by Sarah Cross
“I bet they had to pay the party planner a zillion dollars to find that many,” Bliss said.
Elsa nodded in agreement. “When it came time for the fairies to bestow their gifts, we went down the line in order of seniority. It was deemed that you would be pretty, and kind, have a lovely voice, be a good dancer, do well in school—that was my gift—and be graceful.”
“I was the youngest fairy,” Bliss said, “so I had to wait until the end. I was going to give you animal magnetism—I think Frederick has that—”
“Irresistible to squirrels?” Mira raised her eyebrows.
“It’s very fairy-tale,” Bliss sniffed. “Anyway. I was going to do that—but then an evil fairy showed up.”
“No one knew who she was,” Elsa said. “Even I had never heard of her. It would have been impossible to invite her. But she was furious—they always are. She was wearing a black feather cowl and a long black dress infested with beetles. The beetles were scurrying out from beneath her skirts and taking flight and landing on the cupcakes. Vanilla frosting topped with edible gold and black beetles …” Elsa shivered. “I’ll never forget that. I had such a sick feeling. … I knew she was going to curse you. And we only had one fairy left who could temper it. So I shoved Bliss under the refreshments table and we waited.”
“Those beetles kept landing on me,” Bliss said. “That nasty fairy walked right up to you and touched you with her wand. It was a gold wand—not glass like ours.”
Bliss slipped a slender glass wand from her pocket, and Elsa did the same. Mira had seen her godmothers carry these things around, toy with them absentmindedly … and all her life she’d thought they were knitting needles.
But they were wands. Of course.
Now Bliss touched the wand to her palm, like it helped her to remember. “The fairy stated that when you were fifteen or sixteen, you would cut your finger on a razor blade and die. And then she left, and it was my turn. I couldn’t undo the curse, but I could soften it—in place of the gift I hadn’t had a chance to give you. I made it so you wouldn’t die when you cut yourself. You’d simply fall into a deep sleep: one that would last for a hundred years, or until an Honor-bound prince arrived to wake you with his kiss.”
“After that, the party emptied out. You can imagine—no one felt like celebrating. And it was like you had a ticking time bomb right here”—Elsa tapped Mira’s lower back, where her mark was—“and no one knew how best to protect you. Least of all your parents. Some of the fairies stayed behind to advise them, and ultimately, your mother and father decided to hand you over to two fairy guardians. Who would do their best to protect you—and love you,” Elsa said, squeezing her. “And who would take you away, to a place where fairy tales were just stories, where you’d have the best chance to cheat fate. And in seventeen years, when the danger was over, they would bring you home.”
“And I guess … the danger is over,” Bliss said, and went quiet. Her fingers fumbled over her wand.
Mira closed her eyes. She felt, for a moment, like she was very small again. Very young. She’d spent her whole life with Elsa and Bliss. And as much as she was looking forward to meeting her parents, she didn’t intend to just step out of her old life and into a new one, as if her time with Elsa and Bliss was a dress she’d outgrown. Her parents were her parents—they were more special to her than they could imagine.
But Elsa and Bliss were her guardians, and always would be.
“What if,” Mira said, “once the danger was over, I decided I already had a home?”
Elsa’s eyes glimmered with emotion. She looked almost surprised—and then she smiled. “Well, I suppose we’d suggest they start with a visit, and go from there. Would you like that?”
“I would love that,” Mira said.
Elsa tucked a strand of hair behind Mira’s ear. “I’ll make the arrangements. Today, you just enjoy what’s left of your birthday, all right? Tomorrow, we can start all the changes. I have to get my old house straightened up. Now that we’re back home, where we belong …”
Home. It felt good to think of Beau Rivage as home. As the place where they belonged, and could be themselves. All three of them.
Mira glanced around, aware of the world again. Freddie had managed to pacify his mother and was standing nearby, watching Mira as if waiting to be of service to her, oblivious to the small bird perched on the rim of his iced-tea glass.
“He’s cute,” Bliss murmured in Mira’s ear, tickling her to get a reaction. “Is he a good kisser?”
