He lowered himself to meet Amelia’s gaze, clasping his hands on her shoulders in a firm grip. She wanted to avoid the icy blue of his eyes. They held the weight of judgment that made her feel unworthy and weak, like she was the dollhouse that had been torn open, every impractical decoration under scrutiny. The frills and lace, the pink wallpaper, all so feminine and trivial.
“In a few days’ time, you will turn seventeen. That’s too old to indulge in childish whimsies.” His hands on her shoulders felt like lead, tying her down to the real world. “Do not forget your promise. You are to marry Gyldan’s future king and continue our legacy. There’s no time for anything else.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as her breaths came out trembling. Her godmothers surrounded her, placing small hands on her back and rubbing in circles. Their soft murmurs reassured her that a prince would find her soon and save her from the curse. The two of them would spend the rest of their lives together in a real fairy tale, living in a castle even bigger than the cottageAmelia had, and wouldn’t that be so much more wonderful?
Amelia nodded, ignoring the ache in her chest. Before the godmothers left, they asked if she was all right.
“I’m fine,” she answered. “Everything is fine.”
CHAPTER 15
“ITOLD YOU I’M fine,” Corin snapped.
“Sure, that’s why you’re still scowling.”
Elly had given up on her silent treatment, curiosity overtaking her instead. She wanted to know what Corin had seen in the ice caves. The snow had dissolved behind their footsteps after they left the caverns, and the scenery had shifted into a new season, a few months condensed to mere minutes. Icy rivers melted into liquid light as tulips sprouted along the edge. Color filled the land in the form of blooming flowers and lengthening grass. The cuts on Corin’s knuckles healed under the warmer atmosphere, as if she’d never smashed the ice at all.
She wanted to continue the land’s pattern of forgetfulness, and so she ignored Elly’s interrogations, instead rubbing her itching nose at the change in atmosphere. They followed Malicine through alpine meadows, mirroring the rows of caterpillars that crawled down the moss. With each step, buttercups sprung from soil, unfurling their petals to greet the spring air. Fuchsia colors sprouted from low rolling peaks of mountains, a sea of flowers and blossoms that burned Corin’s eyes from its brightness.
Still, Elly didn’t relent. “You’re hiding something.”
Corin’s skin prickled at the familiar words. The memory came back to her like a trickle of light intruding upon the dark veil she’d insisted on wrapping around her mind. The light grew wider, and she remembered it had been moonlight specifically, spilling through the open flap of a tent as a shadow stood before her. On the night Harlow had caught her rifling through their commune’s tents, Corin had tucked the satchel behind her back. Still, Harlow always had sharp eyes.
“You’re hiding something.”
Corin had reared back as Harlow charged forward. Her satchel spilled open in their scuffle. Cans of vegetables cracked on the floor, the sticky preservatives staining their shoes and crumpled bills she’d swiped from their friends’ coat pockets. Shame had flooded her cheeks, even though she’d already told Harlow she planned on leaving, that her years at the commune were only temporary until she found an actual home for Elly and her. She’d refused to tell anyone how she signed the lease, where the building was, and what she sacrificed to get it. She also couldn’t bear the humiliation of returning to the commune and asking them for supplies after she and Elly moved in and discovered their new home was nothing but a broken-down hovel with four walls.
Harlow had stared in silence at the pile of perishables Corin tried to steal. The look of disappointment had made Corin cringe. She was glad that she’d waited until Elly fell asleep in their new home before sneaking to the commune to swipe essentials. She wouldn’t have wanted Elly to witness this, or find out whose side her sister would have taken.
When Harlow spoke, her tone had been flat and even.
“I was wondering where you were at the last meeting, but now Iunderstand. You were too busy stealing from friends who fed you instead of the people who took those things away from you.”
Anger had flared in the pit of Corin’s stomach, burning through her initial guilt. She’d stayed far away from the shops where Harlow and the others met to discuss protest efforts against the war. On nights the artisans gathered in hushed whispers, Corin would usher Elly back to the river, where they struggled to fall asleep on the hard ground of their tents. As her bones ached from rocks digging into her back, Corin would stare into the darkness with quiet fury, resenting Harlow for inviting danger to the group. There were no walls to hide behind, no space that was truly their own. Sooner or later, a soldier would catch on to their plan and follow a trail leading to where Corin and Elly slept, killing them both simply by association.
“We’re a gang of vagrants, not a resistance group,” Corin had replied. “Sorry for not wanting to risk my life for a pointless mission. You realize your plan won’t work, don’t you? People will call you violent extremists, and nothing will change. At best, a few soldiers die, while the rest will execute you. It won’t matter in the end.”
Harlow had shaken her head, dismissing Corin like she would a petulant child. To Corin, the reaction was worse than anger. It was pity.
“Keep choosing survival over all else,” Harlow had sneered, “and one day you’ll look around to find loneliness surrounding you like a moat.”
Countless vicious things had tugged at Corin’s tongue in response. She’d swallowed the words down and picked up her empty satchel to leave the tent. Only the guilt she’d tucked in the deep depths of her conscience had pulled her to stop beside Harlow.She hadn’t met the woman’s eyes, couldn’t bear to see what sort of expression Harlow wore as Corin spoke her final words to someone she once considered her friend.
“Don’t go to the tunnels tomorrow.” She’d tried to make it sound like a threat, not a desperate plea. “They’ll kill everyone.”
It had been their last exchange before the insurrection, one that Corin never took part in, yet she never felt the relief of evading death. Instead, she remembered leaving Harlow behind, her boots pounding against cobblestone, her breaths coming out as ragged gasps in the night air. Humiliation had made her heart hammer against her rib cage, as if the organ itself couldn’t handle being in her own wretched body.
That night, she’d run away and reached the other side of the river that took her father. Her knees had fallen on the grass. Tears had welled in her eyes at what she’d lost, another home she could never go back to.
A bee buzzed past her ear and broke her from her reverie. Corin blinked at the grass at her feet, where wildflowers sprouted from soil. The cold night of Gyldan melted into daylight from a dream. The raging river she once remembered had shrunk into a babbling brook, where crystal-clear waters only met sunlight and not death.
That’s right,she reminded herself.It doesn’t matter in the end.
The only thing that mattered was how Corin got to the end, whether her friends were there or not. She took a deep breath, letting new purpose take priority over distant regrets.
“Where’s the princess already?” she demanded. “I thought we were supposed to find her in Springland.”
Corin and Elly had been following Malicine’s path down the stream, and Corin was growing tired of wading through peoniesand swatting away dragonflies. Malicine tossed a backward glance. “Hasty to see her, aren’t you?”
