34. A Thousand Cuts
Chapter 34
A Thousand Cuts
AIDAN
A fter tucking Mother into bed with the healers at her side, I find Heather standing on the royal balcony that overlooks the gardens. The expansive apartments my father used back when he ruled over the academy have been remodeled to allow the queen a much needed reprieve from the scrutiny she suffered in the capital.
The sun is high in the sky and casts a warm golden glow over the sprawling hedges of bleeding hearts and meticulously arranged flower beds. The scent of blooming roses drifts up on the afternoon breeze, mingling with the salt of the stormy sea. Heather’s long brown hair catches the light, shimmering as it cascades down her back. She’s a vision of elegance in her wedding dress.
“This is a disaster. I told her she should have been transparent about her condition from the start. Now, people are going to talk even more,” my bride laments, hands clenched around the wrought-iron railing of the balcony.
“Fae royals better function at full power or six feet under. Anything in between sparks pockets of unrest.”
It was my mother’s decision not to let anyone know she’s sick, to avoid the uncertainty and anguish that would inevitably shake the kingdom at the news of her impending death.
Even though I’ve been marked as her heir since the womb, people would draw up every crazy scenario in the books, wondering about possible challengers. “And she didn’t want to cast a shadow over the wedding,” I add.
“That worked well,” Heather huffs with a sarcastic smile. “If her sickness was a widely spread fact, it would be easier to smooth out what happened. What are we supposed to tell people, now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Some luck, eh?” She turns to face me as I approach, her brown eyes meeting mine with a warmth that’s as familiar as it is comforting. I’ve known Heather for most of my adult life—she’s been my best friend, my confidante, and now, the woman I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with. But as I look at her, a pang of uncertainty stabs at my chest.
She cups my cheek. “Are you having cold feet? It’s perfectly normal. Our lives are about to change, and it’s not always going to be easy. To make us work, I mean.”
“You’re the best partner I could hope for.”
“But we’re not in love. You know that has been an issue for me ever since we made the decision.”
“Remember last month, when you refused my proposal because you didn’t think it was fair to me?”
“Yes?” She tilts her head slightly, studying me with a curious expression.
“What changed?”
She pauses, her gaze drifting out over the gardens. The silence stretches between us, filled with the distant chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves.
“Your mother told me she was sick, of course,” she finally replies, her voice soft. “But that’s not all. She also told me about that girl from your past...”
My brow furrows in confusion, and my muscles turn to stone, as though I’ve been dipped into some melted alloy and left somewhere cold to dry, about to chip off into a million pieces. “What girl?”
“The one who cursed you of course,” she whispers, her voice brittle and sad and so unlike Heather that it quickens my pulse.
I shake my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She turns to me fully, her eyes wide. “Thera said that a woman from your past had tried to steal your heart and cursed you never to love another. She said I needed to know if I was to accept your proposal, that I could be certain that marrying me wouldn’t keep you from finding happiness elsewhere. She also made me promise not to mention it to you.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as though she’s struggling with having to break that promise.
“What?” I bark in protest, but the words feel hollow as they leave my lips. The shadow of something forgotten, something important crawls like a line of ants at the back of my skull.
Her gaze falls to the ground between us. “Nobody likes to dredge up the past. I thought you didn’t want it mentioned.”
I shake my head. “I truly don’t know who you’re talking about. I think someone—or something—messed with my brain and erased my memories. Elio mentioned something about that girl, earlier, and I swear I can’t recall anything about her.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Erased your memories?”
“Yes.”
“The woman who cursed you is gone now. For good. Your mother swore to this the night she told me about your past.”
Her words hang in the air between us. The story my mother told her is at such a stark contrast to the one Elio and Elizabeth let me catch glimpses of. I’m not sure what to believe. Was I in love with her, or did she curse me to live a loveless life? Because I can’t fathom how those two things can be true at once, yet both of them were true enough to be spoken out by a full-blooded Fae.
The nagging voice in my brain won’t stop yapping. It clings to the edges of my thoughts, whispering that there’s more to the story, something I can’t remember but desperately need to.
As I look at my best friend standing beside me with unwavering support and kindness shining in her patient gaze, I wonder if I’m not about to smash to pieces my future—and the fate of the whole realm—for nothing.
I wrap my hands around hers. "I can't marry you today."
The moment the words leave my mouth, I know they’re right.
“What—are you serious?”
“I need answers. The woman you speak of isn’t gone. It’s Elizabeth.”
“She’s the girl? The one you—” Her eyes widen, and the tears that gloss over them catch me off guard. “Elizabeth Snow?”
"I think so. It doesn't make much sense, but... there's just something achingly familiar about her.”
Heather wraps her arms around herself, her breath shaky. A sniffle rocks her chest, and she presses her knuckles to her nose to stifle another. "By Eros... I can’t believe I invited her here."
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea this would happen,” I whisper.
The corners of her mouth quirk. “It’s my fault. By the Flame, I even thought it would cheer your mother up to hear her sing. Be careful, Aidan. If that woman cursed you and crashed our wedding, who knows what she’s willing to do next.”
I rub her arms up and down, feeling guilty and more than a little reckless for my decision. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, I swear. And then we can decide what’s best.”
Heather presses her lips together. “Alright. I’ll hold the line with the guests and tell them your mother is sick, and that we are postponing the wedding. Hopefully, they’ll infer that we’re hoping for her to get better.”
“Hopefully.” I give her a quick, comforting nod, knowing better than to pray for a miracle. There’s no use pretending the choice I just made means my mother will not live to see me wed, after all.