Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Phillip thought heat was supposed to rise.
The air was cold as they fell. It whipped at his face, tearing at his clothes as he clutched Mal tightly against him.
Gravity pulled them downward with merciless speed.
The ground rushed up to meet them. His only thought was simple: If this was the end, he would go down protecting her.
But Mal—his fierce, indomitable Mal—was already calling upon her forest.
Branches reached out as they plummeted. Thick boughs stretched to slow their descent. The leaves rustled like a whispered prayer, cushioning their fall.
But they were falling too fast. The branches bowed beneath their weight. One by one, the boughs snapped, sending them tumbling farther.
Below them, vines slithered through the air, wrapping tightly around their bodies, pulling taut to slow their speed. They, too, stretched thin. Trembling with effort, the vines snapped.
Mal and Phillip weren’t over the earth. The dark gleam of water spread below them like a waiting abyss. Phillip’s stomach dropped as they crashed into the icy depths.
The water was colder than the air. It slapped him hard, a hammer, knocking the air from his lungs, the sense from his brain. Thank the godmothers it was not enough to break his hold on his beloved.
He'd made Mal a promise. He would not break it. He would never let her go again. His promise held firm, as did his arms around her.
The water swallowed them whole, dark and frigid. For a heartbeat, Phillip struggled. The primal urge to breathe burned in his chest. Then something strange and wondrous happened.
Flora—soft, delicate plants with bioluminescent tendrils—rose from the depths to cradle them. The plants wound gently around their limbs, their glowing fronds swaying like dancers in the current, easing them into the water’s embrace.
Blue vines slid over Phillip’s face, covering his mouth and nose like a soft veil. Panic surged, and he thrashed, fighting against the alien sensation. His muscles burned. Water sloshed in his ears, making everything sound distant and warped.
Mal’s hand found his. Her touch was steady, reassuring, even beneath the water’s pressure. He turned to her, and what little breath that remained left him. And then his lungs took in more.
The same plants covered her mouth, their tendrils pulsing gently. She wasn’t panicking. Her eyes, dark and steady, met his, filled with quiet trust. She pressed her palm against his chest, her magic thrumming in soft waves through her touch, urging him to calm.
Phillip hesitated, then forced himself to inhale slowly.
The plant’s fronds shifted, releasing a cool, refreshing breath into his lungs.
It was pure, concentrated oxygen. The plants had drawn in the carbon dioxide.
He exhaled and transformed it into what he needed to breathe.
The burn in his chest eased, the tension in his muscles unwound.
The plants shifted in tandem, wrapping gently around Phillip and Mal to pull them through the current. As they drifted underwater and away from the castle, the water grew warmer, the current softer, guiding them into the sanctuary of the Enchanted Forest.
Phillip’s gaze never left Mal. He drew her close. She came willingly, sliding into his arms like she belonged there. Because she did.
Words weren’t necessary—not that they could speak through the strange plants feeding them breath. Mal’s fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic, her hold firm and reassuring. Both of them knew without saying that no force—no curse, no magic—would ever separate them again.
Aurora had tried to kill them both. Not just him—but Mal. The woman who held his heart, who had fought her way back to him after three long years of separation.
Aurora had tried to kill her. There was no explaining that away, no justification. The truth seared through him like a blade: Aurora wasn’t the victim in this story. She was the villain. Phillip had played the fool, blind to the danger she posed.
They surfaced with gasps. Water streamed down his face and burned in his lungs.
Mal slipped from his arms and climbed out of the water with graceful ease.
Droplets gleamed on her skin like moonlit jewels.
Phillip followed, feeling the weight of his drenched clothes dragging against him, but nothing could slow the tempest brewing inside his chest.
As they reached the edge of the water, forest folk emerged from the shadows; sprites, dryads, and other creatures of the Enchanted Forest. It was clear they'd heard what had happened through the vines.
Mal stood tall, addressing her people with a voice as steady as steel. "Prepare yourselves. Aurora has shown her hand. She’s declared war on us. It’s time we fight back."
A knot of unease twisted in Phillip's gut as he stared at her.
The fire in her eyes blazed bright and unrelenting.
He exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering toward the distant lights of the palace—his palace—glowing like a beacon against the night sky.
The place that had once been his home now felt foreign.