The Heart Between Kingdoms

by Mary Dublin

  "He followed," Brennan said. Esmae would have expected utter hatred to burn in his eyes as he stared at the witch, but his gaze was fleeting and broken. He was tense, ready to dart back if necessary. A fresh sob built in Esmae's throat at the thought of how long he had been held captive by this monster.

  The smile that broke out on the witch's face made Esmae desperate to either attack or flee, but she could do neither.

  "Just as I assured he would," the witch said. She almost looked younger with the power shimmering around her, but the malevolence in her eyes was as ancient as ever. Hardly a leaf or twig rustled as she swept closer. Brennan's arms tensed around Esmae, but the witch made no move to lash out. She merely looked at Esmae as if greeting an old friend. "The prince doesn't want his favorite little plaything escaping, now does he, my dear?"

  Esmae's fingers dug into Brennan's collar. "I am not his plaything! He's kind and selfless, and you wouldn't know the first thing about it!"

  The witch was unfazed. "I know all about selflessness, as a matter of fact. It's what made you turn down my offer last night. It's what brought your sweet friend and your prince to me, as well."

  She huffed out sharply, willing herself to come to full alertness. "Brennan had nothing to do with this. Neither of them did!"

  "And yet, they both come to me by choice." The witch met Esmae's scowl with a kindly smile. "Brennan followed you on his own the night of your contract, did he not? And now Daniel does the same. You may want to reconsider who the fault lies with."

  Esmae's insides twisted, finding a vein of truth in the witch's words. Before she could snap back, the sound of footsteps closed in. She went rigid, heart leaping to her throat. He was there. He had come all the way.

  In her panic, Esmae couldn't stop the words from tearing out. "Daniel, run! Please, I'm safe! It's you she wants!" Even as Brennan lurched back, shushing her frantically, she writhed and shouted, "You promised me you'd stay out of the forest! You promised me!"

  Daniel seemed rooted in place, the blood draining from his face. His tidy curls were disheveled, a sheen of sweat in his brow. He looked wildly from one fairy to the other—and then the witch.

  In seconds, his bow was in his hands.

  "You," he snarled. "You did this to her."

  Even as the arrowhead aimed for her, the witch's excitement was palpable.

  "Daniel of Mirrel," the old woman breathed. Her thin lips curved in a derisive smile. "I've heard much about you. What an honor it is to meet you, Your Highness."

  "Don't toy with me," Daniel snapped. "The fairies. Release them to me."

  The witch cocked her head, that sickening smile making the deep lines on her face mush together. "Greedy, are we?" She folded her hands before her, silently placing herself in front of Brennan. She only had to lift a hand towards the small pair for Daniel stalk closer, menacing.

  "Not another move."

  Ignoring him, the witch stroked a fingernail along Esmae's arm like she was admiring a fine fur. Esmae grimaced and huddled deeper into Brennan's chest, wishing she could disappear entirely.

  "Such inspiring bravery," the old woman whispered at her.

  Wire and wood strained as the prince white-knuckled his weapon. "I won't ask a second time. Move again and you'll get a bolt through your eye."

  The witch didn't so much as glance at him, though Esmae could see the gleam in her eye as she chuckled. "I'm sure you do not want to try that."

  Brennan scowled and inched backwards in the air. "Stop touching her," he hissed.

  The gnarled finger responded by moving to brush along Esmae's tangled hair. Before Esmae could even shiver in disgust, a twang pierced through the air. In the same instant, the witch shot her hand away from Esmae and made a strange gesture at the arrow. Power rippled all around. Without speaking a word, she altered the trajectory—right for the fairies.

  Esmae didn't have time to scream as wind whipped around her. Daniel gave a shout, but nothing happened. Breathing heavily, she peeked over Brennan's shoulder to find he had twisted around in mid-air to shield her—not that it would have done any good against the arrow.

  But the arrow was suspended in the air, a bare inch from Brennan's buzzing wings.

  The witch clenched a fist at empty air, and the bolt disintegrated into splinters, sprinkling to the ground along with the arrowhead.

