by Emma Hamm
Morning came and went in the library. Amicia remained in the seat staring out the broken windows at the melting snow beyond.
Almost all of it was gone now. Spring had come to the chateau. Though winter had arrived with a storm to change the landscape, spring came with a whisper. Just the drops of water hitting the ground and the bright colors of flowers blooming already.
The door behind her opened and closed. “Leave me,” she said, exhausted and numb. “I have no wish to entertain.”
“Then it’s good I have no desire to be entertained.”
Him. Again.
Amicia couldn’t be near him, not now. She had too many thoughts to sift through. Too many possibilities she hadn’t weighed. He would force her into a decision she hadn’t planned on making just yet.
“Amicia,” Alexandre begged. “Would you at least look at me?”
She didn’t want to. Looking at him would only make him even more human, and she couldn’t stand to think of him like that. Not when she had to kill him.
But she looked, because her heart could deny him nothing.
Tears in her eyes, she stared at him where he stood. Leathery wings, yellow eyes, but lacking all the things that had made him so frightening. Dark circles ringed his eyes. Perhaps he hadn’t slept either.
Her chin quivered as she held in more tears. “Why do you think you’ve changed so much?”
“What?”
“I need you to answer the question, Alexandre. No more secrets or veiled words. Where are your fangs? Your claws? Why do you look so much like a man?”
He took another step closer, though still hesitating to approach her. “The moment you snuck into this chateau, I knew I was found. I had lost myself in this curse, this sickness which destroyed your home and your people. They are mine as well, and I had forgotten. But you? You never lost sight of what we needed. Of who we are.”
Sweat gathered at her brow. “Please don’t say that,” she whispered. “Please don’t make me think of them in a time like this.”
“I don’t understand why you are upset. Was it the kiss?” He fisted a hand and pressed it against his heart. “If I misjudged you so, I will not touch you again.”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Then what?” He stepped closer again. His foot caught the knife on the floor, sending it rattling toward her. It settled between them, and she saw his gaze lock upon the handle.
And so it was revealed. The knife was a symbol of everything she didn’t want to say. All the lies, the pain, the torment. She had gone through so many emotions this night. All she could feel now was numb.
“Amicia?” he asked, still staring at the knife.
He didn’t need to ask the question. She knew what he wanted to know. Why did she have a knife? Was she so afraid of them again?
The answer to the latter was yes, but she didn’t know how to say it when the words stuck in her throat and made tears gather in her eyes. She couldn’t admit she knew how to end all this, but she must admit it. All of their lives depended on it. On them.
“I returned here because I saw something when we were in the Sun Room. Your wings turned white for a moment, just the briefest of glimpses, but I saw it.” She caught her breath, swallowing down the emotions that threatened to bubble up again. “An alchemist waited here for me. He had the book and claimed it had all I needed to know on how to break the curse.”
Alexandre nodded. “The alchemists have always been an ally to the Dread. We listen to their wisdom when they impart such things.”
“I cannot.”
“Why?” He stepped closer, stopping just at the knife. “Why would you not be able to listen to them? We knew the book held the secret.”
“Because I cannot.”
“Amicia.” His voice sharpened, as deadly as the blade of the knife between them. “Tell me.”
“A knife created by a lost people, forged in the fires of a burning city.” She spoke through choking tears. “Held by a loving hand.”
“What are you saying? What did the alchemist tell you?”
“To dispel the curse, I must kill the king.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “And I don’t think I can do it, Alexandre. I don’t think I can kill you.”
His eyes ripped from hers to stare down at the handle of the blade. What must he think of her? She had all but agreed to kill him; that’s what it looked like. The knife was already there. They were close enough she could lunge forward, and it would all be over. She wasn’t stronger than him, but she was quick and small.
He leaned down and picked the dagger up off the floor. In his hand, it looked ridiculously small. Far too little for her to ever think it might hurt him, and yet, she knew such a thought was foolish. It could hurt him. All it would take was a small thrust and twist.
Six steps, and he was in front of her. A heartbeat of time passed, and then he knelt before her with the dagger offered to her from his own hand. “If this is the way to end the curse, then this is what we must do.”
“I will not kill you,” she whispered, muscles locked tight against any movement. “I can’t do it, Alexandre.”
He stared at her with wide eyes, and she watched as the slits in his pupils dilated then changed shape. He looked at her with the golden eyes of a man.
Alexandre lifted a shaking hand and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you read the book?”
“I did.”
“And what did it say?”
“It said to kill the king was the only way to cure the people of Little Marsh and any affected by the Dread.”
He smiled, eerily human and monster at the same time. “And what else did it say?”
She didn’t want to voice her suspicions. Not after everything she had learned about the Celestials and how they were sent to this place to help the people. They were like gods, and she was nothing more than a mortal. Amicia shook her head, praying he wouldn’t make her say the words.
