Vanish

Chapter 17

Iwarred with my uncertainty throughout the remainder of the day and the endless night that followed. The slants of rose-gold light that greeted me with dawn’s arrival did little to illuminate the shadows that had encroached upon my heart.

Once Lucien had retired to bed after another of our late-night talks—this one about all we hoped to accomplish for Brimoire during our future reign together, a conversation that both encouraged me and reminded me of all my fears, both of his sincerity and of my own ability to rule—I’d been left without any distraction from my growing doubts. This temporary standstill in further progressing our relationship made it all too easy for me to dwell on the past.

I lifted my transparent hand, its outline more visible in the sunlight tumbling through the slit in the curtains. After Lucien’s admission that yesterday was the first time we’d really touched—a contrast to the claims I distinctly remembered from the day after our reunion—reservations entered my heart, and despite our many experiments, I’d been unable to gain any solid form.

I wanted nothing more than to dismiss the inconsistency preying on my trust, but no matter how much I attempted to convince my heart otherwise, the evidence of one lie created the possibility of others whose truths still remained hidden. I didn’t yet know the extent of his dishonesty, nor his motive behind it.

Aira hadn’t visited during the night—whether due to the restrictions of the vanished land where she currently resided that limited her visits, or because she somehow sensed her presence wasn’t needed to stoke the distrust against Lucien that she’d been encouraging ever since our reunion.

I almost wished for her presence so I could gather the details she remembered from my past and try to reconcile them with all Lucien and I had been building in our present. Even if I could remember the details of my life lost to the fog of forgetfulness, I doubted I possessed enough knowledge to navigate these uncharted waters. And much as I feared the knowledge Aira would share, the escalating stress of missing information made it increasingly difficult to focus on our relationship and on defeating the curse.

I pondered the matter throughout the morning and later as I studied him at his desk, once more bent over stacks of papers even before the sun had fully risen. He immersed himself in his work, completely ignoring the breakfast tray brought by a concerned maid. His diligence demonstrated a strength of character that made me doubt he would deceive me, further strengthened when each moment together testified of a devotion too real to be insincere.

I floated close enough to brush his shoulder, the perfect opportunity to test my recent theory that the more I was seen, the further I freed myself from invisibility’s shroud. At first the touch went through him as it always had before, but my desire for his notice strengthened my will to become more visible. With concentrated effort my hand tingled before growing slightly heavier, a sign that it now possessed enough tangibility to reach for him and draw his coveted notice.

At my light touch he tore his rapt attention away from his work to bestow it upon me. Even with the weariness lining his haggard expression, his gaze was soft as he met my own. “Is there something you need, Lisette?”

I pointed to his untouched breakfast impatiently waiting near his elbow. “You should take a break.” He started to shake his head in protest, but I continued before he could verbalize his disagreement. “If you can sacrifice your time to help me to the extent that you’re willing to forgo meals and sleep, then I can match your sacrifice by waiting a little longer for potential answers to breaking my curse.”

Whether or not I could trust him was still to be determined, but the fact remained I’d grown to care enough for him to value his well-being, even at the temporary expense of my own.

He glanced at the tray of food in surprise. “I confess I didn’t notice the maid had brought me food. I suppose I’ve once again allowed myself to get carried away.” He pushed the book he’d been perusing away with a resigned sign and pulled the tray closer, pausing upon noticing my expression. “You seem rather pleased with yourself.”

Dazed, I lifted a finger to lightly trace the smile I hadn’t realized caressed my lips. It took me a moment to uncover the hidden memory that had stirred to life by the exchange. “I think I’m surprised you listened to me. From what I can remember, I’m used to my wishes going unheeded.”

His expression sobered. “You don’t deserve to be ignored.”

“Nor do you deserve to neglect your well-being.”

“I suppose relationships go both ways.” He spoke as if he’d never considered such a possibility.

Even without losing his memories to the curse’s erasing force, he seemed as much in the dark about love as I was. This should have acted as further evidence of Aira’s accusations against him, but instead I found reassurance that he understood what I’d previously feared to be a limitation, allowing us to work in overcoming this obstacle together.

I monitored Lucien closely for several minutes as he obediently ate his now lukewarm eggs and toast until my attention was momentarily drawn to the window overlooking a rather surprising view—the growing morning light illuminated Prince Ryland and Princess Evelyn as they scoured the garden path. I squinted, but couldn’t make out what they were doing in their crouched positions.

