That I fooled Death.
Which isn’t true. Not at all. If anything, I was about as clueless as him, but I’m not so stupid as to confess that. If Death’s humiliation buys me a wish, I’ll damn well take it!
I stop fighting his grip, stop trembling. I let a cold, gravedigger calm settle over my face—the kind I use when the grieving scream at me for things I can’t change.
“Took you long enough,” I say.
Vale freezes, releasing me. His rant dies in his throat, pupils blowing wide as he searches my face for the lie and finds only the hard surface of my resolve.
Then he scoffs, the last of twilight gleaming off his black curls. He rakes a hand through them, a gesture too mortal, gaze going to the horizon once more before he looks back at me.
“I didn’t know what to make of what I was witnessing until the very moment you opened his throat.” His jaw works, the muscles bunching tight beneath the skin. “It’s no small confession for any man to admit he’s been made a fool, yet it’s a particular humiliation for me, when the laws that bind me do not allow my foolishness to pass unpaid.” Tilting his head, he shifts nearer, his eyes narrowing on my lips for the shortest moment before they find mine. “What, Elara, is it you demand of me?”
“How can you not know what I demand?” My wish requires no thought, no consideration, that excitement expanding at my core a guiding force. “Lift the curse. Destroy the crown and take your damn heartstring back.”
“Denied.” The word is instant.
“What?” That expansion in my chest comes to a halt, shriveling under the pressure of a forced inhale. “You just said?—”
“The crown exists because of a wish—made by a king long forgotten, protected by laws mortals cannot fathom.” Vale steps into the space I’m trying to defend, his nearness a suffocating weight. “Did you really think it would be that easy? That you could simply wish away centuries of debt with a single breath?” He dips his head, his lips grazing the shell of my ear, his voice a mocking caress. “I cannot grant a wish that directly contradicts a prior binding.”
My chest tightens, the hope that had flared just seconds ago brittling into ash. I want to slap him, pound my fists against that velvet coat, but I force my arms to remain by my sides. Anger is useless if it’s blind.
Think, Elara. Think.
What do I demand?
“Interesting,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to read the thoughts inside my skull. “I expected a quick, calculated demand, oh-so perfectly arranged by the late King Kael. Or is it possible that he was so busy scheming, he forgot to tell you what ought to come next?”
My pulse throbs inside my ears, but I refuse to let it reveal my ignorance. I could ask for Daron’s health to be restored. For his lungs to clear. For the color to return to his cheeks. Just a few weeks ago, that would’ve been my wish. But that was before Mother arrived at the palace with dark purple veins, rot spreading silently beneath her skin…
“Tick-tock, Elara.” Vale’s hand slides up my arm, his thumb drumming into the pulse point that betrays my growing panic. “Night is coming. Even I do not have all of eternity to wait for you to make up your mind.”
“I won’t let you rush me,” I snap, jerking my arm from his grip. “Can I…can I wish for my family’s health to be restored?”
Something loosens in his stance—a tension I hadn’t realized he was holding until it evaporated. The corner of his mouth ticks up, not in a smile, but in a look of supreme, insulting pity.
Like…like I asked the wrong question.
“You might as well ask for the health of the entire realm, and that contradicts what this fabulous crown demands in return for its existence.” He steps closer still, until I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “But I shall make a concession for mylover,” he purrs. “Daron, or Mother?” His eyes are alight with amusement, watching the wheels turn in my head. “Choose, and I shall restore his or her health.” He brushes a stray hair from my forehead, his touch lingering. “But only once.”
Only once…
Because rot remains and might claw its fangs into my family all over again. Daron could wake up healthy tomorrow, only to wither again by next harvest, and I would have spent my one bargaining chip on a temporary bandage for an eternal wound.
“I have other matters to attend to, you know,” he murmurs. “People are dying in droves. Watching you dawdle makes it difficult for me to tend to the souls piling up.” His thumb strokes along my lower lip, slow and intimate, but my breath doesn’t hitch until his mouth dives for it. For a sick, disorienting second, it looks like he’s going to kiss me, only to tilt at the last moment and press his mouth to my ear with a faint chuckle. “Five…four…three…”
His stupid countdown sharpens my mind like a whetstone. He’s trying to confuse me. Rush me. Trying to get me to make a mistake.
My throat narrows.
I can’t demand the curse away. My family’s health is a fickle wish. I’m trapped in a cage of rules I didn’t write, playing a game I don’t understand. Kael left me nothing: no instructions, no guidance.
Whatever he thought I could do to break this curse, he took it into the dark with him. What am I supposed to do? Take matters into my own hands? Wait around for a messenger who might never come?
My gaze snags on the mound of fresh, damp earth. Kael knew something. Something that could break this curse. If I had five minutes…just five minutes to wring the truth out of him…
I look up, meeting Vale’s smug, expectant gaze. “Can you bring him back?”
