Chapter Fifteen #2
“Do not tell me what I can and can’t do. I am the queen. I am the one in charge here.”
“Get off your high horse, Fern. I would say Bastion is the one responsible for this, but I know better. Who was it that put the idea in his mind? Was it Morgana?”
My throat tightens at the name. Morgana. The one who cursed me, now involved once again. It’s always her.
“Your son is a bad influence. He has been from the start. I knew it was a bad idea to allow them to be friends.”
“Stop changing the subject. You have a crisis at hand. Whatever dark spell Bastion found has turned the area unlivable. The wildlife have abandoned it, the plants are dying, the soil has dried up…. What if the ruin spreads? What about the nearby villages? You and Morgana have to answer for this. You need to do something.”
“It’s not her fault! She was only trying to help. Which is more than you’ve ever done!”
“I told you what happened the first time I tried!” Ruth raises her voice.
“I’m surprised Lilibeth stayed in the citadel after what Morgana did to her and that poor girl.
Once again, you’re blaming others, Fern.
There’s a dark magic spreading in the north, and it won’t be long until the people find out.
When they ask who is responsible, what do you think they’ll say when they find out it was their own prince? ”
The queen clutches Young-Bash tighter.
Her rage peaks.
With a simmering low voice, she says, “They won’t.
Because they’ll never know. The only people who know what happened are our husbands and the people in this room.
Morgana will investigate the area the next time she visits and fix it.
In the meantime, we’re sending extra supplies to the people.
They’ll be fine. Everyone will have forgotten about the whole incident by the next solstice.
So if you breathe a word, if I catch the story spreading, I’ll know who it was, and I’ll have your entire family killed. Don’t test me, Ruth.”
Ruth blanches in disgust. She pulls Young-Will closer.
“Fine. Have it your way. Let’s go.”
Young-Will hasn’t once taken his eyes off Young-Bastion. As his mum tugs him toward the doors, he blurts out, “Bash—”
The prince flushes in shame. His jaw clenches but he doesn’t look up.
“Coward,” Will says from my side.
“If the queen asked Morgana to fix it, why didn’t she?” I ask as the colors bleed together again.
“I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe she couldn’t. No one else has been able to. I guess the queen believed that if she denied it long enough, it would go away and heal itself. Instead, years later, it brought rebels and explosions to her doorstep.”
That does explain her paranoia, her desperation to keep an eye on everyone and everything in the citadel. Just in case any whispers begin that this was Bastion’s doing.
“Something makes sense to me now.” I grimace. “It was very soon after this that the queen summoned me to her chambers for the first time. I was thirteen. She must have been checking for any rumors about what Bash did.”
“What?”
“She asked if I’d heard anything suspicious, and in return for my truth, she would give me something I wanted.
” I stop to hold back a pained laugh. “I told her that my best friend loves reading, and he wanted to use the castle library. She agreed, but asked again: What do you want? I then answered that I wanted my mum to be happy, as she sometimes looks sad. She asked what would do that, and I said flowers. The best flowers in the whole kingdom. Since then, the queen improved the trading routes with Lucan and Dreah to include more varieties of flowers. And in return, she gets to question me anytime she wants.”
“Fliss…that’s awful. You were a child and she used you like that?”
“Actually, it’s what allowed Bastion to meet Card, so I suppose some good came of it. Card and I wondered why the prince was suddenly spending so much time in the library when he was supposed to be in the training yard. Now we know.”
Will scoffs.
“Here, this is a few months later,” he says.
He pulls my hand, and we step onto a cobbled street in the lower town, the fountain at our backs and the castle standing tall beneath a strong summer sun.
We see Young-Will passing a group of townsfolk who whisper and throw side-eyes his way.
He yanks a hood over his head and marches on.
Shortly ahead, Young-Bastion laughs alongside Ava, who has not yet made captain.
They pause before a stall selling a variety of summer fruits when Young-Will catches up.
He tugs on Young-Bastion’s sleeve and the prince’s face falls.
“I’ll just be a moment,” Young-Bastion says to Ava with a strained smile. She nods and continues her conversation with the seller.
Once out of sight down a nearby alley hidden in shade, Young-Will grabs the prince and presses him against the wall with his forearm against Young-Bash’s throat.
“Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in weeks,” Young-Will says. “The guards in the castle courtyard won’t tell me anything.”