Though they’d promised to help us break the invisibility curse, I didn’t begrudge them taking a moment for themselves. Last night they’d given us a report on their progress detailing their limited findings that put them at a standstill until they heard back from the monastery or Evelyn received the magical tomes she’d sent for from Estoria.

I had no doubt they would return to their work in short order. In contrast Lucien showed no sign of stopping—in my brief distraction he’d already returned to his book with toast in hand, dedication for my behalf and that of his kingdom that both amazed and frustrated me.

A burst of emotion swelled and I slammed his book shut. He blinked at it in astonishment. “You were able to touch it.” As if testing his theory of my current tangibility, he experimentally poked at my hand, which still pressed down on the cover. For the moment, my translucent body was solid.

He sucked in a breath, his eyes widening in wonder, but I was currently too frustrated to celebrate this progress. “The break in breakfast means that for the moment you’re not allowed to work.” I gave him a firm glare, such a contrast to my usual timidity.

Though he made no protest, he stared at me with a look that was rather lost, as if he wasn’t sure what to do himself without his many responsibilities. An idea seemed to occur to him and he grew thoughtful. “You’re right, I want to do more than serve you; I want to also spend time with you.”

He swiveled his seat so his back blocked the lure of his papers and balanced his breakfast tray on his knees. I watched as he nibbled on his toast since I could not accompany him in eating.

“Have you always been interested in studying?” I asked. “I seem to recall you carrying around a notebook even before I was cursed, often pausing to write things down.”

His cheeks flushed slightly as he unconsciously touched the pocket that I suspected still housed the notebook in question. “Yes, I’ve always found books fascinating, particularly true accounts. But I’ve rarely had time to read until now, when my research might shed light on your predicament.”

The silence stretched long as he sipped his tea. Though I’d managed to secure his focus, once more we found ourselves at the uncertain crossroads each leading to dozens of potential paths our conversation could explore. We’d managed to traverse several in the nights we’d stayed up late talking, courses that first appeared to be rough and difficult to navigate growing smoother with practice.

Movement from outside returned my gaze to the window. The sun had risen higher, allowing me to better see what the prince and princess were doing outdoors so early. My brow furrowed. “Are they collecting rocks?”

Lucien gratefully seized this random topic to break our unbearable silence with a nod. “My brother has always found them fascinating.” By his tone, he didn’t need to elaborate on his thoughts that he found it to be a rather strange and frivolous pastime.

“Rocks?” I blinked, not certain I’d accurately heard him, even as I couldn’t deny that Ryland and Evelyn each had an armful, cradling them as one might jewels.

He shrugged. “At first they only interested my brother, but ever since their marriage Evelyn has enthusiastically joined him, while he’s likewise become a participant in her own hobbies. I’m still at a loss as to how my brother was able to woo his wife over a pile of stones.”

My own inexperience with romance made it seem rather strange, leaving me to wonder if I’d been complicating our courtship. “Perhaps it’s not the rocks themselves but the act of collecting them together. I suppose if you’re in love, any hobby can become interesting so long as you’re spending time with one another.”

Lucien tilted his head in thought. “Which explains why you didn’t seem to mind my attempts to woo you over curse research.”

He tried to smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. I recognized the vulnerability clouding his gaze, as well as the unnamed emotion also filling them that I shared—fear that our interests wouldn’t be enough to be accepted by the other. This belief had been reinforced my entire life, acting as another chain safeguarding my heart ever since I’d entered this arrangement with Lucien.

It wasn’t until this moment that I considered the possibility that he had been doing the same thing.

Evelyn’s laughter drifted through the open window. I glanced over to find her and Ryland smiling at one another as they lost themselves to their pastime, before forgetting even the stones as they gazed into each others’ eyes. I felt a surge of envy, yet for the first time it was accompanied by the urgency to act rather than remain trapped by my insecurity.

I used my newfound tangibility to push the books and papers farther from Lucien’s reach. “No more duties today; I want to spend the time with you.” It was time for us to embark on our quest of discovery.

“But I still want to help—”

“The best way to assist me is to continue our courtship.” It wasn’t even a convenient excuse to force him to take a reprieve from his duties; nothing short of coming to know him better would resolve my internal conflict. “I have an idea. There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.” I attempted to tug at his hand, and though I possessed no strength to move him in this state, he rose to his feet.

“Where are you taking me?”

