“Fern. Do you want this?” the sorcerer asks. “Tell me and I will make it happen.”
The queen’s eyes linger on Card’s curled up form. “You said—You said it wouldn’t—”
With the bewildered guests lined safely at the sides of the hall by Ava’s command and the aisle now clear of guards, I start moving again. This ends now. Will matches my pace, still gripping his injured arm. Fern sees us coming and her face flickers in panic.
“Bash, Morgana cursed you as a child just like she cursed me,” I say, confirming the truth we suspected. “They’ve planted a spell that will remove it, but the cost will be Card’s life.”
“It’s why you can’t use magic,” Will says. “Why the tree backfired.”
“What?” Bash scrunches up his face.
Will and I reach the bottom of the steps. I twirl my hand and, without speaking, summon another flower. Another poppy. If I can put Morgana to sleep too, she can stop interfering. Bash runs his eyes over Will. He’s unsure what to make of him, unsure whether to trust him. It’s been too many years since the card games and sleepovers. Just then, the sweetness in the air vanishes and my flower’s healing effects wear off.
Will winces, his arm jolts, and the queen flinches. She clutches Morgana. “Do it. Do it now,” Fern says.
The fear is a punch to the gut.
Morgana twists both her hands and the spell activates. A green circle emanates from the ivory carpet—a large glowing shape that takes up the center third of the stage. Shimmering lines of magic pour out like molten metal in the direction of the flowers in each corner, tinging the white wall a sickly hue. The shapes in the circlesharpen, become opaque, become recognizable as those from the dark magic book in her chambers.This is it.The hall hums, vibrates,hisses,and before Bastion can whip into action, Morgana lashes out a rope of energy and forces Card’s sleeping form to his feet. His eyes shoot open the moment he’s flung toward her.
“NO!” I sprint up the stairs.
Desperate, I launch the poppy, but it shrivels the moment it collides with a sliver of that green magic. The gust of wind that Will sends at Morgana bounces right off. She grabs Card’s chin, and the circle beneath them glows like poison. He struggles. He fights and claws her wrist, but she holds him in place.
“Card!” Bastion roars.
He’s closer than me, faster than me. As is the king. He lunges forward to grab his oldest son and secures him safely in his grasp.
“NO! LET ME GO!”
“Card! Don’t say anything!” I yell. “Let him go!”
At the top step, the queen throws her arms around my waist and hoists me to the right of the stage. Her foxglove scent taints the air as I resist her, as I push and heave and try to get to my best friend, but she keeps me pinned tightly from behind. Frantic, losing hope, I search for Will. He’s at the bottom of the stairs, one foot on the step like he’s changed his mind about climbing up.
He looks serene, almost. Set. Decided.
Willoh Vane grins at me. That stupid smirk. That stupid,stupidsmirk.
It’s the last thing he does before a shift shakes the room, a similar push of magic like when we were falling into the lake.
He’s had a backup plan all along.
In a blink of magic, Will takes Card’s spot. He shoves Card out of the circle, out of Morgana’s grip, and for a moment, she gawks, pointed nails left holding nothing. Card skids backward on the opposite side of the stage and gasps for breath as, around Morgana and Will, the circle of dark magic bursts like a sunspot. It shines andsolidifies, burning the runes and lines into the carpet, building a glistening wall of translucent emerald-green that imprisons them within, trapping Morgana and Will together.
“WILL!” I scream and buck against the queen.
Morgana grabs his throat and drives him to his knees.
“Well,” she says. “I suppose you’ll do.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Any sound left in the room dies. It’s a stunned suspended silence, struck with the fear of Morgana’s next move. The sorcerer stands in the spotlight of the circle, shoulders down and chin raised, surrounded by emerald-tinted magic and the midnight-blue sparkles of her dress. Her nails dig into Will’s throat as she forces him into place, onto his knees with his back to the aisle. His hair has fallen over his eyes, and from where I am on the right side of the stage, I can’t see if he’s okay. The queen keeps her arms locked around my waist, stopping me from fleeing. Stopping me from reaching him.
On the other side of the stage, past the shimmers of green, Bastion wrestles away from the king to where Card lies on his back, sprawled and speechless. Bash carefully checks his fiancé’s condition, oblivious to anything else. But Card is out of danger—for now. Below, a hundred faces stare up in shock. Most of the guests are safe by the edges of the room, but Pigeon and Lark remain in the aisle with matching haunted expressions. Weapons won’t help Will here. There’s only one person in this room with power.
Morgana leans forward.
“Be a good boy now and play along,” she says, a hiss to her tone. “You know what happens next.”
