by Sarah Cross
Blue remembered some of these girls. The ones who’d been nice to him. The ones he’d tried, with no success, to warn off. These girls had flitted into Felix’s life, and were soon radiant with love—but they never flitted out again.
They disappeared. And they stayed.
And then there was Mira.
Blue could barely see her through the canopy of roses that guarded her bed, a dense tangle of briars and bloodred blooms, covering her like a casket. Protecting her.
She lay perfectly still, her thick blond hair spread around her on the pillow, one hand resting on her chest, as passive and coldly beautiful as every other girl in the room. And when he reached to touch her—to claw through the briars to get to her—the branches slashed at him, pricked his skin in twenty different places, beads of his blood dripping onto her rose-print dress.
The thorns seized his arm like a trap; they wouldn’t allow him to touch her or get near her, or even to move away. No amount of struggle allowed him to free himself. And though he fought to get closer, to let his fingers hover above her lips, hoping to feel her breath, the thorns seized him and forced his arm in another direction, so that he became more deeply entangled, but no closer than before.
“Please be alive,” he whispered. “Please just be asleep.”
But there was no sign that she was either.
Felix had left her here. And Felix didn’t leave things unfinished.
He wouldn’t have left her alive.
These were the thoughts Blue kept coming back to during the hour he spent trapped in the briars. Thorny branches had tangled around his left wrist, his waist; his right arm was entirely imprisoned; thorns bit into his cheek. Blood dripped down his face, but he’d stopped feeling it. All he felt was despair, and the hopelessness of the situation.
He was staring at Mira’s lips, her chest—desperate to see some indication that she was breathing—when he heard the first solid crack against the outer door. He turned his head toward it, trying to see through the bedroom doorway, thorns raking fresh lines across his face; and he saw the outer door splinter inward, a chunk of wood stabbing into the room. Gradually, as more of the door fell away, he saw that Freddie was in the hallway, chopping through the door with Henley’s axe.
Blue gritted his teeth. Felix wouldn’t forgive the intru-sion—even if it was Freddie. What to do then? Make Freddie go away, or tell him to hurry up and get in here, so they had a chance of saving Mira—who might already be gone?
Freddie was his best friend; Blue didn’t want to see him hurt. But Freddie was also Honor-bound, and if his princess was trapped beneath a prison of thorns, possibly lost, definitely hurt, he wasn’t going to leave just because Blue told him to. That decided it.
“Hurry!” Blue yelled.
“I’m almost through!” Freddie shouted back.
It seemed to take an eternity for Freddie to bust through the door, but at last, he made a hole large enough and rushed into the suite, axe in hand, a sword buckled to his belt. He was flushed and sweating, but had a determined look on his face as he strode toward the bedroom.
A look that faltered as soon as he crossed the threshold—and saw the dead girls inside.
“Oh god,” Freddie whispered. He blinked a few times, and his eyes grew glossy and then spilled over. It was horrifying even if you expected it—even if you’d been brought up to be the same kind of monster, like Blue had. Freddie was too softhearted a hero to stand it.
“Try not to look at them,” Blue said. “I know it’s hard. I know it’s horrible. But we need to help Mira. I don’t—I don’t know if we’re too late. But we have to try. Concentrate on Mira.”
And hope she’s alive, he thought. Because if she wasn’t—if Freddie had come here to be a hero only to discover she was dead—it would destroy him.
Freddie nodded, swallowing hard. “You’re right. I will.” It took some effort, but Freddie managed to tear his gaze away from the other girls. He approached the tangle of roses carefully, hand outstretched as if to ward off a dangerous beast—
And the thorns parted for him.
The branches curled back, tightening around Blue, and created a passage for Freddie at the side of the bed, so that he could reach Mira.
Blue held his breath and watched as his friend leaned in, strong and sure and every bit the hero. He’d never envied anyone more than he envied Freddie in that moment.
They looked perfect together: Mira, beautiful and still, lips slightly parted; Freddie, fiercely protective and golden, his features strengthened by love. If she was alive, if she was okay … Freddie could kiss her, and he would never hurt her. He had a kiss that healed, that broke enchantments and led to happily-ever-after. He was marked to be good, and he never had to be afraid that he was otherwise, that he was wicked, a murderer, evil.
Blue’s kiss could only take. Could only destroy.
He was almost grateful for the thorns trapping him, keeping him in place so he couldn’t stop it from happening.
Because he wanted to be the one to kiss her.
Instead, he forced himself to speak.
“Is she breathing?” Blue asked.
“I’m not sure,” Freddie said. His voice had turned quiet, both reverent and afraid. “She’s not moving. Or if she is, it’s so slight I can’t tell. But—she’s holding on to something….”
Freddie took Mira’s hand—the one that lay atop her chest—and pried open the curled fingers, revealing something silver. And a patch of scarlet on her skin.
Blue squinted to see past the thorns that crowded his vision. “What is it?”
“It’s a razor blade,” Freddie said, sounding troubled. “On a chain. And her hand is bloody. She was—clutching a razor blade … ?” He glanced up, his eyes meeting Blue’s through the thorns. “Do you think she—would you say that’s her trigger?
