Wildflower

Chapter Sixteen

I outdo my usual clumsiness. First, it was the dropped plate of crumbs after breakfast, then I walked into the corner of the wrapping table on my way to open the shop, and just now, Mum watched me drop my pruning scissors by my left foot. Any closer and I’d be missing a toe.

“What is with you this morning? It’s a good thing I’m not working at the tearoom today,” Mum says from the kitchen table where she’s checking the accounts.

The audit book is surrounded by the latest shipment of ribbons that I need to organize.

For now, I’m pruning any brown leaves from the single-stemmed flowers available for sale.

Well, I had been, until I almost dismembered myself.

I shake my head and scoop up the fallen scissors.

“I’m tired,” I say, and don’t elaborate.

Last night, after I’d finished preparing the Lunarie, with the sun rising and the world outside still snoozing, there had been nothing to block the spiral of thoughts that kept me awake.

Like an enchanted portrait, every time I closed my eyes, I saw Will.

He brushed my hair behind my ears as the glow of the grove glistened with magic.

I couldn’t stop myself from taking the memory in a different direction.

What if I’d run my hand up his neck and brought his lips to mine?

What if he’d kissed me? How would he have done it?

What would it feel like to have his breath on my skin and his hands all over me?

Because gods know, I’ve thought about it more than once. A lot more than once.

“You should go to bed earlier. I’ve told you a thousand times,” Mum says.

I ignore her and inspect the branches of pastel-pink apple blossoms that are almost fully bloomed, inhaling their delicately sweet scent. Why these flowers mean beware is lost on me. They didn’t warn me about dropping my scissors.

“I tried.”

“Maybe you should take one of Creon’s sleeping potions.”

“They don’t work on me.”

“I’ve told you to drink lavender tea too, but no, all my advice goes in one ear and out the other.”

Mum scratches a number in the accounting book. She’s not holding back her judgment, as usual, and unfortunately for her, I’m cranky enough to poke at a wound. To bring up a topic I’d been keeping secret to spare her any sadness. It’s past time we aired this out.

“Perhaps Ruth has a remedy,” I say.

It takes a few seconds for my words to sink in.

When they do, her mouth drops open. The pen in her hand clatters to the tabletop. All the while, I don’t drop her gaze.

“H-How…?” Mum struggles, then composes herself with a roll of her shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Liar.

“Oh, really? She seemed to know you quite well.”

“Felicity, you shouldn’t be going that far into the forest.”

“Ha! So, you do know each other,” I say, and march to the table. I slam the scissors down and scowl at her over the boxes of ribbons and paperwork. “Another secret you didn’t tell your daughter.”

“Ruth and I haven’t spoken in a very long time,” Mum says, a wobble in her lip.

“Why?”

“It’s all in the past now. There’s no reason to bring it up—”

“I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I’m your mother. I’m allowed.”

I narrow my eyes. She’s normally good at brushing off my questions, but something about this topic rattles her. Her fingers shake as she picks up the pen again.

“What did she say about me?” Mum asks, too quietly.

“Why should I tell you? You don’t tell me things.”

“Fliss.” Mum sighs. “Please.”

“I know that you were friends with the queen too. And Morgana.”

Mum slaps her hand on the open book.

“Do not mention those women in this house.”

“If you just told me—”

“No!” she snaps, her eyes ablaze. “You don’t understand. Everything I’ve done, every decision I’ve made, has been to keep you safe. From the moment I knew you existed, I loved you. I didn’t care that I lost my friends and your father. I didn’t care because I had you.”

I falter.

She never mentions my father.

She squeezes her mouth to try to regain her composure.

“Fliss, everything I do is for you, and if that means I don’t share with you some of the more painful moments of my life, then it’s for your own good. It’s in the past. Now it’s you and me. That’s all I need, and all I’d like it to be.”

“Mum…” I say, a squeeze in my heart.

Before I can think through my reply, the front door swings open and Marcie trots in, her hands a tight knot over her chest. Instantly, I know something is wrong. She’s pale and twitching like a spooked squirrel.

