Chapter Twenty-Five
Jeremy’s hooves pound the riverside path.
I gallop toward the citadel as fast as the old horse can carry me, hoping that he knows this route well enough to make up for my lack of riding experience.
His mane whips against my white-knuckled fingers as the wind bites and scratches.
The river rushes with us, roaring like the agony in my chest. There’s no sign of Pigeon, Lark, or Howell. They’re gone. Just like Will.
No. Not like Will. There’s still a chance.
“Just a little farther,” I urge the horse, leaning forward in the saddle.
The hour that passes awakens crepuscular insects that flit across my face, and when the citadel comes into view like the last ray of sunlight to the west, it’s hope.
For once, I can use my curse for good. This affliction of mine has been a lifelong torment, but this time, it’s a gift.
It’s the only saving grace in this whole mess. I can clear the air and save everyone.
We clatter past the guards at the southern gate, the one by the lake near where I picked dahlias all those weeks ago, and into the castle courtyard where I yank back on the reins.
“Fliss!” Tarin says, rushing from their post at the main entrance to take Jeremy’s bridle. They’re bewildered and pale like I’m a visiting ghost. I suppose I am.
“Tarin! Where’s Card? Bastion?” I frantically ask, jumping off so fast I have to grab the guard’s arm to stay on my feet.
“They said Vane escaped a-and—? You w-were—?” they stutter. Clearly they haven’t been given orders in case I make a miraculous return. Did no one think I would come back?
“I need to see them now. Please, Tarin.”
They gather themselves, like all Guards of Alrick should.
“This time of evening, they will be in their chambers,” Tarin says.
I give Jeremy a grateful pat, and his gray muzzle snorts into my shoulder.
“Take care of this horse, please. He needs to rest.”
Tarin stamps their foot and pounds a fist over their heart in a traditional salute. “I’ll take him to the stable master.”
I don’t waste another second and leap up the steps two at a time.
Inside, the sconces have been lit as the castle settles for the night.
The flames flicker with encouragement as I race down the corridors, sweat on my neck and a foot-pounding throb around my scar.
I don’t pass many people. The ones I do jolt out of my way startled, and I know it won’t be long before the queen is aware I’m back.
She’ll want information. She’ll want to know why I’m not dead.
Luckily, I know the way to Bash’s chambers well, and when I suddenly appear before the two guards posted on that corridor, their surprise allows me to sprint right between them.
“HALT!”
I throw open Bash’s door, billowing in like I’m Will using a magical gust of wind.
The prince is on his feet the second I enter, surging for the sword on the dresser.
Card sits on a sofa by the fire with sleep-deprived purple-ringed eyes, and a glass of wine in his hand.
His whole body goes rigid as the door cracks against the stone wall.
“Fliss?” Bash gasps, and drops his defensive stance.
“You have to listen to me—” I start.
The two guards appear behind me, but Bastion waves them away. He strides over and wraps his arms around my shoulders securely, a tightly bound crush of a hug.
It’s the most affection he’s ever shown me.
“You’re home,” Bash says. “You’re okay.”
Like the first cautious blossom of spring, I place my shaking hands on his back.
It’s been easy to forget that Bastion cares about me, and for a while now, my frustration with him has been nearing boiling point.
It’s a torn battle of feelings that fight for purchase in my chest as, over Bash’s shoulder, Card slowly places his glass down and gets to his feet.
He hasn’t blinked once. His mouth is pulled tight, and it strikes me as odd that for once in his life, he’s reserved, held back.
Not demanding the spotlight. He’s staring at me like a new word in a book, one needing a cross-examination.
“How did you escape?” Bash asks, pulling out of the hug.
“Escape?” I ask, and frown. “I thought you knew Will’s mum is a healer? Didn’t you let him take me?”
Bash grits his teeth like the memory is a knife. Any victory of Will’s and he still loses his composure.
“Yes,” the prince says. “I was confident Ruth could heal you. But it changes nothing. He tried to kill you, Fliss. And if it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else.”
I almost choke. Will and I talked about this. We moved past it. But here, time hasn’t ticked. They’ve been stuck reliving it without knowing the full truth.
“When you didn’t return, I knew something was wrong,” Bash continues. “What happened? Did he do anything to you? I swear, if he laid a finger on you—”
“What? No—”
My throat squeezes the rest of my sentence voiceless.
A lie.
