I don’t know if he does.
Beside him, Bastion stops in shock, in a deep-purple suit that matches Card’s tie. Without the usual sword at his hip, he seems off-balance, off-kilter. Although that could be our entrance’s fault. Farther back on the stage, in grand layers of jewels in the blues and silvers of the kingdom’s flag, King Garland and Queen Fern stand with a healthy Prince Merit at their side. The queen’s face twists in loathing, framed by coiled black hair and makeup that covers the sunken, stressed skin I’d witnessed earlier, while the king looks pallid, more than when I last saw him, his broad shoulders curled inward. The effects of Morgana’s poisoning.
In the stillness, before chaos can crack the room, something calls to me. Something familiar and powerful and floral. I snap my head toward the back corners of the room and see two glass vases on white marble stands—one containing the Feiyan flower, its petals alert and bold and blazing like a flaming arrow; the other containing one of the Odyssa, the snowy petals shying from the congregation in a nestle of deep blue leaves. If I’m not wrong…I scan the back of the stage and dread coils like a snake down my back. The other Odyssa and Lunarie hide in the other corners of the room, completing the cycle, the looped order that grants them power. Waiting.
The queen makes the first move.
“Get out,” she hisses, striding forward and shoving Bastion out of the way. He stumbles into Card over to the left side of the stage. “GET OUT.”
The armed and armored guards lining the room search for Ava, for command, and find her missing. I use their indecision to stride forward, past stunned citizens and mounting whispers. I get halfway down the aisle when someone in the front row rises.
“She told you to get out,” Morgana says, lifting the long sleeves of her midnight-blue gown.
“You’ll have to try harder to kill us next time,” Will taunts before she can use a spell, and sends a teasing tendril of wind toward the front half of the room.
“What are you doing?” Card demands, gripping Bastion’s hand.
“Saving your life,” I say.
“Fromwhat?”
“From them!”
I point to the flowers in the corners of the room. The tension in the room is taut and mere seconds from snapping. But as long as Card keeps his mouth shut, there’s still hope. The flower vases I prepared this morning have many uses, and one of them is silence. I summon a red flower to my open palms, just as I did for the guards outside.
“Card,” I say.
He scans my face anxiously and sees only fearless determination.My only friend, forgive me for hurting you one more time.
“I really am sorry about this.”
He doesn’t have time to respond before I imagine the flower in his hands, imagine the magic bleeding out, and the tingle of sorcery follows my command. A beat later, Card drops to the stage, unconscious. Silent and unable to declare his love. Bastion falls to his knees beside him as the poppy crumbles into red sand.
“What did you do?” the prince cries. “Card!”
The queen hauls herself to the front of the stage and raises a finger.
“Kill them!” she says. “Now.”
Finally, like releasing air trapped in a pipe, the room erupts.
Six guards stream down the aisle toward us, but Will is ready. He cuts his hand in a sharp horizontal line, and the front two guards stumble to their knees, toppling the pair behind them. Chairs crash back and guests scramble to the ribbon-strewn walls. I focus on the Feiyan in the back corner. I imagine it in my hands, conjure a vision of its warmth and intensity, and say the summoning spell.
Nothing happens.
“Go,” Will says, lifting his hands again for another blast. He’ll keep them busy.
I run for the Feiyan, past the crowds and clamoring, and just as I reach it, a burning rope of light whips around my wrist and yanks me back.
“No!” Morgana screeches.
I glance over my shoulder to find her twisting a hand in my direction, biting the rope farther into my skin.
“Stop them!” Fern yells.
“Encho kaveh,” I say, and summon an orange butterfly weed with tiny bright flowers that cluster like a constellation.Let me go,the flower sings, and the magic soars down my fingers, to my wrist. Morgana’s magical light cracks apart.
I seize the chance to take the Feiyan, but my hands hit an invisibleforce field around the flower vase. I summon a single gladiolus with large peeled-back petals. It means sword, a piercing smack, strength. It doesn’t matter. The protective border holds.
