by Lish McBride
Tevin crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “Worked out pretty good for you at the end, didn’t it? You’re happy now, right?”
“Happy? I have claws and a prehensile tail!” She was shouting now, her finger still jabbing into his chest. “I ate a chicken. Raw. I tore the coop up with my bare hands. I destroy perfectly good bedding sets.”
“So you had a bad run. So what? You think you’re alone in that?” Tevin moved back into her space. “My mother traded me, Merit. I have to keep my clothes pristine because next week our luck might be down and I’ll have to sell them. I have to use my gift again and again to manipulate people, whether I want to or not, because I’m afraid of what will happen if I tell my parents no,” he shouted back, then paused, temporarily at a loss for words, clearly surprised he’d shared so much. “And your prehensile tail is really useful! I’ve seen you carry stuff with it.”
“That doesn’t mean I want it!” She curled her fist, afraid that the next poke would be a harder shove. “I can’t go into the city without a veil. I can’t wear gloves, and if I’m not careful, I crush my teacups.” She stepped back, turning away from him. She couldn’t look at him. “Do you know what it feels like to have your heart shatter into a thousand pieces and still wish you could see him one more time? No farewells. No chance to ask if it was all lies. Did he even care about me a fraction? Did I enter into his emotional equation at all?” She rubbed her eyes, furious at herself for crying, or for saying as much as she had.
He followed her. “Well, I’m really sorry!” For a second he softened, his hand reaching out before he yanked it back. “Merit, the best lies, they have truth in them. But if he didn’t mean a single word, that’s not on you. That’s on him. You were desperate for any way out—if your mother had just listened.” He grabbed the back of his neck, letting out a whoosh of air. “Who curses their own children, Merit?”
She threw her hands up. “Oh, like your parents wouldn’t do the same thing if it would make them a quick coin? Like your gift is so great? You like me because I argue with you. So don’t you dare judge my mother. That’s my job. She was desperate—”
Tevin laughed. “Oh, I know all about desperate.”
Ellery peeked into the room. “I just wanted to see if everything is okay—”
Their heads snapped to the side to glare at the healer.
“Never mind.” Ellery closed the door with a decisive click.
Merit whirled around to face him. “I can’t believe you kissed me!” She felt hot now, her anger boiling away the logic she’d been trying to protect herself with. All she wanted to do was rage, and since she didn’t want to hurt Tevin, she grabbed the nearest teacup and hurled it against the wall behind him. He dipped to the side, and the porcelain shattered in a way that Merit found really satisfying.
“I just told you I was engaged,” Merit yelled. “To be married. We’ve been together days and days, and you pick now?” She threw another cup. It felt good, so she threw the saucer, too. “You knew how important this was to me! I’m this close to ending this curse, getting a chance to be me again, getting a chance to mend things with my mother. What if Latimer saw? What if he calls off the engagement?” She reached for another cup, but it was too far away. Tevin leaned over the table and nudged it closer.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She threw the cup. “I lost two engagements in a single day when I was fifteen, and what small relationship I’d had with my mother disintegrated to shreds.”
“Merit, you can’t blame me for that.” Tevin shoved his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t even know you then.”
“But you knew about it, and now you’re making it worse! You were supposed to be the one person on my side! The one here for me.” Merit had reached the platter of tiny cakes and seized one, hurling it at Tevin. He didn’t even bother to dodge, so the frosting and cake splattered against his chest. “Well, I’m tired of blaming my mother, tired of being so broken! I’m cursed because of myself. I made foolish choices. I didn’t listen.” She threw several cakes in a row, causing tiny explosions of sponge and frosting all over his torso. It was strangely satisfying.
“Merit—”
“No,” she yelled, throwing another tiny cake. “We have to put away what we want and do what we must. That’s what growing up means, Tevin.” Her voice cracked. “Responsibility. I picked a man my mother chose.” She sucked in a breath. “I didn’t have any other options.”
