Chapter Twenty-Four. In Which the Girl Must Wrestle with （Her Own） Skittish Feelings
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
In Which the Girl Must Wrestle with (Her Own) Skittish Feelings
Risa decided that to ensure her curse didn’t find a way to totally upend their plans of storming the Madrosian capital and restoring Amina to the throne, she would walk away.
From Amina, from Javi. For real this time.
Even if it killed her, she would find a way to ignore the pull around her heart and leave.
She started practicing at dinner, breathing slowly through her nose while Javi regaled his great-aunt with stories of the road (“I thought I was supposed to be the knight in shining armor, but it turns out I was more a damsel in distress that first night in the forest,” he said).
For dessert in the parlor, she planted herself before the fire, Brunie curled in her lap, while Javi held court with his aunt and Amina on the other side of the room, where he lamented not having flan from the palace.
When Risa was finally whisked away to her bedchamber by one of the well-dressed palace porters, she felt ready to survive the next few hours without him and hoped it was enough for a future spent missing him.
There was not going to be a happily ever after for her.
It was the cost of being a Bad Thing. She would spend the rest of her days nursing a wound that refused to heal, breathing around the pain and praying she could survive it.
She’d done it before. With Barrow, pretending she didn’t miss the sound of rain hitting metal roofs, the familiar patter that accompanied her all her life.
With her parents, holding them at arm’s length, building up the walls that would keep them safe from her curse.
Javi would simply be one more part of her she’d have to live without. She could do it again.
Javi had been placed in another wing of the Flying Palace because he was family, while she and Amina were relegated to the guest wing.
It was vital that tonight she find a way to breathe without him.
It would be the first of many nights. Of many days, and weeks, and years, when she would have to learn to be truly alone.
It was already easier. There was that familiar pull urging her to seek him out, and an unfamiliar emptiness she attributed to being beyond arm’s reach from him. But she didn’t feel that same unfathomable pain she had earlier that day, climbing the stairs of the Flying Palace.
She was settled in for the night, the hum of the bedside lamp a comfortable drone that reminded her of Barrow.
She surveyed her hollow kingdom from the ornate bed of mahogany, with curtains draped between the four posts in fabric that matched the rug and window shades.
Brunie was already curled up at the foot of the bed, wizened whiskers twitching from a dream.
Before she could condemn herself to the long night, there was a knock at her door.
The person on the other side did not wait for her to answer. Javi slipped through, his wild curls out of control, his face drawn tight. He stopped short at the sight of her in bed, the tension in his jaw turning to surprise.
“Oh!” It was strange, after a day of him refusing to meet her eyes, to have them focus on her so intently under the glow of her buzzing lamp. “You’re not asleep.”
Risa was vaguely aware that this was improper.
She was dressed in more borrowed clothing: a white chemise and a luxurious robe several sizes too big left with the sheepskin-lined slippers at the edge of the bed.
Javi looked far more scandalous in his unbuttoned undershirt and trousers that cut off below his knees, exposing the slick dark skin of his calves and the soft hair he grew there.
Now that she looked at him, he appeared flustered. As if he’d been midway through undressing and thought it was the best time to annoy her further into an early grave.
Though that might not be what finally drove her to her death. Brunhilda’s spell was wreaking havoc on her body. Her heart pounded away, threatening to beat right out of her chest. Something inside her insisted she abandon all reasonable thought and leap into his arms.
What was she supposed to do in his arms?
“I’m trying to be,” she said, willing her heart to stop being ridiculous.
He swallowed, cast his eyes downward, and marched farther into the room. When he reached the foot of the bed, where Brunie had yet to stir, he paused. Took a steadying breath, as if steeling himself for something. As if he needed the extra time to prepare.
“I have a proposition.”
“No.”
Whatever it was would ruin the plans she’d just determined necessary. Javi always found a way to upend her life, and they’d only been on this forced misadventure for less than a week.
Javi struggled with her answer, blowing at a lock of hair that was hanging precariously over his eye. “Hear me out.”
“The answer will still be no.”
He took a seat at the corner of the bed farthest from her. Licked his lips. Didn’t even make a comment or wink or acknowledge the way her eyes followed the movement, transfixed by the brief sight of his pink tongue. Mostly because he still refused to look at her.
