The Firethorn Crown (22 page)

It wasn’t Melantha this time. Or, it wasn’t
just
Melantha. All of the girls approached the field, and they had no guard. They weren’t running, but the sheer number of them must have startled the geese. Had something happened?

Ruby and Wren led the group. Rather than approach Lily when they neared the pond, they veered to the side. She twisted in the grass, not enough to disrupt True, and saw Eben a few yards behind her. Orin walked the field, trying to settle the geese.

The girls arranged themselves in a semicircle around Eben. He raised his eyebrows at Lily, but she shrugged and kept her seat. Wren stepped forward, while Ruby poked her head around Hazel to glare at Lily and put a finger to her lips in a shushing motion. Needlessly—they knew Lily wouldn’t say anything.

Wren addressed Eben. “We have something to say, and we need you to listen to the end.”

“Don’t
do
anything,” Ruby added.

“Not until we’re
all
finished talking.”

“Then Lily has something to say,” Ruby finished.

Lily sat up straight and pressed her lips together to keep from gasping out loud. What were they playing at? They were going to ruin her plans and put everyone in danger.

Orin stood in the midst of the geese, making no move to join the odd tableau, his stance relaxed but his expression wary.

“I’m listening,” Eben said.

“Just
listen. No matter what.” For such a small thing, Wren had a fierce glare.

“Okay.”

“We tried to draw it,” she said. “But it didn’t work. So we’re going to tell you how to br—” She choked out a gasp and fell into the grass. Eben shifted his leg as if to step forward but stopped himself. The other girls ignored her and continued, each forcing out a word or two before dropping one by one.

“Curse—”

“Have to break it—”

“True—”

The goose perked up, thinking Coral had spoken her name.

“Love—”

“Pendant binds—”

Had they planned this out? How did they expect Eben to make any sense of this?

“Say it back!” Neylan fell onto Ivy’s feet.

Lily had a clear view of Eben now. One hand grasped his dagger, the other reached out as if to stop the girls. His gaze darted from the ones on the ground to the ones still standing. Muscles tense, he visibly restrained himself in an effort to obey the princesses’ strange request.

Gwen tried to continue. “Can’t ta—”

“Talk or—”

“Or trapped under—”

“Say you l—” Melantha fell, and Orin sprinted towards them, scattering the geese again.

Ivy stood alone with Eben. She studied the girls on the ground, lips parted, thoughtful. She swallowed, and met his eyes calmly. Blinked. “Tell her you love her.” She didn’t fall.

Lily bolted to her feet. The girls had set this up to break the curse. Surely, they wouldn’t have put her in this position unless they had some idea that Eben returned her feelings. She could tell by his worried expression that he knew how important his response was. He could still choose to do the proper thing, and refuse to admit his feelings for a princess he couldn’t have.

Or thought he couldn’t have. Father had made the comment about the soldier-king in front of him.

“You first, Lily,” Ivy whispered.

Orin had nearly reached them, the clamor of geese at his heels, and some of the girls stirred. Eben stared unwavering at Lily, his breathing too fast.

Could she do it? She wanted to so badly. She’d been ready to entomb herself in the undergarden with a half-crazed prince, and now her freedom was at her fingertips. Or her lips.

She needed to trust her sisters.

She needed to trust Eben.

She needed to trust herself.

Head spinning, she took a breath to speak, but she ended up on her knees as the geese flapped into her.

“Woah.” Orin pulled her to her feet. “You’re not going to faint, too, are you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

N
o. No!
No!

Lily clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. The word echoed in her head, and her blood turned to ice. What had she done?

Gwen had heard. And Hazel. And Neylan, and Junia. They stared wide-eyed as the other girls woke.

Eben understood enough. Helpless fear and rage twisted his features, reminding her of his description of razor-tail dragons in battle. You didn’t want to back a razor into a corner.

Wren groaned and rubbed her forehead. “We should have sat down first. Did it work?”

“It’s over.” Gwen helped Azure to her feet, and the boys gave a hand to the others.

