What I need? Nobody ever asked me what I need. I need Mai to live. I need the trials to be over. I need to know that the Storm won’t be unleashed. I need to not fight Baelen tomorrow.
I need… Baelen.
The light I’d seen caressing his skin is gone now. He casts a shadow over me, blocking out the mid-afternoon sunlight, but it feels like shelter. A place to hide from the terrified glances my ladies give me, the anguish taking the form of tears streaming down Elise’s cheeks, the way Sahara slumps her head into her hands and begins stroking Mai’s hair, trying to make her comfortable.
Would it be so terrible if I told Baelen what I feel?
“I need… a gladiolus flower.”
He nods, flooding me with sunlight as he stoops to pick one for me, choosing one with delicate white flowers. I turn my palm up to receive it and he drops it into my waiting hand.
Elise interrupts our conversation, visibly shaking in front of us. She’s expended a lot of energy conjuring spells and Baelen steps up fast, allowing her to lean on him before she topples over.
Elise says, “Mai’s asking for you.”
My feet are lead as I cross the distance—five short steps that feel like a thousand. I drop to my knees beside Mai. Her breathing is short and sharp, her lungs constricted, her knees bent, and her hands folded across her chest.
She whispers, “I’m glad it wasn’t the Storm. She’s… angry and hurt. I don’t know why she became the Storm, but she’s not… truly evil.”
“I will find out who did this to you, Mai. I will find them and I will—”
“No… Don’t live for revenge.”
“Justice,” I say. “Not revenge.” I place the gladiolus flower against her cheek. My voice cracks, my throat tightening, and I have to swallow back my tears. “For honor. And strength. For everything you’ve done for me.”
She smiles as she inhales. “Thank you for bringing me… to my garden…” Her gaze flicks upward and I sense Baelen’s presence beside me. “You must… find… each other.”
The spell reaches her throat, stopping her breathing as it spreads across her face. She closes her eyes, peaceful, as her last breath exhales between her lips.
“Mai…” I drop my head to her chest, knowing that I can’t hurt her now. I wrap my arms around her and let my tears fall, dripping across her porcelain features as I place my cheek to hers. The place is suddenly swarming with spellcasters—the Elven Command’s lackeys—trying to see Mai, clicking their tongues at the destruction of her quarters, but Baelen stands watch over me while I mourn, refusing to let anyone near me, keeping them all at bay until I rise and stumble into the safe circle of my Storm Command.
I’ve lost Mai.
The curse is set.
