Battle of the Hexes

by Lidiya Foxglove

  At this point, I got the idea, so I cut Daisy off. “So you…lied to most of these people to get them to agree.”

  “I’m trying to save your ass! What am I supposed to do?”

  “Is it really a contract if it’s based on a lie? The faery queen isn’t going to like this at all!”

  “I’m stuck here,” Daisy said. “So there isn’t exactly an awesome pool of witches to pick from, but if I was out there in the real world, it would be really hopeless, because no decent witch I know is going to throw her life away and leave her family to marry a faery she’s never met. The only reason I got you thirteen names is because we’re in this hell hole.”

  I bit my lip, looking at the paper. “Yeah. You’re right.” I mean, I would never agree to go marry a stranger that was of a different species, live in his world and abandon my family. “Let’s just send it and cross our fingers.”

  “Together,” Daisy said, and we both held a corner of the paper as we let the flames consume it. As the flames started licking toward our fingers, we dropped it in the fireplace—nearly every room had a fireplace—and let it burn out on the stones before I cast a quick spell to put out the embers, as tempting as it was to set the Haven on fire accidentally.

  We both glanced up.

  “I guess it’ll take time,” Daisy said. “Nothing more we can do now. Let’s get your dress on.”

  She opened the box as I hovered over her shoulder. I’m not sure what I expected, but certainly not the endless quantity of cream silk with golden beads set in patterns of vines. I expected a white, traditional gown but there was color in this dress, especially as we pulled it out. The sleeves were long and draping, the interiors lined in a dark rose color. It weighed a freaking ton. I felt like my entire closet weighed as much as this one dress, because the fabric was so substantial and with all the beads added on…

  “Traditional,” Daisy said. “But gorgeous. This gown is from one of the old magical couturier in Paris, the House of Fontaine. I think it might be Harris’ mother’s wedding gown. There’s no way they could have ordered a new one up in a day.”

  “I have to wear his mother’s wedding dress?”

  “Oh, but it’s dreamy. It’s Medieval but blingy and look, it’s got this low back…I do love a nice back,” Daisy said.

  “My back is all bruised.”

  “Nothing this healing balm and some makeup can’t fix. Come on, you must admit…” She held it up to herself. “This dress is giving me Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine at Studio 54 realness, girl,” she said, in her best Jonathan-from-Queer-Eye voice.

  I did my best Jonathan-hair-toss in return. “Okay,” I said. “Hand me the gown.”

  I took off my comfortable clothes and subjected my body to this attention-grabbing gown. I had never worn anything that asserted itself over me and made me feel unworthy of it like this gown did. I felt like this was a preview of meeting Harris’ parents.

  But it was gorgeous. I definitely liked my mom’s Betsey Johnson dress better, but once in my life, it was fun to look like a queen, and it did give me a certain level of confidence. Like, even if the faery queen herself showed up and interrupted my hand-fasting, I’d be ready in this. If she complained about the girls we found, I would be like, Does thou question my judgment in choosing yon brides!? as my arm swept forward grandly…

  Daisy opened her makeup kit and set to work on my face. She did some little elegant braiding with my hair while leaving most of it loose. As usual, she was good at this sort of thing, although I thought this was also a moment where I could be bonding with my mom, and I felt a deep pang that my parents were barred from attending. They were already trying to sever me from my family, and if I’d learned one thing from watching a Scientology documentary, it was not to join up with people who messed with your tie to family.

  I watched the minutes tick by, and someone knocked on the door and asked if we were ready yet. I think it might have been Catherine Caruthers, and my nerves knotted further.

  “Soon!” Daisy said. “You can’t give a girl bruises and then expect her to get ready for a wedding in no time, kay? An artist needs time to work!” She brushed some makeup on my back, seeming more nervous herself.

  All of a sudden, a letter dropped down the chimney and we both flinched. She ran over and opened it. “‘Dear Miss Byrne, I have received your list of names. Part of the bargain we have arranged is that Miss Daisy Pendleton will marry Lord Orson, but as you know, he is trapped in iron. Iron is poison to faeries, and therefore, I can’t fulfill my end of the bargain until you free him. Sincerely, Queen Morgana.’ …what?? She can’t rescue us and give you Wyrd powers first so we can actually do something?”

  “She loves testing me,” I growled. “There’s nothing she can do to save him? Yeah, right. There’s no way I can sneak off and do it!”

  “Shit. There’s no way I can either. Harris’ family knows me and they would notice if I wasn’t there. But…I’ll try to see if the other girls might be able to sneak off and free Orson while everyone’s distracted with the wedding.”

  “Polly and Persona?”

  “Yeeeah,” she said. “May the gods help us all.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Charlotte

  Before I headed downstairs, I wanted a moment with Firian, because he wouldn’t be able to attend. I called his name, and of course he appeared in front of me almost before the last syllable left my mouth.

  “Charlotte…” He looked at my loose hair, the braids, the long draping sleeves and train, the low cut of the bodice—it did cover my breasts reasonably well, but barely covered my shoulders, and then the back plunged. Boning held everything together, and my breath came quick and shallow. The rich colors, the warmth of the cream and pink and gold, and the cool heavy silk, made me feel swathed in royal wealth. Ready to be a Hapsburg. What a strange feeling, because I was the last person that I could imagine any royal family would want; whatever importance the ‘Caruthers’ name held, I felt completely detached from that legacy.