“Marceline, are you okay?” I ask, stepping toward her.

“I’m sorry. Could I stay here for a little while?” the girl asks, chewing the inside of her mouth. I crouch a little to get on her level.

“What’s happened?”

Marcie glances up for the slightest of seconds. “They’re fighting again. I got scared.”

Her words strike me like an arrow. I don’t need to ask who.

“Where, Marcie? Which way did they go?”

She hides her face in her hands.

“Okay, it’s okay,” I say, and wave her to the back of the shop toward Mum.

“Marceline, dearest, come here and help me with these numbers. You’re much smarter than I am,” Mum says, getting to her feet and ushering the girl over. Mum fetches a mug, and I know she’ll be serving up a calming tea.

“Go on, don’t worry. You can stay here for as long as you want,” I tell Marceline, then meet my mum’s worried eyes. We can continue our conversation later.

“I’m going to check what’s going on,” I say, heading to the front door.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Mum asks.

If Will’s in danger, I can’t hang around to discuss it further.

“I…I’ll be back.”

I fly into the street and find a flow of people hurrying away from the lower square.

I push against the crowd, a drum in my chest. There’s a shout from a guard—Howell maybe?

—and a woman nearby trips. I help her to her feet but keep moving.

Before the fountain, a wall of people huddled in a large circle blocks my view of any action.

“How many times do I have to tell you you’re not welcome here?” Bash’s voice rings loud. He’s pissed. Stuck in the same cycle he gets himself caught in.

“Excuse me,” I say, squeezing between shoulders. There’s so much chatter that no one pays attention to me.

A gust of wind has the crowd clutching at their hair and clothes. It gives me the chance to spot Will by the fountain. He’s not hurt. Thank the gods. But Bastion is opposite him with his sword out.

For all the chaos, only Howell is here, a few feet away with his arms out to control the crowd.

Knowing how this usually goes, backup will be on the way.

Hopefully this confrontation will be taken for one of their usual squabbles if we can cool it down.

Maybe I can help with that. I look left and right for any gaps to slip through and try shoving between some shorter people.

“Bash, the world doesn’t revolve around you,” Will says. “I’m not here for you. I couldn’t care less, to be honest.”

I push to the front in time to see Bastion swing his sword. A shriek gets caught in my throat, but Will dodges so easily he doesn’t even take his hands out of his pockets.

“Then leave,” Bastion growls, his cheeks poppy red.

I try to make a run for it, but that grabs Howell’s attention. The guard blocks my path and keeps his arms outstretched.

“Felicity, please stay back for your own safety,” he says.

Behind Howell’s arms, Bastion slashes his sword through the air so forcefully that the tip smashes into the floor. Sand dances in the air. That could have been Will.

“You know I don’t need a weapon to beat you,” Will says, still relaxed. He’s circled around to my left. “You’re wasting your effort and I’m really not in the mood today. I have other places I’d rather be.”

“You’re afraid of facing me head-on.”

I wish I could fully see Will’s expression, because I’m sure he’s delighted by the challenge in that comment.

“Afraid? Gosh, you really overestimate how much I think about you.”

“When will you get it through your thick skull that we don’t want you around here?”

“We?” Will laughs and it trickles down my spine. “I think you don’t want me around here. Perhaps I remind you of a guilty little secret?”

Bastion swings his sword, but changes angles at the last second and manages to slice a clean cut on Will’s cheek.

A line of blood seeps down his chin.

I claw forward.

Howell grabs my shoulders.

Let me pass. Let me through, please. Let me get to Will.

Will reaches his fingers to his cheek. He doesn’t seem to be in pain, just surprised. He dabs blood on his fingertips and smirks.

“Oh, Bash. You must be so proud.”

“Get lost.”

Will takes a step forward. A drop of red drips to the ground like a fallen petal. The cut flows freely as he advances unflinchingly on Bash.