At least the prince has the decency to look ashamed.
“Mum thought it would be for the best if we weren’t friends.”
“What?”
“She…She doesn’t want you hanging around anymore.”
“And you?”
Young-Bash doesn’t answer.
“Wonderful. So, what? I’m getting cast aside because you can’t keep your ego in check for five fucking minutes? Was trying to get a smidge of magic seriously worth all this?”
Young-Bastion surges forward, trying to push Young-Will’s arm away, but Young-Will holds him in place.
“You don’t get it,” Young-Bash growls. “The pressure of being next in line. I have to—”
“You don’t have to do anything, idiot. You make the rules.”
“Of course you think it’s that easy. You can do anything you want with magic!”
Young-Will sighs and finally lets the prince go. He falls back against the stone wall opposite and wipes his hair back.
“Not everything. Have you been up there since?” he asks.
“…No.”
“It’s a mess. One nearby village had their entire spring harvest die. The soil is ruined, and it won’t be long until they’re forced to move. I tried but I couldn’t— You need to help them or find someone who can. It’s your fault after all.”
“What am I supposed to do? If magic can’t undo it, what do you want me to do?”
Young-Will wrinkles his nose in disgust. “You’re pathetic.”
Red creeps up the prince’s neck. He straightens his shoulders.
“Don’t come near me again, Will.”
Just before he makes it back to the street, Young-Will lunges forward and slaps a hand to Young-Bash’s forehead. There’s a short glow of magic.
“Get off me, jerk. What are you doing?” Young-Bash says, pushing him off.
“I’ve revoked your privileges,” he hisses. “You can no longer get past the wards to the cottage. Enjoy your loneliness, Your Royal Highness.”
Young-Bash doesn’t quite succeed in seeming unbothered.
The scene spins and we’re in the cottage. Ruth stands solemnly beside her husband, a hand on his shoulder. The man looks gaunter than before. He hunches in one of the wooden chairs he made as both parents watch Young-Will rant, kitten Gill trailing behind his every step.
“How do we know the tree didn’t cause this?” Young-Will seethes. “It killed everything else, and you were there right after. Bash and I must not have been affected because of my shielding spell.”
“It’s the hand we’ve been dealt,” Ruth says.
“Don’t give me that,” Young-Will says, spinning on his heel. “There has to be something we can do. You’re a healer.”
His parents exchange a glance.
My breath catches as I realize what’s happening. This must be how Will’s dad passed away. He must have gotten sick not long after the incident. Oh, gods, Will.
“Marc…” Ruth says to her husband, “talk some sense into him.”
My Will squeezes my hand and smiles down at me.
“We can speed through this part,” he says, like it’s not important. The strain in his eyes tells me he doesn’t want to witness this twice. He doesn’t want to watch and not be able to change a thing.
There are flashes of memories around us.
Young-Will watching his dad lose strength.
His father needing to lean on him to go up the stairs.
Becoming bedbound. Pale. Young-Will pacing his room.
Destroying his desk one day in anger, then sobbing over it the next.
Young-Will sitting, arms crossed, before a paper-cluttered desk in a glittering navy room.
Are you sure, Willoh? a graying man asks.
You have so much potential. Never mind the rumors.
Please reconsider. Young-Will pushes his chair back and leaves.
The endless monotonous hours that follow.
Young-Will trawling the forest from boredom and discovering the Feiyan’s meadow.
Begging his mum to give him something useful to do.
On a delivery for one of his mother’s patients, a scrawny Pigeon tries to steal his backpack.
They share lunch in the forest, but Young-Will declines the offer to join her cause.
Back home, his dad lies in bed with half-closed eyes as his son reads to him.
The days are idle and slow. Agonizing. We overhear a conversation between Ruth and Marc.
They’re resigned that it won’t be long now.
Moments later, Young-Will bursts out of the cottage door and runs all the way to the citadel.
He dodges the guard on sentry duty and heads left to a shop I’m familiar with.
Shortly after, he leaves Creon’s apothecary with a backpack full of tonics.
Anything, he’d said. I’ll try anything to save my dad.
He can’t die. Give me all the healing tonics you have.
On his way out, he’s not watching where he’s going. He shoulders a guard by accident, who stops him and grabs his arm. Young-Bastion is there too, right in his face.
“I told you you’re not welcome here,” the prince says—something I’ve heard said multiple times before.