We are all stories, girl. Just as we are all of us bound by this curse of blood.
My knees finally give out. Hal catches me in his arms and we sink slowly to the floor.
‘How do you know?’ I choke out.
A hollow laugh. ‘Fox. Of course, I thought he was lying until I realized he wasn’t.’
Tears blur my vision.Hal. The dutiful prince, condemned for the crimes of his grandfather.
Terror becomes tinged by fury as I remember what Caius Castellion said:
Every story needs a villain, you know.
I suppose that explains why he would take this stance – painting the vengeful Mage as the enemy rather than Emmeric’s tyrannical family.
‘For so long I clung to the hope that there was a cure,’ Hal murmurs into my hair.
My heart gives a sudden lurch.
A cure? Or … akey?
‘Blaze,’ I breathe.
Hal draws back, one eyebrow raised. ‘What about her?’
‘Your grandfather seems to think that … that she has the power to break the curse on Emmer– I mean, on you.’
‘He does?’ Hal considers this for a moment. ‘I don’t see how Blaze has anything to do with this,’ he says slowly. ‘But if somehow she does – she’s still missing. Her brother too. We won’t know anything until she returns.Ifshe returns.’
The orbs of light shrink smaller and smaller until they extinguish completely.
Hal sighs, weary and defeated. ‘At least now I know that my rule – my life – wasn’t entirely wasted,’ he says. ‘If I am going to die, then I’ll die knowing I did something good.’
‘Don’t talk like that.’ I take his face in my hands and force him to meet my gaze. ‘This is not the end. There has to be a way to fix this, and we’re going to find it.’
His answering smile is unconvincing, but he pulls me close and kisses me softly – and that kiss feels like a promise.
58
Blaze
The night air is thick with the scent of liquor and triumph.
We sit round the bonfire clutching cups of Fox’s grandmother’s juniper-berry gin. She kept it for special occasions, which is why he thought it fitting to fetch a couple of dusty bottles from the kitchen cupboard. I’ve lost count of how many toasts we’ve raised – to Queen Hydra, to Syla, to me. I haven’t stopped grinning since finding the Eye in the Creek. It’s back where it belongs now, hanging from the chain round my neck.
Flint and Spinner are in the middle of a slurred rendition of some ballad about a pirate and a prince, their voices loud and off-key. Beside them, Sheen winces and holds out his hand for another bottle, which sails over to him, carried on an obedient stream of air. Fox laughs and slides an arm round my waist.
The drunken singing falters as Flint breaks off mid-verse to glare at us. Ever since his arrival he has left us inno doubt as to his opinion of our attachment. Once Fox had finally managed to convince my brother that, firstly, he was not holding me hostage, and, secondly, that he truly was a Healer, he offered to tend to Flint’s burns. Naturally Flint refused, but grudgingly accepted a vial of painkiller at Spinner’s insistence.
I notice he stays well back from the bonfire, angling the left side of his body away from the crackling flames. I also notice him stealing glances at Sheen.
I swirl the contents of my cup. The liquor is not nearly as strong as the relief that continues to cascade through me, intoxicating in its intensity.
‘I can’t believe we did it,’ I say.
‘Youdid it,’ Fox amends, tucking a stray curl behind my ear and ignoring Flint’s low growl of protest.
I smile as I pinch my chain between thumb and forefinger, letting the talisman swing back and forth like a pendulum before adding thoughtfully, ‘It’s strange, though.’
