by TARA GALLINA
“Can you swim?” he asks. The muscles in his arms quiver around me and slip away. Face as pale as the moon, Daceian sinks under the water.
The need to save him floods me with renewed strength. I grab his arm and drag him up, kicking as hard as I can to keep us afloat.
“I’m all right.” His words are weak, but he’s working to keep himself above the churning water now, too.
“We need to get to a rock or a tree, something we can use for support.” To my great relief, the water starts to recede. My feet touch squashy ground, but my legs aren’t strong enough to hold me up. I collapse, and Daceian falls beside me. We lay there, coughing the rest of the river from our lungs until we’re breathing normal again.
Daceian sits up first and pushes soaked bangs from his forehead.
He leans toward me, his hand reaching for my cheek.
I cough one last time and blink, shocked at what I see. What appears to be wall of water separates us from Mr. Dunn.
“Look.” I point to the liquid structure.
Daceian follows my gaze.
Mr. Dunn’s hazy form rests on his knee with one foot planted like he wants to stand but can’t. He’s coughing, too. He glares at us and raises the knife like he intends to throw it.
“Enough,” the Washer Woman shouts, and the wall of water hardens to a sheet of ice. “End this now, or I will end you.”
Mr. Dunn’s wicked laugh echoes through the woods. The ice splinters and droplets slide down the side.
I tug Daceian’s arm. “It’s melting.”
“Good.” He stands and helps me up. “We need to get the knife.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to kill him.”
My heart hammers in my chest with a fear and a new burst of adrenaline. “What’s the plan?” I ask.
“The wall is thinner on that side.” He nods to the left. “I’m going to crash through it and you’re going to follow me. Then I’ll grab him while you go for the knife.”
“Me?” I gulp. “Am I to stab him?”
“Unless you want to grab him, and I go for the knife?”
I could no easier refrain a bear. “No.” I glare through the ice at Mr. Dunn’s dark form. Hate and rage boil under my skin. He’s the cause of the curse, the reason my mother is gone, and my family is suffering. He hurt Daceian and tried to kill him! “I’ll do it.”
“On three.” Daceian moves to the other side of me. “One. Two. Three.” He charges the wall. The entire piece breaks in half. It splashes down into a pool of chilly water, lapping at our feet and ankles.
Mr. Dunn whirls around. Shock and confusion spread across his face. He raises the knife.
Daceian charges him, knocking the blade from his hand and tackling the man into the mud.
The Washer Woman shrieks, “No!”
The agonizing screech breaks me from my frozen stupor. I dart for the knife and clutch the hilt. The heavy weight of it takes me by surprise. My hand shakes as I tighten my grip on the hilt and turn my attention to Daceian and Mr. Dunn.
They wrestle on the ground, fighting to pin the other down. Each time one of them gets the upper hand, a blow to the face or kick of the legs sends the victor to the ground, and the struggle between them starts over again.
My entire body quakes as I skitter around them, dodging their movements while waiting for my moment to strike.
Once more, the air turns frigid. A blast whooshes around us, blowing my hair behind me and stinging my skin. Daceian and Mr. Dunn don’t seem to notice.
With a buck and grunt, the Councilman pins Daceian down.
Sinking into the mud, Daceian struggles against him. Blood runs from the corner of Daceian’s mouth. His sleeve is cut, but he’s not bleeding there, only dirt stains his white shirt.
I move in, the knife aimed at Mr. Dunn’s exposed back.
The river sloshes wildly.
I glance up. The Washer Woman hovers above the rapids, her hands raising with the swells.
Fearing another tidal wave is coming and I’ll lose the knife, I shout, “Daceian, hold him!”
His gaze flickers to mine, the moment I surge forward.
A feral roar rips from Daceian’s throat as he shoves the councilman to the ground. The man lands on his side. Daceian is on him in an instant. He grabs Mr. Dunn’s wrists and secures the councilman’s arms behind his back, baring the man’s chest to me.
Struggling to keep him still, Daceian yells, “Aim for the heart!”
Sweat coats my skin and my hand trembles violently. What if I miss?