“It’s your fault!” Junia wrenched out of Orin’s grasp and pushed him. He didn’t budge. She hit his chest with her fists and screamed. “You made her forget! You made her talk!”

Lily wrapped her arms around the panicking girl. “It’s no one’s doing but my own,” she whispered, hesitant to speak in the light.

“I don’t understand.” Orin scooped up Melantha, the last one down, and set her on her feet.

Gwen explained the exact wording of Lily’s curse in a few more words than they’d just used with Eben. Both young men looked shocked. Eben flexed his fingers near his sword hilt, but there was no enemy here to attack.

Lily should tell him now how she felt. It would be her last chance. But the girls stood before her with tear-stained cheeks. They had tried so hard to help.

“My sisters.” Lily shifted Junia to her right arm and reached for Hazel, who squeezed her hand hard in support. “You’ve been my comfort and joy these past few days, and I haven’t been able to thank you. I love you more than I can say. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough or clever enough to save you. I’m sorry I got you into this mess. I’m sorry—” A flurry of colorful shoulders dried her tears as her sisters enfolded her in their midst.

“You’re the strongest of us all,” Neylan whispered into her ear. “I love you, Lily. We all do.”

Lily felt a cold pinch at her neck. This was it. The pendant tightened, and she could tell by their pained expressions that the girls felt the same thing. Wren clawed at her neck, and Junia paled as if she would faint again.

Lily turned towards the city. “We need to get—” she gasped in a lungful of air, “—to the maze.”

Eben stepped to her side immediately. Orin supported Azure and Junia around the waist, and they all ran, or tried to run. She was grateful for the boys, but they couldn’t carry all the girls if they fainted again. Her own pendant tightened uncomfortably. Tharius wasn’t going to let them linger before claiming his prize.

“Keep going,” Gwen gasped. “It’s you he wants. Eben, take her.” She knelt beside Coral, who had fainted again. Ivy slumped down on her knees beside them before crumpling into the grass.

Lily hesitated.

“They’re still breathing,” Gwen choked out. “Go!”

Eben grabbed her hand, and they sped towards the palace. The geese honked in protest, parting as quickly as they could. She might have kicked one. She hoped it wasn’t True.

Unsure how much time she had, and half-expecting Tharius to come striding around the next bend to drag her away, she pushed her legs until they burned. Despite having lost, it felt good to have Eben at her side. It was only temporary. She would send him away with her sisters. And Orin, too—he would follow Melantha anywhere. Tharius’s jealousy would be the end of Eben, if he ventured too far. She didn’t know what she would do without him. If she had to do it all over again, she liked to think she would have spoken to him ages ago.

Past the village and through a field. Shortcuts and back alleys and, finally, the guards’ entrance near the barracks. Eben slowed and flashed some hand signals to those on duty:
two quads to The Tree, two quads to the maze, secure the king and queen
. The guards jumped into action.

Walls, windows, green-growing things blurred past, and then they entered the maze. Eben drew his dagger.

“You shouldn’t run . . . with sharp objects.” Lily gasped and tugged at the pendant. The icy strand grew tighter every moment.

“Almost a week without a word, and that’s the best you’ve got?”

Her head spun. She stumbled, and he steadied her, slowing his pace. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’ll do my fainting later.”

They reached the dried-up fountain. Rose petals flowed over its sides and pooled on the ground. She sank to her knees in the red puddle and chafed her fists on her thighs. She wasn’t going to make it.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Eben swept her up before she fell on her face. Her breathing eased a bit. She let herself enjoy his nearness for the few moments she had it. He still gripped his dagger.

“You can’t come with me, Eben.”

“Says who? Your dark prince? Let him tell me to my face.”

She’d never heard him so fierce, and it was frighteningly comforting. She wanted his strength to make the curse go away. She had been right—her own strength hadn’t been enough, and now her sisters and her whole kingdom were in danger. She would have to be stronger to ensure Tharius never made it to the surface.

Eben stopped suddenly. “Which way?”

She pointed.

