When Wishes Bleed

by Casey Bond

  I wished I felt something for him. Something like the tingle the mere sight of the boy with the bloody wish incited.

  Brecan’s hand fell away. “Would you even consider me?”

  “It’s not you, Brecan. It’s…me,” I answered lamely. “The witches hate me, and would hate you by extension if we were hand-fasted.”

  “They fear you. They don’t hate you, Sable.”

  “It sure feels like hate to me.”

  When I didn’t turn to face him, he stepped around to stand in front of me. “I’m too pretty to hate,” he teased with a grin.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re not wrong.”

  “Do you feel anything for me at all? Even the slightest spark?”

  A slight spark might be the best way to describe the way I felt. But a spark, however large, wasn’t enough when I wanted an inferno. I wanted to want the man I hand-fasted to with every inch of myself. Every thought. Every breath. Every beat of my heart would be for him.

  It was silly to think I’d ever have that, but I wouldn’t settle for less.

  I couldn’t look Brecan in the eye.

  “I see,” he said quietly, tugging his cloak together. “I’ll leave you alone, then.”

  “Brecan—”

  “No, you’ve made yourself quite clear,” he bit out before leaving the room, then my House, and then the yard.

  He stomped to the House of Wind like a dark cloud. He didn’t have to choose a witch from the same House and affinity, but it would make a smart first match, and there were plenty of talented, beautiful Wind witches for him to consider.

  In the end, he would see reason, and would understand that he and I could never be. I just hoped I hadn’t lost my only friend.

  I paced the main floor, pausing at a portrait on the wall. My mother and I looked so much alike. I wasn’t sure when the photograph was taken, but she must’ve been my age, or close to it. Her lips were shaped like mine, bowed at the top and full at the bottom. Her almond-shaped eyes were dark like mine. The portrait looked so real, almost like she could step out of the frame and join me.

  I wished she could. It would be nice to talk to someone about Brecan and what had happened this evening between the two of us.

  It took me hours to fall asleep after Brecan left. Hurting his feelings was never my intention, but I knew that lying to him would only cause more damage.

  I stripped one of the beds in a room on the first floor and covered it with my sheets and blankets, but it still didn’t feel right. The mattress was too plush. There wasn’t a lump to be felt.

  Tossing and turning for several hours, I finally fell asleep, just to have a strange dream wake me just before sunrise. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed and was hoping to fall asleep again, even though there was much to do. Stretching my arms and legs in the dappled sunlight that fell across my blankets made me feel warm where the dream left me cold.

  It was of my mother. I didn’t dream of her often, but when I did, it always unsettled me.

  Closing my eyes, I slipped back to sleep, but didn’t stay that way for long before a loud knock woke me. Sitting up with a grumble, I threw the blankets off and lumbered toward the door. Cracking it open and blinking against the bright morning light, I stared at the stranger standing on my steps.

  “Daughter of Fate?” he asked. The man looked to be in his fifties, and his cropped, neat hair was equal parts gray and chocolate brown. I didn’t know him, but I recognized the insignia smartly stitched into his dark cloak. The golden thread glimmered in the sunlight.

  “I am she,” I rasped, clearing my throat awkwardly. Straightening my spine, I waited for him to tell me what he wanted. I refused to invite him in.

  “My name is Courier Edward Stewart. I have a delivery for you.”

  “A delivery from whom? I know no one in the lower sectors.”

  Courier Stewart didn’t smile or show any emotion at all. His features were like iron as he held out his hands. In one was a small box, and in the other was a letter, sealed with golden wax. Pressed into the wax was the royal symbol, matching the one on his cloak – a spiraling nautilus shell. “The letter and parcel are from a member of the royal family,” he replied formally.

  The royal family? Why on earth would anyone in the royal family send me a package and a letter? Or anything at all, for that matter? Unless they heard about my role in last night’s hanging…

  I spied a cluster of Earth witches watching us from the Center, whispering to one another and giggling behind their hands. Brecan strode across the lawn to join them. His eyes met mine as I accepted the items.

  “Is that all, Courier?” I asked, aware that the gaggle of witches watching the exchange had swiftly tripled in size.

  “I will return before sunset to collect you. The letter will explain everything, but should you have any questions, I’ll do my best to answer them then.” He turned, jogged down my steps, and mounted a dappled mare I hadn’t even noticed grazing in my front yard.

  “What do you mean, collect me?” I asked.

  He either didn’t hear me, or purposely ignored my question, though I was fairly certain it was the latter. The nosey witch crowd giggled as I slammed the door closed.

  Collect me? I don’t think so.

  I gave the palm-sized box a good shake as I walked further into the house. My fingers twitched to open it, wondering what I might find inside, but I broke the seal and unfolded the letter first. A separate, smaller rectangle of thick paper fell onto the table, but I ignored it.

  Daughter of Fate,

  I apologize for my lack of manners and decorum, and for not asking for your name last night so that I might properly address this letter. Or perhaps the greeting above is what you prefer. An intriguing title for an equally intriguing young woman.