Tevin paled, his jaw so tight she could see the delineation of the muscles. Silence spread out as they stared at each other.
Merit turned, only to find the cake stand empty. She closed her eyes. She would not cry again. “We have to be responsible.” She picked up the tiered cake holder and threw it. It crashed against the wall, crumpling into a heap. She threw the plates next, followed by the Danishes. It was only Tevin’s warning that stopped her from reaching for the teapot.
Merit blinked, coming back to herself. The drawing room was an absolute disaster. Broken teacups and smashed desserts were everywhere. Merit stretched out her very human-looking hands. Where was the division? She might not have looked it, but she was cursed, even now. The beast was who she was.
Tevin reached for her. “Merit—”
She pushed his hand away. “No.” The word came out resolute but soft, her throat sore from yelling. “It’s over. Go. Get out!” When he didn’t move, she brushed past him. “Go home, Tevin DuMont. Pack up your family and leave. I do not want you anywhere near me.”
And with that, she turned, hiking up her skirts and moving swiftly around shards of porcelain and globs of cake. She opened the door with shaking hands and stepped through, not bothering to look back.
CHAPTER 24
SORRY, YOUR MIRROR IS OUT OF ORDER
Tevin wasn’t in the best mood. In fact, he felt like someone had scooped out his insides and filled in the space with jagged pieces of glass. It hurt to even move. Amaury and Val had gone to get train tickets—he didn’t want to know exactly where Amaury had scraped up the money from. He didn’t care. If a comet fell out of the sky at this moment, hurtling directly at him, he wouldn’t even look up. He’d volunteered to mirror his parents to explain that they were coming home, because why not? There was a certain misery point that was like absolute zero—you were already at your lowest, so why not just pile more on? It wasn’t like he could feel any worse.
The closest train station was a few miles from Cravan House, in a local town called Fladger’s Drift. They hadn’t bothered to even get their trunks, just packed what they could carry and walked. Amaury and Val had tried to talk to him, but he refused. What was there to discuss? Merit wanted him gone, end of story. Eventually, they’d given up and dashed to get their own things, as if afraid he would walk away without them. No way was Tevin waiting around to ask anyone for the use of a hack or to sort out travel details. Merit had been the only reason any of the fairyborn had been tolerating them, and with her welcome removed, Tevin knew from experience that the quicker they fled, the better. Besides, the idea of sitting through any sort of engagement celebration made him want to throw up.
Tevin ducked into a tavern, the Dog & Sparrow, looking for a local pay mirror. A town like this, most people wouldn’t have the coin for their own. The tavern’s pay mirror was in a dingy back room that doubled as a storage closet. The walls were thick, blocking out the noise from the people making merry. He tapped the mirror, putting in the code the barkeep had given him when he handed over his copper.
After a few minutes, Brouchard’s face filled the screen. “Tevin, my boy. Aren’t you a sight.”
Tevin automatically took apart the greeting, scanning it for hidden meanings and criticisms. His parents never just said something. There was always a layer. This greeting meant to remind Tevin who was in charge, for though “my boy” could be an endearment, it also connoted ownership. Brouc
hard had also left out any sort of positive descriptors in the second part, meaning that the sight wasn’t a good one.
He was definitely looking worse for wear after his fight with Merit. For a second, he contemplated telling his father that he’d almost drowned in a river yesterday but decided against it. What would be the point? Parental concern? Comfort? He’d get eaten by a pack of escaped circus bears before getting those things. Tevin responded the only way he could—by ignoring what his father had said. “We’re coming home.”
Brouchard sat back in his chair, legs crossed, his chin resting on his index finger, the rest of his fingers fanned out against his cheek. It was a calculated look, relaxed but also slightly dismissive. As a child, Tevin would have rushed to fill the silence, to do anything to get his father to shift from that expression to one of even the mildest approval. Last week he might have done it. Now he simply waited his father out.
