by Lea Doué
Lily wrapped her arms around the panicking girl. “It’s no one’s doing but my own,” she whispered, hesitant to speak in the light.
“I don’t understand.” Orin scooped up Melantha, the last one down, and set her on her feet.
Gwen explained the exact wording of Lily’s curse in a few more words than they’d just used with Eben. Both young men looked shocked. Eben flexed his fingers near his sword hilt, but there was no enemy here to attack.
Lily should tell him now how she felt. It would be her last chance. But the girls stood before her with tear-stained cheeks. They had tried so hard to help.
“My sisters.” Lily shifted Junia to her right arm and reached for Hazel, who squeezed her hand hard in support. “You’ve been my comfort and joy these past few days, and I haven’t been able to thank you. I love you more than I can say. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough or clever enough to save you. I’m sorry I got you into this mess. I’m sorry—” A flurry of colorful shoulders dried her tears as her sisters enfolded her in their midst.
“You’re the strongest of us all,” Neylan whispered into her ear. “I love you, Lily. We all do.”
Lily felt a cold pinch at her neck. This was it. The pendant tightened, and she could tell by their pained expressions that the girls felt the same thing. Wren clawed at her neck, and Junia paled as if she would faint again.
Lily turned towards the city. “We need to get—” she gasped in a lungful of air, “—to the maze.”
Eben stepped to her side immediately. Orin supported Azure and Junia around the waist, and they all ran, or tried to run. She was grateful for the boys, but they couldn’t carry all the girls if they fainted again. Her own pendant tightened uncomfortably. Tharius wasn’t going to let them linger before claiming his prize.
“Keep going,” Gwen gasped. “It’s you he wants. Eben, take her.” She knelt beside Coral, who had fainted again. Ivy slumped down on her knees beside them before crumpling into the grass.
Lily hesitated.
“They’re still breathing,” Gwen choked out. “Go!”
Eben grabbed her hand, and they sped towards the palace. The geese honked in protest, parting as quickly as they could. She might have kicked one. She hoped it wasn’t True.
Unsure how much time she had, and half-expecting Tharius to come striding around the next bend to drag her away, she pushed her legs until they burned. Despite having lost, it felt good to have Eben at her side. It was only temporary. She would send him away with her sisters. And Orin, too—he would follow Melantha anywhere. Tharius’s jealousy would be the end of Eben, if he ventured too far. She didn’t know what she would do without him. If she had to do it all over again, she liked to think she would have spoken to him ages ago.
Past the village and through a field. Shortcuts and back alleys and, finally, the guards’ entrance near the barracks. Eben slowed and flashed some hand signals to those on duty: two quads to The Tree, two quads to the maze, secure the king and queen. The guards jumped into action.
Walls, windows, green-growing things blurred past, and then they entered the maze. Eben drew his dagger.
“You shouldn’t run . . . with sharp objects.” Lily gasped and tugged at the pendant. The icy strand grew tighter every moment.
“Almost a week without a word, and that’s the best you’ve got?”
Her head spun. She stumbled, and he steadied her, slowing his pace. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’ll do my fainting later.”
They reached the dried-up fountain. Rose petals flowed over its sides and pooled on the ground. She sank to her knees in the red puddle and chafed her fists on her thighs. She wasn’t going to make it.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Eben swept her up before she fell on her face. Her breathing eased a bit. She let herself enjoy his nearness for the few moments she had it. He still gripped his dagger.
“You can’t come with me, Eben.”
“Says who? Your dark prince? Let him tell me to my face.”
She’d never heard him so fierce, and it was frighteningly comforting. She wanted his strength to make the curse go away. She had been right—her own strength hadn’t been enough, and now her sisters and her whole kingdom were in danger. She would have to be stronger to ensure Tharius never made it to the surface.
Eben stopped suddenly. “Which way?”
She pointed.
