“Hold on… hold on…” she said. Persephone’s arm bent, making a creaking sound. Persephone placed her hand on Elswyth’s. Her sister tried to shake her head.
“No, I can save you. I can fix this,” Elswyth said. Tears swelled in her eyes, choking her voice. She pushed vitæ into the tree again, as hard as she possibly could, but it was like trying to send vitæ into stone. The flesh of her palms singed and smoked, leaving burn marks in the wood.
“Please,” Elswyth said. She searched the tree with her fingers, trying to pull the bark away and dig her sister out. Persephone put a hand on her face, staring at Elswyth with tears in her eyes.
“No. No, I won’t leave you,” Elswyth said. “Please, Persephone you have to try. You have to—”
Something washed over Elswyth, coming through Persephone’s hand. She felt the branches on Persephone’s fingers extend over her face, growing rootlets that fused with Elswyth’s scalp.
“What are you—”
Voices began to sound in her mind, distant whispers. She could feel the vitæ running through Persephone and into her, through the roots on her face, into her mind. She looked into her sister’seyes, and her vision flashed. Elswyth’s eyes rolled back into her head, and the room around them vanished.
She fell into her sister. She felt herself move from her own mind and through Persephone’s outstretched hand, falling, falling into a web of memories, pinpricks of light, interconnected with threads of vitæ. She pulled apart, and when she came back together again, she was standing in an unfamiliar garden.
The Royal Palace loomed over her, its thousand windows shining with gaslight. Inside, a ball progressed, music floating out into an autumn night. Before her, a massive hedge maze stood waiting, the wind rustling the endless leaves.
Persephone waited beneath a willow tree. She wore a pink gown and lace shawl, and asphodel dotted her hair. A bouquet trembled in her hands, and she shivered from the cold. She checked a small timepiece in her reticule, looking over her shoulder.
A man reached out of the shadows and grabbed her.
She jumped, turning, and then smiled.
Prince Oliver materialized from the darkness and grinned. His hair was long and unkempt, but his eyes were bright.
Persephone collapsed against him, and they kissed, passionately, his hands slipping around her waist.
When they pulled apart, Persephone was grinning, too. “You taste like absinthe,” she said.
“You taste like Persephone,” Prince Oliver replied.
“Do you like it?”
“I do,” he said.
“You’re drunk,” she said, laughing.
“I am. And you should be, too,” he said. He produced a bottle of winefrom behind his back and handed it to her. She took it, almost nervously, and drank. Some of it spilled down her chin. He watched her the whole time.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, but he grabbed it and then kissed the wine from her lips. She shuddered. His lips moved down her chin, then her jaw, and then her neck.
“Here?” Persephone said, breathless. “But the ball…”
“You’re right,” he said. “Not here.”
He dropped her hands and began walking away.
“Where are you going?”
Prince Oliver lingered at the entrance to the hedge maze.
“If you want me, you’ll have to catch me,” he said. Then he disappeared into the labyrinth of leaves.
Persephone laughed, lifting the hem of her gown and chasing him. “Oliver! Wait!”
Elswyth followed, trailing behind Persephone, seeing through her eyes. Oliver laughed ahead of them, vanishing around one corner and then another. Finally, Persephone came into a clearing.
A small floral arch stood at the center of it. Prince Oliver stood beneath it, waiting, his hands behind his back. All along the grass leading up to the archway, rose petals lay scattered, and candles lit the path.
