by Sarah Cross
“Mira, god, Mira,” he whispered. The hand not clutching her against him was in her hair, shaking now against the back of her neck, and she knew he knew. How she felt. What he meant to her. What she’d realized.
His skin was more vibrant, his eyes shining a beautiful night-sea silver in the moonlight, and she felt weak in the knees. Reckless, and happy. She’d felt her strength dissolve with every press of his lips. Every soft surrender had taken more from her, life energy slipping from her mouth to his—and it was worth it, it was all worth it. Because he’d taken a piece of her—but now she had a piece of him, too.
“You crazy liar,” he said breathlessly.
“You knew I was lying.”
“Not to—that degree.”
“Okay, so maybe I like you a little,” she said, before she dropped and his arm snapped around her to hold her up. He lowered her gently to the grass, and leaned her against him, his body strong like the trunk of the willow tree. It felt wonderful to be that close to him … and to not worry, for once, that it was wrong to want to be there.
“I’ll be okay,” she assured him. “I just need to get my strength back. Just don’t kiss me again until I get it back. It always comes back.”
“We can’t do that again,” he said.
“We can be more careful. We’ll take it slow, we’ll figure it out, and—”
“No,” he said, sighing deeply. “No, we can’t, we can’t. … Don’t ever do that again. And … shit,” he muttered. He was searching for something, fumbling; and then he laid a flat plastic card in her hand, and folded her fingers around it. “Don’t ever let me do that again,” he said. “And … don’t ever go into suite 3024 at the Dream. It’s private.”
Mira stared at him, openmouthed. His passkey was in her hand.
“You’re kidding, right? You don’t have a—a room—for …”
“You have to promise me. You can’t ever go in there.
I’m serious. I’m not playing. Promise me,” he said.
“Of course,” she said softly. “I would never.”
Blue was silent a moment. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, as if trying to make up for lost time. When she reached for his hand, he pulled away. Gently, but with a finality that made her sad.
“I want to stay,” he admitted. “I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I feel like … like I came up from being underwater, and I can finally breathe. I don’t want to stop feeling that way. That’s how I know I have to leave.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she said. “I know you wouldn’t. I know you.”
Blue shook his head. “You don’t know all of me; I don’t even know all of me. But I know that the more I’m with you, the more I want to be with you. It’s been over a year since I last—” His voice broke, and he stopped.
Mira laid her hand over his. This time, he didn’t pull away.
“I’m afraid I’ll break down,” he said. “I need what you have. How you feel. I need love like I need water or air. And I won’t take that from you. I won’t let myself.”
“So you’re leaving,” she murmured. Again. She felt like she’d already lost him once tonight—and he’d come back to her. But he wasn’t going to stay.
“I have to. It’s the only way I can make sure I’ll never hurt you.”
She’d wanted to believe that Felix was worthy of her heart. She’d made excuses for him even when he’d hurt her, lied to her. She never had to make excuses for Blue. Blue was every noble thing she’d loved, and wanted Felix to be. It killed her that she’d been so blind to that. And that, just as she realized it, she had to lose him.
It was hard for her to speak. Every word hurt.
“What if it’s worth it to me to take that chance?” she asked, knowing he wouldn’t listen, but needing to try.
“Then you don’t know what you’re risking,” he said. “I do. I know what you would lose. And nothing is worth destroying that.”
“But you’ll destroy yourself.”
He nodded. “I know this sounds weird, Mira, but I’m not really scared of dying. I’ve been preparing for it my whole life. It’s written in my tale that someone Honor-bound is supposed to kill me … and I’d rather be the person responsible for my death than become more of a villain than I already am. That can be my one heroic act,” he said with a faint smile. “The one I’m allowed.”
“Blue …”
He kissed the tips of her hair—lifted a golden lock to his lips, as if it were her hand, to bid her farewell. “Good-bye, Mira.”
He was gone.
Blue left, and she didn’t follow.
She knew that he was probably still at the party, letting his friends know he was leaving. Maybe Freddie would try to talk him out of it. Or maybe they’d all expected this: either his resistance would break, or he’d disappear. One way or another, it had to come to an end.
He was right to go. Rationally, she knew that.
Mira sat with her back against the willow tree. She felt shaky, like she needed to eat, though that wasn’t the problem. And while she knew her strength would return, there was no guarantee that she would survive every kiss, that they wouldn’t get carried away and go too far, or touch for too long. She could end up as just another girl in a forbidden room, a sleeping beauty who would never wake.
He didn’t want that for her. And she didn’t want that either. It was the wrong kind of forever. A soulless, frozen love.
Wind rustled through the trees, a hushing whisper all around her. The willow fronds quivered, shaking like her shoulders shook as she struggled not to cry.
You were never meant to be together. That’s not why you came here … that wasn’t your destiny.
She didn’t want to die in his arms. And the only way to ensure that was to stay apart.
But she also knew that if she let Blue go, he would die. Maybe not right away, but much too soon. And she couldn’t bear that.
Mira went back and forth, trying to decide what she should let him sacrifice, what she should sacrifice. … She took a deep breath, and stared up at the black, sparkling sky.