Around the corner. Over the root. Past the Weeping Lady—birds and butterwings had nearly picked the blackberries clean. The mirror’s grimy surface peeked through the firethorn leaves. He set her down, but kept hold of her. He wouldn’t let her leave him behind.
She entered the secret passageway, her free hand trembling against the icy pendant. The light flickered, missing her sisters. She’d never entered without them.
She descended as quickly as she dared and felt Eben’s anger through the tension in his hand. She should make him go back—his presence would only anger Tharius—but it would be useless. And she was weak, after all. She wanted him by her side. Always. But she would take the next few moments, if that was all she got.
Mist drifted thick through the black forest, the trees reduced to silhouettes and shadows. She waved her hand in front of her, sending miniature clouds whirling in all directions. Her feet knew the path. Moments later, she and Eben stood before the broken gates of the undergarden.
Tharius didn’t wait beyond the archway, but there was no avoiding him now. “Here goes nothing,” she mumbled, and stepped through with Eben by her side.
More mist greeted them on the other side, clinging to the ground and snaking among the garden paths. No ballgown appeared—she still wore the same blue cotton she’d donned that morning. She rubbed her arm and shivered, and Eben’s fingers tightened.
Neither of them paid any heed to the flowers and bushes lining the path. The golden light of the clearing came into view, rusted cages sputtering with candle stubs. Some had burnt out, and the acrid smoke stung her nose and bit her throat. The shadow-people had disappeared, and shrivelled leaves littered the ground.
A boot heel struck the floor seconds before Tharius emerged from the shadows. “So, this is your tasty morsel.”
Eben took a defensive stance and raised his dagger.
Tharius’s eyes narrowed. His skin shone translucently in the dying light, and his lip glistened with a fresh cut. “Thought you’d come and gloat, did you?”
“What?”
“You broke your curse!”
With his words, the pendant released her. The chain poofed into a cold mist and descended slowly to join the swirling fog at her feet. The diamond drop melted and dripped down her collarbone. She took a huge breath of air. Her sisters would be doing the same, wherever they were.
“It’s not too late, Lily.” Tharius inched closer and held out his hand, pleading. “You can still save me, take me into the light.” His tongue flicked over the cut on his lip. “Say you’ll be mine, and I’ll let you keep him. Everything will be all right.”
A branch crashed onto the ground, but he paid no heed to the undergarden disintegrating around him.
“I didn’t break the curse, Tharius. I never spoke to him.”
“Of course you did!” Tharius spoke savagely. “He’s your true love, is he not? You’ve broken the curse, so why are you here!”
She flinched. “I didn’t . . . I mean, I do . . . ” She glanced at Eben, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Tharius. “I never said anything to him.”
Tharius stilled as quickly as he’d become agitated. “Then who?”
“Us, you rotten weed!” Melantha marched into the clearing with the other girls, plus Orin and half a dozen guards. They looked like sunlight and life next to the pale prince. The girls wore no pendants.
“We’ll be taking our sister now.” Gwen put an arm around Lily. She whispered into her ear, “We passed Yarrow and Bay on our way down. They’re okay.”
Lily sighed with relief. Her curiosity could wait.
/> The guards joined Eben, placing themselves between Tharius and the princesses.
“No!” Tharius echoed Lily’s cry from earlier, when she thought she’d lost everything. “You’re mine! He didn’t break the curse. He doesn’t love you. You can’t love him. Your sisters . . . it’s impossible. I—” His tirade was cut off by a thumping crack as Eben set his fist to Tharius’s face.
Eben frowned at the whimpering man on the ground. “Take him,” he said to the guards.
“Eben, he can’t leave,” Lily said.
“I’ll bet he can. Ask him where his people are.”
“What?”
“Look at his hands, Lily.”
She couldn’t see his hands. He’d tucked them under his arms and curled into himself.
“What have you done, Tharius?” she whispered.
“They lied to me.” His voice was a low growl. “All my life, they flattered me and fawned on me. I was their only way out, the only one strong enough to push the boundaries of the sorcerer’s curse. If what you said is true, then they kept me here for no reason!” His voice broke.
