Amina nudged her with the toe of her boot. “You can’t reasonably take responsibility for everything bad that happens.”
“The murder of my guards in the Bosque wasdefinitelyVan Houten’s fault,” Javi said.
“And the airship crash was theSanguines’ fault,” Amina added helpfully.
“I don’t quite understand what’s happening,” Perla interjected, “but I think it is safe to assume that my curse was, well, my fault, not yours.”
“How about the terrible things that happen every single moment of every single day when you’re not around?” Amina wiggled her eyebrows. “Are you to blame for that, too? My family’s murder? Madros’s descent into fascism?”
“I suppose Cairn owes their murderous god to you, too, then?” Javi quipped.
“You’re not Bad,” Amina sniffled, abandoning the pretense of her stern voice. “Okay, you’re a little bad. But you’re certainly notcursed.”
And finally Risa understood.
There had never been a curse. No magic at all. Like Linda, like Javi, her misfortune was of her own making.
All those years she spent blaming herself. Letting others blame her. For the floods and the disappearing goats. For the mishaps and accidents and lost socks. Things that simply happened through no fault of one’s own. The world would continue to chug forward full of good and bad and average occurrences, regardless of whether she was cursed or not. Life was a series of events, some fortunate, some unfortunate, and some neither. Sometimes, the bad had to happen for the good to be better.
She knew it now. Felt it deep inside, as sure as the love that coursed through her veins for Amina, her friend. For Javi, the very bane of her existence. Even for Brunie, the cat who had been their constant companion on this harrowing journey.
Javi cupped her chin in his hand and grinned.
“You’re not a Bad Thing. You’re just Risa. And that’s a good thing.”
Risa glanced down at her hand, still holding the mirror shard. She caught glimpses of her face staring back. Her wide nose, her downturned mouth, the curve of an ear. All the parts that made her Risa Porto. Not a witch. Not a Bad Thing. Just a girl.
“No!”
The guards that had been holding General Sur must have relaxed their grips during the emotional scene, because one second he was flattened against the ground, and the next he was scrabbling to stand, a hand around a dagger at his belt. He stood over them with the blade raised and ready to strike.
Risa did not blink as she rose and lodged the mirror shard into his chest.
General Sur screamed. The dagger clattered onto the marble floor.
“Grab him!” Amina ordered.
Risa sank back down, woozy from the effort. Javi sat up and tangled his fingers with hers, letting her sag against his shoulder.
“You have never looked more beautiful than when stabbing a mad general with a mirror shard,” he confessed.
“You’ve never looked more handsome than on the brink of death.”
“Now you’re just making things up,” he said, but he was leaning in, lips parted, eyes fluttering closed.
Like all good things, however, their kiss would have to wait.
Perla helped Amina stand to address what remained of the crowd.
“Citizens, guests, and friends,” the princess began in a shaky voice.“A great evil has been vanquished. Madros is cursed no more, and the general who sought to destroy us will never hurt us again.”
Everyone held their breath.
Her voice grew stronger, surer. “I know it will take grueling work to restore our great nation, to build a better, safer kingdom, but I ask those of you here today to help me.”
A guard in an extravagant suit of armor and a large sword kneeled before Amina with his head bowed. He unsheathed his sword and placed it at her feet.
The priest, who had crawled out of wherever he’d been hiding, lifted it above Amina’s head in triumph.
