Chapter Six. In Which a Girl Cannot Simply Walk Out of a Cursed Forest
CHAPTER SIX
In Which a Girl Cannot Simply Walk Out of a Cursed Forest
Risa needed to focus. After what couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, she felt an ache start behind her ribs. A few moments after that, she swore her breathing grew shallower. Then, no more than a heartbeat later, she struggled to keep from passing out, all thanks to Brunhilda’s curse.
Couldn’t the curse understand? This was for the prince’s own good anyway! She had enough people blaming her for things. Killing a royal was not on her to-do list, even if he was annoying and probably deserved it.
Suddenly, an impenetrable, gloomy mist descended, and it became impossible to see farther than a few feet ahead. Her breaths grew ragged as a sharp pain pierced her with each shaky inhale.
This was so unfair.
She sighed. Turned around once, twice, until the curse tugged her toward the prince once again.
Risa attempted to resist for a moment. Took a step back, heels digging into the damp soil. But her vision darkened at the edges, and she was too tired to fight.
She sighed and stepped forward. The taut line around her heart slackened infinitesimally. Another step. More slack. After an eternity, she crossed into the same clearing that she had walked away from a hero.
Prince Javi squatted on a moss-covered boulder, glaring at the thicket where she stood.
“You left me,” he said by way of greeting. “You actually left me. To die. Here. By myself.”
If a prince was murdered in a forest, would anyone hear him scream?
“If only.”
She breezed past his incredulous face to settle on the boulder beside him, one foot tucked beneath her. Cold seeped through her clothes. When she reached up to scratch at an itch on the crown of her head, her fingers became stuck in the mess of her mane.
All she could think of was the large house on the hill back in Barrow, where her parents waited for rain and a daughter who would never come home.
If she were there, a feast and a cake would be waiting beside a gift for her to open.
Her parents would be standing on either side of her, their hands ghosting over her shoulders but never touching.
She would extricate herself from their expectant gazes, insist on being alone, watch disappointment line their aged faces, and go upstairs to look out into the back garden, where there were no flowers and the trees had long shed their leaves.
There, she would barter once more with the universe.
No more curse, for her parents’ sake. And if that could not be arranged, then she could live with the curse so long as it didn’t take her parents. So long as no one else got hurt.
Were they happier now that they no longer had to pretend for her benefit? Would the town welcome them back with open arms, now that the Bad Thing was gone?
Prince Javi scratched at a deep crack in the stone with manicured nails. “This was not how I imagined spending my last few days as a bachelor,” he quipped, as if he hadn’t accused her of leaving him for dead.
“This was not how I imagined spending my birthday,” she admitted, because she was weak, and cold, and tired, and she could feel the heat of him and she had never sat so close to another person who didn’t share her blood.
“That,” he said after a long, punctuating silence, “is very sad.”
He was right, of course. This wasn’t even her saddest birthday.
Each year, they had grown steadily more depressing.
Once upon a time, she thought that perhaps if she tried hard enough and was nice enough for the whole year, the children would see she wasn’t so bad and would celebrate with her.
It only took her one birthday to learn what a silly dream that was.
Every birthday brought heartache. Every birthday brought inevitable disillusionment. Nothing would ever change.
Prince Javi let her wallow in her own misery for a moment, which surprised her considering that he seemed to enjoy filling the quiet with inane chatter. He sat there in stilted yet companionable silence, until it grew loud enough to be uncomfortable.
“Are you finished? While I am usually in support of lying about in melancholy, I do believe we should attempt an escape while we still have our wits about us. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this forest is very strange.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she agreed, unwinding her leg and wincing.
He bounded to his feet without another glance and started for the trees. When he realized she wasn’t following, he turned back with a quizzical furrow upon his brow. “Are you coming?”
Risa glared at her toes. “I need a moment. My foot fell asleep.”
“What am I supposed to do about that?”
She took a deep breath and tried not to bargain with the forest gods by offering them a foppish prince. “You could help me up,” she muttered through her gnashed teeth.
Prince Javi—who should have been granted the title Prince of Drama—shook his head at her. “Oh no. Contrary to the muscles straining at the seams of my well-fitted suit, I have a bad back.” He cocked his head. “From carrying all my good looks.”
