Page 21

REED

Reed and Dulce kept themselves safely within the tree line as they circled back toward the inn, but by the time they sat to rest behind a large boulder not too far from the White Cat, it was apparent that no enforcers had followed them.

The night was almost over, signs of dawn already lightening the sky.

“Where did you get that?” Dulce asked as Reed studied the sword resting across his lap.

The glow of lights from the town illuminated her terrifying features.

Reed found it curious that he could still somehow see the beauty of her eyes beyond their sunken orbs, her skull illuminating beneath her ghostly white flesh, sharp teeth grinning through cracked lips.

However, the cuffs of vicious flowers had faded.

“Took it from that mewling canker-blossom when he pissed himself,” Reed told her. “Pretty sure he wouldn’t have noticed if I’d taken every weapon he wore.”

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed acting a fool in front of those enforcers!” Dulce hissed. “What would you have done if I couldn’t have rescued you?”

“I would’ve figured something out.” He smirked. “But I wasn’t worried—I knew my knight in shining terror would save me.”

“You’re partially forgiven,” she muttered. “But look at me. I certainly can’t go back to the inn like this.”

“Can’t you just…”—Reed waved one hand through the air—“magic yourself back to normal?”

Dulce tilted her head, lost in thought. “No, the transformation seems to be stuck. There is the option to wait it out, or I could drink the elixir. Something which is not on my person, unfortunately.”

“Are we talking minutes or hours?”

Dulce thought again. “Without sage leaves? Hours.” She studied her arms with a frown, turning her hands over in the shadows. Bones still shone through deathly pale skin. “At least two, if I had to guess.”

“Well, that certainly won’t do…”

“When one saves the world,” she sang, “one must make certain sacrifices, mustn’t they?”

“Take this.” Reed handed her the sword. “Though I’d love to meet the creature brave enough to face you looking like that.” He rose. “I’ll fetch the elixir from the inn and you’ll be sleeping comfortably in your bed in no time at all.”

Letting his brown hair fall across his face, Reed turned to leave, but Dulce reached out and grasped his wrist.

“Wait,” she rushed out. Reed turned to find her eyes pleading, an expression oddly heartbreaking on such monstrous features. “I want you to send Lucas home.”

“Now?”

“Yes. While you’re at the inn, please find him and send him to the manor.

He’ll protest the decision less with you.

I will not break my promise to his grandfather.

If exploding magic wasn’t horrendous enough, I knew this was too dangerous the instant I saw the Duke’s necklace.

As long as we don’t wear the necklace, we’re safe.

” Dulce peered down at the sword in her lap and murmured, “You can… You can leave as well, if you want to. My home is always welcome to you, uh, that is, at least until you can return to your brother, and you’ll be paid handsomely for the trials this venture has put you through… ” She fell silent.

“Is your soliloquy quite over, Highness?”

Dulce glanced up at him, surprise almost comical on her terrifying face.

“I’m not leaving you on your own,” Reed promised, crouching before her. “What sort of man do you take me for? Do I strike you as one who would miss out on a grand adventure? Do not mistake me for that cowardly lout you married.”

“I meant no offense.” Dulce smiled softly.

“None taken.” Reed winked. “Now, wait for me here. I’ll return in less than twenty minutes.”

Reed arrived at the stables within five minutes, the sight of a man in costume running being nothing unusual on this festival night.

The town’s main avenue was still overflowing with a wide variety of creatures, injured and otherwise, each frantic to reach the safety of their homes, the panic ignited at the Duke’s party not yet subsided.

Reed still couldn’t believe everything he’d learned about the magic of alchemy since meeting Dulce, but he was becoming accustomed to it much quicker than expected.

He found Lucas sitting on a stool outside Toffee’s stall, nursing a singed arm, his legs outstretched, his boots unlaced. His ridiculous costume of red and purple velvet and lace was a burned and tattered mess. When his gaze settled on Reed, his face lit up with a wide smile.

“Did you see that, Reed?” he whisper-shouted.

“Me and the other grooms snuck into the Duke’s party just in time to see the entire place go absolutely fobbing full-gorged mad!

Magic exploding all about, everything destroyed.

One woman got her costume singed off, and I offered her my cape.

