“It’s not real, if he’s cursed to fall in love,” I say, miserably.
“Oh, for the love of crackers, Tandy,” Sasha says. “He fellinlove with youdespitehis stupid curse. The curse just makes it harder for him to falloutof love with you. It means that if hewere parted fromhis heart—willingly, if he were to steal something, or accidentally,if he were to fall in love—it’ll be harder to get it back. It doesn’t matterhowhe’s parted from it. Am I right?” she says, to the sorcerer.
“Ineluctably,” the sorcerer says.
“Capital,” she says, sitting back and crossing her arms, looking satisfied.
“But if you were in love with me,” I say to him, “why didn’t you tell me this morning? Or last night?”
“What happenedlast night?!” Mother interrupts.
“I kissed him,” I say, defiantly.
“Tanadelle,” Mother says, sounding aghast.
“Why shouldn’t I have?” I say, my voice rising. “I’ve been kissed by seven people I didn’t want to be kissed by, at least two of whom definitely didn’t want to kiss me. Why shouldn’t I kiss someone Idolike, and who wanted to kiss me? I’ve never kissed anyone else before.”
“Last night,” Mother begins, “you already knew we were coming back with the sorcerer. There was no need todisportyourself just to try to break the curse. You were going to be free.”
“I didn’t kiss him to try to break the curse! I kissed him because I wanted to. And he kissed me becausehewanted to, not because he felt hehadto. And you’ll be delighted to know he was extremely reluctant about the whole thing and it made me feel absolutely terrible.”
“Tandy,” Bash says, half rising, his voice pleading.
“Andyou,” I say, turning on him. “I told you I was in love with you, and youstillcouldn’t bring yourself to say anythingreal.”
Silence falls over the room.
“He probably thought the curse—his curse—made him fall in love with you,” Honey says, gently. “And didn’t want to give you false hope.”
“Well then, lethimsay that!”
Eight pairs of eyes turn to him. Bash colors and swallows hard. “I didn’t want to make things worse for you.”
“You didn’t want to make things worse forme? I’mleaving. I told you I love you, and you know I have toleave, and you couldn’t say it back, even if you thought it was a curse and not real? And I was so worried about hurtingyou!”
“I can’t go with you,” he says, his voice broken. “You’re leaving, and I can’t go with you. I would follow you to the ends of the earth if I could, but Ican’t. And I hoped…if you could leave without feeling that you were leavingthatbehind, too, it wouldn’t hurt you as much, in the end.”
“You told him you love him?” my mother repeats.
“What happens if I don’t leave?” I demand, ignoring her.
“Youareleaving,” Mother says.
He gives me a look filled with such raw emotion I look away, chastened.
“Youare leaving,” Mother repeats.
I sigh. “I’mnot. Or, even if I am, I’m not going back—”Homeisn’t the right word for it. “I’m not going back,” I assert, more confidently than I feel.
“Roth, talk to her,” Mother says, throwing her hands up in the air. My father looks between us with big eyes.
“Honeyrose?” Mother says.
Honey shakes her head. “Oh no. I quit.”
“Ibeg your pardon?” Mother says, half rising.
“Honey,” I gasp.