Actually, she was glad she had returned. Prince Javi deserved whatever her curse had in store for him. Hopefully, it was bloody and slow.
“I promise not to sully your very nice outfit. Just give me your hand.”
He considered her for a long moment, eyes unwavering as they bore into her forehead, searching for something.
Whatever he was looking for, he must have found, and he grumbled under his breath.
She expected him to sullenly offer his royal palm, but he surprised her by edging close enough to bend down and tuck his shoulder beneath her armpit.
She started leaning her weight into him when a noise like a screeching cat erupted out of his mouth. He folded over with a whimper.
“Oh no,” she said, hobbling precariously on her numb foot. She’d heard her father make that sound whenever he bent down to inspect something.
He groaned. “I told you.” His gold eyes flashed from behind his disheveled flop of hair. “I’m a damsel in distress.”
Risa released an exasperated breath and tried her weight on her numb foot. The tingling sensation dissipated, and she reached for the prince, helping him slowly unfold as he continued to whimper.
“Has this happened before?” she asked.
“So now you want to hear all about me,” he snapped, gripping her forearm with impressive strength. He took a step forward with trepidation, then another, his back slightly hunched over, his shoulders tensed around his ears.
“I didn’t think my lack of enthusiasm for chatter would stop you.”
He must have been in real pain not to bother with a response.
They walked away from the moon’s reach and into the soundless cover of the trees, where shadows played tricks on Risa’s eyes and gnarled roots still tangled around her cold feet. Prince Javi, for his part, remained silent, exertion and pain lacing his brows together in a straight line.
His long fingers dug deeper into her skin as he used her like a human cane. With every step, he straightened a fraction of an inch, and she was glad for the unearthly silence that devoured their footsteps.
“Can your good fortune help locate streams or other bodies of water?” he eventually asked after he had straightened to her height.
“Am I a horse?”
“Can horses find water? Can you turn into one?”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“Being a witch?”
“Being a horse.”
He turned to look at her. Behind the obvious distress in his eyes, there was something else, the same calculating stare that had flashed briefly before the attack. He was studying her. Figuring her out. Trying to understand Brunhilda’s reasoning for offering her up instead of using magic.
She looked away, worried the truth might be spelled out in her face—the downturned edges of her mouth, the wrinkle of her nose.
“If you’re good luck, I’m sure you could point us in the right direction,” he prodded, no doubt eager to witness magic at work. That was probably only because he never had it used against him.
She pointed somewhere in the distance, eager to escape his scrutiny. “There.”
“Water?”
She had no idea. With the way things were working out, chances were that a goblin king was waiting to marry them both, unhindered by societal expectations. Or maybe goblins enjoyed polygamy. It wasn’t like she’d ever met one. “Sure.”
He gave her a pointed look. “You don’t sound very confident.”
“That’s because I’m not a horse.”
“No,” he confirmed. He leaned his full weight against her, and she watched in fascinated horror as his throat bobbed. “I could ride a horse.” He paused. “Wait. Do you hear that?”
No. Risa did not. She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed a finger to her lips.
“Listen.”
She had half a mind to bite the offending finger. But then she heard it. The faintest of sounds, like a trickle of—
Water.
Prince Javi steeled himself for the next part of their arduous journey by muffling a groan, rolling his shoulders back, and leaning farther into her. She nearly buckled, and for a moment, she considered dropping him. But one glimpse of his blank, stoic face made her swallow her bite and trudge on.
They broke through the line of trees and spilled out onto a riverbank swathed in silver. A stream drenched in moonlight revealed itself, the expanse of stars reflected upon its rippling surface. A gentle burble rose in the air, accompanied by a sound that had marked Risa’s whole life.
Rain.
Her heart lurched in her chest.
Across the stream and beyond the trees was a town shrouded by sleet. A storm raged over the collection of roofs, forming an impenetrable gray veil. Through the haze, she could see blips of gold lamplight flicker off as the town readied itself for sleep.
It was not Barrow. She could tell by the shape of the houses and buildings, could tell from the way the rain hit the roofs that they weren’t made of rusted metal. Besides, there still remained a few hours left of her birthday.