Page 5 of Burdened Bonds

But then I think of that day in the meadow again; their magic playful, joyful, twining and spinning around one another. The girl laughing so freely it made my stomach flip.

I remember Tristan’s obsession too. As raw and all-consuming as my own. Maybe I knew. Maybe I knew it all along, but chose my damn hardest to ignore it. Like everything else about her.

I scrub my hand over my face, feeling the soot and the dried blood on my skin.

There’s a stunned silence. Everyone as shocked by this piece of news as I am. Or maybe not everyone. The girl’s friend, Winnie, seems unperturbed, and Tristan’s mom … I observe her face. The news does not seem to have shocked her either. Did he tell her?

She says nothing, waving her hand over the box, polished like the table and decorated with an ivory inlay of twisted flowers. I remember Tristan once telling me his mom had been a talented magical back in her youth, top of her class, just like him. My own mom had once hinted at it too. It’s what Tristan had surmised had interested his father in her – beautiful and powerful. She’s always been beautiful, but I could never see that power or that talent. She looked tired to me, nervous. She always smelled of fear.

The box’s lock clicks and she lifts the lid away. Inside are tiny bottles and paint brushes and it looks almost like the tools of an artist and not of a magical. They are also old and dusty, clearly untouched in many years.

Tristan’s mom runs her fingers over the bottles tenderly, as if they are dear friends. Ones she’s been long separated from.

“It’s a curse,” she says. “But what kind I can’t be certain.” She looks up at the professor, lurking in one corner and scowling. “Phoenix?”

His body jerks as if his thoughts were elsewhere, but then he steps forward. He peers down at her son and rests his hand on my friend’s forehead like his mom had done. His brow furrows in concentration.

“Ahhhh,” he grunts, “it’s a dark curse, a bitter one – malediction or execration maybe.”

“That’s what I thought.” Tristan’s mom frowns too. “But I need to know the exact curse if I’m to remove it.”

There’s silence.

Ellie fidgets on her feet, wringing her hands. “Surely, you can … we can’t let him–”

“May I try?” Rhianna’s friend steps forward hesitantly. She’s still wearing a ball gown, ripped and torn to shreds, and her hair hangs in a tangled mess around her crown.

“And you are?” Tristan’s mom asks.

“Winnie Wence.”

“And you think you could–”

“Winnie’s one of our most talented students,” the professor says, and my gaze flicks to Rhianna’s friend. Is she? I hardly ever noticed her until Rhianna showed up. She never spoke in class, rarely stepped forward to demonstrate her powers.

“Please,” Tristan’s mom says with a pain I feel right in the center of my chest.

Winnie steps to the side of the table, Stone withdrawing to make room for her. She glances down at Tristan. Even with the color drained from his face and the life seeping away from his body, he is still beautiful, like a marble statue, perfectly crafted. She brushes the hair from his brow and rests her own hand there far more gently than Stone had.

She closes her eyes.

I scrub my hand down my face again, gaze flicking between her and my friend.

“Well?” I snap impatiently after what feels like forever.

“I don’t think it’s any of those curses.” She grimaces, her voice shaking when she speaks again. “I think …” she swallows. “I think it’s a pernicious curse.”

There’s a collective intake of breath.

“It can’t be!” the enforcer says firmly. His sister’s body shakes silently and tears slide down her face.

Winnie steps away and Tristan’s mom rushes back to place her hand where Winnie’s was.

She closes her eyes, mouth moving with words I don’t hear.

“Those curses,” Winnie’s boyfriend whispers. “They were used by … by …magicals from the West.”

Winnie nods. “Those soldiers, they were from the West, weren’t they?” Her eyes are full of fear and they swivel between me and the enforcer.