She wished one of those stars was more than just a star, capable of granting a wish. Because she would give up her supposed “lovely voice” and her “perfect dancing” and her grace and beauty and whatever else those seven fairies had promised at her christening. She would give them all up to save him.
But you couldn’t make trades. You couldn’t undo what had been done. Even in the case of Mira’s own curse, Bliss had only been able to soften …
Soften.
Maybe …
Maybe she wasn’t done fighting.
Mira’s chest swelled with a hope so immense it hurt. She was afraid to want something more and lose that, too. But she had to try.
Using the tree for balance, she pushed herself to her feet and waited for the dizziness to subside. Then she started back toward the party. Her legs felt leaden and like jelly at the same time. But she kept going. She wouldn’t give up on him.
She spotted Freddie leaning against the pool fence, arguing with Blue. She wanted to go to them, and tell Blue there might be a chance—but she couldn’t get his hopes up. Not until she was sure she could save him.
There had to be a way to save him. …
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE KNIGHTS’ HOUSE WAS DARK. The clocks read 11:29 and 11:31. Just a half hour of her birthday remained.
Mira followed the sounds of conversation to the far end of the house, where windows on both sides of the room stood open to let in a breeze. Mr. and Mrs. Knight and Elsa and Bliss were arranged in a circle of sofas and chairs. They stopped talking when Mira appeared, and looked up at her with their full attention. She felt horribly exposed.
She had to remind herself that they couldn’t see into her head. Or her heart.
“Could I speak to you guys for a minute?” Mira asked her godmothers. “Privately?”
“Sure …” Elsa said. She started to get up, and Mrs. Knight shooed her in
to her seat as she and her husband excused themselves. When the three of them were alone, Elsa asked, “What is it?”
Mira tried to look upset. “You didn’t get me anything for my birthday. It’s almost like … you forgot.”
“Of course we didn’t forget!” Bliss insisted, her doll face turning fretful.
“Well, my birthday’s today and …”
“Come here, Belle.” Elsa motioned for Mira to come closer, and she did, hoping that no one noticed the weakness in her steps. Elsa took her hand, frowning at the swollen red slashes on Mira’s fingers. “You’ve been through a lot today, haven’t you?”
Mira nodded, glad they couldn’t hear the frantic beat of her heart.
“And you came through it all right. We should celebrate. Tell us what you want,” Elsa said. The fairy’s fingers were cool against Mira’s, despite the heat.
“Could I have a wish?” Mira asked. “Like the gifts you gave me at my christening party?”
“You’re already perfect to us,” Bliss teased. “We gave you everything we could think of then. What more could you possibly want?”
“There’s a lot I want,” Mira said.
Elsa’s mouth curved into a fond smile. “All right. I’ll give you a wish. Just don’t wish for something anyone could give you, like a car.”
“I won’t,” Mira promised.
She took a deep breath, pacing herself. She was afraid to say the words aloud. To make the wish real, and find out it was impossible.
“I want you to soften Blue’s curse,” she said.
They both stared at her so blankly that, for a moment, she wasn’t sure she’d actually spoken.
“You—what?” Bliss asked.
Mira pressed forward. “I know you can’t undo it. But I want you to soften it. Like you did with mine.”
“Where is this coming from?” Elsa asked. Her expression made it clear she felt she’d been tricked.
But honestly, Mira didn’t care. They’d promised her a wish. It wasn’t her fault if their expectations were different; they’d tricked her all her life. To protect her, maybe, but this was for a good cause, too.
And now … she had to tread carefully. Blue’s curse was a secret. The only reason she knew it fully was because she’d entered Felix’s forbidden chamber. If she said too much, they’d demand to know how she knew.
“I know his curse is something bad. It’s painful to him. It’s dangerous. And I want you to make it less of those things. Whatever you can do to help, I want you to do it.”
“Mira, this is really … unorthodox,” Elsa protested.
“It’s what I want,” she said.
Until she had proof that Elsa and Bliss couldn’t do it, she’d stand her ground. She was prepared to beg, cry, make them feel guiltier than they’d felt in their lives—but she wouldn’t accept the no, absolutely not answer they’d given her so many times before.
She’d fight for him.
“I gathered that,” Elsa said. “What I want to know is why you want me to do this. Did Blue put you up to it?”
Mira shook her head. “It’s not his wish. It’s mine.”
Bliss crossed her arms and sulked for a moment. “I thought you didn’t even like Blue Valentine.”
“I don’t have to like him,” Mira said. “I’m compassionate. A fairy gifted me with kindness, remember?”
Elsa sighed. “You’re absolutely sure? Because I can’t give you a second wish if you change your mind.”
Mira nodded, her heart ready to burst. She tried to stay composed. She was afraid that if they could see how much this meant to her, they’d take it back. “I’m sure.”
“All right,” Elsa said. “Then we’d better find him before midnight.”
“Before midnight?”
Mira swallowed. The clock above the mantle read 11:47; that meant she had less than fifteen minutes to find Blue. And she didn’t even know if he was still here. “I didn’t know there was a time limit.”