Why would she wear this, if she knew what it could do to her?”
“I don’t know,” Blue said. “She was supposed to—”
She was supposed to see Delilah.
It clicked for him then. Mira had gone to see Delilah that night, at the club, to find out what her trigger was. Blue had been so disappointed that she’d left before he had a chance to see her again, he’d completely forgotten that something besides her feelings for Felix—or her feelings for him—could have sent her fleeing the club like Cinderella after midnight.
What had Delilah told her? She couldn’t have spoken of the Valentines’ curse, but she must have said something. Something that had made Mira steal his key and enter a room she’d resisted entering until now.
Evil fairies were evil through and through; they didn’t have soft spots or emotional Achilles’ heels. Delilah hadn’t asked Mira for payment—because what she wanted from her was something only Felix could provide. And the fairy had to have known Felix had begun seeing Mira; Delilah made it a point to know these things, especially about Felix, who followed his curse perfectly, and whom Delilah adored for just that reason.
Sleeping Beauty’s original curse was to prick her finger and die—but the curse was always softened by a good fairy, who altered the princess’s enchantment so she was destined to fall into a deep sleep instead. But, of course, any evil fairy worth her wickedness wanted to see the Sleeping Beauty princess die. What better way to lead Mira toward her own destruction than by somehow tempting her to enter Felix’s forbidden chamber?
Felix, who would take care of that transgression the only way he was allowed.
Blue was so furious with himself he could barely breathe.
“Damn it,” he muttered. “I should have made her wait. I should have gone with her!”
“Blue?” Freddie frowned at him. Blue could see the worry in his friend’s eyes, the uncertainty that hadn’t been there before.
Blue took a deep breath to steady himself. “Freddie, you have to kiss her.”
“If she’s dead,” Freddie began, lips trembling as he turned back toward Mira, “I … I don’t know if I should.
I’m not supposed to kiss the dead. I—I can’t even find a pulse. But … I have to try. I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t try….”
Freddie leaned in, his eyes closing, lips parting, a kiss in slow motion.
Blue tensed, every cut on his body burning anew. Every second of this was torture. Every second that he didn’t know.
The thorns gripped him fiercely, and …
Freddie kissed her.
The world trickled back slowly, in lovely increments.
Chiffon.
The scent of roses.
A kiss.
There were soft lips pressed to hers, kissing her, and Mira’s mouth fell in with the motion, as if kissing were the most natural thing in the world, akin to being alive.
Alive.
Her eyelids felt heavy. Her arms and legs felt distant, like her mind and her body were in two different places.
A hand touched her cheek, and it was so warm—almost burning her, but in a good way, infusing her with life—she didn’t ever want it to leave her. She was cold, freezing—as if someone had stolen her body heat while she was asleep.
Stolen.
Felix.
Her attempt to save herself had failed.
Her eyes jolted open, her lips fought to pry apart in a scream. She heard her blood rushing like an explosion in her head. A moan of protest came from her throat. Black clouds floated in front of her eyes, dark splotches replacing her vision. She was dying. She was dying. She’d thought something had stopped it, interrupted it—she had a vague recollection of nothingness, a murky pause—but she was wrong, she was dying again … must be …
“Mira, you’re all right, it’s all right,” a male voice hastened to say—a voice very close to her. He sounded worried and relieved all at once.
The second voice sounded weaker and farther away. “He’s gone, Mira. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“Who?” she said. It was more a breath than a word.
“Felix. Felix is gone. Freddie and I are here. We won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Blue. Freddie and Blue were here. Her heart nearly broke from relief, and she started to cry.
“I can’t see,” she whispered. She let her emotions flood her, as if the tears would wash her blindness away, like Rapunzel’s tears had cured her prince after he’d fallen from the tower, and thorns had gouged out his eyes.
She felt someone pull her up off the bed, shift her body so that she sat cradled in warm arms, against a warm body; and from his build she guessed that this was Freddie, not Blue.
“Sorry. I hope you don’t mind,” Freddie said. “I couldn’t bear to look at you like that. Lying there, as if you were …” He held her close, and she let her body sink against him. She felt him shudder. “And you’re very cold.”
Mira sat curled up in his arms, not sure for how long. Time seemed to stand still. They were all very quiet; they’d been through something traumatic, and no one knew what to say yet. From time to time, Freddie kissed her forehead or her cheek, and a little flare of heat woke her limbs, sparked some feeling in them. Her eyes began to clear, the black clouds fading to gray, the gray dissipating and leaving behind a blur, so that she could see shapes and colors, but nothing distinct; until finally, she found herself staring at Blue, who was caught in a dense tangle of briars, watching her.
She had the impression he’d been watching for a while. And when her eyes cleared, and he realized she could see him, he exhaled. His body sank down as he relaxed, and the thorn branches scraped and crackled against each other, cutting his skin. A tear slipped from his eye, and he grinned almost painfully as it ran down his cheek.
“You’re crying,” Mira said, stunned. She’d never seen him like this. Even when he’d told her the story of his sixteenth birthday.