“That’s it? You’re coming home?” Brouchard heaved a sigh. Tevin could almost feel the disappointment through the mirror. “Empty-handed, I bet. At least I can trust your brother to bring us some leads we can work with.”
For a fleeting second, Tevin imagined siccing Willa and Diadora on Brouchard. They would eat him alive. “Is it safe to go to the house in Grenveil yet? Amaury mentioned something about anxious creditors.”
“Oh, we found enough coin to tide them over.” Brouchard extended an arm along the back of the settee, his fingers idly tracing the woodwork. “We used the money you had hidden in your trunk.”
Tevin wasn’t surprised, but he still felt a stab of disappointment. Just once, he wanted to be wrong about his parents. “You stole my money?”
Brouchard tsked. “Stole is a nasty word, Tevin. We needed to consolidate. For the good of the family. For the good of you, it turns out, since you’re coming home hat in hand.”
Tevin didn’t know what to say. How do you even respond to such a thing? Did he expect him to say, Thanks for having the foresight to steal from me so that I can go home and be besieged for your debts? He probably did.
“Anyway, see you soon. Kisses from your mother, and so on.” Brouchard nodded and signed off, leaving Tevin in the claustrophobic closet with a blank mirror. He stood there a moment, letting it all bubble up until he overflowed. Tevin slammed his fist into the enchanted mage glass, fracturing the mirror and slicing open his knuckles in the process. Then he dropped his head into his hands, giving himself ten seconds to roll around in the pain. That was all he got, and then he’d have to pull himself together.
Someone banged on the door, rattling the knob, which Tevin had locked. “Hey! You done in there?” The voice was slurred, the man too far in his cups to mirror anyone. “I need to holler at my girl! Tell her I love her.” The man pounded his fist on the door again. Tevin calmly pulled out his handkerchief, folded it into a long strip, and wrapped it around his knuckles. He unlocked the door, letting the drunk man topple in.
“You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid,” Tevin said, waving at the fractured, blood-smeared magic mirror. “Doesn’t seem to be working.”
“How am I supposed to tell her how I feel?” The man swayed on his feet.
Tevin steadied him. “In the morning, clean yourself up. Go to her house with flowers and tell her everything in your heart. Don’t mirror her while you’re too drunk to stand. No one wants that.” Tevin clapped him on the shoulder and went back into the tavern’s main room, leaving the man staring in owl-eyed confusion at the dead mirror.
He jammed his hand into his pocket so no one would see the bandage. When he walked out into the main part of the tavern, he was surprised to find Glendon at a table, talking to one of the last people Tevin wanted to see, Lady Zarla.
Glendon raised a hand in greeting, beckoning him to join them, making Tevin think they hadn’t heard the news from the house. Why not join them? He had the time. Today was already a layer cake of awful, so why not put a cherry on top?
He dropped into the chair. “If you keep me here, you’re going to have to pay the barkeep for a broken magic mirror.”
“Are you okay?” Glendon asked, genuine concern in his voice.
Tevin waved him off. “I’m fine.” He liked Glendon. It was too bad he was never going to see him again.
Lady Zarla went to speak, but Glendon, gauging from Tevin’s mood that things were obviously not fine, tried to stop her. “Whatever you need to say, it can wait, Zarla.”
Lady Zarla scowled at him. “I’ll say my piece, Glendon.”
He sighed. “For once, Zarla, don’t do anything you’re going to regret.” She glared at him until he left, heading for the barkeep to discuss the mirror. “Good luck, Tevin.”
“Thanks, Glendon. You’re all right.” He turned back around to face Merit’s mother, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s a solid fellow, milady.”
Lady Zarla ignored him and dropped a small purse onto the table. It jangled when it dropped, leaving Tevin no doubt what was inside.
“I know you have a deal with my daughter, but I’d like you to vanish. Leave. I’ve spoken to Latimer, and while he’s made his intentions clear, he also has some concern about Merit’s time with you. I don’t want you to ruin this for her. Not when she’s this close to having the future she deserves.”
