Page 27

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Blackness lapped at the edges of my vision, as it did on the days my condition flared its worst.

“What.” The word came out like a blow.

Tatiana threw up her hands. “I’m sorry, little bee. I would if I could. But what you’ve described—that’s not the spell I made.”

A faint roaring had started in my ears. “I think you should explain exactly what your spell was meant to do.”

“Like I told you, it was a protection charm. It was supposed to turn an attacker into a horse so you had a chance to escape. But just for a few hours. No more.” My sister shook her head, chewing her lip again. “It shouldn’t have lasted this long. That’s far stronger magic than I’ve ever cast.”

I couldn’t muster the energy to ask why she had thought turning an attacker into a massive horse was a good idea. The room swung beneath me. “Then how is Aric still cursed?”

Tatiana spread her hands helplessly. “I don’t know. You know I’m not even a proper Adept—I only dabble.”

But even as she answered, a sick realization spread through me, as nauseating as one of my flares. The greenwitch’s words came back to me—her warning when I’d asked her about Aric’s curse. A long-term transformation… One that persists for days… That sounds more like blood magic.

I opened my palms, now crossed by gleaming gold scars. It was fortunate I was already seated, for a chasm seemed to open beneath my feet.

“Bianca?” Aric asked. “What is it?”

“I think I know what happened.” Each word was bile on my tongue. “When the assassin attacked, and I cut myself…”

Aric’s eyes lit with understanding. “Blood magic. It must have combined with your sister’s original enchantment.”

Tatiana perked up immediately, as if she’d spotted a particularly enticing pastry. “Blood magic? So it isn’t just a rumor?”

“Not a rumor,” my husband confirmed. “Though I almost wish it were.” He studied the gilt scars at his own fingertips with a wry expression.

Tatiana leaned forward eagerly. “Wait, are those blood magic marks? On both of you? How does it work? What exactly are the—”

“Tatiana,” I cut in. “Not now. Can you think of any possible way to undo the spell?”

My sister’s face fell. “I can try a few things now that Aric is here. But… I can’t guarantee anything, little bee. Transformations are tricky, and that’s without the complication of whatever the blood magic did.”

Aric cleared his throat. “In theory, it could be reversed with a spell of equal power. An enchantment of similar strength would provide an opportunity to reset the enchantment’s parameters.”

Tatiana spun to face him, her entire face glowing with excitement. “You’ve studied magical theory?”

“A little,” Aric confessed. “I’ve read all the books on it in the castle library.”

“I would kill to get my hands on those.” Tatiana’s expression was an alarming mix of hunger and yearning. “Did you know that they’re entirely out of print in Damaria? They used to be more widely circulated, but the Adept Guild refuses to admit any theories that could conflict with—”

Aric leaned forward. From the looks of it, my husband and my sister were fully prepared to launch into an hours-long discussion on the minute points of Gilden versus Damarian magical practice.

“Not to interrupt this fascinating thaumaturgical conversation,” I broke in, “but I’m exhausted, at least one of my ribs was recently broken, I’m having a flare, and the coronation is the day after tomorrow. Could this wait until we’ve figured out how to stop Varin from being crowned?”

Aric and Tatiana shared a mutual expression of sheepishness.

“Getting back to Arnhelm is straightforward enough,” Aric said after a moment. “I can use my authority to commandeer a mail coach. If we leave at sunrise and change the horses at courier stations, we can reach the castle by dawn tomorrow.”

Tatiana bounced to her feet. “Well, that’s settled, then. I’ll go see if the inn has another room available.”

I closed my eyes as she bustled out the door. Tatiana’s assessment was rather optimistic—as was Aric’s, for that matter. Hadn’t we just established that he would become a horse again at dawn? The last I’d heard, horses didn’t ride in carriages.

But I was too exhausted to argue logistics—let my husband and my sister figure out how they would fit a stallion into a mail coach. They seemed eager enough to discuss it.

Aric turned to me, his brow furrowing with concern. “I’m sorry—I should have thought of your injuries. I know we pushed hard today.”

I put a hand to my ribs. An ache lingered there, but it was only painful when I moved at certain angles. No worse than a pulled muscle.

“I’m exhausted. But I think the healing held.”

“And your condition?”

I hesitated, thinking of the peppermints the greenwitch had given me. The one I’d taken earlier had helped more than I’d expected—my nausea was nearly gone, though it had been replaced with knots of hunger.

You’re poisoning yourself. That’s the root of it.

If there was a chance she was right… that there might be a way to if not prevent my flares altogether, at least to manage them… It was the smallest of our concerns at the moment, but I couldn’t help but hope.

