I hurl myself at him.
How dare you almost die?I pound a fist against his chest.How dare you almost leave me?And again.Don’t you ever scare me like that. Don’t you dare. Don’t you ever—
I punch and hit and cry until my croaks turn feeble and he draws me into his arms, wrapping me in a calming chamomile refuge.
“I’m sorry,” Will whispers into my hair. “I’m sorry, my love. I promise to never do that again. Unless you have any other curses that need breaking. Then I might have to.”
I clutch his jacket and butt my forehead against his collarbone.Shut up.
“Okay, okay. I promise,” he chuckles. “Come here.”
He ropes a hand in my hair and, with the other, rubs circles on my back. I fasten myself to him, anchor myself to the beat of his heart and the warmth of his touch. No more barriers or dungeons or magic separates us. I’m never letting him go. I’m never granting death a chance that close again.
Purposeful conversations sail on the sound of furniture being rearranged. Pigeon’s determination as she solicits Bash. Family. Food. Simon. King Garland’s serious tone. Card chiming in with ideas. The Library. Apologies far overdue and plans for the future. It doesn’t mean a thing while I’m enveloped in Will. Each minute that ticks by in his embrace was earned, deserved. Each second is a new lease on life. A freedom everyone else has had that I’ve never experienced. The freedom to choose.
“Okay, anyone else?” Bastion announces, with a finality expected of a royal. “Anything else so important that this wedding needs to be further put on hold? Because if not, then I am marrying this man, gods help me.”
Will adjusts to brush my jawline. He gazes into my eyes and smiles. My smile. “Someone wants to talk to you, sweetheart,” he says.
Buttercups linger in the air, and Card crouches down, his white suit ruffled.
“Fliss,” Card says, and averts his eyes. “Um, I’d like you by my side…if you still want to be my maid of honor. If not, I understand. I get it. But, um…”
I grip the front of Will’s shirt. I don’t want to let him out of my sight.
“It’s your choice, love,” Will says.
“I know there’s more to talk about and apologize for. I know I’ve made too many demands of you already, but I want my best friend, Fliss. I want you with me.”
Cardamine offers his hand.I want. I need.How many times have I heard him say that to me? This is different. This time all he’s askingfor is me. Myself, as I am. I place my hand in my best friend’s, and he helps me up, my legs thin, unsteady stems.
The wedding guests are seated once more, having organized the mess and ensured no one was badly injured. Finishing a handshake with Bash, Pigeon slinks down the stairs to the front row where Mum and Ruth sit beside a paralyzed Fern. The king takes an empty tonic bottle from the queen’s hand and thanks the court physician. Nearby, Godfrey has his broken leg propped up next to Nettle and Ava. Then there’s the baker, the apothecary, parents, friends, neighbors. A room full of people who love me, who endured a painful blast of magic to liberate me from Morgana’s chains.
Onstage, Merit sorts out Bastion’s hair and brushes his suit. Card motions me toward the center of the stage, to take my place opposite Merit on either side of the grooms.
“I’ll be just over there,” Will says, the light brush of his fingers leaving my back. He gets halfway down the steps when he pauses. He clicks his tongue. “Actually—”
Will spins and strides toward me with a single-minded smirk. My heart has time for one pounding beat before he grabs my jaw and kisses me. A whimper of delight ripples from my throat. I throw my arms around his neck, and he dips me back, locking our lips together—I’m certain that I hear a whoop from Pigeon. His hand trails down between my shoulder blades, to my waist, over my hip, and beyond the taste of him, over the fluttering in my chest, the fabric of my skirt changes, my blouse shifts to chiffon, and when Will breaks away, a cocky smile on his face, he eyes my transformed dress, and says, “That’s more like it.”
He plants me on my feet and twists his hand to conjure a bouquet of white wedding flowers. I’m dazed, trembling in the brand-new dress. It’s a gorgeous pastel pink, with half sleeves that puff like a drooping petal and a sweetheart neckline above a corset with white boning and intricately laced satin ribbons. Pale chiffon flowers dot the bodice and decorate the dress, both on top and under a tulleskirt that floats in waterfall layers like the head of a bell flower. It’sbeautiful.
“Princess,” Will says, and holds out the bouquet.
The hall could disappear, could erupt with chaos once more, and I wouldn’t notice. I take the flowers.
In the quietest voice, husky with nerves, I say my first uncursed words: “Thank you. Myprince.”
He grins, radiant.
“Even on my wedding day!” Bash snaps. “Does he always have to one-up me?”
Card laughs and kisses Bash’s knuckles.
“Shut up and marry me.”
The ceremony ends with no more interruptions, and it’s a sigh of ease when the guests can finally filter out toward the banquet hall just on the other side of the main entrance. Bash rests his forehead against Card’s and intertwines their freshly ringed fingers around the bouquet I’d been holding. It’s a solace, a sanctuary after a turmoil that ended lives and injured more. My own sanctuary waits by the front row. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me once, and it stains a blush across my cheeks as pink as the dress I’m in.
“Please help yourself to food and drink in the banquet hall,” Bastion says to the flow of guests. “We’ll be with you shortly. Celebrate and rest easy, friends.”