“Of course there is. It’s a birthday wish. I can’t just hand them out every day.” Elsa rose from her chair; peered through the window that faced the backyard. “Where is he? By the pool?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” Mira said.
“Let’s be quick, then.”
The party guests were all crowded in or around the pool. They called to Mira when she came out, but all she cared about was finding Blue. Her eyes did a quick search of the pool area and came up empty. He’d been there when she’d gone into the house. But now he was gone.
Mira felt like a fist had been jammed into her stomach.
“I don’t think he’s here, Mira,” Elsa said. “I know you wanted to do something good for someone … but how about a wish for you?”
Mira shook her head, refusing to accept it.
“I’ll find him,” she insisted.
Freddie stood on the concrete patio beside the pool. His sword belt was buckled over his swim trunks, and he was talking to Layla, who was perched on the edge of a picnic table, her beach towel wrapped tightly around her torso like a minidress.
Mira hurried toward them. “Freddie!” she cried.
Freddie’s head jerked up. He knew her voice well enough to recognize when something was wrong. “Mira?”
“Do you know where Blue is? Can you get him for me? Please?”
“Frederick,” Bliss said. “Do you always bring a sword to a pool party? You are familiar with the concept of rust, I hope.”
“I—yes, of course,” Freddie said, looking as if he wasn’t sure whom to answer first, but deferring to the fairy out of respect for his magical elders. “I have it in case there’s trouble, and I need to decapitate Fel—er, someone. Anyone, rather. Anyone in need of decapitation.”
“Frederick, that is very disturbing,” Bliss said. “I do hope you’re joking.”
“Where’s Blue?” Mira shouted.
Freddie blinked at her, shaken. “He … left. I thought he told you.”
“Apparently not,” Elsa said. “We’re looking for him.”
“We have to find him before midnight,” Mira filled in.
“I can call him….” Freddie turned and started toward the house, looking slightly disoriented—of course he had his sword at the party, but not his phone—and mouthed what’s going on? to Mira. She didn’t have time to answer; she just waved her hands in what she hoped was a hurry gesture, and did some extra pleading with her eyes, until he took off running. She glanced around quickly to see if anyone else had a cell phone, but they’d all left their belongings in the house.
“Even a car would be better,” Bliss said. “You could wish for a really exclusive car.”
“You’re making a wish?” Layla asked, perking up.
“Trying to,” Mira said. “For Blue.”
“I didn’t know that was permissible,” Layla said.
“It usually isn’t,” Elsa said. “But Mira’s our girl, and sixteen is an important birthday. So I can make it work. But mid-night’s the cutoff.”
“Oh,” Layla said, growing quiet. There was barely any time left.
“Eleven fifty-four,” Elsa said. “Sweetie, I don’t think he’s going to make it. Why don’t you make another wish, just in case?”
“Animal magnetism,” Bliss suggested. “Or serenity.”
“I don’t want anything else,” Mira said.
Time kept passing. The world kept turning.
The clock inched closer to midnight.
Mira glanced at the house, twisting her hands, wondering what was taking Freddie so long. Any other time, she would have gone after Blue herself. But she didn’t have the strength, she didn’t know where he was, she wouldn’t get to him fast enough. “What time is it?”
Elsa laid her hand on Mira’s shoulder. “Eleven fifty-eight. He’s not coming, Belle. Make your peace with it.”
Things could have been better. Blue could have had a chance. She’d come so close, only to end up with nothing.
She shrugged away from
Elsa; turned her back to her godmothers in case she started crying. She didn’t want them to see her fall apart. She clung to the razor-blade necklace, and she brought the flat of the blade to her lips, shivering as she did. It smelled metallic, like steel and blood. She kissed it where Blue had kissed it.
She locked him away in her memory. That was where he would have to stay.
If he couldn’t get here by midnight, it was better that he didn’t come at all. She’d have nothing for him then—nothing that could change things, nothing that would save him. And she couldn’t bear to watch him leave a third time.
She started toward the house to tell Freddie not to bother.
Tears streamed down her cheeks and she rubbed them away with fingers that stung with salt, sweaty from when Blue had gripped them in his. She was barely paying attention to where she was going, too busy wiping eyes that kept clouding with tears—when someone seized her arms. Hard. She choked out a cry.
It was Blue—staring at her intently, his gaze demanding something. His palms were slick against her skin. The front of his shirt was damp. He’d run through the heat to get here.
“What is it?” he asked. “Freddie called me. He said something was wrong. That you needed—me.” His voice grew lower, softer. “What do you need, Mira? Tell me.”
“I need you to be okay,” she whispered.
And as she said it, she heard the first somber bong of a church bell tolling the hour—the first of twelve.
Tonight was shifting into tomorrow. Midnight was descending, and Mira’s birthday was at an end.
She thought the second bell would steal her breath, the third would stop her heart—and the twelfth would kill her. The bells were long, each tone stretching out over seconds, their solemn music lingering like they were signaling a death, not a new day.
But at the third bell, someone separated her from Blue. It was Bliss.