Around the corner. Over the root. Past the Weeping Lady—birds and butterwings had nearly picked the blackberries clean. The mirror’s grimy surface peeked through the firethorn leaves. He set her down, but kept hold of her. He wouldn’t let her leave him behind.

She entered the secret passageway, her free hand trembling against the icy pendant. The light flickered, missing her sisters. She’d never entered without them.

She descended as quickly as she dared and felt Eben’s anger through the tension in his hand. She should make him go back—his presence would only anger Tharius—but it would be useless. And she was weak, after all. She wanted him by her side. Always. But she would take the next few moments, if that was all she got.

Mist drifted thick through the black forest, the trees reduced to silhouettes and shadows. She waved her hand in front of her, sending miniature clouds whirling in all directions. Her feet knew the path. Moments later, she and Eben stood before the broken gates of the undergarden.

Tharius didn’t wait beyond the archway, but there was no avoiding him now. “Here goes nothing,” she mumbled, and stepped through with Eben by her side.

More mist greeted them on the other side, clinging to the ground and snaking among the garden paths. No ballgown appeared—she still wore the same blue cotton she’d donned that morning. She rubbed her arm and shivered, and Eben’s fingers tightened.

Neither of them paid any heed to the flowers and bushes lining the path. The golden light of the clearing came into view, rusted cages sputtering with candle stubs. Some had burnt out, and the acrid smoke stung her nose and bit her throat. The shadow-people had disappeared, and shrivelled leaves littered the ground.

A boot heel struck the floor seconds before Tharius emerged from the shadows. “So, this is your tasty morsel.”

Eben took a defensive stance and raised his dagger.

Tharius’s eyes narrowed. His skin shone translucently in the dying light, and his lip glistened with a fresh cut. “Thought you’d come and gloat, did you?”

“What?”

“You broke your curse!”

With his words, the pendant released her. The chain poofed into a cold mist and descended slowly to join the swirling fog at her feet. The diamond drop melted and dripped down her collarbone. She took a huge breath of air. Her sisters would be doing the same, wherever they were.

“It’s not too late, Lily.” Tharius inched closer and held out his hand, pleading. “You can still save me, take me into the light.” His tongue flicked over the cut on his lip. “Say you’ll be mine, and I’ll let you keep him. Everything will be all right.”

A branch crashed onto the ground, but he paid no heed to the undergarden disintegrating around him.

“I didn’t break the curse, Tharius. I never spoke to him.”

“Of course you did!” Tharius spoke savagely. “He’s your true love, is he not? You’ve broken the curse, so
why are you here!
”

She flinched. “I didn’t . . . I mean, I do . . . ” She glanced at Eben, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Tharius. “I never said anything to him.”

Tharius stilled as quickly as he’d become agitated. “Then who?”

“Us, you rotten weed!” Melantha marched into the clearing with the other girls, plus Orin and half a dozen guards. They looked like sunlight and life next to the pale prince. The girls wore no pendants.

“We’ll be taking our sister now.” Gwen put an arm around Lily. She whispered into her ear, “We passed Yarrow and Bay on our way down. They’re okay.”

Lily sighed with relief. Her curiosity could wait.

The guards joined Eben, placing themselves between Tharius and the princesses.

“No!” Tharius echoed Lily’s cry from earlier, when she thought she’d lost everything. “You’re mine! He didn’t break the curse. He doesn’t love you. You can’t love him. Your sisters . . . it’s impossible. I—” His tirade was cut off by a thumping crack as Eben set his fist to Tharius’s face.

Eben frowned at the whimpering man on the ground. “Take him,” he said to the guards.

“Eben, he can’t leave,” Lily said.

“I’ll bet he can. Ask him where his people are.”

“What?”

“Look at his hands, Lily.”

She couldn’t see his hands. He’d tucked them under his arms and curled into himself.

“What have you done, Tharius?” she whispered.

“They lied to me.” His voice was a low growl. “All my life, they flattered me and fawned on me. I was their only way out, the only one strong enough to push the boundaries of the sorcerer’s curse. If what you said is true, then they kept me here
for no reason!
” His voice broke.