“Now you know,” he murmured, his fingers tracing her jaw. “The body you saw in the crypt is me. I was the one who betrayed your people. I was meant to protect you, and I forgot what that meant. My purpose grew muddled with pleasure and greed. For all I have done to your people, to you, to the history of Little Marsh, this is the least of the punishment I deserve.”
“Please don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth, and you know it as much as I.” He trailed his hand down her neck, shoulder, and arm. Alexandre tangled their fingers for a few moments, then drew her hand to his mouth where he pressed his lips against the back of her hand. “I am a lucky man to have spent my final days with you. My soul takes flight when you are here, and I would have it no other way.”
Amicia choked on a sob. “I can’t do it.”
“Then allow me to help, mon amour.”
He drew her hand to the handle of the blade, curled her fingers around it, and drew her close to his chest. She rocked forward on a gasping sob. Her eyes locked on the glint of the blade pressed against his bare chest.
“Look at me, Amicia.”
She stared at the droplet of dark blood beading already at the tip. She shook her head. Looking at him would only make this even more real. She was hurting him. Choosing to hurt him of her own accord, and she couldn’t be that much of a monster.
“Please.”
Slowly, she moved her gaze up the strong column of his throat to eyes that stared at her with so much love.
“You are doing the right thing,” he said. “There is no guilt here.”
“You called me the sun,” she choked out. “But it is you who will take the sun with you when you go. I cannot end your life without also taking away all the light from mine.”
“Perhaps that is your payment and your sacrifice.” He pulled her hand, forcing the blade to sink deeper into his chest. Alexandre gasped in pain, but he still stared at her with a softness in his expression.
“I don’t deserve to sacrifice any more than what I already have,” she whispered. Amicia s
lipped from the chair to kneel before him on the floor. “I know you want me to be selfless, to right all the wrongs you have done. But I choose to no longer suffer in a world that has taken everything from me. I would rather burn for all eternity than lose a single moment with you.”
Amicia tore the blade from between their fingers and threw it toward the window. It wouldn’t go far, but maybe she could convince him or run away fast enough that he couldn’t make her kill him. He couldn’t make them save her people if she didn’t want to.
The dagger hit the window and shattered it, falling into the snow with a soft thud. Shards of the remaining glass pane fell with it in a sparkling shower of pain and memories of a dying winter.
Alexandre stiffened underneath her hand laid against the wound, pressing the blood back to his skin. He stared at the window, and a frown wrinkled his brow. “You choose to let our people suffer?”
“I choose to see that sometimes forgetting who you were doesn’t mean you forget who you are.”
He swallowed hard, his throat working to release the words that tore her heart out of her chest. “Then you have found your cure, and you may go home.”
“I have no wish to go home. My people are here.” She pressed her hand harder against his chest. “You are here.”
“But you did not choose us in our hour of need.” He looked at her then, and she saw all the light had drained from his eyes. “Go home to your barren city. Perhaps the ghosts there will find more mercy at your hands than the Dread.”
“You don’t mean that.” How could he be saying these words? She thought he had felt the same and yet...
“You have no place here, Amicia. Not if you are unwilling to do what our people need you to do.”
Her stomach rolled and her heart clenched, but Amicia stood on shaking legs. If he wished her to leave, then she would. For at least now she knew he was alive. And that was better than wandering through this world knowing he was dead.
She stumbled toward the library door, the golden gown swirling around her with every movement. She paused at the doorway for a moment. Should she tell him? Should she admit all the things in her heart? That she loved him more than life itself?
Amicia looked over her shoulder and saw white wings, permanent now, draped around him where he knelt on the floor. Blood smeared the ivory feathers whose tips were dipped in gold.
He was a fallen angel too far out of her reach.
Amicia turned and raced away from the chateau. She fled across the lingering ice on the lake that surrounded the place she now considered home. And with each step, the ice cracked behind her, then gave way.
Chapter 34
Amicia had remembered the painful grasp of the forest as it clutched at her body and clothing. But she hadn’t remembered how violent it could be. Branches snapped, flying back into her face and scratching at her cheeks and neck. Twigs caught in her hair, ripped at her dress until she left bits of gold fluttering in the wind behind her.
Mud splattered the hem of her dress and squished between her toes as she ran, barefoot and sobbing, from the chateau. She didn’t care if she caught a cold. She was strong, but she didn’t care if she got sick when Alexandre’s words echoed in her head.
Not once had Amicia ever belonged there. The chateau was the home of the Dread, not of a human who wanted to change the way they saw the world.
How could she have been so foolish as to think he wanted her? The kiss had been little more than a man enjoying a woman he thought was attractive. Alexandre was King of the Dread, he was one of the Celestials, and he would have far better women at his beck and call than the lowly daughter of a tinker.
She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. She had already given him enough space in her mind. No more tears for a man who didn’t care about her.
The forest fell away from her feet, sending her tumbling down a gully. Amicia rolled over and over, mud splattering along her arms and legs. She ended up at the bottom almost as quickly as it started. One of her legs rested in the burbling stream, her dress soaked and frigid in the icy water. Sharp stones poked into her torso, digging into her ribs, stealing her breath.