It was a thing to behold, I tell you, the embroidery of a giant stag just—” He made a sound very like an explosion.

“And I saw a man covered in spotted fur get a leg ripped clear off! Shame about all that food though…”

“What happened to your arm?”

“Oh, this?” Lucas shrugged. “A lantern fell on me—it’s nothing.”

Dulce would certainly not find that to be nothing.

“How much do you think you can get for the carriage?” Reed asked, jerking a chin toward the vehicle in question.

Lucas stilled, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

“Because you go home on the next caravan to Moonglade now.”

“What?” Lucas stood, indignant. “It wasn’t me who sent the enforcers to your room, if that’s what you’re thinking.

You gotta believe me, Reed. They swarmed the whole place, searching for visitors from out of town, looking for a young couple, a woman with golden hair accompanied by a man with brown hair.

They know you’re with a witch . They must’ve seen the two of you together at the festival.

By the time I went to retrieve Dulce’s things, it was too late.

There were at least five of those spongy louts already there, riffling through everything, and another two guarding the entrance. ”

If they knew he was with a witch, then it wouldn’t take long for the Duke to figure out Dulce altered her looks to pretend to be Leski.

“You’re still going home,” Reed pointed out. “Sell the carriage for passage. We won’t be needing it.”

There was no way to return to their room at the inn. Even if he could get in through a window, Reed was sure their belongings would be gone by now. Dulce hadn’t left everything she needed in one place, so there could be something of use in the carriage. They didn’t have that much time to waste.

Crossing the stables to the alleyway, Reed reached beneath the carriage passenger seat to retrieve Dulce’s second bag of alchemist supplies, hoping there was some of the elixir to disguise them within.

Next, he placed Toffee’s bridle over the sleepy Clydesdale’s head and led the horse from the stall, ignoring Lucas’s glare as he passed the boy.

“What should I tell Grandfather and Vesta?” he called.

“Tell them we know where to find La Bisou Morte,” Reed said, halting. “Tell them not to worry, that Dulce has a plan. That this will all be over soon. Tell them whatever you want to help them sleep in peace at night.”

“Is any of that the truth?”

“Of course!” He slapped the lad on the shoulder. “Safe travels, Lucas. I envy the meals you will soon enjoy.”

By midday, Reed and Dulce came across an empty and dilapidated cottage in the forest beyond Lake Elara, and while Toffee grazed, he built a fire and Dulce read her spell book.

An extra elixir hadn’t been in the satchel he’d taken from the carriage, but at least she’d returned to herself from the vision of terror that she was.

Unfortunately, his brown hair had also returned to white shortly after.

Dulce needed to get the location spell right soon or their travels might end up in failure. Reed watched her in the firelight as she pored over her book, her dark hair falling across her forehead in shimmering waves, her lips slightly pursed in concentration. Her skin perfect and smooth.

To think he’d almost kissed her at the Duke’s party. His heart pounded at the memory .

Dulce’s eyes met his, and Reed’s blood turned hot. He rolled his shirt sleeve to his elbow before poking at the fire, avoiding her gaze.

“It’s not the location spell, but I’ve found something quite useful.” She slammed the book closed with a triumphant smile and jumped to her feet. “Stand here.”

“What?”

“We can’t travel in this clothing, can we?” Dulce asked impatiently and flicked her wrist in the air, her ring returned to its ruby and gold coloring. “For one thing, the cold is becoming unbearable. But fear not! Mother’s book has just the thing. Stand here, and don’t move…”

“What happens if I move ?” Reed arched a brow, suddenly imagining green silk stitched into his skin. “I can remove it, cover myself in one of those moth-eaten blankets over the—”

A pretty blush crept up Dulce’s neck and flooded her cheeks. “That won’t be necessary.” She blinked fast. “It’s perfectly safe—I can … almost assure you.”

Before he could protest further, she’d thrown some sort of powder at him and Reed coughed, the scent of it not unpleasant, like oranges and pine.

When he studied himself, he magically wore much more suitable clothing.

A long dark overcoat made of woven materials in wool covered a sturdy shirt and trousers, his feet encased in fur-lined boots.

He noticed the blanket in question had disappeared from the rotting chair, as well as the animal head along the wall.

