possibilities. Fox circles important areas that we should pay attention to. Then, she draws a frame around her drawing. I cringed once I figured out what she had drawn.

I bow my head low before answering. "Is it my Uncle Frederick?" I ask Fox. She throws her hands in the air in celebration. Arlo complains how the picture looks nothing like him but continues to give me a tally for my point. I trade seats with Fox as it is now my turn to draw.

"Are you kids having fun?" Another voice comes from the shadows. We all freeze as my father emerges from a place where we couldn't see him. How long has he been standing there?

His fake interested smile fades and he gestures for me to stand up. I move the sketchbook from my tap and stand to face him. Without a word, he tells me to follow him out of the room by nodding his head in that direction. I tell the three others to stay put and that I'll return soon.

"What did you need of me?" I ask him once we're in the hallway. I do not attempt to be polite. It's been a few days and he hadn't made an effort to see me privately. I've only seen him at dinner and not once did he say he was glad to see me again.

"Try not to be salty, Robin," my father sneers at me. My jaw clenches closed. My stare is so furious that it feels like I could burn a hole throw him. That wouldn't be such a bad thing. The older man continued his sentence, "Now that these foolish royals have walked right into my trap, I need you," he pointed a finger into my chest, "to finish our plan."

I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. He fully believes my friends are completely oblivious to his dark organization. My father has no idea that we're here to finish him.

"And how will I do that?" I bite back while shoving his hand off of me. My feet take a few steps back to put distance between us.

"On the last day of their visit, you will drug their dinner drinks. Once they go to sleep that night, they will be knocked out for a day or two. Before that night, I will send out letters to their families asking for money if they want their captured kids back." He explains with no emotion on his face. This is a normal conversation for him.

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