Chapter 20 #2
His jaw clenched, his head still lowered. “Lempicka. Go. You distract me.”
“Zelda’s precious puppet, brought down by a mere poisoned arrow,” the sorcerer mocked. “So this is the worth of your so-called greatness, Arawn? When she sees how I’ve humiliated you, I will become her new favorite. I will reign at her side.”
My fists clenched. Rain began to fall. “Don’t die.”
A fleeting smile crossed his pained features. “And you still haven’t learned to phrase your commands properly.”
I turned and plunged into the mist. The magic barrier shimmered ahead, where the lake began. As I crossed it, I dared one last glance back. Through the curtain of rain painting the leaves in a dark melody, Arawn stood tall. Calm. Unyielding.
In a heartbeat, the man vanished, replaced by the stag dragon. His antlers surged, sharp as lances. His vast wings of mist spread wide, tearing through the air. His face became that of a skeletal deer skull, eyes blazing yellow. His body, that of a dragon, clothed in thorns and fog.
The Cursed lunged at him like starving beasts, claws and fangs bared. One was swept aside by a single wing. Then the mist closed over the battlefield.
I could see no more. But I heard it. The roar of a dragon split the sky. The sinister crunch of shattered bones. And—
“Lempicka! Are you hurt?!” Aignan, Chouquette, and éclair burst to my side.
“It’s my fault,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I thought I saw Nyla. And now, Arawn…”
My eyes widened. The Spirits were rising from the lake, advancing one by one into the clearing, silent as an army of shadows. They encircled me. Chouquette growled, but their spectral arms stretched toward me, pushing me back toward the magical border. And suddenly, I understood.
They were protecting Arawn.
To them, I was a weakness, the reason he was fighting. If they pushed me away from the barrier, the weight of his curse would lessen.
The smaller Cursed, freed from their leashes, darted across the clearing, their tails tucked between their legs. They were fleeing. Which could mean only one thing… Someone had won.
“Master forbade you to approach Lady Lempicka!” Yeun’s voice crackled as he cut through the air, shrinking back into his tiny fairy form and seeking refuge in my palm, safe from the rain. “Mademoiselle Lempicka, you are injured!”
I lowered my gaze to the crystallization on my left arm, but I shook my head. “I’m fine. We need to help Arawn, otherwise—”
“Lempicka, look,” Aignan cut me off.
The mist parted slightly, and out of it emerged a stag’s skull.
The translucent moths fluttering around his antlers fell lifeless to the ground.
Black blood dripped from his fangs, pooling beneath his claws.
The poison of the arrow gleamed on his shadow-and-thorn fur, as if it burned him from within, draining his strength grain by grain.
In his jaws, he held the severed head of the sorcerer. He dropped it onto the grass, where it rolled before coming to a stop. At his feet lay the limp bodies of the two Category Eight Cursed, before dissolving into dark stone. A shiver raced down my spine.
“He won’t be able to maintain the barrier much longer,” Yeun warned, his single wing beating frantically above his head. “He’s burning through his last reserves of mana.”
Arawn collapsed by the edge of the lake.
The water rippled, creeping, slithering slowly toward him in an invisible tide, reaching to touch him.
His breath swept across the clearing. His body began its reverse transformation, slowly regaining its human form, save for the horns that had torn through his flesh, curling upon themselves.
I rushed to his side, falling to my knees. “Arawn, can you hear me?”
Yeun circled him. Burns. Scars. Arawn was in a pitiful state. “He carries the weight of everyone’s curses. It’s too much. A sorcerer cannot fight alone for so long.”
I spun around. The Spirits were facing me, blocking the passage back to the kitchen. Their red gazes gleamed, accusatory. Some seemed hesitant, but others stood frozen in implacable resolve.
“Let me through!” I pleaded. “I have to help him!”
They did not move. I swallowed hard, lifting a trembling hand to silence Aignan’s protests before he could speak.
“If devouring me will save him, then do it. But if it won’t…
” I straightened, clutching my skirt in my fists.
“Then let me do what I was made for!” I inhaled, throat tight, before crying out, “I couldn’t save Nyla.
But him, I will save him! I swear it!” I knelt in the soaked grass and bowed my head, offering them a silent prayer.
“Please. Let me help him. Let me help all of you.”
Only the melancholic song of raindrops broke the silence. I wanted to save Arawn. Not just today, but from himself as well. When I opened my eyes, the Spirits had parted. A narrow path stretched open between them.
“Thank you.” I brushed away a tear before sprinting toward the kitchen.