“I used to find fun in riling you up but I’m bored of this,” he says. “I’m tired of letting you get what you want. You and your self-absorbed fiancé in your big, strong castle thinking you can use people and discard them as you wish—”

“Do not insult Card.”

“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it? That he’s incapable of thinking of others? Maybe that’s why you’re a perfect match.”

“Shut up!” Bash swings once more.

A symphony of metal from behind has Howell breathing a sigh of relief. Reinforcements. The guards are coming. Will needs to get out of here.

“Aw, Daddy’s guards are coming to save you once again. How cute,” Will says. He spins around, finally facing my way. Howell, being built like a wall, expertly blocks my attempts to catch Will’s eye. “Well, I’m done here. Have fun playing the perfect son, your lordship.”

“At least I still have a dad to save me,” Bastion spits.

His face drops immediately in regret.

His hands fall limp to his sides.

The wind halts.

As does Will. He stops in his path, suddenly hardened and shut off.

The shock of Bash’s comment has me floored, has my stomach curling. I never expected he could…It’s too low. He’s crossed a line. It’s—

Will whips around, bloodstained hands curled in fists. Bastion raises his sword-free hand in supplication, absolute anguish on his face.

“I’m sorry. Will, I shouldn’t have— I’m really s—”

The prince doesn’t get to finish because Will, a sorcerer so reliant on magic, punches him square in the nose. The sword flies out of Bastion’s hands as blood splatters onto the street for the second time. Howell swears and finally I can slip past him.

“Will!” I cry, dashing forward. The arriving guards shout orders and the crowd combusts into turmoil. I grab the back of Will’s jacket and get easily thrown aside in the tussle. A guard—I don’t care to see who—tries to pull my arm away. I shake them off and crash a knee against the cobblestones.

Both Will and Bash eye the fallen sword and I know what happens next. Bastion can roll for it. Will can use his magic to block it. Round and round until one of them is seriously hurt. Or I can kick the sword out of reach. I can get between them so they don’t kill each other and put a stop to this.

I jump to my feet and run.

Bash skids across the street.

Neither of us is faster than magic.

The sword flashes in the sun and materializes in Will’s hand right as I— Oh.

The eyes I’ve been daydreaming so much about meet mine and all goes silent.

The world around Will and me crumbles like pollen in the breeze, slowly at first, and then swiftly swept out of sight.

My hands fall forward to cover his on the hilt of the sword he’s holding.

The one now sticking out of my stomach. Our eyes are locked tight, neither of us breathing.

Will’s golden glow pales, his dry mouth open in shock, that smirk nowhere in sight.

His eyes are boring into mine like he’s trying to wish me away.

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have been in his path.

He didn’t know I was here. If we stay here, like this, frozen in time, if we don’t move, maybe I won’t—maybe—

I have to cough.

The moment breaks.

Pain greets me like a weighing anchor. At once, noise and color and movement rush back so suddenly that the street before me spins. I stumble forward into Will and breathe in his chamomile scent. Even when I press my hands against his chest and wheeze, he’s stunned still.

“Fliss!” Bash’s shout reaches my ears like he’s calling to me from the other side of a field. Hands are on my elbow, patting me down, tapping my cheeks, trying to keep me conscious. “No, no. Fliss. Wake up.”

I wonder for a moment what he means and why I can’t see him and then I realize that I’ve slumped to my knees.

My skin is on fire, boiling and pulsating like the blood that’s trying to find a way around the metal through my veins.

I’m a stone in a fiery well, unable to rise above the waterline to think clearly.

Everything is fuzzy and distant and ouch, this hurts.

I blink away dark spots. A splatter of blood drips down the front of Will’s shirt. Is that mine?

“Arrest him!”

Wait—I want to say. Instead, I collapse into Bastion, clinging to the last thread of consciousness as the Guards of Alrick force Will to his knees, his hands behind his back. He lets them. He doesn’t once stop staring at me. Wait. Wait—I try to say, over and over, until I can’t fight it any longer.

Until the cool steel of the blade prevails and my world turns dark.