I simply beckoned in response, gratified to see a spark of interest shining through the weariness in his eyes. Our destination was a secluded section of the royal grounds, off the usual paths popular amongst the court. Confusion marred Lucien’s brow but he obediently followed my lead.

Upon our arrival he stilled, staring wide-eyed at the patch of earth—a simple tucked-away corner of the garden planted with sweet, old-fashioned flowers. At first glance it appeared entirely unremarkable, but its significance had been retrieved from a dim recollection as the place Lucien had brought me midway during our first courtship.

Lucien stared at it a long, silent moment, his expression a mixture of heartache and tenderness, evidence that the place held special meaning to him. He shyly gestured towards the garden. “I spend every spare moment I can here and have become quite familiar with the flowers.”

His meaning settled over me. “Are you the one who tends it now?”

He avoided my eyes, his flustered confirmation. “I know it’s not appropriate for a crown prince to…” He said nothing more, his insecurities about his royal image too rehearsed to bear repeating…but I better understood his words now that I knew how important appearances were to him.

My memory stirred with an echo of the same sentiment he’d shared the first time he’d brought me here. At the time I had agonized over his chosen location, fearing its simplicity meant he wasn’t invested in our courtship. Only now did I realize he’d brought me to a place of personal meaning as a way of sharing himself with me.

He’d given me a glimpse of the true man behind the mask even before I’d realized he wore it, yet I’d failed to understand the significance of the interaction. What else might my ignorance and insecurity have caused me to miss? Perhaps our first courtship hadn’t been a failure so much as an array of misunderstandings as two inexperienced participants navigated the uncertain waters as best they could.

He was silent a moment, so long I wondered if he was present with me or now found himself in another time and place entirely. “I started tending this garden after Mother’s passing. Even though nurturing the plants did nothing to restore her, I felt my efforts kept her spirit alive in each delicate petal, allowing me to momentarily pretend she wasn’t truly gone.”

My fingers curled around my pendant, the only token I carried from my own mother that I touched whenever I wanted to feel less alone. “I understand.”

Though he said nothing more, his few words threaded us closer. It was one of the first personal insights he’d shared about himself outside our usual polite pleasantries, giving me hope that perhaps he too yearned to go beyond the political arrangement binding us and offer me portions of his heart to cherish. The significance of the moment planted its own seed within me, and though that hope still needed constant nourishment in the times that would follow, it sprouted just enough for me to yearn for something more in our upcoming marriage.

He cast me a sideways glance. “Do you remember the first time I brought you here?”

“I remember that it was special to you.” More meaning filled my words than he likely realized. In my shyness I found it difficult to admit how special he was becoming for me, but for now I could at least show him that I valued what he did.

“I’m surprised you remember. You were so quiet the day I brought you here. I feared I had bored you.”

“I always enjoyed our time together.” Even while I still longed for a deeper connection, I experienced solace in his presence I couldn’t find anywhere else.

Though Lucien seemed touched, our conversation quickly lagged; he seemed preoccupied with something, likely the very tasks this outing had been my efforts to distract him from. I yearned to help him bear his burdens just as he’d so tenderly helped me carry mine, yet I was unsure where to start.

I took a wavering breath and forced myself to push through my usual reservations in hopes I could join wherever his thoughts currently dwelled in order to help him. “Is something wrong?” My tentative inquiry didn’t immediately draw his attention, and when he finally glanced my way the soft expression he’d worn while remembering his mother hardened, tucked firmly back behind his mask.

“I’m fine. Thinking of my mother’s loss reminds me how grateful I am that I can still be with you.”

Beyond the sweet sentiment, I sensed several words and thoughts he didn’t express, making me wonder if we could ever get past the superficial if he wouldn’t open to me…even if I eventually became visible again.

Despite his anxiety at parting from his work, Lucien seemed reluctant to head back to the palace, lingering to finger a daisy. “Perhaps this is your hobby,” I suggested. “Do you enjoy gardening?”

He gave a half smile. “Not particularly,” he said with a shrug. “I work here as a reminder of my mother and what she loved, though I don’t have any interest in working in other parts of the garden.”

I tapped my lips thoughtfully as I tipped my head back to look into his face. “I’m certain there’s something you have an affinity for…besides being an impeccable ruler.”

He continued to hesitate, seeming trapped by something beyond the guilt that would come from not being productive. “I’m not opposed to the idea of discovering what that might be, it’s just that…I don’t know what to do; I don’t really have any interests outside my duties.”