“Preya!” Daceian belts out, “Now!”
I lurch forward and bring the knife down.
My legs are kicked out from under me. What? How? Jolted, I land on my back with a hard thump, the wind knocked out of me. Mud splatters my face and I gasp for air that isn’t coming.
It registers, I’m no longer holding the knife. Panic claws at me, and my deflated lungs squeeze tighter. I pat the mushy ground, reaching around for the knife.
Finding nothing, I roll onto my side and try to push up. Hot pain stabs me above my hip, like a branding iron pierced my skin. The fire slides deeper. Moisture pools in my eyes. I try to scream but I have no breath.
In agony, I curl into a ball and clutch my skin where it burns. My fingers meet warm, thick liquid.
Finally, air starts to fill my lungs. I drag in a deep breath and another, gasping for more air.
“You did this to yourself,” Mr. Dunn’s voice sounds from above me.
I blink my eyes open. From my peripheral, I see him leaning over me, the glowing blade in his hand. Blood drips from the blade.
He stabbed me? “Daceian,” I murmur and wince against the searing pain.
Daceian tackles Mr. Dunn. Like me, the Councilman struggles for breath, the knife no longer in his hand. With a beastlike roar, Daceian fumbles to stand and wrenches Mr. Dunn’s stunned body up in his arms. He whirls around and releases the man with a heavy thrust into the river.
“Kill him, Mother!” he growls in that savage tone. A moment later, he drops to my side and gently cradles me onto his lap.
I wince and whimper from the movement. Once I’m settled against his warm body, I focus on his clove scent mixed with minerals and earth, and the rapid beating of his heart.
“Preya, my love, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. I need you,” he whispers through tears.
The burn lessens to a tolerable pain, and I stop grimacing, letting him rock me in his arms. I’m too weak to speak or to hold him back, even though I want to soothe him. If I open my mouth or try to move, I’m afraid the burning will return, and I don’t have the strength in me to handle it again.
“My son,” the Washer Woman’s says, her voice soft, the sound no longer flooded with rage. “You have set me free. Thank you.”
I open my eyes to Daceian. Torment strains his features, his gaze on the river. I peer over, my neck straining to see his mother. A body catches my gaze. Mr. Dunn floats face down on the surface of the water. Vines from under the murky stream wrap his body, holding him in place. He isn’t moving.
“Be happy, Daceian,” his mother says. “Forgive me for the life you’ve endured and remember me as the beautiful princess I once was. I love you.” She lifts the knife and stabs herself in the heart.
CHAPTER 21
I roll onto my back. I’m on a soft bed and have to squint against the brightness of the room. My body feels weak from sleep but also rested. I stretch and inhale a deep breath.
That’s when I realize I’m not in the cottage. I’m in my bedroom at the manor.
I dart upright.
The twins sit on the rug on the floor, playing with their dolls. They glance over and gasp.
“Preya,” they call out in unison. The two of them jump onto the bed.
“Oh, how we’ve missed you.” Calyssa tackles me with a hug and we go down on the pillows. “I wanted to wake you, but Carys wouldn’t let me.” She sticks her tongue out at her siste
r.
Securing one arm around Calyssa, I drag her up with me to a sitting position. With my other arm, I hook Carys around the waist of her blush dress and pull her in for a hug, too. I kiss her temple and then Calyssa’s. They smell of lavender and primrose, like they were playing in the gardens. It’s the most amazing scent in the world.
Warmth spreads through me filling every inch of my body with joy. “Is this real? Am I really home?” I squeeze them tighter, fearing it’s a dream and dreading the loss I’ll feel when I wake.
Carys pets a tendril of my long hair that hangs over my shoulder. “Of course, you’re here, or else I wouldn’t be able to touch you.”
“Maybe she has a fever.” Calyssa places her small hand to my forehead.
I tickle her side, making her giggle. “I don’t have a fever,” I say. “I’ve never felt better in my life.” Truth. Either it’s their presence or the power of this amazing dream that has me energized all of a sudden.
