Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
“The flowers…” the queen mutters. “I ordered them anonymously. How did you…?”
Her eyes dart to Will. She takes a step forward, stretching her forearm until the dagger is a step away from my throat and I’m doused in her foxglove aroma.
“He told you. He found out somehow,” she mutters, a wild glint in her eyes. “He’s been mocking me this whole time.”
“No, I heard—”
“Felicity, you more than anyone should understand,” Fern cuts in.
“I’m doing this for my son! Generations of royals in this kingdom have ruled with magic and kept threats at bay.
Bastion will not be the exception. He will not bring destruction to this family.
He will finally be able to use magic and never have to feel powerless again.
” She swipes the knife in Will’s direction.
“He’ll never have to deal with you again. ”
Will is rooted where he stands. If Morgana is believed, then there’s no future for him. There’s no going back to the Library or clearing his name. There’s no chance for the dreams we talked about last night. He’s as good as dead. Hysteria rises in my throat like bile.
“Your Majesty, please, the spell will take Cardamine’s life,” I urge, flexing my open hands toward her. “Bastion would never trade him for the use of magic. You should know this. You know how much he loves Card. Please. Please believe me. Bash wouldn’t want this.”
She sways, suddenly disoriented, and when she blinks and tries to focus on me, her mouth hardens in disappointment. I’m no longer her tool. Just a discarded waste of time.
“No,” the queen says, matter of fact. She throws her head back and becomes a shadow of regality once more. “Morgana says it’ll be fine. She says you want to tear us down, make us weak. She says—”
“She’s lying to you! Listen to me, she’s been poisoning your husband. The attack last night was because she tried to assassinate him. Hasn’t he been getting much sicker lately? Haven’t you noticed?”
“What nonsense!” Morgana cries out before the queen can mull over my words, her anger shifting to desperation.
She crowds Fern and embraces her. “I’m her closest friend; I want nothing but the best for her.
I’ve told you time and time again, Fernie, these children are not to be trusted.
Lilibeth and Ruth filled their minds with lies.
They want revenge. They want to take everything from you—your husband, your sons, your power. I won’t let that happen.”
“You cursed me!” I jab at Morgana in a last-ditch attempt at reason. If I can finish my sentence, then it’s true. “And you cursed Bash too. It’s your fault he can’t use magic in the first place!”
“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “More lies.”
“When your spell on my father mutated, you couldn’t stand your ego taking a hit. You couldn’t stand it that your magic failed. You manipulated the situation—”
“ENOUGH!” the queen yells, and the dagger dances close again. I clamp my mouth shut. “Do not talk about her like that!”
Morgana glows, pleased to be defended. Then her smug smile falls flat. “I could just kill them if you wish, my dear,” she says. “We can’t have them ruining this special day.”
For a moment, I truly believe the queen is considering it. Her jaw tenses.
“If Felicity’s curse can be used again, if we can get rid of the corruption causing her to lie, then I don’t want her dead,” the queen says, lowering the blade. I allow myself a breath of relief. “I want her useful. Is there a way to fix her?”
“I’m not—” I try, but the queen shoots me a warning look.
“Possibly,” Morgana says. “But we should kill the boy. Although once Bastion has his magic back, he might delight in doing that himself.”
I take a small step back and search the air for Will’s hand.
He locks his fingers in mine, and there’s a whisper of a breeze up my arm.
He’s going to get us out of here, like he always does.
Time for a new plan. Just as Will squeezes my hand, Morgana flicks her manicured fingers.
He cries out in pain and crashes to one knee, yanking me down with him.
“Nice try, little mouse,” the sorcerer growls.
He surges to his feet and goes on the offense, slashing a hand through the air and sending a blast of wind toward the two women. Morgana shields them without even blinking.
Will seizes where he stands, jerking back like he was shot by an arrow.
“Will!” I yell, and fly to keep him on his feet.
The queen stands at her full height. She lifts her nose and points directly at us. A target, a death stare. “Send them where they can no longer interfere with today’s proceedings,” she orders, as sharp and precise as the blade in her hand.
Morgana grins. “Gladly.”
One moment I’m standing in Bastion’s chambers, Will leaning his weight on me and the sun at our back.
Then the floor disappears under my feet.
Bastion’s walls are replaced with blue sky and horizon, and for a fraction of a second, I hover. Shock allows me one short breath, until—
Thousands of feet above the castle, we plunge through the air.
We tumble through the sky, and I grapple with Will as he does his best to keep hold of me. A scream rips out of my throat over the deafening roar in my ears, over the overwhelming terror.
“Will, do something!”
