Chapter 55
Becky
Meanwhile, back at the manor…
Becky glowered at the memory flower, pinching the flared petals between her fingers, tempted to pick it apart until it withered into nothing.
Let it die and be absorbed back into the earth.
She was seconds away from doing it, she swore she was—until Nura Sage appeared over her shoulder to run her fingers across it.
“You look menacing, sitting here all by yourself,” Nura said with a sympathetic smile, lowering next to Becky until they were both sitting on the floor of the hallway, across from the doors leading down to the dungeons. “I heard little Roland was here.”
“He’s not so little anymore.” The delivery had more bite than she’d intended, but Nura didn’t seem to mind. She merely hummed, folding her hands over her knees.
“No, I suppose he’s old enough to make some poor choices, isn’t he?”
Becky had spent much of her early life trying to cram herself into boxes she never fit into, only to find that being boundless brought her the freedom to be happy with herself.
Her mother’s betrayal had tried to trap her back into one of those boxes, so for the past few weeks she had to actively fight against it.
Never again would she return to the version of herself so molded by the opinions of others.
So, she’d pushed herself to do all the things the old her would never have done. Like seeking advice from two women she considered her friends, or flirting with a man she was becoming fairly certain she was in love with, or having the courage to turn her back on her family to avoid getting hurt.
The old Becky would never have confided in Nura Sage.
But she was not the old Becky anymore, or even a brand-new one.
She was just who she was—unashamed and proud—but now also trying her hand at living a life, not hiding away from her past. “Roland probably did what he did because he loves my mother and he wants to be a good son. It probably had nothing to do with me, and I don’t believe he even questioned if my mother had good intentions before carrying out the task. ”
Nura’s dark brows slanted down. “You know all that, and yet…” she probed carefully.
Becky released a ragged sigh, and the memory flower responded to her touch, awakening to wrap a single petal around her finger.
“I know all that, and yet it still really hurts that my brother chose to continue on so happily in a life that hurt me so badly.” She placed the potted flower back on the ground, and it drooped at the distance from her.
She glared at it. “And I hate that I can’t destroy this stupid plant because I’m biologically wired to care about all living things that grow, so I cannot rip it apart without hurting myself, and I am tired of hurting myself!
” The flower leaned over and wrapped around her finger again, one petal tapping in reassurance.
Reassurance. From a plant.
“See?” Becky squealed. “How can I destroy something that’s holding my finger like that?” She exhaled in frustration, and Nura laughed, glowing a little.
“Oh, my dear.” She chuckled warmly, and it was the sort of sound that Becky remembered from baking cookies with her grandmother. “You can’t because you love, and that is never a bad thing.”
Becky fumbled with the leaves, trying to untwine her finger from its grasp. “Maybe, but it still hurts.” The flower tugged back on her finger. “Ow! So does that! You foul thing.”
She attempted to pull again, and Blade chose that exact moment to come around the corner, finding her fighting on all fours with a plant the same way he wrangled beasts.
“Lovely Rebecka, I think Roland isn’t—” He stopped and frowned.
“What are you doing?” His complexion was duller than usual, unfamiliar purple smudges under his eyes.
She knew he’d stayed up with the guvre the night before, because of its waning health, being separated from its mate.
“Here, I can help.” He picked up the plant and gave a light tug, but instead of the petals releasing their grips, one tore clean off, floating to the floor.
The ground shook.
Blade dropped the pot and backed away, leaving it to rattle violently. Nura leaped up beside her. “What’s happening?” she asked.
“Bladen, what did you do?” Becky scolded.
Blade paused in his panic to give her a crooked grin. “Did you just call me Bladen?”
“Mr. Gushiken!” Becky slapped his arm, and Blade moved into action once again.
“Mistress Sage, I think you should get out of here.” Blade said it breezily, so Nura seemed unable to panic properly, merely nodding as she strode toward the west wing.
“My goodness, you’re so calm. How?” Becky questioned.
His easy smile slipped into a frown of serious authority.
“It’s fake!” Suddenly, a bright light shot out of the plant, slicing through the air above them and shattering a window at the end of the hall; in a flash, Blade pressed Becky to the ground and angled his body over hers in a protective stance.
“Gods,” he whispered, his breath warm on her neck. “Why did the plant do that?”
Becky rolled from her side, fully onto her back, facing him.
Blade was on his elbows to keep from crushing her, both forearms around the sides of her head in protection.
A strand of hair had escaped his short ponytail, and she couldn’t resist. She slid the strand behind his ear, his whiskey-colored eyes widening at the brush of her fingers against his cheek.
Clearing his throat, he started to rise onto his palms, leaving her reeling. “I guess you can’t do the ‘does he love me, does he not’ petal pulling with that one unless you want to lose your head.” He laughed, attempting to relieve the seriousness of the moment, and she wanted to let him.
But Becky was good at serious moments.
His laugh cut off completely when she leaned up fast and, without warning, kissed him.
Her eyes were closed, but she could feel him jolt against her mouth, a low sound in the back of his throat vibrating for a second before she pulled away, almost shouting her next words, saying them so fast and sudden that they came out in a jumble. “I think I love you.”
Blade’s whole face was taken over by an awe bordering on horror.
And Becky knew she mirrored it as she squeaked, “Okay, bye!”
She shoved him off her, grabbing the memory plant and bolting down the hall until she was out of his view. Leaning against the wall, she marveled at her gumption with a small bit of pride and a heaping dose of soul-imprinting shame.
Because she had run away before she could hear what his response might be.
She stared at the plant, at the place where its petals had once been. “I’m sorry you lost a bit of yourself back there, but if it helps, I just tore off one of my petals, too.”
But unlike the memory plant, Becky hadn’t lost a bit of her magic.
The memory plant had Nura’s starlight magic inside it—a piece of it, anyway—and losing the petal had released some of it, but it was a mystery to Becky why the starlight had shot for the window, instead of trying to find its way back to Nura.
Perhaps it had to do with Rennedawn’s waning magic.
Perhaps the state of the kingdom was worsening.
Usually, magical abilities would lie dormant inside a person from when they were first born until the moment that person experienced a traumatic or highly emotional event.
Then the magic they’d had all their life came alive.
Becky’s, on the other hand, had been inherited—which was rare, but even her plant magic varied from Fortis to Fortis.
Regardless, though, magic remained inside a person’s body forever.
But that starlight magic had not wanted Nura, and because of its meddling, Rebecka had revealed the clumsiest of love confessions and followed it with, Okay, bye . This was most certainly the most embarrassing moment of her life, not to mention an HR violation.
Rebecka Erring was terrible at flirting. It was true.
“Rebecka?” Blade called, clearly not taking her goodbye seriously as he angled a head around the corner.
She jumped, dropping the plant to the ground once more, causing another petal to fall. Again, the flower shook, and Becky cried out, “Blade, go!” But Blade wasn’t fast enough.
The piercing starlight shot out and struck him right in the head.
Blade fell to the ground as Becky ran for him, gripping the back of his neck for support, leaning an ear down to listen to his heart, which was beating—slow and erratic, but still beating.
“Blade! Blade! Open your eyes,” Becky cried out. “Open them!”
Blade cracked his lids and smiled at her the way he always did, like he was looking at something precious. “I think I love you.” He was still smiling as he reclosed his eyes, whispering softly, “Okay, bye.”