“What’s going on with you, Malcolm?” Emma stares at the handle on the carriage door. It’s made from crystals that reflect the light, dappling the space around us. “Where are we going?” Her nervous brown eyes catch the light, making the tiny specks of gold inside them glimmer. “Is this some type of game? Or are you serious about giving back my necklace and wanting to end the Tether?”
“Do you always just dive in?” Clearly small talk isn’t her style today; I wonder if it ever is. I glance down at my three-piece navy suit with the sling cradling my sore arm. I’d thought I’d looked cool before, but now the suit feels dark and plain next to her glamour. But I love it—being next to her.
“You clean up nice,” I lie.
She looks better than nice. Emma is beyond beautiful. I’m not sure I got the words to describe the way she looks in red. I’m almost certain a face that flawless can’t be trusted. So I leave it at nice. Her hair is pinned up in the back, but curls frame her flawless face as the corners of her mouth inch toward a smile. She smooths her dress. The fabric cools into a sky-blue shade, matching the air above us.
“Thanks.” Her eyes are sad for a second as she says, “My grandmother enchanted this for Grace. I knew it would change styles to fit the time because she wore it sometimes when she’d travel for scouting missions. I didn’t know it changed colors.”
I can tell by the dip in her mood that Grace meant a lot to her. So I try to change the subject, lift her mood. “Have you been to this fair before?”
“Look,” Emma says. “I didn’t come to talk. If you really want to end the Tether, I have some ideas.”
We ride farther down the street. A colorful troupe of acrobats do twisting somersaults in the middle of the plaza. Their bodies and limbs flip, twirl, and spin through the air in unified precision.
Emma’s dark eyes scan the people and the horizon as if she is already charting the best route for us to take. “We need to understand the Tether if we want to know how to stop it. And you need to give me back Grace’s necklace before I can trust you enough to try to do anything with you.”
“I will,” I say. “You’re right. We gotta know the witch’s history.” I raise my voice over the crowd. “She could be the key to ending the curse.” I dig into my pocket to grab the necklace, but the horse jerks, the carriage jolting, and I fumble. It gets shoved deeper in my pocket.
Emma glances at another troupe of jugglers. This one twirls flaming batons that flip and spin in the air across from us. She nods and then looks at me. “Malcolm, I think the past Tethers could have answers or clues, too.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “We gotta research all of that. I can go back in time, ask my ancestors what they know about the Tether and the witch. They can help us learn more about how our families got tangled up with this mess in the first place.”
The horse clip-clops along the road. Emma gazes at a fire-eater who draws gasps from the crowd, but she doesn’t seem impressed. “I’ll explore my grandmother’s library,” she says. “It’s packed with family secrets. Stuff about the witch and the Tether must be there somewhere.”
I dig into my pocket again and hand her the necklace.
She smiles, and the world lights up. Emma clasps the necklace around her neck. “This means everything to me.” The sun hits the pendant on her necklace, and it glimmers like a chained star, painting small rainbows across the smooth brown skin of her neck.
Her eyes paint slow up-and-down streaks on me, but her voice is soft and timid. “Thanks.” She notices my sling, and her gaze darkens with concern. “How’d you get hurt?”
“Battle training,” I grumble.
She frowns. “I hate it too,” she says. “We gotta stop this. Somehow.”
I nod. There’s crazy energy between us. I got a lot I wanna say. But I bite back the words because of our mission and her last name. The carriage rounds a bend, and we pass a flock of beautiful dancers. None of them are as pretty as Emma, though. They flutter and sway in their dresses, a whirlwind of midnight blue with gold embroidery turning in circles, arms skillfully raised as they grip sharp daggers that gleam blindingly bright in the sun. I bet Emma could dance like them. She walks like she’s got rhythm. Hell, Emma’s so tough that I bet she could even take out a pirate if she held a dagger. I smile. I love a strong woman.
Emma stares at the blades without blinking as the dancers twirl to the rhythm in a blur of color and light. “Have you ever killed anyone before?” she asks.
The beat of the drums vibrates through the carriage, matching the racing of my heart. I look at Emma and wonder if her beautiful smile is real or if it’s a mask covering threats. “Have you?”
She looks away. “Maybe we should stick to talking about the things we can change.”
Damn. She has. That vulnerability and pain draws me in, makes me wanna know what caused it.
Emma leans in close, her lips hovering near my ear. Her breath is warm and smells like honey. It sends a chill through me.
“If we stick together,” she says, “we can break the curse. We can save our families. Save each other.”
Those words were so much more than I’d hoped to hear. Our eyes lock, then I look at the full beauty of her heart-shaped lips. I sure hope her words are true and that she isn’t playing me with pretty lies before trying to push a dagger in my heart. “No doubt,” I say, nodding, “We can stick together like stink and feet.”
Her laugh is like music. “Let’s go in there!” Emma shouts suddenly, pointing to a tent of bloodred velvet. A worn wooden sign bearing a crystal ball made of gray chipped paint has the wordsPSYCHIC READINGSlooping in swirly red calligraphy.
“Why there?” I ask.
“We may find a hint from the beyond,” she replies. “A clue from my sister…”
I smile at the fact that she believes in the ancestors’ guidance like I do. No matter how time loops and the years turn, eventually, everyone crosses over into a future that no longer includes them. So it’s comforting to think that those we love are still out there someplace near and far. That they still want to look out for us too.