“Do me.” Carys tenses beside me, her hands folded in her lap, her lips pressed with a grin of anticipation.
I go for her most sensitive spot and tickle under her chin. Laughter bursts from her. She squirms and wiggles away, her hands balled up by her neck as if her skin still tingles.
“Preya?”
Father’s voice makes me tense. He stands in the doorway. Gray now covers all his hair, the color almost silver. Lack of sleep shows in dark circles under his blue eyes.
He turns his head toward the hallway and says to someone, “She’s awake. Get the nurse.”
With his focus back on me, he takes timid steps into the room. A foot from the bed, he stops and fiddles with a handkerchief in his hand.
Has he been crying?
The girls retreat to the bottom of the mattress.
Father’s Adams’s apple bobs and he licks his pale, cracked lips. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you. For what I said. I’ve been so worried, so lost without you. Can you forgive me, Preya? Please forgive me.” Tears fall from his sad blue eyes.
Mine well up, too. I shift onto my knees and reach for him, drawing him to me for a hug. “Only if you can forgive me for betraying you. I’m so sorry, Father. I didn’t know I’d be chosen. I never would have—” A sob cuts off my words.
Father holds me tight, shaking with what I hope are tears of joy. “It’s all right, dear. It’s all right.” He pats my back. “You’re home and safe. It’s over. Sweet child, you saved us all, you and your friend.” Father leans back to look at my face. “He is quite an impressive young man, and his visage is so similar to his mother’s.”
I stiffen, caught between shock and confusion. “You know? How do you know? Is he here? Please tell me he’s safe?” I clutch his arms in a tight hold.
A woman in a white apron enters the room.
Father steps aside and beckons her over. He smiles and nods. “This is Drina. She needs to check you over. Then I’ll tell you everything.”
“Can you lie down for me?” Drina guides me to lie back on the bed.
I want to call out for Daceian, but I don’t afraid he won’t respond. Obviously, Father met him, but if Daceian were here he would be with me. Wouldn’t he? Did he drop me off? If so, where did he go, and why did he leave? Did Father tell him to?
“Please Father, I need to know now,” I say and peer around the nurse in search of him. He’s gone.
Drina leans over me, forcing my head back to the pillow, and checks my pulse. “How do you feel?”
“Confused.”
“Are you in pain?” She touches the sides of my neck.
“No.”
“Are you dizzy?”
“No. Why?” I say, my concern on the rise. “What’s going on?”
“You’ve been asleep for days.”
“Days?” My chest tightens. I ignore the whisper in the back of my mind telling me something happened and Daceian didn’t make it.
“We’ve been with you the whole time,” Calyssa says. She’s standing at the foot of the bed.
She’d been so quiet I’d forgotten she was in the room.
Carys pops up next to her, adding, “Except for at night. Father makes us sleep in our own beds.”
“Come, girls.” Father says from the doorway.
He’s back?
I glance over and watch him wave for the twins to join him. “Give the nurse room to work.”
They clamber from the foot of the bed and stand at his sides, watchful like I might disappear. My poor darlings. I’ll have to make it up to them by playing lots of games in the gardens. The distraction will be good for me, especially if Daceian is—don’t think it. He’s not dead. He’s … busy … doing … something.
The nurse presses on my stomach and sides. I flinch, even though it doesn’t hurt. Memories return—the knife and how it burned when it sliced my skin. I touch my side where I was stabbed. My white nightgown shows no signs of blood. My fingers slide over smooth skin.
“How am I healed?” I ask.
The nurse straightens with a smile. “I don’t know, but you are. I suppose it has to do with your friend.” She turns to Father. “She is as well as any of us.”
He shakes his head, seeming as astounded as the nurse. “Unbelievable. Thank you.” He ushers the nurse from the room. “Come, girls. It’s someone else’s turn to visit with your sister.”
They step back making room for someone else to enter. As if by magic, Daceian appears in the doorway.
I sit up, bursting with joy. “Daceian,” It comes out weak, caught between a whisper and a sob. My eyes burn with tears.