“Thank you,” he said, and she bowed with a flourish. “I’ll see to the fire while you…”

Dulce ducked into the next room, taking with her the remaining blankets, and when she returned, she wore similar clothing to his own, only layers of onyx skirts flowed from her much shorter overcoat.

Lifting them, she raised a foot and presented Reed with a high black boot, fur peeking out of its top.

“If all goes well”—she laughed—“perhaps I’ll open my very own boutique.”

For the next few hours, Reed searched the surrounding forest for food and water while Dulce worked on the location spell that would direct them to La Bisou Morte.

He found very little to eat, some clover and nettle, several bushes of wild raspberry, and a few handfuls of sorrel.

A stream of icy water ran through a field of black poppies, and Reed gathered all he could in the canteen made of what he guessed to be the dried bladder of a cow.

Dulce’s spell required fresh vervain, bay laurel, and rosemary, which he found easily, grateful that he succeeded in that at least, even if they traveled hungry as he stuffed his many pockets, making his way back to the cottage.

The fire roaring, Dulce raised the Duke’s necklace. “I’m ready to perform the location spell.” Soon the cottage filled with acrid smoke that curled in unnatural shapes, and, a flash of blue extinguished the fire before she opened her eyes.

“We must travel north,” Dulce exclaimed. “The edge of Silver Birch Straits is where we will find the witch.”

“You’re becoming quite the fortune teller.” Reed produced the map that Dulce had given him to study while she’d worked on the spell. “We must traverse something called the Forest of One Thousand Sorrows. How bad can that be, right? ”

Dulce ate a raspberry. “That’s to be determined.”

They slept sheltered from the elements along the cottage’s dusty cots and began their journey at dawn, taking turns riding the horse, saving their energy where they could.

Around midday, they found more berries, and even a walnut tree, which they feasted on like ravenous squirrels, stuffing their pockets with as much as they could before continuing.

When night fell, they rested sheltered between a boulder and a group of holly bushes, Toffee bound to a nearby tree.

The darkness was soon filled with the sound of wailing, and as the wind picked up, Reed realized where the forest got its name.

Three days they spent crossing the forest, exhaustion sapping their energy, and he wished Dulce had a spell for that too.

She lay secured in Reed’s arms while she dozed in and out of sleep, and as he once again felt her against him, he was reminded of the gambling room when his heart had raced, and it took every ounce of self-control to remain a true gentleman.

“We’re getting closer,” she murmured.

On the morning of the fourth day, Reed slowly came to realize that the plant life surrounding them, once diverse with chaotic variety, had become made up of only one thing.

Birch trees.

Only their leaves, instead of a cheerful bright green, were bleached white. Endless rows of sticklike trunks obscured his vision on all sides, the scabs along their silvery expanse like dark mazes that tricked the eye.

“Dulce,” he whispered, jostling her shoulder gently as Toffee broke into a trot. “I think we’ve reached Silver Birch Straits. I think we’re almost there— ”

“The witch’s castle,” Dulce breathed, peering just ahead. “Why, it’s breathtaking.”

His mouth formed a tight line as he followed her gaze. “By the looks of it, I’m certain she has quite the collection of ghosts there.”

They broke through the forest, setting their sights on the castle of ebony stone beyond a sweeping field of grass, its twisted spires covered in vines. Toffee, distracted by the grass, hardly seemed to notice when her passengers alighted, and they left her just outside the castle gates to feed.

A bristlecone pine—a third Tree of Life—took up the wide courtyard.

This one in an even more dreadful state than the last. At first glance, it seemed to be covered in ashes, but as Dulce approached it, she released a shaky breath.

“It’s stone.” Cold inanimate rock slowly taking over the tree’s bark, veins of marble winding along its branches.

It was still somehow beautiful, but its beauty was catastrophic. Soon, it would be devoid of all life.

“It’s eerily empty here…” she whispered.

No signs of occupancy halted their progress in the fading light as they entered the castle doors, which strangely stood open.

La Bisou Morte’s home felt devoid of life, filled only with the stillness of misuse, and a thick layer of dust covering every surface. The silence was complete, as if the walls themselves held their breath, and it was clear that the witch had left this place long ago.