Perhaps this was only more of the same bad luck she would suffer for the rest of her life. She sat up with a moan, slicking back her hair, now more mud than anything else.
For once in her life, she had been beautiful. Wearing a gown made of gold and dancing in a glorious ballroom full of dreams.
Life was having a laugh with her now. Destroying all the things that could remind her she was beautiful, even if she was just a peasant.
She lifted the edge of the gown, heavy and drenched with water and dirt. Amicia let it fall back into the stream with a wet slap.
“Now what?” she whispered. “Where am I supposed to go?”
Little Marsh was nothing more than ruins; the alchemist was right. Even if the Dread had stolen the people from the city, it would have been difficult for the city to remain functional. But she had burned the entire city to the ground. There was nothing left there for her.
Omra was always an option, but she would have to walk for at least a month to get there. No travelers would stop and offer her a ride because there were no travelers coming out of Little Marsh any longer.
She was stuck in the mud both literally and figuratively.
“What would father say?” she asked herself. “He would have some kind of plan that wouldn’t end with me becoming a bog witch and scaring any Dread who came my way with the threat of more curses.”
Although, the idea had merit. She wouldn’t mind making them afraid of her for once.
No matter what she did with her life, Amicia couldn’t stay on the ground. She’d catch a chill, and no one was around to help her through an illness.
So she rolled onto her feet, groaning at the new bruises and scrapes decorating her body. The stream had to lead somewhere. Perhaps even to the ocean she’d never seen before. Then she could try to find somewhere to end up. A place to rest her head for a few moments.
Loose stones shifted underneath her feet. The stream hadn’t been disturbed in a long time. Not even animals could find their way down here unless they fell.
She walked by a particularly large skeleton and grimaced. Eerily human, she stared into the empty eye sockets until gooseflesh popped on her arms. She didn’t want to think of what the creature might have done to her if it had been alive.
Amicia had forgotten there were more practical things to be afraid of in the woods than the Dread.
She walked for hours, perhaps even days, before she realized there was a light in front of her. The small, bouncing light might have been a will-o’-the-wisp if she had believed in them. Instead, she realized she was weaving in her steps, not the light.
Like a beacon in the middle of the ocean, it led her from the darkness and dim light of the gully to a small hut standing at the edge of a river. It stood in the dim light with a tiny dock stretching out into the river. A single lantern hung from the end of the dock, the light guiding her.
“So,” she muttered to the stream, “you get bigger.”
Much, much bigger it appeared. The river roared with so much violence and thundering water she wouldn’t ever be able to get across. Even a boat would have a difficult time managing those rapids.
The hut, in comparison, was small. Its thatch roof was well taken care of, the windows still intact, and a small candle beside the door lit the way for visitors. Amicia couldn’t see anyone moving behind the windows, but she supposed it was late.
She climbed up the two stairs to the small porch and knocked on the door. “Hello?”
Instead of an answering call, the door swung open on its own. Hinges creaked as it shifted to reveal a single dark room beyond. A small cot rested at the back, next to a fireplace stacked with wood. A table with glass containers was underneath the only window. Amicia couldn’t see what substances were in the smudged and foggy vials. Spiderwebs covered the space, dust fluttered from the ceiling at a breeze pus
hing through the hut. No one had been here for a very long time.
“But…” Amicia looked at the lit candle, the small flame flickering in the wind.
How was it possible there was light if no one was here?
She was so tired of strange occurrences like this. Amicia was her father’s daughter. She didn’t believe in magic, yet it appeared magic wanted her to believe in it.
Giving up, she strode into the hut and flinched when the door closed on its own behind her. Shoulders slumped forward with exhaustion, she relented to the world or whatever curse wanted her to listen.
“I’m here,” she said. “What do you want to show me?”
Another gust of wind, impossible in its strength, blew over the table. Two candles at either end burst to life and one of the books shifted toward her. Enough that she knew it was the one she was meant to read.
Her hands shook as she reached forward, touched a single finger to the book, and nudged it onto its side.
“Book of Spells?” she read aloud. “Surely, you jest.”
Amicia didn’t know who she was speaking to, but there was someone in this house with her. Books didn’t move on their own. Wind didn’t burst into life from nothing. There were always scientific explanations for something like this, but she couldn’t find a single one in this moment.
A hand touched her shoulder. She looked to the side, seeing nothing but still feeling each individual finger pressed against her skin.
“Are you a ghost?” she asked.
The fingers squeezed tighter, then released.
“A ghost then.” Amicia nodded and turned back to the book. “Of all the strange things that have happened to me, I suppose this is the least of the oddities.”
She stepped closer to the table and opened the book. The strange wind blew again, pushing the pages until they settled on a particular page. Another unseen hand, or perhaps the same one, moved her hand forward and touched a line.
The book was handwritten, small scribbles in the corners amending the spells that had been written many years ago. The pages were stained by tea and time, although she swore she could still smell peppermint on the paper.