“I must warn you, this will not involve a respectful distance. Is that okay?”
She nods again, her heart racing.
“Okay.” Lottie leaves one hand on her cheek and threads the other through her hair. She leans in, brushing her nose against Marigold’s softly. Then Lottie kisses her.
It’s delicate, desperate, it’s the universe meeting itself for the first time. It is everything and still not enough. Marigold reaches up and touches Lottie’s face. The woman’s skin is too soft, like a kitten or a flower or some other thing that is too easily killed. Their kiss deepens, and she pushes Lottie’s sleeve off of her shoulder, caressing her collarbone and feeling the first of her scars. It ignites a protective instinct within Marigold. She will do anything to keep Lottie safe. Anything to make sure that Lottie never gets hurt again. She wants to bite her, swallow her, keep her hidden behind her heart so no one else can touch her.
Suddenly, Lottie pulls away, and it feels like a blade being ripped from a wound. The woman falls back on the bed, her body convulsing violently, her eyes rolling back until only the whites are visible. She’s gasping for air and choking on it. Blood streams from her nose and her skin turns white as bone.
Marigold races to her side, pulling her up to a sitting position and grabbing her chin. “Lottie? Lottie, what’s happening?”
Lottie’s eyes are wild and glassy as they find her. She tries to speak, but no sound comes.
“What do you need? I’ll do anything.” She starts to stand, intent on finding honey to help her, but Lottie does not let her go. Marigold holds her, rocking her back and forth until herbreathing starts to calm and her body is barely shaking. It feels like they have been there for hours, maybe days.
“Fuck,” Lottie finally whimpers, bringing a trembling hand to her face and wiping the blood from her lip. “It is real.”
“What’s real?”
Exhaustion is creeping over Lottie. She slowly sinks into the bed, curling into herself.
“Everything.” Her eyes cannot stay open any longer. With the very last of her energy, she says, “Your magic. Your curse. It is real.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
She spends an hour watching Lottie’s every breath, counting the seconds between them. Lottie’s suffering is the work of the curse. It must be. When they come together, when their hearts collide, she gets sick. It all starts to make sense now, almost perfectly, minus a few missing pieces. When she is confident that Lottie is safe and recovering, Marigold silently steps out of the room. She tiptoes down the hall and walks into her own room to find her mother waiting there on the bed.
They lock eyes. Should she speak?
No, her mother should speak first. She is the one who never truly responded to her letter. She exhales, drops her shoulders, and waits. Her mother stands, approaching slowly, her steps cutting through the silence.
“Hello, Mari, darling,” her mother says. She almost reaches for Marigold’s hand but pauses. “I have missed you so much,” she says through broken sobs, and Marigold cannot hold back anymore. In her mother’s arms, she collapses.
“I’ve missed you more.” Her head is buried in her mother’s shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry for how I left.”
“So am I,” her mother says, stroking her hair. “I never should’ve hidden anything from you. I should have told you the truth from the beginning. I should’ve…” She pulls back and holds Marigold’s arms. “I should have doneeverythingdifferently, Marigold.”
“I’m starting to feel the same way.” She buries her face in her hands. Her mother wraps her arms around her and leads them both to the edge of the bed.
She releases a shaky breath. “Frankie sent me your unfinished letter.”
Her mother looks surprised, but then she sighs. “I should have expected nothing less from him. And in truth, I should have sent one in the first place.”
“I wish you did.”
Her mother strokes her cheek and wipes away her tears. “Which letter did he send? I started many.”
“The one that said that there are still truths I do not know.”
Her mother nods and takes off her glove, revealing the scars across her hand. “This burn is from that day. From that witch who tried to kill you.”
Marigold traces the burn scar with her finger.
“I’ll never forget seeing this unnatural bolt of pure fire coming for you. Your little legs couldn’t move fast enough. You froze there in front of the window, and I had to pull you out. I didn’t even feel the pain when it happened, but I looked down at my hand to see nothing but blood and bone.” Her lip trembles as she looks at Marigold’s face. “That could’ve been you. It terrifies me to this day. That vision that my imagination created. You, and blood, and bone.”
“But you saved me,” she says with hardly any air left in her lungs.
“That’s all I ever wanted to do. Save you from her. Marigold, that day awakened something in me. A rage I never knew I could possess. In that moment, I would have forgone everything I had in order to keep you safe. I asked your grandmother then if I could change my mind, give up my love so I could have my magic again and fight for you.”