“It’s not troubling me much now,” I said. “But Aric, the greenwitch told me there’s something causing my symptoms. Something that’s poisoning me. She said she’s seen people with my condition before. Have you ever heard of this?”

He shook his head, thoughtful. “Never. But that agrees with what you told me about your flares, and I would trust a greenwitch’s intuition. Their magic is closely tied to living things. Did she tell you what the poison was?”

“No. But she said you and I could figure it out.”

Aric reached for my hand. “Then we will. It might take time. But I promise we’ll find the answer.”

He met my eyes, his gaze warm enough to melt me. He lifted his free hand to my cheek, his thumb brushing aside a loose strand of hair. I closed my eyes and leaned into him.

It was a softer kiss than our first. Gentle, deliberate, as if this were something delicate, a growing tendril that needed to be protected. My pulse fluttered in my ears, as if my heart had darted free of my chest.

“Ahem.”

Aric and I broke apart. Tatiana, with uncharacteristic stealth, had reappeared in the doorway. Her gaze danced between us again, and her eyebrow lifted.

I straightened, my face hot. “Did you secure a room?”

A devious gleam brightened my sister’s eyes. “Unfortunately, no. They’re all out of rooms. But I did reserve a nice stable for the two of you to share. It even comes equipped with leather tack, in case you feel like getting adventurous.”

I looked at her, stone-faced.

Tatiana broke. She slapped her thigh, spluttering with hysterical laughter. “Oh, the look on your face,” she wheezed. “Of course they had another room. And they’ll be bringing up a hot meal shortly.”

I rose, still vexed. Virtues guide me, I loved my sister dearly and was grateful she’d come. But right now, if I’d had another locket handy, I would gladly have used it on her.

“Save the tack for your own bed partners. I’m going to lie down until dinner.” I truly was exhausted. My legs had turned to lead.

“I’ll show you where your room is,” Tatiana said cheerfully, undeterred by my annoyance.

I looked at Aric questioningly. He’d been arrested by the sight of books poking out from one of Tatiana’s satchels and was eyeing them with undisguised yearning.

“I’ll follow you later, Bianca,” he said. “I’d like to further discuss the spell with your sister. Perhaps we can decide on a few things to try at sunrise?” This last was directed at Tatiana, who lit up with eagerness.

“Oh yes. There are galleons of experiments I’d like to try.”

Virtue of Mercy. I suspected Aric wasn’t prepared for what he’d just agreed to.

“Come along, little bee,” Tatiana trilled, and steered me forcibly out the door. I heard the rustling of turning pages as the door closed behind us.

The moment it was shut, my sister whirled to face me with an impish grin on her face. “So, which is better: riding him as a horse, or as a man?”

I reeled back from her, my face hot. “Tatiana! This is a serious matter.”

“More serious for you than I anticipated, it seems.” She tilted her head, examining me shrewdly. “How scandalous of you, little bee. I never expected you to actually fall in love with your husband. Our parents would be appalled.”

Every defense, every resistance to showing vulnerability that I’d spent years building came charging out at full defensive. Tatiana’s teasing was a reminder of what I’d heard all my life: love was a weakness that anyone could exploit, one I had to hide at all costs. Even from my sister.

“I don’t—” I started reflexively. Tatiana raised her brows, as if daring me to deny it.

I swallowed. Did I love Aric? I’d barely allowed the idea into my reach, keeping it at bay with all the mental weaponry at my disposal. I’d learned from my mistakes with Catalina that letting my heart take the reins steered me down a painful path. But with Aric… it felt different. My feelings for him were a vulnerability, yes, but they also made me stronger in ways I’d never expected. Was that what love meant: knowing a chink in my armor existed, yet believing, however recklessly, that no blade could find the gap?

I looked away from Tatiana so she wouldn’t read the turmoil in my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I finished wanly.

My sister looked at me with her mouth quirked, every inch of her radiating skepticism. I kept my eyes fixed on the wall, refusing to meet her gaze. It had taken me years to admit the totality of what had happened with Catalina to my sister, even though of course she’d heard the rumors. I wasn’t about to discuss matters of the heart with her now, when I was exhausted from travel, recovering from injury, and barely understood what I felt myself.

Besides, it wasn’t important. What mattered at this moment was breaking Aric’s curse before our time ran out. Fulfilling my duty to my family and my people—the only thing I could do right.

“All this distance, and you’re still doing exactly what our parents would want,” Tatiana said after a moment, her voice wry. She started down the hall, leaving me to trail in her wake as usual. “I used to envy you for that.”