A blast of wind rushes to greet us but does nothing to slow our fall.
“I’m trying!”
The castle is smaller than a bee but growing ever closer. In flashes, I make out the lake, the citadel walls, the forest beyond, the mountains to the north that grimace at us, knowing just how the air up here can chill to the bone.
I cling to Will’s neck as our clothes whip around us.
The earth rises to greet us.
“I—I can’t!” Will shouts, one hand around my waist and one attempting to magic the wind into submission.
It battles against him, battering us left and right, stronger up here, unruly and temperamental.
Not the friend he knows from the ground below.
I sob. This is how Morgana gets rid of us. This is how we die.
“Can you swim?” Will yells into my ear.
“Yes!”
“Okay. Hold on!”
He manages to place both arms around my waist.
Nothing happens.
The castle gets closer and closer, and my thundering heart pounds faster and faster and—
“Will!” I yell, but his eyes are narrowed in focus.
The wind beats us with every passing second.
“WILL.”
I’m going to throw up.
“WILL!”
Seconds away from smashing into a castle turret, Will’s arms tighten.
We shift sideways, like stumbling through a door, and slow.
Whatever he did knocks us off-kilter, toppling us not toward a stony death, but toward the lake beyond.
The push of magic is strong enough that Will is blown from my arms and I scream for him, falling, falling, then—
I strike the surface of the water and plummet into watery darkness.
It’s a fight—a silent, heavy struggle—to get my limbs moving.
I wrestle against the weight of the water as it tries to drag me deeper, down into the depths.
Every movement aches, burns. I kick my feet and something brushes against me—a plant, a fish, something worse, I don’t know.
Under the surface of the lake, I open my mouth and shriek.
Water heaves into my lungs and has me writhing in a frenzy.
Pain becomes poison under my skin, a searing blister, ripping at every sense.
Oh my gods. I can’t breathe. I can’t see.
I can’t—I can’t—I can’t breathe. My legs lash out and propel me up.
I strive for the surface, toward the glistening sun beyond that watery ceiling. Just a little more. Just one more kick.
I break through and choke. Every spluttering cough is a sword in my lungs as they protest against the fresh air.
Eyes stinging, I tread water and comb the surroundings for any sign of Will.
I’m a fair distance from shore. The closest bank is to the west of the castle, which leads to the training yard and gatehouse, but he’s not made it there yet, he’s not—
“Fliss!”
I turn and there Will is, swimming for me. He’s okay. He’s alive. He reaches me and pushes back my hair, checking every inch of my face.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asks, his own hair plastered to his cheeks and dripping. “I’m sorry. It was all I could think to do. I couldn’t—Are you okay?”
I respond by hacking up more water.
My legs are so tired.
But Will’s here and he’s alive and we didn’t die.
He starts to swim backward, helping me stay afloat too, and after an age of agonizing paddling, we scrape ourselves over the bank.
I’ve never been so happy to lie in the mud and weeds.
When we collected the Feiyan and Will asked me if I was afraid of heights, I said I didn’t know. Well, it seems I have the answer now.
Once fully on the shore, Will collapses onto his back and stares up at the sky, completely drained, his arms limp by his sides. I heave myself forward on my elbows and finish coughing up the remaining lake water from my lungs.
“Let’s not try that again,” he wheezes.
I make a weary grunt of agreement. It’s all I can manage. There’s a rustle to my left, but I’m too tired to check what it could be.
“Over here!” Ava calls, and Will groans, rolling onto his shoulder.
“Give us a bloody break,” he breathes. He pushes himself upright and lifts his palms up for peace.
Nettle and Ava approach us at a jog in full wedding attire—Ava in a cropped navy suit, a white myrtle flower pinned in her front pocket and sword scabbard around her hips, and Nettle in a short one-shoulder jumpsuit that matches the exact shade of Ava’s turquoise tie.
In one hand, Nettle carries her high heels, and in the other, her trusty knife.
As I raise my head, she throws the knife with a spin so it lands, point down, just before Will’s knee.
“Don’t move,” she snaps, and Will shrugs.
Ava hoists me out of the mud.
I’m about to thank her when I meet her eyes and see the wariness there, the dilemma I pose.
As captain of the guard, who am I to her but an accomplice, complicit in the murder of a guard under her command, a friend?
She can’t be sure, so opts for caution. After she dumps me on my knees next to Will, she decides to draw her sword.
“We can explain,” Will says, water raining from his raised sleeves. The glint of Ava’s sword edges closer to his throat. Not the first time today, or even in the last hour, either of us have been threatened with a weapon. The novelty might wear off soon.