Page 207 of Blood Curse

The light did not fade this time. It gathered around the drop of my blood and drew it through the water in a narrow black-red line. Bryony’s blood moved to meet it. The two currents touched over the silver circle.

The spring pulled.

More blood left the wound. Not stolen. Not commanded. Taken along the path I opened and no farther than I allowed.

For one breath, the garden fell silent.

Then Harrowmere bucked behind us.

The covered walk lifted with a crack of timber. Iron shrieked against stone. Mara and three others threw their weight against the gate while the house tried to slam it across the opening. A section of roof dropped behind them and shattered over the path.

The court stayed at the gate. The Crown’s command was gone. Choice held them there now.

They chose to keep the way open while we finished this.

I stepped over the rim.

Cold water closed around my boots, my knees, then my thighs. It hit the dagger wound and ripped a sound from my throat. Elias moved. I stopped him with one look and took the next step towards Bryony.

Her breath caught when the scent of heartblood reached her.

Hunger darkened her pupils. The Crown found it. Red light crawled down its points and spread along the side of her neck, urging her head towards my chest.

Bryony turned the other way.

The effort shook through her. Her free hand clawed at the basin wall. She kept her bleeding palm on the silver and gave the Crown nothing else.

Trust had never felt gentle between us. It had teeth, and danger, and the absolute certainty that she would fight for herself while I stayed at her side, ready to be bitten.

I went to her anyway.

The water reached my waist. Every pulse forced another dark ribbon around us. The spring gathered each one and carried it towards the carving.

Bryony looked at the wound, then back at my face.

“Stay with me,” she said.

Not save me. Not bleed for me.

With me.

I set my left hand over hers.

Blood coated my fingers where I caught it under the blade. It spread across the back of her hand and slipped between our palms. The silver circle flared under both of us.

Recognition moved through the spring.

It wasn’t a voice. It was a pressure easing, a locked shape opening around two separate decisions. Bryony’s blood burned bright against the silver. Mine ran darker beside it. The spring held both without mixing us into one offering or letting either choice swallow the other.

I felt the boundary between us as clearly as the contact of her hand. Her pain remained hers. My wound remained mine. We were not halves made useful by joining. We were two complete, furious people choosing the same fight.

That was what the Crown had never understood. Power could connect without possessing.

The Crown screamed through her mouth.

The sound cut across the garden. Bryony arched against me as the black band tightened around her skull. I braced my body behind hers, holding her upright without pinning either arm.

Silver light drove into the Crown’s lowest point.