I gaped at him, but by the way he kept his gaze firmly lowered to his fidgeting hands I knew that in this instance at least he was in earnest. “I’m confident you possess interests outside the superficial court and talents beyond your role as crown prince, but perhaps similar to your brother’s affinity for rocks, your own aren’t obvious.”

A sense of purpose settled over me, different than the one I’d felt earlier to pursue our courtship—this one focused beyond my own selfish whims to him and his interests. Whether or not our relationship was a lie, I cared enough for him that I wanted him to also find happiness outside of it, even it unraveled…or the curse eventually claimed me and I disappeared.

He shyly lifted his gaze to meet mine. “There is one interest I already possess: you.”

My heart quickened. “I don’t count.”

“You definitely should, considering you’re much more fascinating than a pile of rocks—no offense to my dear brother. I don’t object to discovering my own interests, but I also want to share yours. Do you remember what your own hobbies were?”

The sentiment stirred my heart, his enthusiasm seeming too sincere for him to be faking his current interest. I shook my head. “I don’t remember and had hoped you could tell me. Did the topic never come up during our past conversations?”

I feared this topic would take us down an ambling path that would lead us to yet another dead end—or worse, another uncomfortable resurrection of my doubts—but to my surprise he didn’t consider long before his gaze lit up. “You’re an artist!”

My eyebrows lifted. “I am?” Such a claim did not fit with any memories I could grasp.

He nodded. “I discovered you enjoy painting during our third meeting when I took you on a tour of the gallery. You were normally so quiet, but the life that was usually absent filled your eyes when you examined the artwork, especially the nature scenes depicted in watercolor.”

Not only was I impressed that he could recall such a specific account that had occurred several years prior, but it was far more detailed than the others he’d given me so far, not to mention a confidence filled his recollection that hadn’t existed before. “I don’t recall telling you that.” I made it a habit to keep such personal details to myself.

“You didn’t; I surmised it from your reactions.” A soft smile played at his lips. “You hovered over each painting as if you felt a personal affection for it. It’s never taken me so long to walk through that gallery before…nor have I ever enjoyed it so much.”

Which meant he’d been paying me careful attention. This memory had been lost with most of the others, but his gentle reminder caused glimmers to reappear in my mind, revealing details like one might stroll through the gallery—one painting at a time.

Being an artist didn’t really fit my image of myself—it seemed far too grand for someone like me. “I don’t think I’ve actually done much painting; I’ve only dreamed of picking up a brush.”

Terror that I’d fail in a dream I highly valued had left me paralyzed, along with fear that a life permeated with sadness could never create anything as beautiful as the paintings I admired. I’d discovered at an early age that it was best to hide my dreams within myself, enjoying them only in their unrealized potential lest I destroy them by either my own shortcomings or worse, have my hopes shredded by my father’s angry reaction to my “waste” of time and resources.

He sobered at my words, but his smile quickly returned, a welcome reprieve to the stress that usually filled his stoic expression. “Then we have that in common, for I’ve never picked up a brush either. Perhaps we can discover this hobby together.”

My heart compelled me to say yes, but I feared I was frantically trying to grasp a star that lay just beyond my reach…even as he made it seem possible to close that previously vast distance and seize my wish. I managed a tentative smile. “It sounds like a more worthwhile pursuit than rocks.” My voice wavered, revealing the insecurity my teasing had attempted to mask.

He chuckled and offered his arm. This time when I looped mine through his, his firm muscles and the heat from his body seeped against my fingers. I could feel him. Even if nothing came from our painting venture, in this sense we were closer than we’d ever been.

He led me to a section of the palace I’d never visited, a room tucked away at the back of the gallery that had served as the setting of my most recently recovered memory. There we found an assortment of paints, brushes, and canvases awaiting our exploration. Familiarity settled over me at the sight, as if I was reuniting with dear friends…a strange reaction considering I was quite certain I’d never spent any time in my past truly becoming acquainted with them.

Lucien had the guard who accompanied us stand outside the door that likely wouldn’t be thin enough to muffle the conversation that he’d only be able to hear one side of. After seeing me comfortably settled floating above a seat that I could faintly feel beneath my translucent body, Lucien bustled about making preparations before handing me a brush; it immediately slipped from my grip and clattered to the ground.

He frowned. “I forgot you won’t be able to hold it…yet you were able to hold our letters, touch me, and slam my book shut.”