I stared at her, utterly taken aback. “What?” Why would she possibly envy me, when she was the one with everything? Despite my best efforts, I had never been what our parents wanted, and not a day passed that I wasn’t reminded of the fact.

Tatiana shrugged. The movement was casual, but I knew her well enough to see the brittleness the gesture hid. “You’ve always been so committed to your duty. To House Liliana. Our parents expect things of you they never would of me.”

Because I had nothing to offer them but duty. Because I could never measure up to my older sister. Not because they were proud. “But you’ve never wanted to do what they expect. And you have magic—that’s what our parents value. Not…” Not a sick daughter. I didn’t need to say it: Tatiana knew.

“Magic?” Tatiana snorted. “I can’t even do that right. I’d never make the cut as an Adept, and when I tried to protect you I ended up cursing your husband.”

I’d always thought Tatiana relished her freedom, disdained the dogmatic Adept Guild—not that she felt as inadequate as I always had. It had never occurred to me that both could be true.

I reached for her hand, stopping her. “It wasn’t your fault. And you’ll break the curse—I know you can. You’re brilliant, Tatiana. If anyone can fix this, it’s you.”

Tatiana squeezed my hand in return.

“I’ll do my best,” she said. “I promise.” She gave a dry laugh. “It’s twisted, isn’t it? The way our parents hold us against each other like distorted mirrors? I’m glad you’re far away from them, little bee. Even though I’ve missed you terribly.”

I swallowed. “I’ve missed you, too.”

I let her pull me into her arms and rested my cheek on her shoulder. She smelled of lavender and bergamot, the scents of home. The softness of her embrace was a familiar comfort. My sister, trying to care for me as always, in whatever chaotic way she could manage.

“I really am sorry about the curse,” she said into my hair. “I only wanted to protect you.” She drew away to inspect me more thoroughly. “Though perhaps you don’t need my protection as much as I thought. Look at you. You’re hardly a little bee anymore. You’re a queen.”

My throat felt uncomfortably tight. Neither Tatiana nor I was practiced with sharing how we truly felt, especially when our emotions were delicate. Anger was so much easier than love.

“Of course I’m a queen,” I said tartly. “I married a king.”

Tatiana chuckled and released me. “Not a king yet.”

I didn’t need the reminder of how much we had at stake. I swallowed down the knot in my throat. Aric wasn’t crowned yet, but we still had another full day before the coronation. That was enough time for Tatiana to figure this out. For us to stop a coup and save our friends.

It had to be.

I’d half expected Aric to be up all night talking magical theory with Tatiana, but it couldn’t have been more than a few hours before I woke to feel him slipping into bed beside me.

Instead of reaching for me, or easing into sleep, he lay in the dark staring at the ceiling. His tension was palpable, even though he didn’t move.

I turned onto my side to face him. “What’s wrong?”

Aric didn’t look at me. “Nothing worth waking you for.”

Now I was fully awake. I raised myself onto one elbow to look at him better. The hearth had burned down to embers that flickered green in my peripheral vision—leaving just enough light to see his face, as tense and closed off as he’d been back in Arnhelm.

“Is it the curse?” I asked. “Did you and Tatiana not…”

“No. Not that.” Aric hesitated, his misgivings clear as daybreak. A tight coil of worry twisted inside my chest in response. Perhaps he regretted me.

“I can’t help but wonder if it’s worth it,” Aric said finally, his tone bleak as winter. “If there’s another way to save Marya and your retinue. If I should just let Varin take the throne.”

I stared at him, taken aback. “Why?”

Aric turned his head away from me, staring at the hearth.

“He’s always been so much better suited to being a courtier. And I’m no king.” His voice was acid. “I’m not good enough to rule. Not good enough to marry. Too soft. Too interested in books. Not interested enough in the maneuvering and manipulations that make a powerful ruler. All in all: a worthless heir.”

My fist clenched on the sheets. I’d heard such sentiments enough to be certain the words were not his own. He was repeating what someone else had told him.

“Who said those things to you?” I demanded. If they’d been in the room, I would have challenged them to a duel.

A muscle in Aric’s jaw feathered. “A woman who knew what it meant to rule.”

I remembered how Aric had drawn back from the topic of the late queen. How shadows had circled his eyes back at the castle. I’d thought he was in mourning, but it was more than that, and worse. “Your mother.”

Aric nodded, his gaze distant. “She was a good ruler and a hard woman. She wanted an heir like her—bold, fearless, a commander born. Someone who could hold an entire room in his grasp and wind courtiers around his finger as effortlessly as a spider on its web. Someone who always had the right words and wasn’t afraid to use them.”