  “I wanted you to see me first,” I said.

  “You look…” He mussed his own hair.

  “Did I render you speechless?”

  “You look so beautiful.”

  “I don’t really look like me.”

  He paused. “I’m not sure that’s true. I think you underestimate what’s inside of you. You look like a powerful woman, and that’s exactly what you are, if you haven’t noticed.” He took my wrists in his hands and then slid his arms up my generously draping sleeves, pulling me closer to him.

  “I wish you could be there,” I said.

  “We don’t need vows,” he said. “The bond between you and me doesn’t need to be spoken. It’s in our bones.”

  “That’s true…”

  He tilted my chin toward him and we shared a kiss that must have looked like one of those old romantic paintings, me in my gown against the backdrop of the window seat and wainscoting. I wondered, for the hundredth time, how I could not have known Firian existed for so long, but…he was like my heartbeat. Always there, part of life itself, even when it goes unnoticed. I knew we were closer than other witches and familiars, forever and always. Alec and Montague’s familiars had died, and they seemed to go on with life. It seemed like, for most wizards, familiars were like childhood imagination—fading away into the background. But Firian wasn’t an imaginary friend, he was a real person. I clung to him a little tighter.

  “Charlotte, dear?” Catherine knocked on the door again.

  “Go,” I whispered, and he went. Reluctantly, I opened the door.

  “Wow,” Catherine said. “Charlotte! You look absolutely beautiful.” My great-aunt was deceptively pleasant.

  “Please, don’t,” I said. “You got what you wanted. Let’s not act like we get along.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said. “I was only being honest. You are beautiful and you and Harris will be a stunning couple. You will have everything you ever dreamed of with the Nicoles
cus. More gowns like this, and vacations in Paris and Prague, sailboats and fine wines…”

  “You don’t know what I’ve dreamed of,” I said. “And where is my family in all of this? I bet you’re not planning on welcoming my grandma and her wolves home for Thanksgiving. You want me to throw away the family that loves me in favor of the rich family who expects me to be someone I’m not.”

  Catherine stopped. “You just have so much potential. More than anyone since—my boy, Samuel.”

  “Samuel might still be here if you hadn’t tried to make him into something he wasn’t,” I said.

  She looked like she wanted to snap at me for that, but she caught herself. We were coming to the end of the hall and behind the door I could hear a loud clamor of voices. Guards had the door locked.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “The residents of the Haven want to see the ceremony,” the guard said. “But don’t worry. We’re keeping them out.”

  “Why can’t they see the ceremony?” I asked. “Honestly, I don’t care if they do. That chapel is huge. It’ll be creepy if no one is filling the seats.”

  “They will be too disruptive,” Catherine said. “You know as well as I do that some of them aren’t right in the head.”

  “You mean like Ina?” I flung a hand at the door and cast a spell to break the lock. Let them have fun containing that.

  The hallway was packed with witches and warlocks who rushed in the moment the doors opened. Some of them just rushed to the chapel to try and slink into a pew while others wanted a look at my dress. Hands plucked at the beads and lifted my train and sleeves. One witch who seemed half feral, running around on all fours like an animal, yanked a bead right off.

  “Hey, hey, no!” I immediately realized that maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all.

  “You see why they were locked out?” Catherine said sternly. “Now we’ll have to—“ She turned and suddenly she was eye to eye with a witch from the Haven staff in her black dress.

  I swayed a little as the wolfy witch kept helping herself to beads. The staff witch was the witch who tortured me. “I’ll get them in line,” Torture Witch said, looking straight at Catherine.

  I was frozen like she’d lobbed a paralyze spell at me in Fortune’s Favor.

  “I told you,” the witch said softly. “Your job is to get married, have babies, obey your husband, and behave yourself. Now you’re going to live happily ever after, Charlotte.” She gave me a twisted, sad smile.

  Catherine grabbed me and hustled me away from her. She looked pale but forced composure. “All right, well, dear, I hope you’ve learned your lesson about those sorts of stunts. Let’s get you in. Everyone is waiting for you.”

  “Do you know that witch?” I asked her. “The one who tortured me?”

  She ignored me, shoving open the doors. The chapel was two-thirds empty, with a few of the people I had let in being escorted out, the front rows filled and Harris standing at the altar waiting for me. Someone started playing dramatic organ music, but not the wedding march. It sounded more imperial. I guess there was no wedding procession. I saw Montague and Alec twisting in the pews to look at me, and their admiration was so bittersweet. Daisy was looking at me nervously.

  I can’t do this.

  The chapel was similar to the one at Merlin College, just bigger. It seemed very Victorian, but not as overtly religious. The stained glass windows were of ladies and flowers, like Tiffany-window nature goddesses, not saints. The walk to the altar looked very long but also not long enough.

  I’m not ready.

  But Harris…

  Whatever he was thinking, whatever turmoil we shared, he was excited to make his vows to me. To make me his. He had this serious look on his face, and I could tell he was shutting out everything else in the moment because he wanted this to be our memory, not one forced upon us.