  In the box, you will find the payment I promised for your services. You read my future, saw my complicated fate, and didn’t stretch my neck for not having the means to make a proper payment for services rendered. I trust that the contents of the parcel will cover any debt that I owe, in addition to an appropriate amount of interest for you having to wait to receive it.

  As you have likely gleaned, I am a member of the royal family. My family and I would request your discretion regarding the revelations last evening, in the hopes that we can uncover and circumvent any attempt made upon my life.

  During our brief time together, you made it clear that you neither have nor want a telecaster in your home, but you must have heard of our kingdom’s traditions regarding royal matches. In case you aren’t aware, the Prince of Nautilus must marry a woman from one of the Kingdom’s sectors. As I am the eldest prince and of age to marry, I intend to do so very soon. Twelve young women have been chosen, one from each sector, and will arrive at the palace on this very evening. The women will reside with me and my family at the palace until I choose a wife from among the invitees.

  Enclosed, you will find your invitation – the thirteenth.

  My reasons for sending it are two-fold.

  The first is more complicated than I care to put in writing. If you are curious at all, I would be more than happy to explain it in person.

  The second is one you’ve probably intuited. I need the help that only someone with your particular skillset can provide.

  I realize that a royal has never sent an invitation to a potential match in Sector Thirteen, and that even sending you this parcel and letter may cause you great trouble. If it is against your beliefs as a witch to marry an outsider, I will respect them, of course.

  But I would be forever in your debt if you would come to the castle and remain close to me during your stay, as a means of possibly thwarting this threat and ferreting out those who seek to harm me.

  Please help me, Daughter of Fate. Help me find the one who wishes me dead. Help me change fate’s design.

/>   Forever in your debt,

  Prince Tauren Nautilus

  What has he done?

  My heart thundered as I bent and picked up the fallen paper from the floor and flipped it over. In swooping calligraphic letters, it read:

  You are Cordially Invited to

  Nautilus Palace.

  Prince Tauren is to choose a bride. He has considered every eligible woman in the Kingdom and believes that you, above all the other women in Sector Thirteen, could become his wife and one day, reign at his side. One woman from every Sector has been invited to the palace so that he may spend time with each of you. It is an honor and privilege for you to represent your Sector as the Prince considers the best woman not only for his future,

  but for the future of Nautilus.

  Long may she prosper.

  I let out a pent-up breath and flipped the card over. A small printed nautilus shell spiraled from the paper’s center, spilling over the edges.

  This had to be a joke. Did the royals truly think this was an honor? For a woman to be plucked from her home and life to parade around the palace competing for the Prince’s attention?

  Prince Tauren.

  Why was the Prince of Nautilus in The Gallows? And how dare he order me to come to the palace? I didn’t take orders from him. My orders came from Fate alone. I was sure he would have something to say on the matter. But when I whispered for him, he simply laughed, and immediately a sinking feeling filled my stomach.

  Pinching my eyes shut, I knew in what direction he intended to push me before he began to shove.

  This time, though, I dug my feet in.

  “I am not going to the palace,” I gritted as the taste of smoke filled my mouth. I would become a fire-breathing dragon before letting the Prince order me to stand at his side. And Fate could find a new Daughter if he cared so little about me that he’d subject me to something so abhorrent and chauvinistic.

  The small, wrapped box began to rattle on the table. “Fine. I’ll look!” I yelled at Fate.

  I snatched it up, tore the dark string tied around it, and lifted the lid. Inside was a midnight blue sapphire the size of a robin’s egg. The edges had been cut and every plane polished. The stone was so clear and perfect, every facet cast my reflection back to me.

  Suddenly, my front door flew open. I quickly tucked the stone into my dress’s pocket and went to greet my unexpected visitor.

  Visitors, I corrected, as Wayra and Ela stood at the threshold.

  “Why were you visited by the Courier of Nautilus, and what did he give you?” Ela demanded. My grandmother’s now-rheumy eyes narrowed on mine. Her face withered more deeply as she scowled. She didn’t spare a glance at the House her daughter had built and loved.

  “I’ve been invited to reside at the palace for a time.”

  Wayra sucked in a breath. “Whatever for?”

  “Your Houses have telecasters. Have you heard news that the Prince is looking for a wife?”

  Ela scoffed. “Never has a royal sent an invitation to a witch.”

  “The tradition must have changed,” I asserted, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Let me see it,” she ordered.

  I retrieved the invitation, but hid Prince Tauren’s letter. It was my duty to keep his words private.

  My grandmother tore the paper out of my hand, her eyes sliding back and forth across and down the invitation. “You will not accept,” she finally declared, handing the paper to Wayra.

  “You cannot marry,” Wayra agreed, slicking her hands down the fabric of her sky-blue robes.

  “Fate demands that I accept his invitation.” Originally, I’d wanted to rebel against Prince Tauren’s summons, but seeing how it ruffled the Priestesses’ feathers made it tempting to go. I told Fate as much and sighed as the burn in my belly was quenched.

  Ela’s knobby finger pointed at my chest. “I forbid it.”

  Wayra straightened her back, looking from my grandmother to me. “It goes against our fundamental beliefs,” she agreed. “Even Fate must understand that we cannot bend on this matter. If our foundation crumbles, what is to keep our Houses upright?”

