“Then prove it to her, right here and now. Make her perform the ritual. Then I give you Lottie, and you give me Innisfree.”
It is now that Marigold must decide what love is worth. Could it be worth giving up everything? She sees the pain in Lottie’s eyes. She cannot even begin to imagine what Lottie has been put through since they parted, and it is all her fault. There are no words and no immediate actions that could make up for the pain that she allowed. It will take the rest of her days to earn Lottie’s heart and her forgiveness, and even then, she is not sure if she will deserve it.
But she wants that more than anything.
More than absolutely anything and everything, she loves Lottie Burke. The agreement is on the tip of her tongue, but before she answers, she remembers her grandmother’s words. She remembers that it is never her place to decide someone else’s fate.
“I will not take your choice away from you, Lottie. You decide.”
“What?” Lottie whispers.
“If you want to do the ritual, I will give it all up for you. But I will not decide your fate. Because…” She chokes on her impending tears. “I love you.”
Heavy tears fall from Lottie’s face, though she does not return those sacred words. With the curse in place, she cannot. She must decide.
Lottie stares at Versa, vicious venom pouring out of her gaze, until she turns back to Marigold.
Lottie shakes her head. “I can’t. I can’t bear to watch you lose Innisfree for me.” She turns to Versa. “And I will never be like you.”
Once she has made her decision, there are no more deals to consider, no trades to offer.
Marigold wants vengeance.
She wants blood.
The wind gathers around her; the clouds are ripped in two as the rain bleeds from them. She lunges for Versa and rips Lottie’s chains out of her frail hands. Her fist collides with the witch’s face, knocking her to the ground. She hovers over Versa as a storm burgeons at her command.
Versa smiles up at her with black ash staining her teeth. “You are going to regret that.”
Chapter Forty
In an instant, Versa is on her feet, and Marigold is sent flying backward as a clump of earth collides with her chest and knocks the air from her lungs.
“I made you a very kind offer,” Versa growls. She positions herself so Marigold is blocked from getting to Lottie. “And this is how you repay me?” Fire rages in her palms. “You are exactly like my daughter, and like Lottie—thankless and rotten to the core.” She throws a ball of fire toward Marigold and barely misses her face, burning her shoulder instead. “You two deserve each other. It’s such a shame you will not live to have her.” The other bolt of fire comes flying toward Marigold’s face, but she rolls out of the way just in time. Air swirls around her, forming a moving shield as she steps toward Versa again. The wind spins outward like a whip and slashes Versa’s paper-thin skin across her face. Ash falls from the wound in a diagonal line, from her temple to her jaw, resembling the form of a monstrous black mask. Versa licks the ash clean from her mouth and growls.
She crushes a vial of ash in her fist and utters a wicked incantation as she throws it toward Marigold.
It pierces through the wind that protects her, and when she uses her arms to shield her face from the attack, the ash leaves her with harsh white burns. She screams and listens to Versa’s wretched laughter carry over the wind. She falls to her knees in pain, searching her instincts for what to do next. She reaches fora healing elixir in her pocket and takes it quickly as Versa readies another attack.
But Versa’s attention has strayed from Marigold as something collides with the back of her head. She falls to her knees in pain, Mr. Benny standing behind her with an old shovel in his hand.
Of course he didn’t leave when Marigold told him to. He said he would protect her until his last breath, and he meant it.
“Run, Mr. Benny! Run!”
He doesn’t. He stands there, bracing himself as Versa stands and faces him. Her attack is instant and deadly. She turns, grinning wickedly back at Marigold. She steps out of the way slowly, taunting Marigold with her last violent deed.
Benny is dead. She sees it before she feels it. He lies there, his body bent into an unnatural shape, crushed into a heap of his own blood and bones. His red suspenders tangle with his limbs like he is prey caught in a spider’s web. There is no time to rush to his side. Marigold cannot heal him. The closest thing she had to a grandfather is gone. She turns away, unable to stare at his body any longer. Her ears are ringing loudly, and the world moves in slow, blurred motion. Grief wells up inside her, stretching out her insides and threatening to pull her apart, but she swallows it down. There is no other choice. A monstrous rage comes alive in her belly, fueled by her grief, spite, and bloodlust.
Versa conjures a fire that immediately swallows the trees at her back. It continues to grow and feed off the air that Marigold is commanding until it takes on a life of its own. A raging wildfire begins to rip its way through Innisfree, destroying everything in its path. It is already dangerously close to the cottage—soon it will devour the abode.
Then it will take the apiary.
Then Althea’s grave.
Then everything else.
In response to the fire, the landvættir emerge from their posts and hurry to Marigold, who is in desperate need of aid. To Marigold’s utter shock, they all become aglow with powerful magicthat blinds both her and Versa. They erupt in a burst of bright gold, and when it fades, they have all taken a new form.
