“The prince is dead.”
And then he lunged.
His movements were sluggish, but after the airship crash and the walk through the desert and dusty capital, neither Risa nor Javi was in any shape to fight.
The guard’s spear tipped out of his hands, as if too heavy to hold. But it was still a spear, and the pair was still made of flesh and blood. Risa stepped in front of the prince, closed her eyes, and dived into the curse headfirst.
It was nothing like she had experienced before. This magic felt like a wool blanket made of thorns, so potent, so strong, it blurred her vision and slowed her mind. The feeling groped at her, forceditself into the cracks of her being, wriggling through and reminding her of something she often tried to push away.
Guilt. Clawing its way inside her, its ever-reaching tendrils attempting to pry her open like a clam.
An incomprehensible heaviness fell over her. Pressed down on her chest. She couldn’t discern where the curse might begin or end, could not make head or tail of it. She tried to blink, but her body was no longer her own. She didn’t remember having one. There was a faint reminder of where her limbs might be, of her beating heart, but then it was gone, receding to the back of her mind like distant memories.
Each second trickling past and ensnaring her further until she felt sure there was no escape from the darkness.
Until she remembered the feeling of Javi’s stare. Amina braiding her hair with gentle hands. Brunie climbing into her lap and snoring. Linda’s tisana warming her from the inside. Brunhilda’s gravelly laugh. Javi’s mischievous smile. Amina rolling her eyes. Javi pressing his lips against hers. The guilt receded, just enough to free her.
Risa jerked back into herself and opened her eyes.
The world slowed around her. The guard leveled his spear at them again, but it shook beneath the weight of itself and the curse. Javi had his hands around her arms, ready to shove her aside toward safety.
She might not be able to break the curse, but she could try to free the guard from its hold before he tried to kill them in earnest.
Again, she shut her eyes. Searched for the curse with tentative curiosity but maintained her distance, toeing the line of its shore to avoid the towering wave crashing toward her.
This time, she was able to sense that the guard was stuckknee-deep in the mire of the curse, unable to escape while still maintaining some semblance of autonomy enough to protect the castle as duty dictated.
She waded into the muck after him, steeling herself against the magic as it tried once more to suck her in. Tugging, pulling, scrabbling for purchase around her ankles, her calves, her knees. Bringing with it memories of all the times she felt guilty, all the times she pushed her parents away and rebuffed their attempts to love her. The memories threatened to drown her once again, but she recalled the warmth of Javi’s presence and stood her ground against them.
Another thought occurred to her.
She could do the same thingback.
The idea wasn’t quite sound, but it was all she could think of in the face of the powerful curse. She mentally yanked at it, grasping the knots that surrounded the guard. She yanked harder and spoke aloud, feeding it the truth.
“This is the prince. What you were told is a lie. This isalla lie, and you no longer believe it.”
The effect was not immediate, unlike the time in Cairn or with Amina. But she repeated the words again and again until eventually the spear fell, sending dust into the air. The guard teetered on unsteady legs, blinking up at the unforgiving sky, so bright it was almost white, as if seeing clearly for the first time.
Risa slumped to the ground, absolutely spent from the effort. Her breath rattled in her chest, ragged. Javi hovered over her, clearly concerned but unsure if he was wanted.
“What happened?” the guard asked, staring down at his calloused hands with a queasy look. His voice was rusty from disuse. He cleared his throat to dislodge the gravel. “I feel sick.”
Javi glanced down at Risa, one brow arched in question, and she shrugged. She didn’t think informing the guard that he’d been stuck in a curse for the last five years was a good start to his unexpected freedom.
“I am Prince Javi of Kheadon,” the prince tried again, voice gentle and warm as he stood up. Free of the curse, the guard stood a few inches straighter, though he did not reach the prince’s absurd height. “I’m here for my wedding.”
“Huh?” The guard glanced at the castle walls, then back at them. His sparse brows drew together in a V. “What’s going on?”
Risa struggled to her feet with some difficulty, though Javi was helping her in an instant. “You’re a guard at the castle. There’s a wedding happening right now and the groom”—she indicated Javi with a flick of her wrist—“is late.”
The guard peered into Javi’s face and blinked. He stepped back, unsure. “I don’t remember.”
The curse had done far more damage than Risa had anticipated. The guard struggled to get rid of the mental cobwebs, scratching at his head, blinking furiously up at the sky, then at the ground, then at them.
“Here,” Risa said. She took his arm and helped him sit on the dusty ground until his back settled against the white wall. “You must be tired.”
“Yes.” His lethargic nod made a limp curl fall across his forehead. “Very much.”