  “What if the Kingdom wants to unify the Sectors? Thirteen is treated as an outcast among them. The people in the lower sectors think we’re evil and dangerous. What if I could show them that we are good? That we are vital to the Kingdom and its security? They don’t have a clue what we do to protect them.”

  “It’s better that they don’t know,” Ela argued. “Let them fear us. It does not matter what the Lowers think of us. We will not get involved in matters of state. We must remain sovereign.”

  “The Kingdom has changed, High Priestess. Perhaps it’s time we change with it.” I held my hand out and waited for Wayra to return the invitation. She placed the square of thickly embossed, white parchment in my palm.

  Ela was not one to back down. “Change is dangerous. Change corrupts. Your participation in such a vile pageant will not help anyone in Thirteen. You are not representative of the Sector.”

  “The Prince believes otherwise,” I replied stiffly, steeling my spine.

  Wayra placed her hand on Ela’s back. “I’ll call forth the Circle.”

  Ela leveled me with a glare. “Know this. If the Circle decides that you’re not to go and you defy our order, you will not be welcome back in The Gallows. And there is nothing the King, or even the might of Nautilus’s military can do to persuade or force us to change our minds on the matter.”

  She looked around at the House of Fate, disgust curling her lips. I could almost see the moment she imagined it demolished. Wayra helped my grandmother down the steps as she wheezed and hobbled.

  Her threat hung heavily in the air.

  7

  The afternoon dragged on painfully slow, but I knew the moment the Circle’s private meeting began in the forest. They cast spells to keep anyone from eavesdropping on the conversation. I knew this, because in the past, I’d tried.

  It bothered me that they believed they had any power over my future.

  I busied myself by dusting, which was a daunting task considering all the furniture, fixtures, delicate cobwebs, and stubborn dust.

  My grandmother’s ire fueled my aggravated cleaning. How dare she threaten to remove me from my House? How dare she threaten me at all? They’d said that my House would never again be represented in the Circle, but I begged to differ. I had just as much power as my mother. Maybe more.

  I threw down the dusting cloth and moved on to a heavier chore. Angrily, I tore down more curtains and stripped all the beds, leaving the linens in balled-up piles lining the hallways until each were dotted with linens that desperately needed to be laundered.

  Occasionally, the words of Prince Tauren’s letter would resurface in my mind. I couldn’t help but wonder what his first reason was… and when he might have the opportunity to reveal it to me. Or why it had to be explained face-to-face.

  The fact that someone wanted him dead needled me. I wondered who could hate him so much that they’d risk their own lives to take his, and what he’d done to garner such hatred. Was it because of his title alone, or had he provoked someone?

  Heavy was the head that wore the crown, though many coveted the weighty circlet.

  Courier Stewart knocked on my door that afternoon, just as he’d vowed.

  I’d packed gowns I thought might be remotely appropriate to wear at the palace, but still wasn’t sure I should go. I approached the door to tell him so when Fate began to shove. By the time I reached the bottom floor, I was shaking violently. I had to twist the handle three times before I managed to grip it firmly enough to pull it open.

  The courier wasn’t alone. Beside him stood Brecan and a female witch from the House of Water. Her dark blue cloak complemented his sky blue robes. Was he here to introduce me to the girl he would ha
nd-fast to?

  I swayed on my feet.

  “Whoa,” Brecan said, rushing in to steady me. “Are you ill?”

  “Fate wants me to go to the palace.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” he said. “The Circle was split on their decision. Ela and Wayra were opposed to you going, Ethne and Bay were in favor. In the end, they agreed to compromise and allow you to choose your path. If you accept the invitation, Mira and I will serve as your escorts. The rules of invitation provide that two escorts can accompany each invitee.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The House of Water has a telecaster,” Mira admitted. “We aren’t allowed to watch it most of the time, but Bay does make exceptions. Most of the girls enjoy watching stories about the royals. We knew the invitations were about to be issued, but had no idea Thirteen would be included. It’s the first time!”

  Mira’s blue-gray hair was braided, and she’d added a shell to the ends of each one. They clinked together when she spoke, making tinkling noises like a chime in the wind. Her ebony skin shone like silk and her clothing was structured, pressed to perfection. She was beautiful. Truthfully, she looked like she belonged in the palace. No wonder she’d been chosen to escort me.

  “And I won’t be exiled if I go?”

  Brecan stiffened. “Ela pushed for it, but again, they were at an impasse. You will be welcomed back into Thirteen.”

  Welcomed was too kind a word. I would be let back in, but welcome? I would never be welcome here.

  “What about my House?” I asked.

  “It will remain yours and yours alone. The Circle will instruct all witches to keep away from it.”

  Fate squeezed. My ribs became so tight, I thought they might splinter.

  I could do this. I could accept the invitation, go to the palace with Brecan and Mira, and try to figure out who was conspiring to kill Prince Tauren. Then I could come home. My House wouldn’t be stripped from me. All would be well.

  “There are two stipulations that all Circle members agreed to,” Brecan said, straightening his back as he folded his hands behind him.