Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
Morgana strides closer to the barricade of green.
“I regretted it instantly, Fernie. I’ve spent my life trying to undo it.
I made sure that any evidence of my dark magic was hidden from the Library so I could stay, so I could use their resources, their knowledge, to find a way to undo it.
” Her hands twist together as she pleads with all her might.
“I traveled all eight kingdoms of Calla—the outlying forges of Hemlor, the deserts of Ject, all the way to the Island off the coast of Berian to find a way to break his curse. And look! Look, didn’t I do it?
Didn’t I find a way? Using an oak tree was worth a shot—one that luckily everyone seemed to blame on Ruth’s kid when it went wrong—but now, this, this will do it.
It will fix everything and then you won’t have to worry anymore. ”
“I—I—” Fern stammers. She’s moments from crumbling.
“With Garland gone and Merit happily betrothed in Dreah, then Bastion can take over your duties here,” Morgana implores. “We can be together. Finally. Just you and me, Fernie. How it’s supposed to be!”
Fern looks past Morgana. She looks at her husband, at her two sons, her eyes a well of tears. Even now, his strength petal thin, the king chooses to protect his children foremost. He’s holding Merit’s shoulders again, eyes watchful for anyone moving closer to Bastion.
The queen wavers.
Morgana snaps her head to the king then back.
“Him? Come on, Fernie. I know you better than anyone. He’s too dull for you.
Too placid! I possessed Willoh for you. To help you.
To make you see that you’re better without your husband!
Without him, we could—” Morgana chokes. She slams a fist on the green barrier.
“We wouldn’t need anyone else. There wouldn’t be anyone left to betray us. ”
“What have I done?” Fern trembles. She stares at her shaking hands.
“Fern, please. Please. Don’t hate me too.”
“My husband…my sons…I almost lost them. I can’t—I’ve done some awful things. My—my people. All those people I let suffer…I’m never going to—”
“Fern. No, please!”
“My son will never forgive me for this.”
Morgana clutches her forehead, blond wisps between her fingers. The sickness of the nightshade must be kicking in.
“Fern…please…I…” Her voice quavers. The sorcerer lifts her eyes to the queen. “I love you.”
Will inhales sharply. The emerald separating us blazes like fire.
The hall lights up, and a piercing clang bounces off the stone walls.
The energy convulses, ripples, then shoots back toward Morgana, firing a bolt of green into her chest. Her lavender eyes widen and she collapses, unconscious against the edge of the circle.
The magic…Morgana activated it with a declaration of true love, but her love’s target—Queen Fern—isn’t cursed.
There was nothing to break, nowhere for the spell to go, so it rebounded on Morgana.
A hush takes over the room. The force field flickers like the flame of a candle, moments from going out. Lacking the spellcaster, the runes and lines etched in the carpet hover with potential energy, ebbing like an escaping draft.
Fern bursts into tears behind me.
I scramble for Will.
He darts his eyes toward me and sends a halting gust of wind my way. Before I can breach the edge of the circle, he slams his hand into the center and focuses. Green magic floods up his arm, and the wall sharpens back into place just as I collide with it.
“What are you doing?” I yell.
Will clamps his teeth shut as the spell soaks into his skin and becomes his. With less experience than Morgana, he’s having to fight to control it.
“Ah…” he grunts, straining. “Don’t want to let it go to waste.”
“Will—”
He shakes his head, his brown waves tickling his earrings. “We’ve got a curse-breaking spell here, Princess. It’s your only chance.”
It’s…?
The realization drowns me. It wraps vines around my ankles and submerges me into the depths, into a silent yawning abyss. I fall back onto my heels and stare. Like blurred figures in a painting, the world rushes around me. There are shouts. Echoes. A waft of pine.
Will keeps his eyes on me.
“I wondered how I could possibly beat your epic quest to the dungeons,” he says, just loud enough.
Not for the audience, not for the show. For me.
“Here we are. I’d die a thousand times over if it meant you were free.
I’d sacrifice anything, crawl down a thousand flights of stairs with a bleeding gut and it would never be enough. ”
A strangled sob chokes loose from my mouth.
I can’t say that I don’t want my curse gone.
Because I do.
Will smiles.
“Fliss.” He says my name like it’s the only word, like it eclipses the sun. “I was lost to you from the first day. Gods, your reaction to the Feiyan was so disarming…. I was yours then, and I am yours now, Princess.”