“This place is crumbling,” Neylan said, “because there is no one left alive under the curse.”
Tears flowed down Tharius’s cheeks. Already, a bruise bloomed on his jaw under the pale skin. “Sorcery is not my only hobby. I made sure it was painless.”
The plants. Lily’s first guess about Tharius being a gardener had been right.
He pulled his hands out and studied the dirt stains. “They deserved a proper resting place, at least. Mother would have insisted.”
Lily buried her face in Gwen’s shoulder.
Eben signalled for the guards to carry on.
Tharius resisted, but the sorcery had weakened him. Lily followed with the girls, and Orin trailed behind, holding hands with Ruby and Wren.
The closer they got to the archway, the more Tharius struggled, growling and straining against his captors, panicking. He’d never been beyond the broken gate—it had been the boundary of his world all his life. Deep down, part of him couldn’t believe the truth. That was the reason he’d wanted her to stay with him. At least one of the reasons.
“Wait,” she said.
The guards stopped, and Tharius quieted.
“Let him go.”
The guards obeyed, and Tharius didn’t move. She knew he wouldn’t.
“What!” Melantha stepped in front of the archway as if she were afraid Tharius would bolt. As if she could stop him. “Are you crazy?”
Eben looked startled, too, but he said nothing. He would wait to hear what she had to say; one of the many reasons she loved him.
Yes, she loved him.
But that would have to wait.
Ignoring Melantha’s outburst, Lily addressed Tharius. “I want you to walk through that archway on your own. Or not.”
He eyed her suspiciously.
“Makar’s curse is not yours. You can stay here in his crumbling prison, or you can walk with us into the light.”
“I deserve this place as much as he did, and more.”
“Maybe.” She stepped away from Gwen. “But we’re not meant to live in darkness.”
“Your father will throw me into a dungeon.”
“No dungeons.” The palace had none. “A tower, surrounded by the sun, with windows overlooking gardens and meadows and the river.”
“I trade one captivity for another.”
“You’ll see birds.”
His chin dropped onto his chest, dark hair falling over his brow. “How do I know you are telling the truth?”
“By walking through that gate. You’ve never tried it, have you?”
His head jerked up, jaw tight. She’d struck a tender spot.
“Of course not. The consequences would be . . .” Standing amidst the darkness and swirling mist, the crumbling illusions, things couldn’t get much worse. If he stayed now, he would be truly alone. Not even the shadow-people remained.
His face contorted as he wrestled inwardly with the decision. No one spoke or made a move. Although the choice was clear to her, she would have him make it himself. He’d had choices taken away from him his whole life. All this time, he’d been free, but fear and lies had held him captive.
He straightened, his eyes pinched with fear. “I want to see the light.”
The guards flanked him as he stepped up to the archway. He ran his hand along the broken framework of the gate first, inching his feet forward. Little by little, he crossed the threshold.
Nothing happened.
He stopped and let out a shaky breath. Two guards secured his arms, and he sagged against their strength. The others surrounded him, and they marched into the dark forest, the boundary of Tharius’s world. He didn’t look back.
Orin and the girls followed, but Eben laced his fingers with Lily’s and held her back. She smiled as the last of the girls disappeared into the mist.
Finally, she had Eben to herself. And she could speak.
Except that she couldn’t.
Eben stepped close, and her heart tripped over her lungs. In the darkness, the intensity of his gaze felt like the sun. How many times had she dreamed that he would look at her this way? And she would defend his right to, in front of Father and the whole country, if need be. He wouldn’t be just her guard anymore.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He feathered his knuckles against her lips, and the tickle spread from ear to ear, down her chin, and through her jaw. He leaned forward slowly, giving her time to back away if she wanted. She didn’t. She didn’t want to back away from him ever again. She closed the distance, and he met her softly, brushing his lips over hers gently, but not hesitantly. His hands slid down her arms, and he clasped her fingers in his own before breaking away and resting his forehead on hers.