It was like he was—
“Please.”
Nervous.
The sudden realization made her nervous, too. Sweat began to line the underside of her arms. In an effort to distract herself, she made a whole show of crossing them with dramatic flair.
Javi took it as a sign that he was allowed to continue.
“After we help Amina restore her throne, I’ll be free of my betrothal,” he started slowly, his gaze focused on the embroidered coverlet she pulled over her lap. “And that means I could probably do whatever I want.”
She had no idea where he was going with this. Frankly, she’d been lost from the moment he stepped through the door, but she was particularly baffled now.
“You already do whatever you want.”
What she expected was a snarky comeback, a disagreeing quip, a cheeky grin that made her insides feel like overly salted fish soup.
Instead, he nodded. In agreement. And then he looked up, pinned her with his golden gaze, and declared, “Come with me.”
Baffled would have been an understatement.
She was absolutely mystified. It didn’t help that her cheeks were attempting to stage a revolt as they burst into flames, and that her palms were now sweating, too, and that Brunhilda’s spell was urging her to— Well, she didn’t want to know what Brunhilda’s spell was trying to make her do.
“Where?” she finally asked.
This time, he gave her a shrug. A nervous smile flitted across his lips. His hands shook as his fingers spun his rings around and around. “Anywhere. Wherever you’d like to go.”
“Why?”
“Well,” he spluttered, abandoning his frantic fidgeting to rest his hands on his knees. “I figured, with your good luck and my good looks, we could start a business.”
“A business,” she repeated, the words not making sense in her head.
“Yes.” He gulped and hurried on, taking advantage of her being struck silent. “You know. Break curses and spells. You’re good at it. And I’m good at convincing people—”
“You are absolutely terrible at convincing people.”
“I won’t have to return to the palace for a while, I’m sure, since I’d be my father’s biggest disappointment.”
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she noted, wincing at the harshness of her words. “For starters, we don’t know anything about business. You’re a prince. A really bad one. And I—”
“I’m actually rather good at mathematics,” he groused.
“Fine,” she said, heart decidedly in her throat. “But what are we doing with this business?”
After nearly a week spent in Javi’s presence, she knew his tells almost as well as her own. She could spot the flush rising up his neck and flooding his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the tops of his ears.
“We’ve had a good run,” he explained, voice fragile. “And we’re…” He trailed off, unable to finish his thought.
The shiver that ran down her back made her freeze.
This was the worst thing that could happen. It wasn’t supposed to happen. It could never happen.
Every wish on her birthday had been the same: To rid herself of her curse. To find a way to escape the life she had. And now Javi was offering her that, without knowing that it was sealing his own demise.
“You’ve been avoiding eye contact for hours. And now you want to start a business together?”
Javi groaned. “So you noticed?” He was back to not really looking at her.
“I’ve been forced to spend the last several days entirely in your presence, so yes.
” She let the coverlet drop from her lap as she pulled herself onto her knees to better look down her nose at him.
“You don’t have to let me down. You need not be nice to me.
The kiss meant nothing. We’re not even friends,” she said.
He finally met her gaze. Something flashed across his eyes. Anger, or the tantalizing dangle of a challenge.
“I know,” he said, voice dangerously low. “But only because you won’t let me be.”
“I don’t need friends.”
He took a steadying breath. Horrifying fascination made her watch his long fingers grip his knees, as if doing so would keep him grounded. Then he stood up, startling Brunie out of sleep.
“What is it?” he demanded, his flush working down the rest of his neck. “I know you’ve been lying. At first, I thought it was because you lied to Brunhilda about your powers when you had none. Then I thought, no, of course not, you’re so clearly a witch. You practically glow with power.”
Risa’s arms fell. “That’s not—”
“But now I have no idea what to think. About your stupid walls or your stupid secret. I keep trying to fight through the brush and scale the walls and vanquish the dragon, all so you could see that it doesn’t matter. Your secret doesn’t matter. Not to me.”
Panic began its climb up her throat. She wanted to slap her hands across his mouth to keep him from speaking, from saying things he couldn’t take back. This sounded dangerous. Like he was about to reveal something and she didn’t want to misinterpret his words.
“I don’t have a secret,” she argued.