My heart floods, unable to find purchase. A turmoil that grips and aches. The more he says, the closer he tiptoes toward death.
“Will—”
“It’s okay.” He grins, and even with the blood raining down his cheek and agony in his eyes, he’s still the most beautiful sight.
“Just promise me that you’ll think of me occasionally.
When you lie. Think of me. And, to ask one thing in return, take care of my mum.
And Gill. I’m pretty sure he likes you more than me.
I’m sure Mustard won’t even notice.” He chuckles.
“Don’t let anyone use you ever again. Wear those flowers in your hair and be bold.
Be brave. Be yourself, free of this curse.
Felicity Farrow…You don’t owe anyone the truth. ”
No. No no no no no no no—
“STOP!” I screech.
Will halts, disarmed.
Tendrils of green snake up his forearm.
“Not like this,” I cry, and flatten my palms against the barrier. “Not without you. Please. Don’t do this. I don’t want—I don’t—”
I can’t continue.
At the edge of my blurred vision, Bash runs to the border of the circle and hammers a fist on it. “Will, what are you doing?”
“I think he’s going to sacrifice himself to break Fliss’s curse,” Card whispers at his shoulder.
The prince comes apart. He attacks the barrier like each punch is the blow of a sword.
“What? No! You are not allowed. I order you to stop.”
Will sighs. He closes his eyes.
“Well, I was going to do a grand romantic gesture. However, Fliss has requested otherwise, so that won’t be happening,” he says.
He struggles to keep his hand planted against the floor as the spell bucks like a startled horse.
“If you could both get lost while I figure out how to deactivate this spell without losing my head, that would be great.”
“Wait!” Card jumps in with a flicker of excitement. “The runes around this circle are written in ancient Berian.”
“Nice to know,” Will drawls.
“Ancient Berian runes have a few different interpretations. The ones drawn here explain that a declaration of love and an expenditure of life can break a curse,” Card states.
He takes a few steps around the edge and inspects the runes.
His eyes narrow with that familiar fixation.
“But there doesn’t have to be just one declaration.
The sacrifice can be split. This word means like…
‘sharing a burden.’ Like carrying a proportional weight.
Taking a village to raise a child, for example. ”
Bastion clings to Card’s every word. “What are you saying?”
Card swallows. He rereads the runes once more.
“No one needs to die. I think the vitality of life that the spell requires can be shared among many to lessen the impact. Instead of it striking one person and killing them, it can be a softer divided blow, like…the difference between a focused explosion on one target and a candle burn on many. We can still use the spell.”
“Well, I don’t care anymore about not being able to use magic. I made my peace with it when I met you,” Bash says. “But…”
“We could break Fliss’s curse. Together.”
Together? As in…Card wants to help too? After all I’ve done and said to him?
“How long can you keep that spell in suspension?” Bash asks.
Will blows out his cheeks and grips his wrist to keep his hand flat against the floor. The coils of magic around his arm are curling, searching, needy for a target. One spits sparks and his jaw clenches in concentration.
“Uh,” Will replies, “a bit.”
Bash claps his hands together, calmer now that he can rely on his pragmatism.
“How convenient that our friends and family are all here,” he says, and raises his voice to explain the situation to the wedding guests.
I don’t want to look away from Will. I don’t want there to be a chance that he’ll disappear. If I turn, if I blink, his heart might stop beating. The spread of murmurs and the shuffles behind me are meaningless compared to Will staying alive and taking another breath.
A hand brushes my back, and the scent of carnations floats toward me.
“Fliss…darling,” Mum says. “I’m so sorry.
I’m sorry that you’ve lived so long with such an awful curse.
I’m sorry for putting pressure on you and keeping things secret.
I only wanted you to be happy, to live without fear.
I gladly offer my love. I love you, my darling girl, my baby.
You are the best thing to ever happen to me. ”
“You’re my best friend,” Card says nearby.
“I’m sorry. I know how much you’ve struggled, and I could have done more to support you.
After all these years, I think I forgot.
I became complacent. You are more than your curse, Fliss.
You always have been. I remember those early days, testing different sentences together and celebrating the loopholes.
You deserve better. More. I love you so much and I’m sorry.
There aren’t enough languages in the world I could learn to tell you how much your friendship means to me and how stupid I was to jeopardize it. I love you, Fliss.”
A hot tear drips down my cheek.