Young Mathilda waves her hand again, pointing at something outside the perimeter of the bulb, but the image sputters, disintegrates, and suddenly vanishes, leaving a bright wash of white light behind.
Nathaniel leans back on his heels. “That’s it?”
Mathilda doesn’t answer, her fingers slowly unclenching from around the bulb.
Her shoulders relax, relief crossing her face before she replaces it with a blank expression. “That’s all there is to see.”
I study her as she tugs her hand from mine without looking at me. The memory ended too quickly, was too short, and Mathilda seems far too relieved, as if she’d been expecting to see something much worse. I wonder what could be worse than sharing dark magic with the Fae Queen?
“You taught Imatra how to use dark magic,” I say.
Cold dread rises inside me. Imatra has always been the most powerful fae, controlling all of the elements of the seasons—ice, fire, water, earth. Or… at least… appearing to control them.
But if she knows dark magic, then how much of her power is fae and how much is dark magic disguised as fae magic?
I close my eyes as I remember the fae children who died because they were infected with the Ebon Rot—an illness caused by dark magic. My adoptive father, Crispin, told me that five boys had died from the illness so far. Girls had become sick, too, but I healed them.
“What did you teach her?” I demand to know.
“Basic magic. That’s all.” Mathilda holds her head high, her eyes defiant. She’s in control again.
“You’re lying,” I whisper, my mind churning. “You taught her more. In fact… you taught her something you shouldn’t have, didn’t you? You said it yourself, you gave her an idea. What was it? And what does it have to do with me?”
Nathaniel seems certain that the bulbs are connected to me. It worries me that Mathilda’s past could have had some impact on my life.
Mathilda presses her lips together before she replies smoothly, “Imatra brought me apples—real ones. We talked about our countries and our lives. We were friends for a year and then she stopped coming to the Spire. I never saw her again.”
“I don’t believe you—”
“Mathilda did what you wanted.” Christiana interrupts me, wrapping her arm around Mathilda’s shoulders in a protective gesture. She couldn’t hide her worry before, but I guess her distrust of me runs deeper than her shock about Mathilda’s past.
“You saw what we all saw: Two girls talking,” Christiana says to me. “I’m as surprised as you are that they were friends at all, but it was a long time ago. It’s in the past. Now, will you help us get rid of this bulb or not?”
The image was so brief—an innocent picture like Christiana said. Two girls sitting together. And yet… Mathilda was so upset about it before she saw it; real, paralyzing fear that tells me there’s more she doesn’t want us to know, a connection with me that she’s hiding.
Nathaniel is quiet beside me, but when I glance at him, I sense his thoughts like a compulsion.
We need to leave.
The bulb won’t show us anything more—and Mathilda is close-lipped now—so I wrap my fingers around its glittering surface. It rapidly transforms into a black petunia, its rounded petals and sunken center dusted with silver speckles that remind me of the night sky hanging behind the cliffs in the vision.
“This bulb won’t hurt anyone now,” I say, crushing the flower in my hand and holding it close to my side as I stand. I’ll need to take it with me or the humans will continue to fear it.
Christiana draws Mathilda away from me, sitting her down in the nearest chair while Nathaniel inclines his head toward the door, confirming that I read his thoughts correctly. It’s time to leave.
“We’re done here,” he says to his sister.
She watches him walk away as if she can’t believe he’s actually turning his back on her. His big form fills the door as I follow behind, ready to step out onto the porch.
She rushes after us, veering wide when she nearly collides with me. “Nathaniel, wait!”
He only half-turns, a forbidding form.
Christiana wraps her arms around herself. I’m reminded of my first impression of her yesterday. Up close, she seems somehow smaller, more fragile than the tough facade she puts up.
She grips her own arms, turning her knuckles white with the pressure. “I fucked up. Really badly.”
Nathaniel remains where he is, his expression unreadable, his hair falling across his face. “Is that your idea of an apology?”
“Hagan told me what happened during the fight,” she says, her gaze flicking to me. “And what happened after it. He told me what Aura went through to save you. But… she’s fae. She’s bound to fight you. And I… I don’t know what to think. Or do.”
Nathaniel’s response is a low growl. “You have two choices, Christiana. You can stay here, protected, and wait for news about the outcome of the fight. Or you can take a risk and come see the fight for yourself.”
Christiana’s chest rises and falls, suddenly rapid. “Those are my only two choices? I won’t accept that’s all I can do. If you die—”
“If I die, then you’ll have much harder decisions ahead of you. To fight or to hide. But I can tell you this—it will be up to Aura whether or not she protects you from her queen. She might be your only ally among the fae. You should have considered that before you hurt her.”
He reaches for my hand, drawing me outside, his boots a soft thud as he continues to walk away from his sister. He’s being hard on her—harder than I expected him to be—but I have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.
I never considered the choices that would be ahead of me if I win. Without Nathaniel, his people will be vulnerable. I can see now that Nathaniel is thinking through the scenarios that could occur if he dies, just as I’m thinking through the scenarios after my own death.
Christiana stares after him, wide-eyed, stricken, and pale as she hurries after us. “How can you take the hand of the woman who could kill you?”
Nathaniel exhales, closing his eyes for a moment.
Turning back to his sister, he says, “Because Aura Lucidia is prepared to risk her own life for mine. She chose to become my shield. That’s more than I can say for anyone else.”
Christiana inhales sharply, but not with indignation. Her eyes fill with tears and she bites her trembling lip. I know barely any of their family history, but I know that Nathaniel bargained for her safety years ago. He gave up his throne to guarantee her protection. He even bargained for Hagan’s life. He was more than Cyrian’s champion. He was his people’s protector too.
“I’ve been your shield for far too long, Christiana,” he says, his demeanor finally softening. “I gave you freedom to rage against the past, to scorch whatever earth you wanted to scorch, but that meant you didn’t have to make difficult choices. Now you need to choose a path. You have to decide who you are and what you stand for. I can’t make those decisions for you.”
He turns away from her and doesn’t look back.
Christiana doesn’t try to follow us, remaining quiet as Nathaniel leads me away.
A little farther along, he pauses on the path, asking that I walk beside him, as an equal.