He reached over and took the bag, pulling the strings until it opened. Gold glinted up at him. A small fortune in monarchs. He wouldn’t have to go home empty-handed. Wouldn’t have to worry about bills or food or his parents for at least a month or two. All he had to do was take the bag. There was a sweet irony to Lady Zarla bribing him to do what he was already doing.
Tevin couldn’t help it—he laughed. He was getting exactly what he’d wished for and couldn’t take a single coin because Merit would find out and it would hurt her. He laughed so hard his sides ached. The longer it went on, the more irritated Lady Zarla got, which made him laugh even more. Finally he slowed down, wiping tears from his eyes. “Oh, I needed that. Thank you, milady.” He stood. “It was a pleasure to meet you, but I really must be going.”
Lady Zarla frowned. “Aren’t you going to take the money?”
“You can keep it for the ferryman in the underworld,” Tevin said, tipping his hat. “Milady.” And then he left, not even bothering to look back.
Tevin started walking to the train station, the throb in his hand echoing the steady beat of his heart.
* * *
• • •
They were back on the train, a first-class compartment all to themselves. There had been other people in it, but Tevin had asked them all politely to leave, and of course they had. He pressed himself into the soft leather seats, his body rigid, his hands white-knuckled on the armrests. All around him were the hum of the train and the murmur of Amaury’s and Val’s voices as they played cards. Each mile the train whipped past took them farther away from Merit and made Tevin more miserable.
“I’m so sorry,” Tevin gritted through his teeth. “I screwed up.”
“You did fine.” Amaury rearranged the cards in his hand.
“He’s right,” Val said, organizing her own cards. “Even though I’m thoroughly heartbroken over the result. I barely got to know Kaiya, and I didn’t even say goodbye. We ran out like our tail feathers were on fire, and I missed a golden opportunity to ride stoically out into the sunset, thus impressing my lady love.”
“Distance makes the heart grow fonder?”
“That is the biggest load of horse puckey you’ve ever shoveled, Tevin DuMont.” Val threw down her cards in disgust. “Distance doesn’t do a blasted thing except make it easier to forget all about me. Distance is the enemy. In a week it will be, ‘Val who?’ ”
“You’re not that easy to forget, Val, trust me,” Tevin said while Amaury said, “Val who?” at the same time. Val smacked him in the arm.
“I really am sorry I got us chucked out. I didn’
t exactly want to leave, either.”
“I wonder if she’ll go with Merit when she marries,” Val said, staring down at her boots. “How am I going to court her from another country?”
Tevin dropped his head into his hands, wincing when his makeshift bandage pulled tight.
Val threw an arm around his neck and squeezed him to her hard.
“Your love is aggressive and painful,” Tevin said, but he didn’t push her away.
“I liked Merit.” Amaury carefully folded his hand before picking up Val’s cards off the floor and stacking them neatly together. “Didn’t like the Smug Prince. Even the ostrich would have been better.”
“It’s done.” Tevin paused, swallowing hard as the train took a turn. He would not throw up. “Soon her curse will be broken, and she’ll be married and happy.” He pushed his palms against his eyelids. “I can’t believe I turned down Lady Zarla’s money. Amaury, you must hate me.”
Amaury snorted. “I would have thrown it onto the floor, causing a bar fight, then snuck out and left her to deal with the repair costs.”
Tevin dropped his hands. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because I’m the brains.” Amaury tapped the side of his head. He gathered up the deck of cards from the small table attached to the window and handed it to Val. The green of the countryside whipped past behind him, making Tevin’s gorge rise. Someone in another car was smoking a cigar, and the smell wasn’t helping his nausea.
Val flicked her eyes at Amaury as she shuffled. “Lucky Merit, or should I say Princess Merit? Married happily to the handsome Latimer of Huldre. Walks on the beach. Holding hands. Lots of kissing. The most kissing. I wonder how many children they’ll have?”
