As I’d run through the halls with the Grandmaster and her guards, I had convinced myself that I was too late, and I was. Vala had gotten there in time, though. She had knocked the crown from his head this time, like I had done for Daisy back at the castle.
If only I’d chosen the east wing instead, Daisy wouldn’t have had to even face that corpse. I should’ve killed him back at the river. I should’ve snapped his neck and torn him into a dozen pieces, so even if he couldn’t die, he’d spend at least a decade trying to put himself back together.
But I hadn’t, and it still bothered me that I couldn’t understand why. It couldn’t have been that I’d been tempted by his offer . . . could it?
There was no one in the kitchens this late at night—the kitchen staff all asleep—so there was no one to shoo me out. Maybe staying a human wouldn’t be so bad.
Don’t even entertain it, I told myself.
Absently, I stocked a tray with leftovers from the pantry: coffee cake, carrot cake, and some sort of strudel, which also called for a hot pot of tea. As I plated some more pastries, my mind was off elsewhere. Why did Seren seemed so familiar? And why did he think he knew me? Had I bitten him in my previous life? Had I come upon him in the wood after he was lost? He was someone Daisy had once known, so maybe I’d met him, too?
I found a kettle in a cabinet and filled it with water from a pump that must’ve led to whatever water source the fountains in the city fed from, and set the kettle on the stove. I waved my hand over the stove, and fire sparked in the burner—
I glanced down at it with a start.
Did I just . . . ?
No. I couldn’t have.
I definitely didn’t know magic.
I stared at my hand for a moment and did the same motion—and fire burst onto my fingertips.
My hand began to shake.
“C’mon, this way!”
A voice startled me from my thoughts, and I jerked my head around toward it. It was that kid again—the one who’d pulled Daisy off the rampart earlier. He came into the kitchen, his hair golden, dressed in dark leathers that itched at the collar. How did I know they itched? He was followed by a tall, broad-shouldered man.
The world tilted, and I stumbled and caught myself against the stove. My head spun like it had on the rampart. I blinked the black dots out of my eyes, but the voices were still there.
“Patience, son, I’m coming as fast as I can.” The man laughed. He had the same fair hair and tan skin as the boy, and a thick beard.
He wore the crown on his head.
I took a step toward him.
The boy sighed, rounding the other side of the counter. “You’re so slow!”
“Well, the crown’s heavy.”
But it wasn’t. The crown was light. It was the magic that was heavy. I smelled it where I stood—like poppies and burning wood. It drew at him from the inside out, hollowing him, and the boy was afraid that someday when he took the crown, he would be hollowed out, too—
“Stop it,” I growled, pressing the palm of my hand into my eye. The headache was returning—that sharp, needle-point throb at the back of my head.
“What do you want to show me in a hurry, anyway?” the man asked.
“I need your help. There’s a fox caught in the barn.”
“And why couldn’t you get Seren to help? Or one of the other guards?”
The child looked embarrassed. “Seren likes hunting. He’d kill it. And I don’t want him to. It’s just a fox. I like foxes.”
“Do you now?”
“STOP IT!” I snarled at the illusion, throwing my hand out toward it. A blade of flames shot out of my hand and disintegrated into the air. The pots and pans hanging on the racks swung with the force of the heat.
A moment later, a guard swept into the kitchen, pushing back her helmet. “What in kingsteeth . . . you!” she said when she spotted me. “You’re not supposed to be in the kitchens at night.”
I leaned back against the counter. The illusion was gone, and I felt like I’d just run clear across the fortress. I tried to catch my breath. “Right, yeah, just—getting a midnight snack.”
“You better be gone before I get back,” she warned, eyeing the swinging pots and pans. She left the kitchen.
I rubbed my face with my shaking hands.
What was happening to me?
With a high-pitched squeal, the kettle began boiling, and it startled me out of my thoughts. I fixed Daisy a cup of chamomile tea and returned to the third floor, where our rooms were, expecting the tray to catch fire, but it never did. Her room was at the end, and I pushed the door open. “Daisy, a weird thing just happened in the . . .”
She glanced up, her eyes rimmed red.
The thought of magic quickly flew from my mind. I set the tray down on the nightstand. “Are you okay?”
She nodded unconvincingly.
I sat on the edge of the bed beside her and handed her the cup of tea. She took it to warm her hands and sipped it cautiously. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You . . . made this?”
“Is it good?”
“It’s good.”
