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Spellwright

Page 60

by Heather Kassner

Andromeda’s head tipped to the side, resting lightly on Fia’s shoulder. “Dromeda?”

From the cushioned bench across from them, Penbrook said, “She’s all right. You can let her sleep.”

“But the curse—”

“She’s dreaming right now.”

“How do you know?”

The wheels bobbled over a rough bit of road, and Andromeda murmured, tilting away from Fia and curling against the wall of the carriage without waking.

“There, look—you can see her eyes moving under her lids.”

“If you’re sure,” Fia said uncertainly.

Penbrook crossed his arms, an amused slant to his chin. “You think I want vengeance?”

“She did curse you.” They hadn’t talked about it again since the day she’d confronted him, and though she had most of the story, Fia harbored a few more pesky questions.

“Yes, and even knowing the wretched thing she did to me, you’re still her friend,” he said dryly.

Fia laughed. “And you did the same to her. What curse awaited Andromeda if she’d been the one who left you at the altar? It’s probably something equally awful.”

“Hmm.” His lips pressed tight, as if she’d hurt his feelings. “That’s what you think of me?”

“Well… no.” In fact, she thought very much the opposite. But he didn’t need to know that, and so she said, “Just tell me. Did you curse her ring so she’d grow snakes from her head instead of hair? To lose her sense of smell? To never find true love?”

A humorless laugh. “Do you see any snakes growing from her head?”

Of course, Andromeda’s locks were as golden and lovely as ever, but then, she hadn’t betrayed the curse. Still, knowing her, she probably would have worn the snakes equally well.

“What then?” Fia pressed.

“Nothing,” he said, then begrudgingly added, “I didn’t curse her ring at all.”

Fia leveled her eyes at him, sure he was playing with her. “I don’t think I believe you.”

“I didn’t. What would have been the point?”

“Because… well, I don’t know.” Fia thought she might choke on the next words, but she forced them out. “You must care for her, then.”

Fia had come to know Andromeda. She’d come to like her very much. And Andromeda was beautiful besides, which would have been enough for some.

“Would you like to be matched?” Penbrook asked from the shadows.

“No.”

“Would you like your parents to make your fate?”

She shook her head, sensing he had more to say.

“Do you know what they said?” He looked into the middle distance, as if traveling to the past and hearing the words again. “That marriage would be good for me. More like good for them.” His eyes swung back to Fia, a seriousness in their depths that he quickly extinguished with a grin. Or tried to. There was something harsh in his good humor. “And then they tried to hitch me to old Heartcrusher.”

Who seemed utterly disinclined for love.

“Neither of us wanted to get married, let alone marry each other.” He rubbed his finger where she knew the ring was, masked by his illusion. “So I refused to punish her for not fulfilling vows she didn’t want to make when I didn’t want to make them myself.”

Fia sat with her thoughts for a moment, lining everything up—rings meant to bind Penbrook and Andromeda, only one of the bands cursed, a half-fulfilled promise, and magic striving for balance. “Do you think that’s why Andromeda was struck with the curse too?”