“Keep up, Your Highness,” was all she said before turning away, fading into the failing light.
23The Prince Is A Prick
For the first time in my life, I wished my brain would just stop. I wished it would stop analysing, looking for ways I might have done better. Ways I could improve. I didn’t want to know, not this time. I didn’t want to remember it all. Yet, I could think of nothing else as we trudged silently through the woods.
It was fully dark by the time we reached the border of Tir o Haf. Thousands of stars winked overhead, and the moonlight gilding the wildflowers made them look like a shimmering sea of silver, rippling in the balmy breeze. I marvelled briefly that beauty could still exist, even after the events of the evening. Even with the dead witch still clutched in the prince’s arms. Idris carried his burden without a word of complaint. He hadn’t slowed, or faltered, or asked to rest. An alien bubble of admiration had lodged itself in my chest, and my darkly swirling emotions were unable to burst it. I’d doubted him, mistrusted him, but he’d wordlessly knelt in the dirt beside me and tried to save a life. Maybe carrying Hyacinth was the punishment he inflicted on himself for what he saw as his failure. I wanted to tell him that none of it was his fault, but finding such words would mean absolving myself of my own crushing failure, and I wasn’t ready to free myself of it just yet.
Instead, I chose to walk at his back as we crossed the sleeping meadow, my silent show of support. Of shared guilt. Whatever he felt, it could be nothing to my own failure. I knew that Hyacinth’s cause had been hopeless from the moment I’d seen the blood gushing from her thigh, but that didn’t ease the weight of my guilt. Of how useless I had been, when it mattered most.
I couldn’t summon surprise, or even relief, when we reached the border unhindered, and Sage pulled out the same dark void of a crystal she had used to take me from her cottage to Nairsgarth. When she muttered the incantation, and the crystal turned into a swirling black hole, sucking in the silver of the night bathed meadow, I found no awe to spare.
“The princes first,” Sage insisted, standing back to make way, “then Aliza.”
I kept my eyes on Idris’ back until he vanished into the void, and I followed him as though the portal was nothing but an ordinary door.
The all-engulfing darkness was nothing compared to that inside me.
Pansy was gone.
No sooner had she spilt out of the portal onto the castle floor, than the witch had staggered to her feet and fled the room. Nobody had followed her. I’d wanted to, but Sage had dragged me through the corridors to meet with Granny.
Now I slumped in an armchair staring at my hands draped limply in my lap while Sage relayed the whole sorry tale to the High Priestess. I hadn’t even been given time to scrub Hyacinth’s blood from my skin. It stained my cuticles almost black, clinging to the crevices of my knuckles.
Sage’s voice hummed in my ears, barely making sense. As far as I knew or cared, she was giving the old bat a blow-by-blow account of our journey to the tower. Prince Anwir was standing at her side, filling in the details of what had occurred after his waking. Idris had disappeared almost as quickly as Pansy. What had become of Hyacinth’s body, I didn’t know. I couldn’t care about any of it. I was numb, inside and out. The only part of me with any feeling was my palms, where I could still feel Hyacinth’s sternum. Feel the lack of a heartbeat.
I flexed my finger. Dry, powdery blood flaked free, drifting to my lap in a gruesome cloud. An unbidden, shuddering breath sucked into my chest, and before I could stop them, tears rolled down my cheeks.
Hyacinth was dead. I had failed to save her. It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t a people doctor, and I’d done everything possible given the circumstances. That didn’t change the fact that Hyacinth would still be alive if I’d stayed on my side of the rift. Pansy would still have a mother.
My vision blurred but I didn’t dare wipe my eyes with blood-stained hands. I gave myself over to my guilt, letting it manifest as ugly sobs and sniffs and unchecked tears.
Warm hands closed around mine. I tried to shift away, conscious of the blood, but whoever it was held on, squeezing gently. That small comfort, that show of support, opened the floodgates, and I wept until I had nothing left to give, and then some more.
When my tears finally ran dry, I found Anwir crouched before me, clasping my hands in his. This close, his eyes were stunning. Pale apple with little flares of gold around the pupil, all framed in lashes as dark as his raven hair.
“Are you well, Aliza?” he asked, his voice as soft as velvet.
I shook my head. “I’ve never lost a person before.”
Who did I think I was? Of course I hadn’t lost a person before, I was a vet, or near enough. I’d witnessed countless lives ending, and I’d spend the rest of my life easing the passing of others. It was my job. My duty. My heartbreaking honour to bring peace when no cure could be found. But no matter how painful all of that had been, no matter how many evenings I’d gone home and cried into my pillow, this was worse. I’d lost a person. My friend's mother. I’d been helpless. I had failed.
“Hyacinth knew the risk.”
I blinked, searching, and sure enough, I found Sage watching me impassively. Did she feel nothing? Had she already buried the death of her friend beneath a marble smooth surface?
“She chose to support you on this quest, knowing full well it might mean her death.”
“You did all you could,” Anwir offered his own, rather more effective brand of comfort. “Look at you. You have no magic. You are so young, and yet, you did what none of us could do. You tried.”
I nodded, swallowing. He was right. I knew it well enough, just as I knew that, eventually, time would soothe my emotions, and bolster the logic that was all too easy to ignore tonight. I’d done all I could. Even in the human world, with paramedics and doctors and surgeons on hand, Hyacinth’s injuries would have been critical. Nobody could have done more given the circumstances. But for now, it hurt. I would let it hurt, and eventually, I would let it heal.
Sliding my hands out of Anwir’s grasp, I rose to my feet. I needed a bath, and maybe even some sleep, if my brain would allow it, before…
“I’d like to go to the rift tomorrow.”
Sage betrayed not a flicker of emotion, but her eyes darted to Anwir. Mine followed, finding the prince frowning up at me from where he crouched.
“Why?” He stood, his eyes still fixed on me.
Oh, God. Not now.
I sighed. I didn’t have the energy or the headspace to justify my choices again. Was he actually expecting me to claim my prize by marrying him? If only I’d kept my mouth shut.
“Aliza does not wish to be queen.” There was the faintest hint of mockery in Sage’s voice.
“I beg your pardon?” Granny interjected, stomping her stick from where she lounged in her throne-like chair.
“I want to go home,” I said flatly. I felt like a parrot, doomed to repeat the same phrases for all of time. “I never wanted any of this.”
“Nonsense!” The old bat said the word like it closed the matter. “You are the Human Queen. You broke the curse. It’s expected.”
“I don’t care what’s expected,” I snapped. “I never wanted to come here. It was an accident. I never wanted to marry a prince, or rule a kingdom, or even live forever.” Though, admittedly, that particular reward was pretty tempting. “I never wanted to break a curse that had nothing to do with me. Everything I’ve done has been so I can go home.”
“You won’t marry me?” Anwir sounded… hurt.
I almost rolled my eyes. Had he been expecting my love? Had his efforts at kindness, at friendship, been forced, all because he believed in some prophecy nonsense? Had it been an obligation?
