“We should be safe here,” he says, tugging us around the backside of a staircase. “I don’t think the cameras can see us, but we should stay invisible, just in case.”
He sits down, and I know it would make the most sense for me to take the spot by his side, right in the middle, but I can’t bring myself to fill the open space. I don’t want to spend the next few hours pressed against him. Ella takes my hesitation as a sign for her to go ahead and plops down. When I take the spot next to her, Frederick reaches behind her head, sliding his arm around my shoulders, so the three of us huddle together. Even that bit of contact sends a burning heat through me, one that throbs with each beat of my heart, searing hotter and hotter the more I try to ignore it.
“How long do we need to wait like this?” I whisper, hoping conversation will dull the constant scorch. I need to distract myself.
“A few hours,” Frederick murmurs back. “Until the station opens and a few other people step onto the platform, so we’ll blend in.”
“Oh.” I nod and drop my cheek against the top of Ella’s head, leaning into her warmth to try to detract from his. It doesn’t work. They’re two separate beasts entirely. “You need to keep me awake.”
“I’ll help,” Ella says, even as she yawns.
I start to smile, then stifle it. These humans are muddling my mind.
“How about the questions game?” Frederick offers. “Everyone has to answer a question with another question, and if you can’t you lose. Does that make sense, Nymia?”
“Sure.” I shrug.
The prince snorts. “You just lost.”
“I didn’t know we were playing,” I counter, straightening up. “Okay, go now. I’m ready now.”
“Do you think she’s ready, Ella?”
“Nymia, are you ready?”
“I— I—”
“You lost again.” Ella giggles softly as she snuggles into my side.
“You have to say start or something.”
I don’t need to look over to know Frederick has rolled his eyes. I can sense it, the same way I sense the grin covering his lips. His joy is palpable, sprinkling the air like a fine mist that washes over me. “Okay. Nymia, we’re starting. This is me, starting the game. How old are you?”
“Don’t you think that’s a rude question, Ella?”
“What’s the definition of rude, Frederick?”
“Nymia, how do faeries tell time?”
“Frederick, why are humans so nosy?”
“Do you think I’m nosy, Ella?”
“Do you think he’s handsome, Nymia?”
“What? No,” I stumble, then scoff. “Wait—that wasn’t fair.”
“I think she’s a sore loser,” Frederick whispers into Ella’s ear.
“I hear that!”
“I know.”
“Let’s play again,” Ella cuts in. Her voice sounds heavy with sleep, and a little slow. “Nymia, have you kissed a boy?”
Impudent little brat. “Ella, is that really any of your business?”
“Frederick, do you think that means no?”
“Nymia, would you like to give it a go?”
I open my mouth, but my chin just sort of bobs there for a moment and no sounds come out.
Ella’s laugh cuts through the silence. “Lost again. What’s that, three to nothing?”
“I think that makes four,” Frederick answers. His arm squeezes my shoulders tight and I inhale sharply, hoping neither of them notice. Then he leans over, close enough for his breath to tickle my skin. “You’re a bit rubbish at this game.”
“One more time,” I command indignantly. I will beat them at this stupid game. “Frederick, have you always been such a complete ass?”
“Ella, why do you think she’s so curious about my arse?”
“Nymia, have you been staring at Freddie’s arse?”
“Why do you wear such tight pants, Frederick?”
“What else have you noticed about my pants, Nymia?”
“Frederick, is that really appropriate?”
“Why wouldn’t it be, Nymia?”
“Why don’t you ask Ella, Frederick?”
“Ella, are you offended?” There’s a pause. “Ella?”
“Aha!” I jump in. “I won!”
Frederick snorts. “I’m not sure it counts as winning when the loser is fast asleep.”
“Sure it does,” I murmur as I glance at Ella. Her eyes are closed, her lips are slightly parted, and her chest is rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. “Do you think she’s faking?”
“Ella, if you open your eyes right now, I’ll give you a quick snog.”
She doesn’t move.
Frederick glances to me with a raised brow. “She’s asleep. So now you can tell me the real reason why her magic affects electricity and yours doesn’t.”
“What?” A flare shoots down my spine. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you know.”
“Would you care to clarify?”
“You don’t have to keep answering with questions. We’re not playing that game anymore.”
I know that, but it’s a good defensive tactic. “What game are we playing?”
“The game where we tell each other the truth, even if it’s difficult, because in a few days this journey will be over, and I want to learn as much about you and your magic as I possibly can before my time runs out.”
“That doesn’t sound very fun.”
“I’m not so sure. If you give it a chance, you might enjoy it more than you thought.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ve been alone with my secrets for so long, they’re the only things keeping me company. I’m not sure I want to let another person close enough to see the truth—especially him.
“So tell me, why is your magic different from Ella’s?”
“Because I’m a faerie and she’s a human,” I answer, turning away to stare at the shadows as the answer rolls off my tongue. It’s the same one I gave Ella when she asked the day before. It seemed to be enough for her, but I know it won’t satiate him even before he answers.
