“What? You want me to do it right now?”
Card clears his throat and Bash takes a deep breath, in balance with each other like a bouquet of lisianthuses, their white petals dipped in violet and adoring admiration. Bash adjusts the cuff links on his purple suit.
“I’m sorry for not listening to you earlier. I’d hate to blame my…hasteon exposure to the poison in my mother’s chambers, but either way, it was a lot to take in,” the prince says. “To be honest, I’m still confused. How did you two even meet to begin with? And how did you figure out Morgana’s plan?”
Will waits for me to answer first, and when I don’t, he decides that a shrug is a decent enough response.
Card watches me, searching and sensitive. In a soft voice, he says, “You don’t have to tell us anything.”
We lock eyes and meet on a bridge of consideration, of courtesy and understanding. Of patience while I decide my next words.
“ ‘Mr. Wolf,’ ” I say quietly, quoting our school play, “ ‘what could I possibly have to offer you, when you are strong and fast and all in our forest know your name?’ ”
Card’s face crumbles, and he works hard to smooth out a smile, tears glistening on his eyelashes. “ ‘Everything, my dear Rabbit, for you are all I am not. I have much to learn, and this time I will not take what is not given freely.’ ”
We break from our partners and Card crushes me in a hug.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, digging his fingers into my chiffon-cloaked shoulders, “for everything. I missed you so much.”
Card leans back and there’s a fragment of space between us, a lingering slice of the betrayals and anger and mistakes we both made. Something broke here that will take time to mend, but for now, there’s a smile on his face, a future that takes him to the Library, and ahusband who stands by his side. Like a stream that splits in two, we’ve both changed, both gravitated in different directions, but it’s okay. I want him to be happy. I want us both to grow so our friendship can be a healthy, sunlit blossom.
“I have a crown imperial flower in my garden,” I whisper. “I never had a chance to give it to you.”
“I could come round? Soon? If that’s okay with you, that is.”
I nod. Card smiles. He turns back to Bash.
“Come on,husband.They’ll be waiting for us.”
Bastion’s joy is as vibrant as the Lunarie’s crackling petals.Oh! The flowers.I snap my head to the corner where the Lunarie should be and find it reduced to dust. Crumbled to gray soot. The other three vases share the same disappointing fate. The best flowers I’ve ever seen. Gone.
Will touches my back.
“They’ll bloom again, as all things do,” he says.
“You coming?” Bash calls.
I take a last sad look at the flowers who died for me. The Feiyan, who gave me Will. The Odyssa, who gave me Pigeon. The Lunarie, who gave me a step toward the truth. I whisper a thank-you, as I always do, and lead Will by the hand toward our friends.
Chapter Thirty-One
The banquet hall is alive with chatter and gentle orchestra music arranged according to Card’s precise plans. Similar to the Grand Hall, the spacious square room is decorated with white ribbons and flowers under sparkling crystal chandeliers. Circular tables dot the edges, their elegant tablecloths also meticulously chosen, and they overflow with a mountain of food that will surely please Pigeon.
As soon as Will and I enter, people swarm around us. They pat my elbow, offer anecdotes, ask how I am, and it’s only when Will swerves us away from the crowds with the politest excuse he can muster that I find myself able to breathe. In a secluded corner, beside a large vase of perfumed white roses (grown in the castle greenhouses, not my own), Will exhales too.
“Don’t think I’ve ever had so many people want to talk to me,” he says. “Is it too late to go back to being unpopular?”
I give a short laugh and worm my hand around his waist again. Why is it so perfect if not for me to touch?
“No, you’re not allowed. You’re mine,” I say, enjoying how it feels to play with my words.
Will raises his eyebrows at me, even more so when I glance at the glisten left on his lips.
“Felicity Farrow…” He brings a finger under my chin and tilts my head up. There’s a slice in his sleeve outlined in dried blood that I frown at.
“They ruined your favorite jacket.”
“I can take it off if you like,” Will suggests, delectably.