  Daniel's wide eyes met Esmae's, and she mouthed run desperately, though if he could discern the miniscule movement, he did not heed her. Years of practice had made him reflexive. Already, he had another arrow between his fingers, but he made no move to nock it.

  "Now I believe we understand each other," the witch said. "I don't take kindly to weapons in my forest, Your Highness—even a toy like that. Fire again, and you'll impale these lovely fae to a tree."

  "Enough of this," Brennan interjected. "I've followed through with my end of the contract. He's here. Heal my curse, and allow me and Esmae to pass through."

  The witch turned her beady eyes back to the fairies. "Of course. The contract is honored."

  Brennan's glare faltered, and his expression twisted with pain. His hold on Esmae trembled and she locked her arms around his neck to secure herself. She looked him in the face, trying to catch his eye.

  "B-Brennan?"

  He heaved a gasp, focusing on the witch. "Y-you said—"

  "The ailment is cured," she interrupted breezily. "We never agreed upon healing the damage already done. You're free to go."

  But Brennan was already sinking slowly out of the air as he tried to get some distance from the witch. Esmae clung hard to him, trying to keep him alert. "Brennan? Stay awake! Do you hear me? Just stay awake!" He blinked hard and nodded, but speaking seemed to be too much for him.

  As the ground drew closer, Esmae looked back at the sound of the witch's voice as she addressed Daniel. "Now, where were we?"

  "What did you do to him?" the prince demanded.

  "It would be wiser to worry about yourself this once, believe me."

  Having staggered closer to the fallen fairies, the prince stopped in his tracks as the witch raised a gnarled finger in his direction. His hand on the bow twitched.

  "You expect me to hand myself over peacefully?"

  "I rather hoped you might. I'd prefer not to spill your blood prematurely." The witch swept her cloak back to ensure he had a clear view of the fairies on the ground. "Or anyone else's."

  She waved her hand over the earth. The dirt roiled immediately. Thin, black roots sprouted and slithered across the ground toward the fallen fairies. Esmae scrambled to her feet amidst twigs and fallen leaves, trying to pull Brennan along with her. This movement only agitated his injury. Barely conscious, he moaned and cradled his midsection.

  The roots came for them as she clung to Brennan's body. One slithered around her ankle and tore her off him with ungodly speed, yanking her through the mud as she screamed. The ground shook with more roots and the sheer volume of Daniel's voice.

  "Let her go!" he boomed.

  "Drop your weapon," the witch countered.

  Esmae's vision blurred as a second root tightened around her neck, slamming her onto her back. Faint grunts of effort turned to shallow gasps of air in mere seconds. She was shocked to see Daniel's eyes were glistening when she focused high enough on his face. It didn't take any further coaxing before the bow was on the ground along with his quiver of remaining arrows. Immediately, breathing became easier. Esmae coughed violently and wriggled anew, desperate to find leeway. He was too kind for his own good.

  "You like deals," Daniel's voice came again. She didn't like the look on his face as he held his hands up in surrender towards the hag. "I want a contract of my own."

  "Let me guess. Your life in exchange for hers?"

  The prince looked positively queasy as he nodded. "With conditions. If I hand myself over, I want their safety ensured. Both of them. All ailments healed fully. Her wings returned."

  Daniel stepped closer, towering over the witch with hat
e in his eyes. "And a guarantee that you'll not touch Esmae again for the rest of your miserable life."

  "A politician, through and through." The old woman shook her head, looking him over like a specimen. Her smile was strained, touched by that same hunger she'd worn when Esmae had come calling, looking for forbidden aid.

  "I consent to your terms." She held out her hand. "Do we have a contract, Your Highness?"

  "No!" Esmae clawed viciously at the root around her neck, bucking against the thicker one around her waist. The restraints tightened in response.

  "Don't fret, Princess," the witch said, though she did not tear her gaze away from Daniel. "You can still see your precious prince until the end of your days. He will stay forever youthful, safe with me. Although… I doubt he'll be in any state for talking."

  Esmae faltered in horror, then looked to Daniel desperately. "Don't!" she begged. "You don't have to do this!"