He didn’t need to say it: someone who wasn’t like Aric. Who wasn’t gentle, thoughtful, reserved. Someone who loved being the center of attention. It must have been difficult to be the son of a woman like that, a woman he hadn’t even referred to as his own mother.

Anger flowed through me, bitter as vinegar. And with my outrage for Aric—I tasted anger on my own behalf, too. I knew all too well what it was like to grow up under the eye of parents who deemed you inadequate, unworthy, wrong. I had experienced all the subtle ways that twisted love could hurt.

“She was right,” Aric said flatly. “Gildenheim deserves a different ruler. I never wanted to be king.” His mouth quirked, a contortion as sharp as a lance. “My ambition was to hide myself away among my books, see the queen live to a ripe old age, and pass the throne to the next person in line without ever having to sit upon it myself. I’ve never wanted to be responsible for an entire country.”

“Neither have I.”

My own admission startled me. The words slipped out without consideration, startled forth like a flushed bird. I opened my mouth to swallow them back—but they were true. I’d never acknowledged them before, but seas, they were true.

I allowed myself to imagine it for a moment: what would unfold if we broke the curse but abandoned the throne. Gildenheim’s magic would no longer be our responsibility. We could leave, Aric and I. Go anywhere. Be whoever we wanted. Claim a life for ourselves, free of a noble’s duties.

And meanwhile, Varin would use his newfound power to wreak destruction on his own land. Expanding the iron mines. Logging the forests, decimating whatever magical creatures remained in these wild woods. Using those resources to build an army. It had all been spelled out in the treaty. With the terms broken, and apparently by a Damarian hand, Varin would have an excuse to demand recompense—even go to war.

The notion of running away with Aric was a dream as insubstantial as clouds. There was nowhere to run when the world was a battleground. And more than that, I knew my responsibilities’ weight as intimately as a mantle over my shoulders. Just as it had been my duty to marry Aric, it was my duty to break the curse, free my retinue, and set this all to rights. Monarchy might be a flawed system, but if anyone could change it for the better, it wouldn’t be Varin. It would be Aric.

I laid a hand on my husband’s jaw, turning him to face me. “Aric. The queen was wrong.”

He allowed me to move him, though I felt the tension in his muscles, his desire to hide himself away again. I kept my eyes fixed on his. I wasn’t so certain about my own parents’ judgments, but in Aric’s case, the queen had undoubtedly been mistaken.

“At the castle, you left me a book,” I said. “A history of Damarian wars.”

A wry smile. “I did. I couldn’t find very many texts in your language that might interest you on short notice.”

So it hadn’t been an insult after all, but another instance of kindness. He was so much more than he gave himself credit for. “My point is, we both know our countries’ histories. Years of conflict, spurred by the desire for control. Craving power— killing for power—doesn’t make you a good ruler. It makes you a tyrant.” I ran my thumb along his jaw. “You’re not like that. And you are a better man for it.”

Aric’s eyes were shadowed. Tentatively, he caught my hand in his, interlacing our fingers. I could tell he didn’t believe me. Not fully. Not yet.

“It isn’t always easy to choose our duty,” I said, my voice low. “But it’s a choice we have to make. For the people we…”

Love. I faltered on the word. Tatiana might have seen that delicate truth, but I couldn’t admit it yet. Couldn’t lay down the final, feeble shield I held against the world.

“For the people who depend on us,” I finished instead. “And whatever you’ve been told, you are worthy. Even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

Finally, infinitesimally, Aric softened. He turned onto his side to face me. Whatever subtle duel we’d been fighting, I had won.

“You’re the one who’s worthy,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of my spine. “You deserve so much more than me. So much more than I can give you.”

My eyes fluttered closed as his hand found the hem of my shirt, scattering my thoughts. “I’m not so sure of that. You gave me quite a lot the other night.”

Aric’s breath quickened as I reached for him. He was already hardening as my hand skimmed across his stomach. I found the tie of his trousers.

“Perhaps,” I whispered, “you’d be willing to show me exactly how much you can give me.”

Aric touched his brow to mine, his fingers twining in my hair.

“Bianca,” he said, his voice rough with want, “I’d give you everything.”

It was my turn for my breath to catch. The way he said my name sounded like love. It sounded final.

But I could save such fears, such revelations, for the morning. Tonight I was eager to lose myself, even just for this moment, in the feel of my husband’s arms around me and the surety of our mutual desire.

“Please,” I whispered.

This time, when Aric kissed me, it was hard and breathless, so deep it almost hurt. But his hands were gentle as he pulled my shirt over my head. As they slipped lower, his fingers finding my center so that I shuddered and arched into him.