She hadn’t remembered the cavern being this warm.
“Shall we join the others?” He smiled, and she loved how it covered his whole face.
She was sure he couldn’t see her blushing in the dim light.
Wait.
The light was growing fainter. She jerked her hands free and spun around. The stones, the flowers, the jewelled trees, even things she’d thought were real, were fading.
The entrance might already be gone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lily clung to Eben’s hand as they ran. The mist swallowed them when they entered the stairway, thick and clinging like cobwebs. His dagger had no effect.
The ground levelled off, and she didn’t need to count steps to know they should have been well into the maze. The air was still too thick to see more than a few yards ahead, as if some remnant of sorcery seeped out of the undergarden. The sun whispered through the haze, but it couldn’t find them.
Eben stopped, and she bumped into his shoulder. “This way.”
He backtracked, and then stopped to hack at the hedge. Or what should have been the hedge. The mist swirled around his arm. Another passageway.
“This fog is in the whole maze.” He crept through the opening cautiously.
Shouts echoed to their right. Tharius. Even weakened, he was still a sorcerer. “He’s trying to confuse us.”
Eben pulled her behind him, and they crept a few more steps. Rustling and more shouting. One of the girls let loose an angry, agonized howl, and then it was cut off.
“Mel!” She lurched forward, but he held her back.
“Listen.”
Snapping branches and a grunt sounded from the other end of the passageway. Eben spun, keeping in front of her.
The mist struggled around a small form.
Ivy?
And Tharius. He’d pinned her arms with one of his own and had his other hand clamped over her mouth, half lifting, half pushing her in front of him. He panted. His jaw had purpled nicely.
“Get me out of this place.” His voice was low, gravelly. Dangerous.
“Let the girl go,” Eben said.
He sneered. “I’ll trade.”
“You won’t make it out of here by yourself.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“There are guards outside each exit, and more on the way.”
“Do you think I am powerless?” Tharius shifted his weight, and Ivy whimpered. “Your little princess may have broken my curse, but I am not broken. I am free, and I will not be stopped!”
Ivy thrashed in his arms, and then her body went limp. Startled, Tharius loosened his grip just enough for her to get both feet firmly beneath her. She stomped hard on his foot. He grunted, and she whipped her head backwards into his chin. She wasn’t strong enough to hurt him much, but he released her mouth, and she screamed.
Ivy had learned Riva’s lessons better than any of them.
The guards shouted in response.
Tharius hurled Ivy to the ground so hard she slid beneath the firethorns. Lily rushed to her. Eben crouched, waiting for Tharius’s attack.
Rather than pull Ivy from the hedge and risk hurting her further, Lily wedged herself under the branches, covering her sister with her body. Ivy had rolled onto her back and bore a nasty cut on her cheek, but she was breathing.
Eben staggered into the hedge. Tharius had no weapon, but he was a sorcerer. Eben defended himself against the unknown.
Just what he’d been trained for.
Tharius gathered mist into his hands like a child scooping snow and then pushed it hard at Eben like it had weight.
Eben ducked. The ball of mist slammed into the firethorns, breaking branches and tossing leaves into the air. He ran at Tharius.
Something dripped onto Lily’s hand. She needed to stop the bleeding on Ivy’s cheek. She reached into Ivy’s belt pouch. There. The handkerchief from Eben. She hated to bloody it, but Ivy was more important than a bit of artwork. She pressed the blue embroidery against the wound and watched it turn purple, satisfied when the blood stopped dripping into Ivy’s hair.
Something heavy thudded against the ground behind her, and gravel sprayed onto her back.
“Kev!” Eben bellowed for his guardsman. He knelt beside Lily and spoke gently into her ear. “Give me your belt.”
She loosened the buckle, and Eben pulled it from around her waist, handing back Melantha’s dagger.