I cover my mouth in a spluttering cough.
“I knew it!” Bash spits. “I knew he’d use this chance to do something to you. Did he use magic on you, Fliss? It’s okay, you can tell us.”
I do my best to clear my throat, and when I can’t prepare my answer fast enough, each passing second strengthens Bash’s suspicions.
He eyes me as if somehow being around Will has corrupted me.
Will said this would happen. That their trust in my truth would decay the longer I spent around him.
Anger catches fire in my chest. How dare they think so little of him?
“Where is he, Fliss?” Bash demands. “Did he follow you?”
“Slow down and listen,” I say, rounding out my words as clearly as possible. “You don’t understand. It’s Morgana—”
“Morgana?” He sucks in air through his teeth. “I should have known he’d have gone to her at some point. Of course.”
“No, Bash—”
“I told Mother it was a bad idea to invite her to the wedding. Obviously such a power would tempt Will.”
I grasp Bastion’s forearms so tightly I can feel his pulse.
“Bash, let me talk! Please.”
“Fliss, it’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re home. We can protect you.”
He needs to listen. He never listens.
Bash’s dark brown eyes bore into mine. I know how I must look.
A crazed animal with windswept hair, skin raw from riding.
A pale withered plant that crawled through the forest, dragged itself through thornbushes.
How could he ever understand in the limited time we have?
Why can’t I choose the correct words to make him get it?
My mind scrambles to grab the most important pieces.
“Morgana’s been poisoning the king!” I burst out with a wildness that feels rare.
Precarious. An avalanche of unplanned words.
“She cast a spell on Will. Some kind of potion. He’s not in his right mind.
But I added some flowers to override it.
And before that the bridge fell, and Lark and Howell might be dead, but I don’t know.
I rode here as fast as I could to tell you that you can’t get married tomorrow or Card will die too! ”
Bash exchanges a flash of apprehension with his fiancé.
“Fliss, you’re not making any sense…” the prince says. There’s a tinge of pity in his tone now, a sympathy full of sorrow. That poor girl. Oh, how far she’s fallen. He scans my face like a question. “What did Will do to you…?”
“I’m not lying! He’s on his way here now!”
Bash’s eyes suddenly narrow. That was the wrong truth to tell. It triggers him. Turns him impulsive and blind. He reaches for the sword again.
“I’ll alert the guards,” the prince decides heedlessly and flies to kiss Card’s cheek. “Head to the tunnels below the keep if it gets messy. That’s the safest place to be.”
No. I throw my arms out to block the exit. My legs are shaking, my heart thundering toward the edge of a cliff. Stop. Slow down.
“WAIT!” I shout, fighting against my trembling teeth. “You’re not listening! Why—Why aren’t you listening? I told you, he’s under a spell! If I come with you, I can activate the flowers I added—”
“You’re not allowed anywhere near him again. Either of you. That’s an order.”
A hint of Cardamine’s usual charm breezes across his face. He kisses Bash. “Come back. That’s an order.”
I’m stammering, running low on fumes, wilting. The scar across my stomach pulls my skin like it’s about to snap.
“P-Please, stop, listen, please,” I repeat deliriously. This isn’t right. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
Bash places me in Card’s arms. There’s a waft of buttercups and the slam of a door. The distant shout of rounding guards. Silence. Now that my adrenaline is waning and any hope I had of making Bash understand is extinguished, I don’t know if I can keep moving. Card tries to steady me.
“Come on, edelweiss. Show me your courage,” he says.
A sob breaks through. I don’t want anyone to get hurt—least of all Will.
He doesn’t deserve this, and he’s the only one who knows exactly what spell Morgana is planning to use at the wedding.
Bastion is sealing Card’s fate if he hunts Will down.
A strangle of fear grips me, and when I open my mouth to explain everything, my truth comes out.
“I don’t want him to get hurt,” I say, and burst into tears.
The thought of Will in that prison again, bleeding and barely able to stand—
Card stiffens. He takes a small step back. His fingers run down the arms of my coat, to my wrists, my palms, then let go. The firelight paints shadows on his unusually hard expression.
“You…you don’t mean Bash, do you?” he asks, his voice low.
The flames crackle.
Outside, a guard shouts commands.
“W-What?”
“The flower in Ava’s armor. The day they found Merit.”
I’m blindsided. Stumbling for balance. Why is he bringing this up now?