My fingers trembled as I retrieved the sugarplums, those candied plum drops, I had prepared for the boy from the orchard, for the picnic. They were meant especially for him, but I had no choice. I had to save Arawn.
A sweet remedy for a heart that had forgotten what it was to be loved.
“I hope he forgives me.”
Rich in sucre d'or, they were our best chance.
Stuffing them into my apron, I rushed back out into the downpour, sheets of rain crashing down like a leaden curtain.
I dropped to my knees beside Arawn and gently parted his lips.
My hands shook slightly as I pressed a piece of sugarplum against his mouth.
But the instant the confection touched his lips, it slipped, tumbling to the ground.
“Arawn, you have to eat. Don’t be stubborn,” I muttered, fumbling again in my apron.
I seized another sugarplum and tried once more to press it to his lips.
But again, it fell, rejected. Thunder boomed, deep and furious, tearing the air apart.
The rain poured harder, relentless, battering in icy torrents.
éclair and Chouquette scrambled around me, trying clumsily to shield me from the rain with their bodies, but I no longer saw them. I saw only him.
And I understood what I had to do.
Heat rose up my neck. My gaze slid from the candy in my palm to the pale, still face of the sorcerer. Drawing a deep breath, I lifted the sugarplum to my lips and bit into it. The taste bloomed on my tongue, sweet and comforting.
Ignoring the fire flaring beneath my skin, I leaned forward and gently pressed my lips to Arawn’s.
The half-melted plum of sugar slid between us, and I offered it, coaxing him to swallow. Against all odds, he responded. His throat moved slightly as he gulped, a faint sigh escaping him.
My first kiss was… with an unconscious sorcerer.
But I tried again. And again. And again. My heart pounded wildly. Each time, Arawn’s breath grew a little steadier, a little less erratic, until at last, his body eased.
The rain, as if in echo, softened. Then, I felt his hand.
A burning grip closed around my waist, pulling me against him.
I collapsed onto his chest. Beneath my palms, the rough fabric of his tunic, and beneath that, feverish heat radiating from him.
His hold on me tightened. His long fingers anchored deep at my waist, trapping me against him.
It was unconscious. Yet it was too strong to be only a spasm.
As though he refused to let me go.
As though he wanted me to stay.
He is unconscious.
Yet my heart raced like never before. It pounded with painful intensity, a new force threatening to sweep everything away.
“Arawn… can you hear me? Arawn… come back to me.”
I leaned in a little closer, just enough to—
Arawn’s lips crashed against mine.
No hesitation. No restraint. A fierce kiss. Burning. Desperate. A kiss that devoured me whole.
A strangled gasp tore from me, swallowed at once by the brutal hunger of his mouth on mine.
Arawn’s hand flew to my neck, gripping with uncontrollable urgency.
His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging just enough to send a shiver racing through me.
His other arm wrapped around me, crushing me against him in an embrace that left no escape.
His tongue found mine, in the darkest of dances.
Every fiber of his body answered. He trembled. Pain seared beneath my ribs, an unbearable fire, as though something inside me was breaking and reshaping beneath his touch. But I didn’t care.
Because he kissed me as if I were the very air he breathed.
As if I were everything he had never dared to want.
As if I belonged to him, and he refused to let me slip away.
With one kiss, he stole everything. My breath. My heart. My future. All I saw was him. And the possibility of us.
Until he pulled me with him.
The lake’s magic had called, dragging him back. Our bodies were wrenched from the ground and hurled into the black depths with a muffled crash. Arawn, still unconscious, had dragged me into his fall, his fingers locked tight on me.
The icy bite of the lake tore the air from my lungs, smothered at once by the surface closing over us. I tried to scream, but the water claimed my voice, just like the lake had claimed Arawn. It demanded his purification.
But while he floated on the surface, I sank.
The instant his grip slipped, my body was dragged deeper into the abyss. Sugar crystals shed from my skin, dissolving into the dark water like dying fireflies.
I thrashed, my gaze catching the tangled branches of a giant submerged tree. Black. Silent. Dead. Its gnarled limbs resembled the carcass of a forgotten giant. Once a magnificent tree, now buried beneath the water.
And perched on one of its branches, the Spirit of the orchard boy watched me. His red eyes gleamed in the dark. I reached out a trembling hand toward him.
He did not move.
My gaze drifted to the trunk of the tree, where letters seemed carved into the bark.
Crèvecoeur.
Sudden pressure closed around my hand. In a last effort, I fought against the veil of darkness threatening to engulf me.
Arawn?
No… The figure before me seemed younger. Childlike. But it was his eyes. That same misty violet.
I turned my head toward the branch where the orchard boy had been.
He was gone.