Mira’s face flushed hotter than the air. “Bliss.”
“Now let’s get rid of this ugly thing.” Elsa’s fingers closed around the chain of Mira’s razor-blade necklace. She started to lift it, and Mira clapped her hand over the chain to stop her.
“No,” she said quickly. “I want to keep it.”
Her godmothers didn’t know what the razor blade meant to her. They didn’t know it had saved her life—and she wasn’t going to tell them. She wasn’t going to tell them anything about Felix.
Felix would have to be dealt with eventually—Mira had no illusions about that—but she wouldn’t give her godmothers a reason to torture him, like Louis the Wolf had been tortured. No one deserved that kind of cruelty. Her godmothers were good people, but if they knew he’d tried to kill her, there was no telling what they might do.
Elsa’s eyebrows dipped lower, like she didn’t understand. “Mira, that thing is disgusting—it’s covered in blood. It’s not meant to be a souvenir.”
“You could cut yourself,” Bliss said. “And it just looks bad. Like you’re suicidal.”
“I won’t cut myself again,” Mira insisted. “I don’t care how it looks.”
“Mira,” Elsa warned.
“It’s her choice,” Blue said.
Blue had kept to the fringes of the gathering. He came closer now, his posture rigid, not quite making eye contact. She remembered that he’d been that way around Delilah, too. He didn’t trust fairies. And why would he? An evil fairy was responsible for his curse. Good fairies viewed him as something to be destroyed.
Because he wasn’t a hero. Heroes killed people like Blue. He was a villain.
Which was something Mira would never accept. Because Blue was a hero to her. He’d helped save her; he’d done his best to warn her while bound by the rules of his curse—and to push her away even when he wanted her near him. That meant more to her than destiny.
Elsa and Bliss noticed him, and bristled in a feral way.
“You would be in favor of her doing dangerous things, wouldn’t you?” Bliss said.
“I don’t want you anywhere near Mira,” Elsa told him. “Do you understand?” She drew her wand like it contained all the power of a samurai sword. And maybe it did. Fairies cursed people with wands, drew magic from their blood and changed them—for better or worse.
“With all due respect,” Freddie said, stepping in front of Blue. “I won’t let you threaten my best friend.”
“Don’t be insolent, Frederick,” Mrs. Knight scolded.
Bliss was shaking, with a fury that seemed completely alien to her. She aimed her wand in Blue’s direction, though Freddie—noble, Honor-bound Freddie—made sure to shield him. “That boy is a villain, Mirabelle. A wicked, nasty little—”
“I know,” Mira said. “He’s a Romantic. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
She glanced quickly at Blue. He looked like she’d stabbed him.
She was sorry for saying it, but arguing in his defense wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Knowing that she liked him, trusted him, would put Elsa and Bliss right back on alert. And she didn’t want to be protected. She’d rather leave them in the dark for a while.
“Good,” Elsa said after a pause. She didn’t seem entirely convinced, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
“Lucky for you she’s sensible,” Bliss said. “Because I’m a good fairy, but you don’t want to see what I do when someone hurts my Mira.”
&n
bsp; “Now take that necklace off,” Elsa said.
“No,” Mira snapped.
Her godmothers looked aghast. She’d never snapped at them before. No matter how frustrated she’d been.
But … she’d gotten used to making her own decisions.
“Now, now, no need for frowns on these gorgeous faces,” Mrs. Knight said. “How about a group picture? Freddie, you stand next to Mira.”
Mira gave in to Freddie’s mother’s photo session. They did about fifty fake prom poses and some group shots, half of which were invaded by birds. Her eyes were focused everywhere but on the camera—seeking Blue.
She didn’t know where he was—if he’d gone inside or left—but she hoped he’d stayed. She hoped he knew her well enough to know she would want him to.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SUNSET FADED FROM THE SKY and brought the deep violet of night.
Paper lanterns hung around the pool in the Knights’ backyard, glowing softly. Platters of food were set up on a table near the cabana. And Beau Rivage’s fairy-tale finest were hanging out poolside. Viv had organized a surprise birthday party for Mira.
