My trousers burn up my thighs, and my knees buckle. “I’m everything I want to be.”
She crosses her arms. “I’m not bluffing.”
I cry out, a burning sensation now coating my skin entirely, even in the places where my clothing has already burned away. My head spins from the pain, my eyelids fluttering shut of their own accord. I hear a loud splash, but I don’t know where it’s coming from. Then the sound of my name. Agony clouds my brain, twists my thoughts as my lungs tighten. My legs give out beneath me, and I fall back beneath the surface of the water. From a corner of my mind, I wonder if it’s already over, if I’m already seafoam. Surely, seafoam doesn’t feel this much pain.
I’m vaguely aware of arms circling my waist, pulling me above the water. My heels scrape rocks as I’m dragged to the shore. Someone sets me lightly down and I feel something come around my shoulders. A shirt. Or my sealskin, perhaps? Did Nimue save me after all? My skin still feels like it’s burning, but whatever article wraps around me clears my mind. I open my eyes, blinking into the growing light. My relief quickly turns to terror as Dorian looks back at me. It’s his shirt that’s draped over me. He fits it more properly around me, aiding my arms into the sleeves, securing the buttons. Then his hands are on my face, my arms, trying to soothe my agonized flesh.
“Maisie. No, Maisie.” His voice is strangled, and soon I understand the source of his increasing panic. The shirt has begun to sizzle just like my previous one.
“It’s all right,” I whisper through chapped lips and close my eyes once more.
“Revoke this curse, monster!” I hear him shout.
“I will not,” comes Nimue’s icy tone, “but you can. It isn’t fully sunrise yet.”
My mind is slipping back into its garbled state, and I can no longer comprehend the meaning of the words they exchange. Only when I hear my name do my eyes snap open. Steam rises all around me, obscuring Dorian’s tear-stained face as he takes my cheeks between his hands. I almost moan at the relief his touch brings, a momentary respite from the burning.
“I love you,” he says. I try to speak but can say nothing back. He says it again for the both of us. “I love you, Maisie. That is my vow. That is the only one that matters. With this body, I am a shield…for you. With these hands, I protect you. With these lips, I give myself to you. Always you.”
He presses his lips to mine.
I’m too weak to fight him off, too weak to even understand the significance of his gesture. Then, little by little, my mind begins to clear. My skin ceases to burn, the pain lessens. Dorian’s lips remain pressed to mine, warm and full and passionate. For a moment, I think Zara was mistaken or that Nimue’s dark enchantment on my magic has failed. Dorian’s kiss seems to last forever, lingering with proof of his continued life, continued breath. A surge of joy leaps through me as I lift my hands to find his arms. He pulls away then, gently. His eyelids are heavy, a smile curling his lips. Then, with a contented sigh, he collapses to the shore.
44
Ascream shatters the air around me, and I belatedly understand it’s coming from me. I scramble toward Dorian’s lifeless form, my hands moving over his chest, his neck, finding no signs of life. There’s no breath. No pulse. I place my palms over his chest and pump several times. Nothing happens. I want to do more, perhaps give him the kiss of life, but I can’t—
Realization dawns.
He claimed my cursed kiss, the only one that would ever force me to automatically kill. Which means my lips are no longer deadly. Not unless I’m filled with hate. I open his mouth, keeping all thoughts and emotions centered on love, on saving him, and try to perform the kiss of life. I breathe into his mouth the way I’ve seen my brothers do. When that doesn’t appear to work I return to pumping his chest.
“He’s dead, daughter.”
I whip my head toward Nimue. She hovers at my side, upper body propped upright by her serpent’s tail. “What did you do?”
She lifts her chin. “I did nothing. It was his choice.”
I shake my head as tears stream down my cheeks—cheeks still warm from his touch. “This isn’t what I wanted. It was supposed to be me.”
“Better him than you. He’s no one. You’re a princess. You’re—”
“Save him,” I say, remembering what she did for Zara. “You have that power. You can bring his soul back to his body.”
She scoffs. “I’ll do no such thing.”
I sneer at her. “Then I will.” Closing my eyes, I disappear into the Twelfth Court. When my eyelids open, I find the familiar purple cast to my vision. The shore pulsates with violet particles, the waves trapped in an unmoving tableau. My eyes lock on Dorian. I look over his form, finding it exactly as it was in the normal world. Unlike everything else around me, his coloring is muted, the particles barely buzzing. I rise to my feet and look around. When Nimue saved Zara, her spirit was found a short distance from her body. I stare into the violet haze, seeking something brighter than the rest, shapeless. Finally, I see it. An undulating light-form rippling a few feet away. I run to it, but my steps float, bounce, like they always do in this realm. When I reach Dorian’s spirit, I try to grasp it, but the particles simply disperse around my touch. I try again, but the form has less physical substance than other things do in the Twelfth Court. Normally, all I need is my intent to pick something up, move something. And the opposite intent to walk through it. But this…the light-being isn’t acting like anything else I’ve encountered here. I rack my mind, trying to recall what Nimue had done.
“Come,” I say, echoing the words she’d spoken to Zara’s spirit. I extend my hand toward it. “It’s not your time yet.”
The light-being shows no sign of understanding me. So I try something else.
“Dorian,” I whisper, my tone grating against my ears, so wrong in this realm. “It’s me, Maisie. Please take my hand. Come with me. I’m not ready to lose you.”
His spirit ripples once. Twice. Shudders.
“Please, Dorian. You don’t have to go.” I hold my breath as the bright purple particles begin to buzz faster, shine brighter. Then the form begins to shift, extending something like a hand from its main mass. My heart leaps as I take it. I begin guiding the form back toward Dorian’s body, but my lungs start to contract. The particles around me grow thicker, heavier. “No, no, no,” I mutter, pulling the light-being a little faster.
Pressure builds in my skull as I guide the spirit down to its body. But this is where my plan ends. Nimue sang to Zara in a language I didn’t understand. A song likely passed down from her banshee father. Banshee magic is deeply connected to life and death, and they weave their power through wailing tunes. I too must have inherited some of this magic, as evidenced by my power to kill with a kiss, to enter the Twelfth Court at will. But that’s all I can do, all I understand. I’m not as strong as Nimue. I can’t even stay in this realm longer than a few minutes. Already my vision has gone nearly black, and I’ve no idea how to save the man I love.