The development with the objects I could interact with in the visible world dispelled our previous theory that I could only touch things—such as his letters—that I’d previously touched. While that likely still held true, it didn’t account for the other objects I’d been able to handle. Instead those had been manifested through sheer will, as if my longings had been enough to exceed the limits of the curse.

I wondered if the same would hold true with my desire to paint, but before I could ponder the riddle Lucien scooted his seat closer to mine. Our knees grazed, but unlike when we’d sat beside one another on the parlor settee the day before, this time I could feel the contact; a pleasant sensation rippled up my spine, tempting me to lean closer. It took considerable effort to keep my focus on the canvas in front of me.

“Since you’re unable to hold the brush, perhaps I can do it for you.”

My heart pattered wildly as his hand curled around mine to secure my grip on the paintbrush. Lucien guided my hand to the yellow paint, seeming to know without my saying anything that it was my favorite color, reminiscent of the sunshine that he caused to illuminate my life with our every interaction.

He seemed to remember the subject of the paintings that had caught my notice during our tour of the gallery all those years ago, for he helped me paint the sunlight I’d just been imagining onto the canvas, clumsy movements that resulted in an ugly splotch rather than anything remotely resembling the light. Even so it was the most beautiful sun I’d ever seen, surpassing even the beauty of the masters’ works I’d spent hours studying in my gallery back at home.

He laughed. “I don’t think my hidden talent is art, and my efforts to help are only hindering our discovering whether or not they’re yours.”

I smiled. Though I did want to explore whether painting could become my own cherished hobby, in this moment it didn’t matter; already it felt special, undoubtedly because of him. “I don’t mind.” For once the reassurance wasn’t a placating gesture, but my genuine emotion.

His shoulders sank in relief. “What should we paint next?”

The minutes passed as gently and pleasantly as rowing along a stream. We filled the canvas with flowers, trees, clouds, and other remnants of nature. It quickly became apparent that neither of us possessed any skill, but it didn’t matter. An image gradually took form with each splotch of color…though not on the canvas.

Instead each brushstroke created together through his gentle hold enfolding my grip painted another picture, this one on our hearts. Even with the image still unfinished, I could tell each tone represented my secret yearnings to find love in the union that had initially been created for political purposes.

The painting was soon forgotten and I found myself staring at him. He met my gaze with an intense one of his own. He was so near, and seemed to draw even closer with every heartbeat, until we were mere inches away, allowing me to see every contour of his dear face and count every eyelash.

He could easily bridge the short distance and caress my lips, but though I read this yearning in his tender eyes he remained still. At first I feared it as a rejection—that he didn’t share my most heartfelt wish to get close to me, confirmation that perhaps the love he claimed didn’t exist between us after all.

However, when I viewed his hesitancy another way, I realized that it was a sign of caring—instead of taking advantage of my lost memories to force a kiss upon me before I was ready, he was allowing me to decide which memories I wanted to create for our future together.

Being the one to lean in would require courage I wasn’t sure I possessed. I’d spent my entire life paralyzed by fear—whether in submitting myself to Father’s dictates without ever standing up for myself or my own desires, or in remaining trapped by uncertainty for my unknown future. Could someone as passive as me really seize hold of the love I desperately wanted to be real?

Once upon a time I hadn’t believed I possessed such strength, but however our relationship would eventually unfold, in this moment it had become my most precious treasure, especially for how it had changed me. Each time I defied the invisibility rendered by the curse to become more a part of the visible world where Lucien dwelled, I was taking back the control that had eluded me for so long.

With a wavering breath I leaned closer and grazed his mouth with mine. I didn’t expect to feel his lips but they felt solid beneath mine, allowing us to connect. His breath caught before he kissed me back, a touch that was as uncertain as mine, yet earnest and infinitely gentle.

“Lisette…” A heartfelt plea cradled my name in the brief moment he pulled away to snatch a much needed breath, a sound that reached deep within me to enfold my heart. “I love you. Stay with me. Please.”

While I still didn’t possess the words to return his heartfelt declaration, in this moment no force—whether a curse or my Father’s iron will—would be strong enough to pull me from his side…at least that’s what I believed until everything suddenly unraveled from the most unexpected source.

The amulet I wore around my neck—until now as immaterial as my nearly vanished body—suddenly pulsated with heat. My new solid form allowed me to graze the stone embedded into the medal, causing a surge of magic to emanate. I gasped as a mysterious force reached inside my mind, searching until the magic pressed against an invisible wall in my mind to finally unlock my lost memories.