“These thorns hurt,” Blue said, still smiling—sheepishly this time. And she laughed. He was so full of it. Freddie laughed, too—that bell-like peal. They were all laughing and crying a little, and Freddie hugged her so tightly she lost her breath for a moment—but it wasn’t a scary feeling. She felt safe with them. She knew they would never hurt her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AFTER FREDDIE CUT BLUE FREE of the thorns, the three of them headed downstairs, where the slumberers were waking up. Groggy gamblers patted their cards. Cocktail waitresses pushed themselves off gin-soaked carpets and gathered their trays. Slot players scraped coins into plastic cups, and argued over what belonged to whom. There was no sign of Felix, and Mira wanted to get out of the casino before she saw him.
Blue had warned her, before they’d left the forbidden room, that Felix didn’t leave things unfinished—his curse wouldn’t let him. He’d only left her alive because her thorns had attacked him, walled her in and protected her, and prevented him from sealing her fate.
Felix would come back for her, and for Freddie, too. And while Blue and Freddie had vowed to protect her, she knew there was only one way it could end … and she didn’t want it to end like that today.
They gathered Viv and Henley, who were waiting in the lobby—and left the Dream behind.
The five of them grabbed breakfast at a greasy diner no one they knew ever went to, and drank enough coffee to stay awake for days. When the air started to smell like burgers instead of bacon, they peeled themselves off the seats and went out to face the world. Viv and Henley went one way—and Mira, Blue, and Freddie went to Freddie’s house.
Mira knew she couldn’t go on with her vanishing act. She had to call her godmothers and confess, and she was determined to get it over with—today.
She wasn’t expecting to see her godmothers in Freddie’s backyard.
They’d gone around back in an attempt to avoid Freddie’s parents, only to run across a small gathering when they got there. Tables and chairs and croquet hoops had been arranged beneath an outdoor canopy behind the house. Glass pitchers filled with iced tea and orange slices sat sweating on the tables.
Elsa and Freddie’s mother were drinking tea and talking. Bliss was clutching a croquet mallet, her bell-shaped skirt flouncing up every time she bent to take a shot. Caspian was cheering her on, saying, “That’s it, great job!” And Freddie’s father sat by himself, smoking a pipe and reading the newspaper.
Mira froze.
“Word travels fast when one of the casinos ends up covered in briars,” Elsa was saying. “Today of all days—we figured it had to be Mira.”
Freddie’s hypersensitive mother was fanning herself with a Japanese fan, her lips pursed in a victimized expression. “I should have known he was breaking an enchantment. I heard him stumbling around the house this morning—putting on cologne at seven o’clock. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me!”
Freddie had stopped short at the sight of the gathering. Now he was motioning back the way they came, whispering, “Perhaps it’s better if we go in the front….”
But Elsa had already seen them. She caught Mira’s eye and smiled. Freddie’s mother followed her gaze and sprang up from her seat.
“Frederick!” she shouted. “How could you?”
“Ah—I’m sorry?” Freddie tried.
“Didn’t you think I might like to take a picture? You didn’t even warn me! Now all I have to look forward to is … a fish girl! And a dirty housekeeper who talks to mice!” Mrs. Knight’s voice was wobbling up and down; with every breath, she sounded closer to tears.
Caspian looked wounded. “A fish girl? Is that what you think of her?”
Mr. Knight took his pipe from his mouth long enough to say, “Boys—don’t upset your mother.”
Freddie sighed and went to make amends, and Mira headed over to Elsa and Bliss. It was time to face them. She figured they’d be angry—she’d lied to them, upset them. But they had some explaining to do, too.
It was strange to look at her godmothers and see them not just as her guardians, but as fairies—their true selves. Back home, they’d made themselves look a little older every year. But now the careful wrinkles and the silver
streaks in their hair were gone. Elsa looked like the college students she taught—brown hair still damp from a shower, wearing faded jeans and a loose white shirt. Bliss looked even younger—like a porcelain doll brought to life. And yet they blazed with a quiet power, a majesty they’d always hidden.
They looked like they were waiting for her to speak, so she did.
“I know the truth now,” Mira began. “About my parents. And my curse. Why did you lie to me? Why did you tell me they were dead?”
She caught herself, took a deep breath so she wouldn’t cry. She didn’t want to act like a child. She needed them to see that she could handle the truth—no matter what it was.
Bliss laid her croquet mallet on the grass. “Your parents didn’t want you to know they were alive, Mira. They thought you’d be safer that way. We were carrying out their wishes.”
“Come here, Belle. We know this has been hard on you.” Elsa drew up beside her, and Bliss did, too. They each put an arm around her. “Do you want to know how it happened?” Elsa asked.
Mira nodded. There was a lump in her throat.
“You did have a christening party,” Bliss said. “It was held in a beautiful ballroom in Beau Rivage—the same ballroom where your parents held their wedding reception. Your parents had been under the impression that they couldn’t have children, and so when they were blessed with you, they wanted to do something extra special to celebrate.”
“It’s a tradition in the fairy-tale community to invite fairies to a christening,” Elsa explained. “The fairies bestow gifts on the infant, in the form of talents or virtues. Usually, there are one or two fairies. Your parents invited seven.”