  He shook his head. There was anguish in his eyes as he looked her prone form up and down. As if the sight of her in pain was worse than what the witch had in store for him. "This is my choice."

  "You're making the wrong one!" Tears leaked over the smeared mud on her cheeks. "You and Brennan have suffered enough because of me. Please. I'll never forgive myself."

  Daniel hesitated, and that was enough for the witch to become impatient. Her hand snapped up to grab his jaw and force him to face her again.

  Something hot ignited in Esmae's core, burning all the way to her fingertips. She writhed anew, but the roots were relentless. This time, she didn't stop. She didn't scream, she didn't protest. She fought and she clawed.

  "I'm being quite generous with these terms, Your Highness," the hag snarled as Daniel wrenched away from her touch. "Do we have a contract?"

  Esmae gulped a lung-searing breath and concentrated on the faint magic that was still hers. There wasn't much, but Esmae didn't allow such weakness. She focused until her head pounded. Finally, the roots incinerated, dissolving into ash. She heaved herself to her feet and kept a hold on her magic, desperate not to allow the meager energy to slip through the cracks of her mind.

  With a wordless cry, Esmae threw her hands upward. Before the witch could turn her full attention to the ground, the left side of her cloak writhed with flames that swiftly spread to her arm, her shoulder, her neck, the side of her face.

  An unearthly howl of pain made Esmae's ears ring, but her senses were already fading. She dropped her arms and sank to the ground, gasping for air more desperately than when she was being strangled.

  Through blurring vision, she could see the witch doubled over, frantically casting a spell to quell the flames. Even when the fire was ousted, the entire right side of her body was reduced to bloody welts peeking through burnt rags. She cradled her bleeding hand, whispering a spell to close the deepest cuts.

  "That's enough!" she roared, whirling manically on Esmae. The witch raised both hands to the sky in a clawing motion, making the earth roil with more roots. Neighboring trees groaned as if they too were pulled by the motion. The roots appeared more sinister than before—sharpened like spears and dark as night.

  Esmae could only stare in horror as the knife-like tips poised above her like cobras. It was like watching a nightmare through someone else's eyes. The certainty of death didn't quite hit her until the witch clawed her hands downward with a cry and all those lethal strands came plummeting towards her.

  Seconds before they hit, the entire world vanished from sight. The earth shook as something massive crashed before her, surrounding her in darkness. She couldn't be dead, because she was still struggling to breath. And it was warm.

  A choking shudder rippled around her.

  Esmae forced herself to her hands and knees, crawling for the small bit of light she could see. "No," she breathed as the shuddering noises deepened. She crawled into the open, tugging at her dress as the hem snagged on leaves and twigs.

  She whirled around when she was free of the warm enclosure, her throat closing up immediately.

  Daniel rolled onto his side, keeping himself between Esmae and the witch. The roots were motionless, arching overhead with the ends impaled into his back. Esmae scrambled to her feet to reach his face, murmuring unintelligibly and searching in all directions, as if she would find a way to reverse time and stop him from doing what he did.

  Farther away, she locked eyes with Brennan, but he didn't have the capacity to do more than observe in horror.

  "Daniel…" Esmae touched him between the eyes, willing him to stay awake. In her peripherals, one of his shaking hands approached.

  The witch growled with distaste, still gasping heavily from Esmae's attack. Daniel loosed a deafening shout of pain as the roots ripped back out of his body.

  And then, time seemed to stop.

  Esmae couldn't see his back, but something deep within made her aware of every drop of blood that from the gaping wound, staining his clothing, running down his skin, pooling onto the cold ground.

  A sharp ache erupted at her core and had her staggering backwards until she could no longer hold herself up. She sank to her side, writhing. The sensation was familiar, but she was too lightheaded to place it.

  It didn't matter. The roots would come down at her at any moment, and no one would be there to save her.

  Except the roots didn't move.

  "Not possible," she heard the witch say. "It's mine. No… no!"

  Through bleary vision, Esmae watched with confusion as the roots withered and fell harmlessly to the ground, as if the witch no longer had the strength to manipulate them to her will.