Layla was there, and Viv and Henley, and Jewel, and both of Freddie’s brothers, and Rafe (who was behaving himself), and Freddie and Blue. They’d brought Mira last-minute birthday gifts, like a mix CD, a Curses & Kisses T-shirt, a chipmunk Viv claimed was tame (but wasn’t), and Wills’s car keys, which she was pretty sure she’d have to give back once Wills realized they were missing—but she thanked Henley for the Porsche anyway.
Mira had discarded her rose-print dress in favor of a borrowed swimsuit, shorts, and her new Curses & Kisses T-shirt.
There were a few hours left in her sweet sixteen, and she was determined to make the most of them. To squeeze some sweetness out of what had been one of the worst, and most important, days of her life.
Just before they unveiled the cake, Viv told Mira they had another surprise for her: wishes. Like at her christening party. Only this time, they wouldn’t come true unless she made them come true. It was more for fun.
Caspian and Freddie built a fire, and Layla handed out strips of colored paper, which the guests used to write a wish for Mira. They took turns stepping up to the fire and reading their wishes, then casting the colored paper into the flames. The smoke feathered upward, carrying their wishes to the stars.
From Layla: true love. From Viv: to only sleep when you want to.
Henley wished her patience; Caspian, that you’ll always have mermaid hair ; Wills, a bank account that never empties.
Jewel said magic, and tossed in the sapphire that slipped out with the word. Rafe set his beer down long enough to wish her eternal hotness.
From Freddie: trust. From Blue: hope.
And when it was Mira’s turn to make a wish, she stepped up to her birthday cake, airy vanilla frosting studded with pink and blue stars—and she blew out all sixteen candles in one blow, and wished that things had been different.
They didn’t sing “Happy Birthday.” Freddie got his guitar, and he and Jewel did “Summertime” instead, and “Wild Horses” as an encore. They ate cake, pink and blue frosting staining their lips. Wills got the hose and filled a bunch of water balloons, and they chose teams and had a water balloon fight, running barefoot through the grass, using the trees and the cabana as cover and then launching an attack. They battled until they were soaked, then stripped down to their swimsuits and jumped into the pool.
Mira stayed on land, though they shouted for her to join them. “Later!” she promised.
She watched her friends splashing in the pool, and she was filled with a very different emotion from the loneliness she’d felt in the past. There was a sense of belonging now, and happiness, though it was incomplete. Deep inside, she was aching; she’d been in love, and it had gone terribly wrong—but she wouldn’t let herself be devastated by a broken heart this time. She could go on from that.
She knew she could.
The razor blade hanging from her neck made her feel brave. Honest. A naked blade hid nothing, feared nothing. She wanted to be like that. Because that was how you found yourself, created yourself. You didn’t hide. You didn’t wait for the perfect moment to settle on you like a butterfly, like magic.
You went out and made magic. Made your own wishes come true.
Mira filled another water balloon and tied it off, then carried the wobbling weapon through the leafy darkness of the backyard. Brushing aside willow fronds and swatting at mosquitoes, she crept deeper, until the moon revealed Blue sitting at the base of a weeping willow tree.
Her damp Curses & Kisses T-shirt sagged on her hips, heavy with water from the water balloon fight. When he looked at her, it made her conscious of her body. Of everything.
“Hey,” she said tentatively.
“Hey, birthday girl.” He lifted a hand in greeting. “So did you mean that before?”
“Mean?” She’d said so many things.
“When you told your godmothers you didn’t want anything to do with me. At first, I thought you meant it, but I dunno; that sounds like something a smart person would say.”
She’d been about to reassure him; now she bit her lip to keep a straight face, and prepared the water balloon for launch.
“Did you not notice that I’m armed?”
“Sorry to ruin your plans, Mira, but this isn’t The Wizard of Oz. I’m not going to melt.”
She tossed the balloon anyway, halfheartedly, and it burst near his feet.