  If the faery queen swept in and interrupted us, I wouldn’t see that look on his face, that protective, grave expression, with all our competitive arguing briefly put to rest.

  I started to walk, my heavy gown dragging on the carpet.

  I was still puzzling over Catherine and the other witch.

  They have some kind of a history…

  Where is Ina? Did that witch torture her? Break her?

  I should have asked her about Ina…

  Suddenly, I felt the click of two pieces of knowledge falling together in my mind.

  The yoga tape Torture Witch showed me wasn’t my mom’s yoga tape, because my dad once taped a blip of a Seinfeld episode over the end of that tape. I had forgotten that. I always cut the tape off before that part.

  Which meant that the witch knew what my mom’s favorite yoga tape was and had her own copy to use against me. Who would know something like that? A witch who was friends with my mom?

  Is Ina is the one who has been torturing me!? Is that why she and Catherine were exchanging such a potent expression?

  I could see the whole thing in a different light now. She was trying to make things bad for me, I thought, so I wouldn’t stick around and become like her. Or maybe she was just crazy and sadistic after years of terrible treatment. A heartbreaking end for the woman Ignatius loved…

  I reached the altar, my feet moving almost without me, propelled by the stares. Of course, Harris was dressed up as well, but it didn’t seem that surprising because I’d seen him wear expensive suits on a regular basis, so this was just another one. I half-expected he’d be wearing a top hat and white gloves or something, but it was just a normal, elegant dark blue suit. Still, I would never get tired of looking at him, cool blue eyes and pale skin, like all the color in him went to his shell-pink ears and kissably warm mouth. He always stood so straight that I found myself straightening up in his presence, his jacket framing his broad shoulders, slim waist and—well, I didn’t let my eyes travel down his legs. That would be weird with everyone watching.

  His hands were cool as he took mine in his grasp.

  “We are gathered here today for the hand-fasting of Mr. Harrison von Hapsburg Nicolescu and Miss Charlotte Caruthers Byrne.” I barely noticed the warlock conducting the ceremony at first. He had creepy eyes and was wearing robes embroidered with those hands that had eyes in the middle. Ohhh. That guy. Harris told me about Father Bogdan. “Witnessed by all of us here today and by all the gods of Etherium, these two will pledge themselves to each other…”

  He was saying the usual preamble to vows. Harris’ parents were staring at him while he never took his eyes off of me. Every little cough from the audience and noise outside the doors made me twitch, wondering if the faery-brides-to-be had freed Orson and maybe the faery queen would come for me…

  I wondered how that would actually go down. There had to be a lot of wards on this building. She could probably whisk me off to Wyrd no problem, but would she help my guys? If I was safe in Wyrd but they held them prisoner and hurt them, that wouldn’t be any good. But then, I was getting stronger again, so maybe I could save them…

  Father Bogdan twined a ribbon around both of our wrists. “You shall now speak your vows to swear your fealty and loyalty, and let us all hear this today, that if these vows be broken, a curse will fall upon the one who broke them. Miss Byrne? Do you promise to be faithful to Harrison and neither love nor touch no other man as long as you live?”

  “Um…what?” I swallowed down the taste of panic. “What curse?”

  There was a gasp around the room, mostly from the Nicolescu family.

  Oh, come the fuck on. Like they didn’t all know by now what their son was up to.

  “This is a matter between us,” Harris said to Father Bogdan.

  “Your parents requested this be in the ceremony,” the priest replied.

  Harris’ mother slowly stood up, and although she tried to look all horrified and suffering, I felt like she planned this out. “It is time to put away childish things, my dear,” she said. “Harris loves you very much, and he will give you a name you can pass
on to your children.”

  “No,” Harris said. “I won’t let her agree to that. You’re getting almost everything you wanted. You can’t control every aspect of our lives.”

  “They can,” said the witch who was probably Ina. She had snuck in the back of the room. “They most certainly can. Say the words. Go free. Don’t choose this place.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Harris asked.

  “Harris, it’s…it’s okay,” I said. “She’s right. My only choice is between you and this place, and…I’d rather have you. I promise to be—“

  The doors slammed open in the back of the room. A slender figure in robes appeared, hair gloriously lit by the shifting position of the sunlight through the stained glass windows.

  “The faeries…,” I breathed.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Charlotte

  “Sorry, it’s actually just me, Stuart Jablonsky, and I’m going to assume that whatever I’m interrupting was a bad idea.” Stuart spread his arms and a wave of magic swept through the whole chapel like an earthquake, rattling the pews out of place, knocking us to our feet, and breaking some of the windows.

  Chaos erupted. Harris and I had been knocked off the altar and I had tumbled into some candles, setting my sleeve on fire. Harris cast a quick spell to put it out and clambered toward me on his hands and knees as some plaster particles rained on our heads.

  “Didn’t mean to break the windows,” Stuart said. “Damn. They were lovely.”

  The witches and warlocks present sprung to immediate action attacking him back. Pews splintered and more windows shattered as elemental spells were cast quickly, and I assumed some curses would come next.