I release the handle of the half-buried trowel and rest back on my heels. Like the soil disturbed at the flower’s base, my face crumples. For so long, I’ve shoved everything down—my mum and her guilt, her secrets, the queen beckoning me at any moment, the heartbreak of Lark, Card and his inability to notice that I’ve been drowning. Everyone expects me to be fine. They expect me to open my shop and complete my orders and be a good friend and good daughter and—I can’t keep this up anymore.
“I argued with my best friend last week and we haven’t spoken since. I…I don’t have any other friends. I’veneverhad any other friends and—and I’m so scared that I’ve ruined it by saying the wrong thing and no one else will put up with me and—”
My voice breaks, but I need to release the pressure on my tightly capped chest. The rift fractures and I’m unable to fight back the torrent of tears that follows.
“I feel so broken and I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know when it’ll end. Some people want to use my curse for their own gain. Others are terrified of me snitching. I try to do what I think is the right thing, but everything I do, everything I say is already decided for me. I can’t say what I want or make my own choices. I don’t even know who Iamwithout this curse. It’s probably why I’m so clumsy—because I’mconstantlythinking about what to say. I’m just—I’m so tired of feeling trapped. The other day, when they questioned me about the forest, I did my best, but why should I have to? Why is navigating something as simple as a conversation such a big hurdle?”
I choke out a sob and press the balls of my palms into my eyes until purple and green blotches pulse in the darkness. Gods, I must look pathetic.
Not a second later, Will is there. He pulls me to his chest and hugs me tight. His fingertips dig into my coat, and he holds me there like armor against the world. I’m buried in him, as sheltered and shielded as the flowers in this grove. The queen can’t summon me now. Card can’t find me. No one can touch me with Will here.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and press my face into his chest. “I’m sorry that I feel like a mess and I can’t say exactly what I want to. I’m sorry I dumped this all on you.”
He leans his chin on top of my hair, quiet and gentle, like those hands on my sprained ankle all those weeks ago.
“Felicity, you don’t owe anyone anything,” he says. “You don’t need to defend yourself. You don’t owe anyone an explanation. It’s not your fault.”
It’s a difficult truth to hear.
Will pulls back to hold my shoulders, his knees touching mine. I don’t want him to see me like this, all puffy and red, but those eyes I’ve grown so fond of are soft and genuine, no judgment or snark or expectation in sight. I heave a few breaths and mop my wet face.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. If anything, you’re the one that needs to be apologized to,” he says, and clicks his tongue. “They don’t deserve you.”
The grove glows behind the waves of his hair like an emerald halo. He reaches up to my cheek and brushes away a tear. When he’s done so, he doesn’t take his hand away. His fingers skim my skin, grazing my jawline toward my chin, then back up again to cup my face in his palm. I’m speechless and staring. Tingling in all the places he touched. What did I do to deserve this tenderness? I’ve spent the evening snapping and venting and crying, yet here he is. Here’s the sun, his golden glow and warm eyes, touching me like a precious petal, like I’m something to be cherished. There’s none of the anxiety I felt trying to please Lark. This affection I have for Will, this yearning, it’s spring flowers in full bloom, open and simplywonderful.
“Did you put a hawthorn blossom in the captain’s armor?” I ask quietly.
Will chuckles and moves his thumb a final time across my cheek. Now that my tears have stopped, he drops his hands to his lap, inches from mine. I miss the warmth of his palm already.
“Yeah. I figured if you hadn’t gotten away in time, it would at least make you laugh,” he says, and a small smile breaks through my sadness.
“It did. But—” I clasp my hands on my skirt. If a truth goes unsaid for too long, sometimes people think I’ve been tricking them or keeping secrets. It’s a thin line. Will still doesn’t know just how close I am to the prince who hates him. I haven’t told him.
I want to.
I want to tell him everything.
There’s a tightness in my chest that feels like I’ve buttoned up a shirt that’s too small. It’ll crush my lungs until the truth blurts out.
“Will,” I say, and grasp the collar of his jacket. He glances down at my hands in surprise. My eyes squeeze shut. It’ll make it easier to say it out loud. “I don’t want you to be angry that I didn’t tell you something sooner.”
I hear his smile. “Fliss, I’ve told you. You aren’t obligated to tell anyone anything.”
No, he doesn’t get it.
I take a deep breath.
“Cardamine is the best friend I was talking about. Prince Bastion’s fiancé. I’m even supposed to be Card’s maid of honor in two weeks, but then we had this falling out and I don’t know what to do about it, just please know that I didn’t try to keep it from you at all. It never seemed like the right time, and I’ve spent so much time talking about what Card wants and needs that with you, I never— I didn’t want him to take up the space when I was with you.”
It comes out in one unrelenting breath, and I wait until I finish to open my eyes. Will is staring at me. His mouth has fallen open slightly and, gods, if I could pull that mouth to mine in any other circumstance, I would. But like revealing the truth, now is not the right time. I cling to his jacket.
“Nothing has to change,” I say. “I like spending time with you, and I don’t care what Bash thinks.”
It’s only when I say Bash’s name like that, without all the titles and royal respect, that Will hardens. He pushes himself to his feet and paces away, frantically running a hand through his hair. Desperate to not let him get too far away, I leap up and follow him to the edge of the grove.
Suddenly, he crouches to the ground and exhales like he’s been punched.
“Will—”