I pulled away long enough for us to shed the rest of our clothes. We undressed hurriedly this time, both of us impatient. Aric gripped my hips and pulled me on top of him so that I straddled his waist, bracing myself on his bare chest. Asking me what I wanted in a different way. Letting me take what I needed.

I rose up onto my knees and reached between us to position him. Aric’s eyes closed and he released a raw sound as my fingers curled around his hardness, as his length nudged my opening. I held us like that for a moment, drinking in the way his lashes fluttered and his lips parted with want. Then I sank onto him, inch by sweetly aching inch.

Aric’s hands found my waist, pinning my hips to his. He bucked into me, taking me as deep as I could bear. I matched his movements, my hair spilling loose around my shoulders. This was what I needed. This, and nothing more—no thoughts, no fears, only the sensation of him driving into me. I rocked my hips, a cry escaping as we found our rhythm.

This time there was nothing slow or hesitant about our lovemaking. We met each other hard and fast, using our bodies to drive away our doubts. I lost myself to the thrust of Aric’s hips against mine, the way he found a place deep inside me that banished the possibility of anything but this moment. Let myself be conscious of nothing but this, and him, until I could forget that we were running out of time.

We woke before dawn and met Tatiana at the top of the stairs before heading outside in the twilight of early morning. No other guests were up, though I heard the sounds of breakfast being prepared as we passed the kitchen and made our way out to the stables. A dozen hopeful equine heads poked over stall doors. Tatiana woke the startled hostler, who was asleep on a pile of hay, and shooed her out. I saw the flash of coin changing hands, which assuaged my guilt about interfering with the girl’s duties.

Aric let himself into an empty stall to disrobe, using the half door for privacy. Meanwhile Tatiana sat on the ground and fussed with a collection of wires and notions, muttering obliquely to herself while twisting them together.

Suspicious, I stepped closer to look at what she was up to. “What are you planning to do with all those?”

“Make a spell, of course,” Tatiana said breezily. “You never know when you’ll need a good button.”

A decidedly unhelpful answer—not that I’d really expected a proper explanation from her. Tatiana had been building eccentric contraptions since she first manifested the ability to channel magic, much to our parents’ dismay.

“Tatiana,” I said sternly. “Tell me what you intend to do to my husband.”

My sister looked up from her fiddling. “Well,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “have you ever heard of a miniature horse?”

“I—what? Tatiana, are you planning to shrink my husband ?”

Tatiana clutched her sides, falling over herself with laughter.

“Tatiana!”

Behind us, Aric cleared his throat. “I’m ready.”

I looked up, and my heart forgot a beat. Though the half door of the stall hid everything below the waist, Aric was unmistak ably unclothed. The shadows picked out the hollow of his throat, making my fingers yearn to trace his collarbones and pull him close. If we didn’t have company…

“Please don’t let my sister shrink you,” I implored. “I like the size you are.”

Tatiana cackled. Aric turned red.

I flushed. “I—never mind. Size doesn’t matter. Are you sure you agree to this, Aric?”

He smiled faintly, but the expression hid a thought I couldn’t parse. “It will be all right, Bianca.”

He hadn’t answered my question. My heart dipped towards my stomach.

“How long until sunrise?” Tatiana asked.

I looked out the stable door, trying to dispel the visions of a palm-sized Aric impinging on my attempt at calm. The courtyard blocked my view of the horizon itself, but from the periwinkle glow of the cloudless sky, sunrise was imminent. “Any minute now.”

Movement flickered in the courtyard. I narrowed my eyes, straining to see. It was nothing, surely—a departing guest, or one of the inn’s staff attending their duties—but for some reason, tension gripped the back of my neck.

“—whether it’s the moment the sun touches the horizon, or the moment it clears it,” Tatiana was saying. “What defines sunrise, anyway? I’ve never really given it much thought—”

“Tatiana,” I said, my voice low.

My sister knew every pattern of my speech. She looked up, her words cutting off mid-syllable.

At that moment, the sun rose.

A flash of light. A sound like an explosion heard through muffled ears. A heavy thud from the stall behind me, and then a white horse rose to all four legs, vigorously shaking his mane.

For a moment, I thought the shadow filling the stable door was some new effect of the spell. Then the shadow split into two, then three, then more, and as the afterimage of the enchantment’s flash cleared from my vision, the truth became clear: five strangers dressed in knee-length black coats in the Gilden style, each bearing a saber at their hip.

An iron fist squeezed my heart, tight with dread.

The centermost stranger, a woman around my mother’s age, leaned forward to peer into the stable. As Tatiana and I stared back, her gaze cut across us like a knife.

“That’s her,” the woman said. “The king’s wife. Seize her.”