Page 57 of A Fragile Enchantment

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I can’t control it.” The thorns seethed around him, and another vine whipped toward her. Niamh stumbled back. This time, she let out a little shriek and landed flat in the mud. Grime splashed onto her, and the impact rattled into her shoulders.

Her emotions had always ruled her magic, too. Accessing it had only ever been a matter offeeling.But it had never hurt her like this. Even when she was sad, even when she was angry, magic lit her up from within. It felt like light, blossoming within her like petals in the rain. For Kit, it was another beast entirely.

Once you strip off all those thorns, he’s not so bad.She had glimpsed that truth long ago. All his anger and aggression were the sword and shield in the hands of his fear.

“Please, Kit.” She righted herself and knelt just outside the reach of the thorns. “Talk to me.”

“Why? It doesn’t matter,” he rasped. Another vine erupted fromthe earth and coiled viciously around his arm. He pressed his forehead against his knees. “All I do is ruin the lives of everyone around me.”

“It does matter!” Niamh set her jaw. “What your brother said was cruel. That doesn’t mean you have to punish yourself, and it doesn’t mean you have to push everyone away.”

He was silent.

“Don’t force yourself to bear it alone,” she pressed. “Please.”

Slowly, the vines fell away like layers and layers of armor sloughing off. His eyes faded back to amber. Somehow, they were still the brightest things she had ever seen. For the first time since he ran off, he looked at her. Truly looked at her.

Recognition lit his eyes. “You.”

“Kit.” As soon as she stood, exhaustion, greater than any she’d ever known, settled over her. Blackness crept in at the edges of her vision. Distantly, she decided it was a bad idea to stay up all night again. “You’re going to be all right.”

Kit’s lips parted with surprise. “Niamh?”

Her knees went weak. She felt disembodied now, floating somewhere far above herself. Her center of gravity slipped from underneath her, as quick as a cut to the throat.

“Niamh!”

Before she hit the ground, she slumped into something solid.Kit.Her head lolled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Some part of her knew she should be mortified, but it was so warm in his arms. So oddly comforting.

“Are you hurt?” As she slid into the encroaching dark, the last thing she saw were his wide, panicked eyes, and in them, the look of a man who had finally realized the worst of his weaknesses lived outside himself. “Answer me. Please. Did I hurt—?”

16

When she opened her eyes again, she was inside—and warm. Rain drummed steadily against the roof. It streaked the windowpane and glittered in the light of the candle burning low on her nightstand. Another fire crackled merrily in the grate, releasing the heady scent of woodsmoke. Shadows marbled the ceiling, swirling slowly. It was all so cozy, she considered falling back asleep. But then she remembered.

Kit.

Someone had swaddled her in a wool blanket. Niamh squirmed out of it and forced herself to sit upright. Immediately, she regretted it. Her head ached.Everythingached. The inside of her chest felt as though it’d been hollowed out, like a well tapped too deep. It’d been a very long time since she felt this wretched. If memory served, she wouldn’t be getting out of bed for a day or two. Shewould live like a maiden imprisoned in her tower, watching life pass her by through a cracked mirror.

But the wedding was in two weeks.

Every second trapped in this bed, trapped in this treasonous body of hers, was one she couldn’t spare. The backs of her eyes burned with unshed tears. At least she was too exhausted to run to the looking glass and check how much her hair had silvered.

You’re not sick until you’re sick,she reminded herself. And yet, it was getting so much harder to convince herself that she was well. If only she had not pushed herself so recklessly. If only she did not have to worry about pushing herself at all.

The faint sound of voices reached her from behind the door. There were two of them, tense and hushed. If she held her breath, she could almost make out what they were saying.

“… really made a mess of things now.”Miriam,Niamh thought. “Go to sleep. She will be fine.”

“Let me see her first.” Niamh’s heart leapt. She would recognize Kit’s voice anywhere.

There came the awkward shuffle of footsteps, then the soft rattle of the door in its frame. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough for one night?”

Another low mutter.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Miriam said sourly. “I’ll check on her for you again.”