“Why? Why does that make the magic so different? You don’t seem that different from me or from Ella, not really.”
“I am,” I snap, then take a deep breath. But it’s too late. He heard the flash of anger in my tone—the sort that comes from some place deep.
“Why don’t you like humans?” he whispers. There’s no humor coloring his words, no teasing edge, no trick. Just vulnerability. Just honesty. “What did we do to you? I know there’s something you’re not telling me, something holding you back. I see it every time you start to open up. You freeze and rebuild your walls, like you’re too afraid to let anyone in. But you don’t need to be afraid of me.”
I wonder if that’s what Aerewyn’s prince told her, right before he ended her life—that she didn’t need to be afraid. I wonder if she believed him, the same way something in me yearns to believe Frederick now.
But I can’t.
I know better.
I need to end this, whatever it is, before it goes any further.
“I hate humans because they destroyed everything I love. You want to know why my magic is different? Because it’s mine. It belongs to me. Humans were never made to have magic. They stole it, from faeries, from the creatures you claim to love, from the Mother herself, and trapped it beneath their skin until there was no magic left in my world. The creatures I’ve been telling you about? They’re dead. My world was dying. My people are gone. I’m all that’s left. That’s why I hate humans. They can’t be trusted. They’ll do anything, destroy everything, to get what they want—power. Don’t try to tell me it’s any different in your world, because I’ve seen enough to know otherwise.”
He starts to lift his hand from my shoulder, then remembers the cloaking spell and gently sets it back down, a little less heavy than before. “How did they steal it? The magic?”
I narrow my eyes at him, but the question is an
honest one. He’s not digging for information. “By using words they never should’ve heard in the first place.”
Aerewyn, I’m sure, shared the spell to borrow magic with her prince. I don’t know how she could’ve been so stupid, so trusting, so naïve.
And yet, I do.
Because she always saw the best in people, including me.
“Words like the ones you’ve whispered for this invisibility spell?”
I nod.
“Is that why Ella’s magic is cursed?”
“I’m not sure. I was dead before the curse came to be.”
Frederick breathes in sharply. “Dead?”
I meet his gaze, unflinching. “A human stole my magic, and without it, I lost this body. I returned to my true state as a flower.”
“Is that why you said you only woke up a few weeks ago? How?”
I don’t correct him. My years spent hunting magic humans and my time in the healing spell would be too difficult to explain—or too revealing. “The person who stole my magic must’ve died, because it returned to me, and I reawakened in my body.”
“Died…” His eyes go wide when understanding hits, and he drops his gaze to Ella, sleeping peacefully between us, unaware of the revelations shooting across the very air she breathes. “So why… I mean, if all that’s true, why are you helping Ella?”
I’m not.
And if he didn’t have such fanciful dreams of magic or of me, maybe he’d see that, but hope and faith are funny things. They can blind you to the truth if the lie is enticing enough.
“Because I owed a life debt to her sister.”
He releases a soft breath and his arm grows the slightest bit heavier across my shoulders, weighted down by relief. The quiet stretches between us as he lets everything I said sink in. Then I feel his gaze on my cheek, as tangible as a soft caress. “Do you hate me?”
“I—” The words catch in my throat. I turn to find his eyes. Even in the darkness, they somehow pierce. “I want to.”
With his arm across my back, his hand on my shoulder, and his face no more than a foot away, I’m not sure we’ve ever been closer. Yet as I watch the light fade from his normally dazzling eyes, I’m not sure if he’s ever felt farther away. For some reason, the thought makes my heart sink in my chest, as though it’s fallen into a hollow pit cleaved open by his silence. But there’s nothing else to say.
I do want to hate him—oh, how I wish I did hate him.
But I don’t, and that’s the real problem.
“Thank you for your honesty.” Frederick blinks and glances to his knees as dark, airy laughter seeps through his lips. “You were right, you know. That game wasn’t very fun.”
“Told you.”
He glances sideways, finding my gaze. We both grin.
“How about twenty questions instead?”
“That sounds horrible.”
“You’ll love it.”
Just like that, the awkwardness dissipates. We slide into another game, and another, until the sun creeps back into the sky and a new day dawns. For some reason, the sight fills me with equal parts hope and dread.
I’ve heard the truth hurts.
I’ve also heard it sets you free.
I’m not sure what being honest with Frederick will bring. I’d hoped distance, and yet when voices travel down from the staircase and our eyes meet over the top of Ella’s head, I feel as though we’re somehow closer. No matter how I push, he pulls, and the only direction we seem to move is toward each other. Is Ella the glue keeping us together, or is she the piece that will finally tear us apart? What will happen when the blood oath is fulfilled and I’m free to do as I please? What will he see when he looks at me then?
I don’t know.
But as we step seamlessly into the crowd, onto the train, and into our cabin, I know one thing for certain—in a few days’ time, all my questions will have answers.
Whether I want them to or not.
The train is uneventful for the most part. We leave the station without a hitch, and then after about half an hour, there’s a knock on the door to our cabin. Frederick hides in the small bathroom while Ella and I present our travel papers and tickets. They hardly spend a second checking the IDs before moving on to the next, but still, relief washes through me the moment we’re able to close the cabin door, then lock it shut.
