“Fliss?”
I let out a short sob.
“Fliss, you’re alive!”
He crawls toward me and grips my hands on the bars.He’s alive. We’re still alive.Will’s lips shake as he bores his eyes into mine. Gods, I’ve missed those eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were— I didn’t mean to—” He gasps, struggling for breath.
I shake my head, forcing the tears to stay inside. I can’t break down right now.Just hang on a little longer.
“Later,” I whisper. “Later. We need to go.”
Will scans my bloodstained shirt, the red on the iron bars, my fever-flushed skin. He flinches away from the bars like lightning struck.
“Fliss, I can’t—I can’t heal you. I can’t use magic here. I can’t doanything.”
“Shut up and listen. Your mum can heal me,” I say. He can wallow later. I need that arrogant confidence back or we’re both dead. “We need to get out of here or they’re going to kill you. I couldn’t steal the keys, so think of something. Fast.”
I pant for breath. Gods, talking hurts.
Will takes a moment to digest the situation. The sight of me. The way I’m barely able to keep my eyes open. The puddle of blood forming at my knees. He nods.
“There’s too much iron—I can’t use magic from inside the cell,” he says, with a clearer head. He kneels before me and undoes the clasp of a red earring like the one I saw him use in the memory. “But you can. Take this. All you need to do is activate the spell inside the gemstone.”
I lean my forehead against the bars to steady myself and pinch the crimson gem with shaking fingers. It has a hum, an energy to it, but not one I resonate with. I’m not a sorcerer. I don’t know how to use this kind of magic. I wheeze through my dizziness. The dark spots in my eyes want to pull me under, want to return me to that cold, dark oblivion.
“Fliss, you can do this,” Will says, and reaches through the bars to take my jaw. He pushes my hair back and holds my face in warm hands. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay. Stay with me now.”
He takes my hand with the earring in and interlocks our fingers, the gem a spike between our palms.
“Imagine it’s the seed of a flower,” he urges. “It wants to grow. It wants to open. All you have to do is give it permission. Make it bloom, Fliss.”
I close my eyes and focus on the magic in my hand. It’s not alive like a flower, not speaking to me like a flower. But it is of the earth, and there’s a vitality to it that feels similar. Familiar. It has the same punch that Will’s sorcery has, like the summoning spell he taught me. And it’shis.It’s his magic. Under the hard surface, it’s bold and curious and longing to be useful. To be opened up and loved.
I squeeze our hands and try. The magic is there, I’m just—I’m just—
“I’m so tired.”
His free hand pulls my chin up, his fingers digging in to keep me awake.
“Don’t you dare,” Will says fiercely. “Don’t you dare leave me.”
I flutter open my eyes briefly. The world is swimming. Chamomile and the remains of the dandelions that I drained drift in the air.
“Fliss, stay with me. Fliss,please.”
He’s pleading now. Desperate. Terrified.
Will swears and pulls my forehead to his against the bars.
“Okay. Fuck. Let me try and help. Be brave, Fliss. Stay with me. Please.”
He grips me like it’s the last chance we have. Itisthe last chance we have. He grits his teeth, suppressing a shout, and there’s a strike of magic in my veins, pulsing like the stinging of a nettle. It soars down my limbs, down my spine, up and into our linked palms containing the earring. Will hisses in agony and the earring cracks in two. A flash of heat ruptures. The bars separating us dissolve like the burning of a match, and I’m thrown back against the dungeon walls. The iron curls upward, leaving a door-size hole and Will behind it, who wipes away a stream of blood from his nose.
“Huh,” he says, like he’s nothing more than curious. “That was stupid of me.”
His eyes roll back and he slumps, motionless. Lifeless.