  Simultaneously, an unseen force was filling Esmae. It wasn't hers to control, and it seemed to have a will of its own, but it was filling her all the same. Her eyes fluttered, and the world spun. Deeper aches and pains shot through her. She curled into herself, refusing to lose consciousness.

  There was no peace to be found, no matter how she tried to block out the world. The witch was determined not to leave empty handed. She was manic now, tromping through the fallen roots and pouncing on Esmae with hands that clawed at her hair, her clothes, her legs.

  "Give it back!" she screeched. "Give it back!" Over and over again until Esmae's ears rang with the fear and hatred of the desperate old woman.

  Somewhere while weakly shielding her face, it dawned on Esmae that she was able to push back. Her eyes fluttered open. She could see the confusion, the horror on the woman's face clearly now—no longer a giant towering high above.

  That's impossible.

  She cried out as her hair was yanked hard at the scalp, threatening to drag her along the ground.

  "Leave me alone!" she pleaded in a hoarse voice. Esmae flung out a hand. Some of that strange power surged out from her palm. It hit the witch like a blast of thunder, throwing her onto her back.

  Esmae struggled to sit up, looking down at herself. The world had changed in a matter of moments. Human. She was human again. But she was still defenseless, that strange magic having run its course. As the witch arose, Esmae shuffled back against the trunk of the nearest tree. At this size, it gave her no shelter. There was nowhere to hide.

  "You'll pay for that," the witch snarled, her voice sounding more like a toad's all the while. "I've had enough of your interference. You'll be the size of a flea by the time I'm done with you!"

  She threw off her tattered cloak and raised her hands before her in a menacing motion. Esmae braced herself, hands groping over twigs and rocks—anything to protect her.

  It happened too fast to comprehend—all at once, the witch's eyes bugged wide, a shadow lunging at her from behind. She convulsed, limbs flailing in feeble attempted to drive out the weapon. Past her agonized expression, Daniel was stood behind her, digging a dagger into the back of her neck.

  Weak spells flew from her fingertips as she gasped like a hooked fish. The prince seized her shoulder, pulling her deeper onto the knife. Teeth bared, he twisted the blade until there was a sickening crunch of vertebrae bein
g snapped. The witch went limp. When Daniel tore the dagger out, she slumped like a felled tree.

  Chapter

  Eleven

  In the new quiet, all that could be heard was blood dripping from the dagger clutched in Daniel's hand, his ragged breathing, and the wind stirring leaves around their feet. The prince teetered where he stood, his free hand clutched over his stomach. Even that movement was too much. Knife slipping from his fingers, Daniel buckled and sank to the ground.

  Esmae lurched to her hands and knees. As the aura of magic dissipated from the air, part of her expected she would be reduced back to her natural size. But the world remained at its too-small size, and she didn't have time to wonder what on earth had caused her to transform.

  "Daniel?"

  Just beyond the witch's corpse, he shifted and hissed in pain. Even in the darkness, it was all too clear how pale he had become in such a short time. The image of the roots digging into his body was seared into Esmae's mind.

  "Hang on," she croaked, searching the ground around her frantically. "Just hang on."

  She let out a small whimper of relief when she spotted a small figure amongst the dead leaves and gnarled roots several feet away. As much as her scalp throbbed, she was glad the witch had yanked her in the opposite direction of Brennan's fallen form.

  Her limbs were leaden as she crawled over to her friend. It was astonishing, seeing him at that size, but she focused on searching for a sign that he was still breathing. Dread filled her. His eyes were shut, and she couldn't be sure that his chest was moving. A large stain of blood covered his abdomen.

  "Come on, Brennan…" She held the back of her shaking hand over him, sighing when she felt a tiny breath of air dust over her skin. It was weak and shaky, but it was there.

  The ground was ice cold. She couldn't possibly leave him there to freeze. Her nerves almost got the best of her, but she forced her hand to stay steady as she nudged her fingers beneath him. She gingerly adjusted him onto her palm with her other hand, pulling it away abruptly when he gave a moan of protest.