“This place is crumbling,” Neylan said, “because there is no one left alive under the curse.”

Tears flowed down Tharius’s cheeks. Already, a bruise bloomed on his jaw under the pale skin. “Sorcery is not my only hobby. I made sure it was painless.”

The plants. Lily’s first guess about Tharius being a gardener had been right.

He pulled his hands out and studied the dirt stains. “They deserved a proper resting place, at least. Mother would have insisted.”

Lily buried her face in Gwen’s shoulder.

Eben signalled for the guards to carry on.

Tharius resisted, but the sorcery had weakened him. Lily followed with the girls, and Orin trailed behind, holding hands with Ruby and Wren.

The closer they got to the archway, the more Tharius struggled, growling and straining against his captors, panicking. He’d never been beyond the broken gate—it had been the boundary of his world all his life. Deep down, part of him couldn’t believe the truth. That was the reason he’d wanted her to stay with him. At least one of the reasons.

“Wait,” she said.

The guards stopped, and Tharius quieted.

“Let him go.”

The guards obeyed, and Tharius didn’t move. She knew he wouldn’t.

“What!” Melantha stepped in front of the archway as if she were afraid Tharius would bolt. As if she could stop him. “Are you crazy?”

Eben looked startled, too, but he said nothing. He would wait to hear what she had to say; one of the many reasons she loved him.

Yes, she loved him.

But that would have to wait.

Ignoring Melantha’s outburst, Lily addressed Tharius. “I want you to walk through that archway on your own. Or not.”

He eyed her suspiciously.

“Makar’s curse is not yours. You can stay here in his crumbling prison, or you can walk with us into the light.”

“I deserve this place as much as he did, and more.”

“Maybe.” She stepped away from Gwen. “But we’re not meant to live in darkness.”

“Your father will throw me into a dungeon.”

“No dungeons.” The palace had none. “A tower, surrounded by the sun, with windows overlooking gardens and meadows and the river.”

“I trade one captivity for another.”

“You’ll see birds.”

His chin dropped onto his chest, dark hair falling over his brow. “How do I know you are telling the truth?”

“By walking through that gate. You’ve never tried it, have you?”

His head jerked up, jaw tight. She’d struck a tender spot.

“Of course not. The consequences would be . . .” Standing amidst the darkness and swirling mist, the crumbling illusions, things couldn’t get much worse. If he stayed now, he would be truly alone. Not even the shadow-people remained.

His face contorted as he wrestled inwardly with the decision. No one spoke or made a move. Although the choice was clear to her, she would have him make it himself. He’d had choices taken away from him his whole life. All this time, he’d been free, but fear and lies had held him captive.

He straightened, his eyes pinched with fear. “I want to see the light.”

The guards flanked him as he stepped up to the archway. He ran his hand along the broken framework of the gate first, inching his feet forward. Little by little, he crossed the threshold.

Nothing happened.

He stopped and let out a shaky breath. Two guards secured his arms, and he sagged against their strength. The others surrounded him, and they marched into the dark forest, the boundary of Tharius’s world. He didn’t look back.

Orin and the girls followed, but Eben laced his fingers with Lily’s and held her back. She smiled as the last of the girls disappeared into the mist.

Finally, she had Eben to herself. And she could speak.

Except that she couldn’t.

Eben stepped close, and her heart tripped over her lungs. In the darkness, the intensity of his gaze felt like the sun. How many times had she dreamed that he would look at her this way? And she would defend his right to, in front of Father and the whole country, if need be. He wouldn’t be just her guard anymore.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He feathered his knuckles against her lips, and the tickle spread from ear to ear, down her chin, and through her jaw. He leaned forward slowly, giving her time to back away if she wanted. She didn’t. She didn’t want to back away from him ever again. She closed the distance, and he met her softly, brushing his lips over hers gently, but not hesitantly. His hands slid down her arms, and he clasped her fingers in his own before breaking away and resting his forehead on hers.