Gwen’s hands were shaking, the worn parchment trembling. ‘You thought I couldn’t handle this?’
Isobelle stood, cheeks burning, breath coming too fast, heart pushing against her ribs. For once, no words showed up to spill forth and fix everything. For once, she was frozen in helplessness. She could see, moment by moment, Gwen pulling away. She could see Gwen’s eyes shuttering, the hurt crystallising into armour to block her out.
Isobelle’s heart seized in a panic so visceral she could do nothing but let her sobs break free – not to win the argument, not to distract Gwen, but because this panic had been trying to push its way to the surface for months now, even before she received the letter, because deep down she had known, or at least feared, that her parents would not understand.
Suddenly, Isobelle couldn’t bear to keep it inside her any longer.
‘You don’t understand, Gwen. Your father loves you, he lovesus, separately and together! I haven’t seen my parents inyears, and when I showed them my heart, they …’ She broke off, throat closing, gesturing to the ball of parchment in Gwen’s fist that held everything her parents had to say to her.
Gwen made a sound, not quite a sob – it sounded like a gasp of pain, like someone had run her through with a sword. ‘And yet you hid it from me, when I could’ve been there, could have done thiswithyou.’
Isobelle had no ready response, nor indeed any response that showed signs of getting ready anytime soon.
‘Isobelle, you kept this from me because you thought, somehow, telling me the truth would be the end of this, of us.’ Gwen’s eyes were shuttered hard, but wet with unshed tears. ‘Because youdosee an expiration date for us.’
Isobelle wanted to shout a denial, to throw herself at Gwen and tell her she was wrong, that no such thought had ever crossed her mind. But she found she could not move, could not speak – because Gwen was right.
Isobelle managed to say three more words. ‘I was scared.’
Gwen took a step back, the crumpled parchment falling from her hand to the floor. Isobelle could see her fighting to speak – her lips parted and her throat worked, but no sound came out. For a moment, Isobelle’s heart squeezed, and she wondered if it was the spell, if Gwen was in there trying to break free.
But somewhere, deep down, Isobelle knew the truth.
She took a step towards Gwen, and stopped when the other girl recoiled and held up a hand between them.
‘Don’t,’ Gwen blurted. She took a few ragged breaths, each intake of air reforming that fortress around her emotions. Then, her voice taut, she said quietly, ‘I’m going to ask one of the girls to come stay with you tonight, so you won’t be alone if whoever did this comes back.’
‘Gwen, wait—’
Gwen shook her head. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll gather everyone and see if we can’t make some headway on the mystery of this place – solve this town’s mess once and for all. Prove there’s no necromancer, no spell, no magic whatsoever. And then, either way, I’ll see you safely back to Darkhaven Castle.’
‘Gwen –!’
‘Please,’ Gwen said, her stony voice cracking. ‘Please, let me go.’
‘No,’ Isobelle cried, rushing forward, reaching for Gwen’s arm. ‘I can’t let you leave, not like this – you have to stay, you have to let me make everything right again—’
‘You can’t alwaysmakethings be how you want them to be!’ Gwen cried, pulling her arm away. She stood for one last, awful moment, and then left, ripping half of Isobelle’s heart from her as she went.
16
Arguably, the bravest person in the entire freaking world
Gwen managed to make it to Hilde’s door and choke out a brief account of the state of Isobelle’s room. Hilde saw the expression on Gwen’s face and started to reach for her, but Gwen took a step back.
‘Please – she’s going to need you,’ she managed. ‘More than I do.’
Hilde’s expressive face softened, showing her confusion and curiosity, but she nodded and went.
Gwen didn’t remember walking back to her own room, only the thud of the door closing behind her. She didn’t make it to the bed, but dropped to her knees on the rug before the fire, which had been lit by one of the inn staff.
Then she broke. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she didn’t bother to dash them away as a great sob tore its way out of her chest. She doubled over, hands pressed against the rug. She couldn’t breathe – it was like whenshe’d fought the dragon, the absolute despair that filled her when that great, malevolent eye stripped her of everything she held dear. That despair she’d tried to bury and banish to the realm of nightmares. She felt the way she did when she woke, crying out, in the dark.
Terrified.
Only now, there was no Isobelle there, waiting for her.
Because Isobelle thought Gwen was a coward too.
