“Wait, it’s not what you think!”
“Just come in when you’re finished!”
“I’m with a statue!”
There was a heavy pause behind the door, and then it slammed decisively shut.
“Not…like that…” Ambrose protested weakly.
Soon, Ambrose had dragged Imelda up the hill, positioning her under a tree. The horse cloak immediately began to snore, leaving Ambrose alone with his thoughts. He stared up at Imelda, and his heart sank.
The witch queen had been so sure that the potion wouldn’t work on her bloodline, but clearly, she was wrong.
Which meant Imelda was…gone.
Silver light limned her face and hair, and Ambrose felt a chasm of panic opening up inside him.
For a year and a day, he’d squandered the chance to know her, and now their days together had drawn to a close without him knowing. Only now, when it was too late, did he realize how much he wanted to know her,trulyknow her. He wanted to deserve a secret smile from her, to watch as she kicked off every pair of shoes, to hear her sigh whenever the sky looked fire-dipped and stole her breath, to bury his face in her neck and drink in that smoky scent of her and know she wouldn’t singe him.
He stared at the ground. All the things he hadn’t said—and now, never could—bubbled up in his chest.
“I have something to confess…” Ambrose said aloud. “A part of me never believed that the witch could steal what I felt forever. I knew it the moment I stumbled in on you dancing alone, three months into our reign—if you could call it that—at Love’s Keep. All that time, I’d avoided looking too closely at you, and then all of a sudden…I couldn’t stop.” He took a deep breath. “I’d never seen eyes like yours, or wild joy like yours. And I wanted so badly to be part of your life…and that terrified me.Youterrified me, Imelda. I knew, in some hidden corner of myself, that I could fall in love with you again. I had survived the loss of love once, but what if I couldn’t do it again?”
Ambrose gulped down the night air, hoping the starlight would fortify his words.
“I used to refuse holding on to anything because I knew I could lose it. But if I could relive this past year and a day, I would take that chance… You once said you hated being tied to the ground and that if you ever wore a pair of shoes, you’d only consent to a pair that let you fly instead of holding you down. I never want to hold you down, Imelda. All I want is for you to want to come back to me. Whether you run or fly. It doesn’t matter.”
Ambrose looked up at the Imelda statue, half hoping and half dreading that his foolish speech would resurrect her.
But she was as implacable as stone.
And eventually, he fell asleep.
***
The next morning, he woke up to the sunlight streaming on his face and something rough tickling the edge of his nose. The horse cloak.
I just realized I never get hungry. Do you think that’s normal for horses?
Ambrose jolted upright, and the horse cloak, which had been thrown over him like a blanket, tumbled in a huff of irritation to the ground.
Brightness slanted into his eyes. Imelda stood still as a statue, but…she wasn’t a statue anymore. She pushed her hair back, sunlight pouring out of her hands as she used the last of the enchanted road that was to lead them to the final place where the witch would meet them once more. Ambrose couldn’t stop staring at her. She was back. She wasback.
She startled when she noticed he’d woken up. Something like panic flickered behind her eyes.
“Hello,” she breathed.
Her smile was soft and uncertain. She was looking at him funny, and Ambrose scrubbed at his face self-consciously.
“You’re not a statue anymore.”
“Surprise.”
In a rush, Ambrose remembered all the things he’d said…the way he’d looked at her when he thought he’d never see her again.
“Uh, and how was that experience?”
“Are you asking me if I enjoyed being a statue?”