“That was a waste of an attack,” he muttered. He was so moody right now. …
Mira crouched next to him. “Of course I didn’t mean it,” she said—because maybe he needed to hear it. “I said it because I didn’t want to argue. I didn’t want to hear them say anything bad about you. I already know they’re wrong.”
Blue shook his head. “They’re not wrong. That’s the problem. I have the capacity—the destiny—to be a villain. Just like you needed to know the truth about Felix. And needed to sleep. We can fight it, but …”
“But fate has a way of twisting our efforts, to get what it wants.” Fate, or other people, she thought bitterly, recalling the role Delilah had played in all this.
“Right. And I don’t ever want to—I don’t—” He gave up, frustrated. “You know what I’m trying to say?”
“You don’t ever want to hurt me.”
Blue nodded. “And you already saw how easy it is—how inevitable. So your godmothers are right. I mean, I didn’t like hearing that, but they’re right.”
“It’s not inevitable,” she said. Because you’re you. Because you’re not selfish.
She knew that she would hurt herself before she would ever hurt someone she cared about, and she felt like Blue was that way, too. He’d shown her, in the things he said, the way he cut himself off from the love he desperately needed. Love that would be so easy to steal.
His regret over what had happened to Jane on his sixteenth birthday was for what she had lost—not what he would never have.
Blue touched his fingertip to the razor blade that hung around her throat. “I still think you should keep this if you want to. And … god, I can’t believe I’m saying this, I shouldn’t defend him, he’s an asshole—but thank you for not telling them about Felix. Because those fairies would have—” He closed his eyes, like he was picturing something horrible. And he looked guilty when he opened them. Like there shouldn’t be any mercy for someone like Felix.
Or for someone like him.
“I know,” she said. “He’s your brother. I understand. And I wouldn’t …” She shook her head. “I’m not vengeful. I don’t believe in torture.”
“You’re something special,” he murmured, a sad smile forming on his lips as he lifted the razor blade from where it lay against her chest. He raised the flat of the blade to his mouth and kissed it.
“Don’t flirt with me, Romantic,” she said. But she was kidding—she knew he heard it in her voice.
“I’m not,
” he said, still with that same sad smile. “I’m not this time, I promise. You’re just—you’re something else, someone really special, and I feel completely justified in being in love with you.”
Her heart froze in her chest. Stopped like time had stopped.
“Blue …”
He laid his hot forehead against hers and whispered, “Don’t say anything, Mira. I don’t need you to say anything. I just need you to know.”
They stayed like that for a moment, and Mira closed her eyes, conscious of the sweat slipping down their skin, their fingers slowly finding each other and twining together, tighter and tighter because this was good-bye.
“I’m going to go now,” he said. “But thank you. Thank you for everything.”
Their fingers unfurled, separated, so only the heat was left behind. He lifted his head from hers, and the night breeze swept in as he moved away.
When Mira opened her eyes, his back was to her. He was standing a few feet away, playing with the end of a willow branch.
“Wait,” she called. “What if I don’t like you? Like, really don’t like you?”
Blue turned, studying her. “You really don’t?”
She nodded quickly, her throat too tight to speak, eyes filling with tears. Don’t leave me, don’t leave, don’t leave.
He came closer, chest rising and falling with his breath, so nervous she could see it like an aura around him. “You really don’t?”
“I really don’t,” she whispered.
Tentatively, he reached for her. His hand cradled her cheek, and his gaze held hers for the length of one slow breath—long enough to give her the chance to pull away.
And then he kissed her and the tears she’d been holding overflowed when she closed her eyes. He pulled her to him, crushed her against his chest, his heart pounding against hers; and she held on tight, so tight, because she might never hold him again and she wanted to feel all of him, to remember this, always.
She was lying. Could he taste the lie?
Because she could feel it: her strength draining away, her love leaving her. The sweet shock of his mouth was like touching her tongue to a live wire. It seared her senses; it made her feel alive, even as it sucked that life away—and she kept coming back to it, again and again. Waves of sensation pulled her under—drowning her. But Blue made drowning feel like the loveliest thing. Like she was losing her breath, but she didn’t need it, didn’t want it, only wanted him …
