“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Away from you,” I say, pacing fast.
He snaps at my heels. “If you’d have told me everything, then we never would’ve had any misunderstandings! You kept too many secrets from me.”
“You’re saying it’smyfault?” I bite back. “You think you’re entitled to every thought I have? I don’t owe youanything.”
“So you go running off with someone who’s endlessly tortured your best friend’s fiancé?”
“It’s not wrong to keep some things private. If you think that’s lying—”
Card snatches my elbow and spins me around. We face each other on the balcony overlooking the entrance hall.
“I just wanted you to stay in my life,” he says. “I wanted you to feel included every step of the way, so me being here, becoming royal, wouldn’t change anything.”
“No.” I throw his hand away. “There were no boundaries—though I admit that I was at fault for giving so much of myself to you that you always expected it. You were always calling on me and demanding my time, and the moment I finally took space for myself, you lashed out. Of course I kept Will a secret. He was the first person to ever make me feel truly seen. And if Bash hurts him again, I swear I will do my best to destroy this entire godsforsaken castle. And I amnotexaggerating. I can’t.”
Card stares at me like he’s never seen me before.
A blast of wind from the entrance hall soars through my ribs.
I know that wind.
Will saunters through the double doors, hands crackling with purple energy—the same magic I saw Morgana use in her chambers—and eyes a shadowy black from the potion she forced him to drink. Dust and debris dance around his boots, swirling in an ever-growing whirlwind. The magic feels off, tainted. Evil. But, gods, is it a relief he’s unharmed. He reaches the center of the room and smirks. It’s not the loving, teasing smirk that I adore. It’s as sharp as a crevice in a stone. I race down the stairs, hearing Card follow behind.
“Will!” I call. “Stop!”
“I don’t take requests,” Will sneers, but it’s not his tone. It’s Morgana’s. Will is her puppet to control.
I advance toward him, each step a test of Morgana’s patience. A blast of wind shoots my way, and I fling my arms over my face until it dissipates. She can throw what she wants at me. I won’t give up. I added the heather and dogwood. Iknowhe’s in there. I just need enough time to locate the flowers within him and activate the magic.
“Will, listen to me,” I plead.
I take another step. Card grabs the back of my coat.
“Fliss, don’t,” he says.
I shake him off. “I know you can hear me. Will, please. Fight this. Fight her.”
I try to sense the flowers in his system, searching for a way to pull their emotions to the surface, just like I do with the flowers in my shop. It should be easy. Except, when I’m alone and it’s quiet, I can concentrate and take my time. How can I focus when Morgana is using Will like this? When her magic is infinitely more powerful than mine? I catch the faintest brush of the heather’s protection and my magic scrambles to clutch it. Will laughs, harsh and bitter. It’s so foreign, so out of place. And like a breeze through open fingers, I lose my grip on the flower.No, come back!
“Ah, was it you I sensed earlier?” Morgana says through Will. “Hewas shielding me from something.How sweet.It serves you right for meddling!”
Will sends another gust of wind, and I decide to sprint for him. If I can get closer, get a hand on him, activating the flowers will be much easier.
Halfway there, a body slams into my side and my scarscreams.
“Watch out,” Howell grunts as he cushions our fall. We skid across the stones to the sound of swords being drawn.
“Surround him!” Ava orders, positioning herself next to Card at the bottom of the stairs.
“Howell!” I wheeze, winded.He’s alive. Is Pigeon—?
Howell releases me, and I scramble to get my bearings. Tarin is by the open doors, their sword raised in steady hands. Howell and I are on the left, and on the opposite side, past Will, Godfrey takes a defensive stance, his face anguished. To our right, Ava backs Card to the bottom of the stairs, her eyes fixed on Will in the middle of it all.
Howell helps me to my feet and holds out his arm to protect me from the magical cyclone picking up speed in the center of the room. He’s changed into leather armor and bears fresh scrapes on his stubbled cheeks. I almost laugh. Of course. Howell is unbeatable. Could I ask him about Pigeon without arousing suspicion? Before I can decide, the castle convulses as the purple crackles of power around Will’s hands grow stronger. The guards’ sudden arrival hasn’t fazed Morgana.
“Come on, boy. Stop this nonsense,” Godfrey calls over the crescendo of wind.