“Then absolutely, I made it.”
That made her laugh a little—but what had she been crying about? I opened my mouth to ask when her eyes fell on the food tray. “Raided the pantry, did you?”
I shrugged. “The food was just lying around, so I figured, why not?”
She pursed her lips, but the sides of her mouth quirked up a little—as if she was trying not to laugh. “Someday all this thieving’s going to catch up with you.”
To that, I grinned. “It hasn’t yet.” I took a bite of the carrot cake and poked around at whatever else I’d managed to grab, until she suddenly said—
“Thank you. For . . . for everything. I mischaracterized you in the wood, I realize.”
I paused as I picked up a fork and then set it down again. Her sad, tired eyes had dropped to my wrist—the one with the foothold trap scar. It was cruel and jagged, like a lightning bolt, the skin lighter and tougher than the rest. It was a constant reminder of how we’d met. The memories were hazy, but they were still there, like a story told to me. I’d wandered onto Gregor’s farm and gotten caught in his foothold trap. It had nearly crushed my paw. I would’ve been made into a nice hat if Daisy hadn’t come through the fields. She had been gathering wildflowers for something. I couldn’t remember what, but I did remember that she had daisies in her hair. She pried the trap open and took me home. How long ago was that?
Time was strange in my head. It felt like yesterday and another lifetime ago at once.
I had thought she was going to kill me after she freed me from the trap, but she hadn’t. I had been wrong about her then. And other times since.
“Well,” I said, rolling the word around on my tongue, “that makes two of us, then. But, despite everything, I’m glad I went through the wood with you. I’m also really glad we didn’t die. And I’m glad Seren didn’t kill us, either,” I added.
She drew her knees up to her chest. “I just keep thinking I should’ve died instead—instead of Seren, instead of the prince. It should’ve been me.” Her voice wobbled. “The whole kingdom missed them; they still miss them. The king was never the same after he lost his son; some say he would still be alive today if the prince hadn’t been killed. But me—”
“I would miss you,” I interrupted.
She pushed her palm against one of her eyes to wipe away the coming tears. “We wouldn’t have met.”
“Then there would be a hole where you should have been, and I would miss whatever was supposed to fill it.”
She buried her face into her knees to hide. “None of this would’ve happened if it had been me. The wood wouldn’t have come. Anwen wouldn’t have turned. Papa would still be safe—it’s all my fault. It’s all—”
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I set her tea on the tray between us so she wouldn’t spill it and took her face in my hands. “If you had died, then there would be no one to save Aloriya. The wood would have come for the crown no matter what anyone did, whether it was now or later—it was only a matter of time before it came knocking. You’re the bravest, smartest, most stubborn person I’ve ever met, and if anyone can break a curse, I know it’s you.”
She hiccupped a sob, shaking her head. “And what if I fail? What if—”
“We’ll find a way. I’m with you, Daisy. To the very end. I go wherever you go, because when I’m with you, I forget I don’t want to be human.”
She turned her gaze back to me, eyes wide.
Oh, kingsteeth—what did I say? I let go of the sides of her face, reeling, because I had definitely just said that. And I’d meant it. I opened my mouth, gobbling for words. “I meant—what I said was—when I’m with you—”
And then she leaned forward and kissed me.
Her lips were soft, and at first I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I’d seen humans kiss before, but I had never paid much attention to it. It just looked like two people ramming their mouths together. But that was before. She began to pull away, realizing that I wasn’t kissing her back, but then I followed her lips in response, and she tasted like chamomile and daisies.
“Do you like me more than meat pies?” she whispered.
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” I replied against her mouth, “but we’re still getting to know each other.”
She drew away, and the distance between us felt hollow, and I just wanted to fill that space again. She smiled in that endearing, stubborn way. “I like you, too.”
“Even though I’m trouble?”
“Especially because you’re trouble,” she said, weaving her fingers through mine, and the fox part of me feared that I didn’t want to break the curse at all.
33
Save the Outcasts
Cerys
I WOKE UP curled beside Fox, his fingers loose in my hair. Our faces were so close I could count the faded freckles across the bridge of his nose. Gray light poured in through the window, and I blinked the bleariness out of my eyes. Fox was still fast asleep, his breath soft and deep, and I watched him sleep for a few minutes, thinking how familiar he felt, how familiar he looked to me now, and even though we’d only really known each other a few days, all I wanted to do was run my fingers down his cheek like I’d known him for years.