After that, I sleep.
And sleep.
And sleep some more.
I’m not sure I realize how exhausted I was until I wake up hours later to find the sun already low in the sky. My stomach rumbles as the scent of rosemary filters into my nose. There’s a plate on the table by my bed filled with what looks to be roasted potatoes, carrots, and green beans. I nudge the chicken to the side with a wrinkle of my nose—faeries don’t eat meat—and gobble down the rest. Frederick is asleep on the floor, stretched out with a jacket tucked under his head, and I hear Ella’s steady breathing from somewhere overhead.
The solitude is soothing.
It’s what I’m used to.
I stare out the window, lost in my thoughts as I watch the landscape shift from open fields, to crumbled towns, to thick forests, to cityscapes peppered with lights. As the sun sinks closer and closer to the horizon, the sky floods with color, until there’s a single golden spot shining in the center of a periwinkle sea and surrounded by persimmon-edged clouds. Maybe this is why I’ve always loved marigolds. They remind me of these last vestiges of daylight, the only goodbye I’ve ever found comforting, because I know it’s temporary. The Mother will return tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. She’s the only constant in an otherwise volatile world.
“What are you smiling about?”
I didn’t hear Frederick wake up, but when I turn toward the sound of his voice, he’s leaning on his elbows, sitting up and watching me. His golden hair is in complete disarray, highlighted from our days spent beneath the sunshine. The formerly pale color of his skin is now a warmer tan, spotted by a smattering of freckles no longer hidden by the gloomy skies of his homeland. A layer of light-brown scruff stretches along his jaw. He’s still the same prince, but not so refined, a little bit wild. I like him better this way. “It’s a beautiful sunset.”
“Is it?”
I fold my legs to make room on the bed and then pat the empty space beside me. “Come see.”
He rolls to his feet and settles down, close enough that the edges of our knees touch. I don’t move away. I just turn my face toward the window, wishing I could breathe in some of the fresh air on the other side. The room suddenly feels stagnant and warm. Frederick reaches for the light switch and turns it off, making the view even more vibrant. At the outer reaches of the sky, where the darkness of night creeps in, stars twinkle to life. I wonder, the same way I always do when I look to the Father’s realm, which one holds Aerewyn’s burning soul?
A grouping of tall thin poles topped by three blades that spin slowly in the wind are silhouetted in the distance. It’s the fourth time I’ve seen them. “What are those?”
“Those?” Frederick nudges his chin forward and I nod. “Wind turbines.”
“What’s a wind turbine?”
“I should’ve seen that one coming.” He rolls his eyes. “We use them to make electricity. As the winds blow, the blades spin, turning a rotor, which is connected to a generator, which then creates electricity from the movement. At least, I believe it’s something like that.”
I move my hand to the switch, flicking the lights back on, then off, then on again. He claims this isn’t magic, but it seems like it is to me. “Do you pull all your electricity from the wind?”
“No. Some of it we get directly from the sun—”
“The sun?”
“Or from water or geothermally,” he continues, ignoring my outburst. It’s interesting to me that my magic and his electricity come from so many of the same sources. “Most of our clean energy is nuclear, though a lot of people are petitioning to end that after the issues wi
th the earthquake.”
“Issues?”
“Multiple power plants across the globe exploded, causing radiation poisoning, and waste sites were damaged, causing leakage. A lot of countries are still dealing with the aftermath of the exposure today, and they will be for a long time. But most people still think it’s better than the alternative.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“Oil, like you saw before. Coal. Gas. Things we can’t renew. Things we have to burn, which then release harmful gases into the environment. Before the earthquake, we relied on them a lot more, but with so much infrastructure gone, a lot of countries had to switch to renewable sources and learn to monitor their consumption. I guess you could say that’s been one positive aspect of this whole mess. We’ve cleaned up our act a lot, literally and figuratively.”
I close my eyes as memories flood my thoughts, snippets of visions and nightmares and dreams that woke me with a cold sweat in the middle of the night and sent my magic soaring into the sky for release.
“Oh, sorry. Am I boring you?” he teases.
My eyes pop back open.
“No, it’s just—” I break off with a frown, shaking my head.
He narrows his eyes and leans toward me, face illuminated silver as the moon slips out from behind a cloud, announcing the arrival of night. “What?”
“Does this sound familiar?” I ask, dredging up a scene from the dark depths of my mind. “A fire burning brighter than the sun, flashing with every color of the rainbow as it breathes poison into the air. A forest turned red as death sweeps through in the form of ashy rain. Animals bleeding out. Birds dropping from the sky.”
He tilts his head to the side, frowning now too. “That could describe the explosion of a nuclear power plant.”
“What about coral bleaching beneath the surface of the sea? Losing its vibrancy and turning into ghostly white fingers that stretch for the sun?”
Chasing Midnight - A Cinderella Retelling (Once Upon a Curse Book 3) Page 16