Father pats Daceian’s shoulder with a look of approval. “Let us know if you need anything.” He flashes me a knowing grin and leaves with the nurse, while my sisters linger by the door.
Calyssa glances at Daceian and whispers loudly to Carys, “He’s very handsome. I think Preya is the luckiest girl in the village to be marrying him.”
Carys’s cheeks turn bright red.
Father calls out, “Girls!”
Giggling, they disappear into the hallway.
My gaze locks with Daceian’s. I’ve never seen him in such bright light. Out from the shadows of the woods, his olive skin is a little lighter and flawless. He’s dressed in a white shirt, gray vest, black pants, and matching boots. His hair is tamer than its usual disarray. His silver and blue eyes sparkle. He is the picture of health.
More tears fill my eyes, blurring my vision. I wipe them away, not wanting to miss a moment of this. “You’re alive.”
“As are you.” He walks toward me and brushes gentle fingers across my cheek.
My eyes close. “I worried it was all a dream, and you weren’t real.”
“I worried you might never wake, but here we are.” His hand slides to my chin, and he lifts my face, planting a soft kiss on my lips. “I missed you.”
I laugh and open my eyes. “I’ve been asleep only a few days.”
“Five days. It felt like an eternity.” He touches my other cheek, my hair, and my lips, his eyes drinking me in as if he can’t get enough.
“What happened? Is your mother…?”
He sits on the bed and takes my hand. “She is at peace. Finally.”
“How about you?” I place my other hand on top of his. “Are you at peace?”
He takes a moment and then nods. “I am free. She freed us all. The curse is broken, Preya. Mr. Dunn is no more. It’s all … gone. The cottage. The mist. The darkness.”
A strange sadness comes over me. “Is it wrong to fear I might miss it? It wasn’t home, but it started to feel that way. You were part of it, and the cottage was good to me. When I earned it.”
I smile, thinking of the quaint beauty, the canopy bed, the gown—my wedding gown. I suppose it’s gone, too.
“My butterfly brooch,” I say with a gasp.
“It’s here.” Daceian jumps up. He retrieves the heirloom from the top of the dresser and joins me on the bed. “It was all that was left.”
“
Thank you.” I curl my fingers around the brooch, grateful but also worried about Daceian. This can’t be easy for him. “I’m so sorry for all you lost. All you’ve ever known is gone. I wish I could make it easier for you.”
Tension leaves me with an exhale. He releases me and gives me the sweetest smile. “You do make it easier, and if you’ll still have me, I would love nothing more than to be your husband.”
An explosion of warmth fills my chest. I let out a laugh-slash-cry. “Of course, I will have you. My heart is already yours. Forever.”
“And ever?” he teases. He brushes hair from my face and kisses my lips, a caress that carries the promise of a happy future filled with love.
I break away, not wanting to but needing more answers. “What happens to the village? To the Council? How do we explain Mr. Dunn’s disappearance? How do we explain that you’re king?” I tense. “My goodness. You’re a king. Can you even marry me? I’m not royal. I’m nothing.”
His eyes flash wide with a stunned and beautiful smile. “You are everything, and as king, I decide who I marry, or if I even choose to be king.”
“What do you mean?” I stand, needing to feel weight on my legs. For too long I’ve been in that bed.
“Where are you going?” Daceian stands and takes my hand, looking crisp and alert, making me wish I were dressed and ready to face our next challenge.
“Nowhere. I just … I feel like I’ve missed so much.”
He pulls me close and presses his lips to my forehead. “Relax, my love. We have nothing to fear anymore. We are in no hurry. We are free to do and go where we want.”
I lean away. “Is the barrier gone, too?”
“Preya, it’s amazing. Passersby are riding into town, exploring where they’ve never been.”
I rush to the window that overlooks the village. Everything appears the same, even though I know it isn’t. Daceian comes up behind me.
I turn and place my hands on his chest. “Do you still have magic?”
His arms wrap around my waist. “I did. I used it to heal you, but my powers weaken every day. I suspect soon they will be gone completely.”
“Did you heal yourself too, or was it the curse?”
