Chapter 38 #2
He's so riddled with this disease that I would almost certainly be able to spot something in him—but the idea frightens me. Because if I were able to see the darkness, what would I do next? What if some latent power I have lashes out, and I can’t control it because of how much deeper Arlo’s curse goes?
What if I only make things worse?
I sit with this very real fear for a long moment, only to set it aside the way I've set aside every fear that's ever threatened to stop me.
I change tactics, borrowing Sesca’s vision once more and studying the natural elements all around us.
I try to breathe the essence of them in on my own this time.
Practicing and hoping that I’ll eventually be able to do the same with the unnatural elements I’m hunting for, whenever I do manage to spot them.
This quickly becomes overwhelming, though; even absorbing just a few tiny wisps makes my body feel like its stretching, threatening to split at the seams.
There’s a reason Sesca takes these things in and forges them into more manageable spells before passing them on to me, I guess. And though she tells me I have the potential to do this myself, eventually, it’s something that will likely require far more practice.
I keep trying, but after an hour or so, I’ve still made no real progress. Finally, I surrender in frustration and flop onto my back, glaring up at a sky that seems too bright, too clear, too perfect. Like it's mocking my attempts to focus on the dark curse over this palace.
“What are you going to do now?” Kestrel presses. “We need a plan.”
“I know. I'm thinking.”
I can feel her staring down at me, worry and agitation rolling off her in equal measure, but I don't care. I tuck my hands behind my head and close my eyes tightly, losing myself in thought.
I don't know how much time passes before I sense her sitting down beside me, and her voice follows soon after: “Still thinking? Or are we taking a nap now?”
I open my eyes, twisting the ring that Reave gave me, watching the ruby catch the afternoon light.
“Well?”
“She's likely just daydreaming about your brother again,” Briar says, her cheerful voice dissolving some of the tension in the air.
“If by daydreaming you mean considering the risks that he and his kingdom are facing, and the vast implications of what it means for me to face those risks alongside him, then yes. I can't stop thinking about him.”
Briar and Kestrel exchange a look, as if they know something I don't.
Sesca lets out a wheezing noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.
“And for the record, our relationship is not exactly the heated affair most of the palace is making it out to be,” I inform them with a slight scowl. “It's difficult to pull off endless nights of wild passion when the world is in danger of imploding all around you, as it turns out.”
Yet another thing that makes me want to curse the too-bright sun above me.
“I trust you'll keep trying,” says Kestrel, studying her nails, which are painted a deep, dark red.
“She will,” Briar tells her. “She's not a quitter.”
“I wish both of you would quit,” I say.
“Talking about this is less depressing than discussing the aforementioned world implosion,” Briar replies.
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“She's right,” Kestrel insists. “And overhearing the servants gossiping about my brother’s love life and his impending wedding is far less troubling than hearing them talk about all of the people who would like to see him overthrown. Or worse.”
“We're not getting married,” I deadpan. “And you do realize that if we were, that would mean you're stuck with me indefinitely?”
She shrugs. “I've decided he could do far worse. He could likely do better, too, but that's not the point.”
“You're not capable of a compliment that isn't immediately followed by an insult, are you?”
Her smile is sharp but genuine. “No. I have to keep things balanced. It's an odd little compulsion I have.”
“Not the oddest thing about the royal family, as it turns out,” Briar says.
“Very true,” Kestrel agrees.
“Are there any other oddities I should be aware of?” I ask.
“Oh, I could make you a list.”
“…On second thought, maybe I'm better off not knowing. I'm tired enough already.”
“I think you should have a spring wedding,” says Briar. “And I want to be in charge of the floral arrangements.” She looks at Sesca, framing her with her fingers as if mentally taking her measurements. “I'm imagining you with a lovely crown of flowers for the occasion. Maybe a necklace, too.”
I want my crown to be pink and white, Sesca tells her.
“Yes, that would be gorgeous,” Briar says with a sage nod, and the dragon sits up straighter and confidently puffs out her chest, like she's ready for her fitting right now.
“All of you have lost your damn minds,” I say, springing back to my feet.
I try to go back to practicing and problem-solving, but it's useless.
Nothing I do is working. My focus is fading, and it feels like I'm moving backward instead of forward. Which is likely why Briar started her teasing in the first place; she's always been able to tell when I need to come up for air.
I think I would have drowned myself in my desperate attempts to fix and save everything long ago, if not for her.
So eventually, I give in—not to the wedding planning—but to the teasing and the laughter and the attempt to keep things light even as the darkness closes in.
Because it loosens the tightness in my chest and allows me to keep breathing, and because smiling with them reminds me that there are things worth fighting for.
I've kept going through every other impossible thing I've survived.
And I have no intentions of stopping now.