Blake
Kenna gazes down at Marianna, who blinks up at her, her eyes cloudy and unfocused when Kenna’s faint healing powers ripple through her, healing bruises and gashes. We moved her to the apartment upstairs–a random guest suite on the fourth floor–an hour ago. I’ve been bouncing between her room and the room where Skye is still fast asleep under the watchful eye of Leona, who hasn’t slept a wink tonight, and the first signs of morning are already shimmering through lace curtains lining the windows overlooking the city.
Kenna clicks her tongue, silently motioning for Marianna to turn her head to the side so she can get a better look at the mark branded on her skin. It’s terribly inflamed–rotting, to be honest. Marianna winces deeply in pain when Kenna prods the swollen skin with her fingers.
Maeve paces behind me with Fallon tucked against her shoulder. My cousin shakes her head, her face twisted in fury.
The healer who discovered what they’re saying is a curse, a woman named Minerva, is standing on the other side of the bed with her arms crossed, her expression a mirror image of Maeve’s–anger.
“I’ve never seen it actually used before,” Kenna says as she glances at Minerva. “You’re one-hundred percent sure?”
“I can smell it,” Minerva scowls, her eyes red and bloodshot. “It’s a curse. Any type of binding spell is a curse.”
“I’m aware,” Kenna says tightly. “What I don’t understand is how an average person would be able to get their hands on the potion or the individual ingredients needed to even begin this process. And the spell–”
“Can someone please explain,” I grind out, losing the last grip I have on my already worn-thin patience, “what the hell is going on?”
Marianna’s eyes scan the room looking for the source of my voice. She’s a mess–a beautiful, strong, brave mess–but in tatters all the same. Kenna’s healing gifts aren’t nearly as strong as Misty’s, but Misty isn’t here. So far, whatever she’s doing is working on the superficial wounds, but the mark…
“This is insane,” Maeve says to the group, patting Fallon’s back. “I’ve never–the ingredients for the spell aren’t even remotely accessible to the general market. Ashwood, bone of oryx, spindlethrush? The only places that have those herbs in particular are the caverns beneath the royal library, and they’re under lock and key every hour of the day. This can’t actually be what it is.”
Marianna stares at me, her eyes milky and distant. The corners of her mouth tilt into a soft, sleepy smile, and then she closes her eyes for what I hope is a while, at least. She needs the rest.
“I am certain,” Minerva says slowly, glancing between the women. “I swear to the Goddess that this is what we’re dealing with. This is… this is a death sentence for her, I fear.”
“What did you just say?” My voice is a thunderous growl, but Kenna sighs, her silver eyes meeting mine. She looks tired, her slightly curly dark brown hair falling in loose spirals out of the bun she pinned to the top of her head a few hours ago when she rolled up her sleeves and jumped in at the mention of Dark Magic.
“Blake, you need to leave and get some rest. Maddy has been waiting to talk to you.”
“I’m not leaving her without an explanation as to what that fucking animal did to her!” I snap back. “You said she’s dying? Why? What kind of spell or potion would do this to a person, and why was it used?”
Kenna closes her eyes and exhales, surrendering, but it’s Maeve who speaks, her voice tight to shield the same feelings her mother can’t help but show.
“Binding is highly illegal and so rare it’s been, what, centuries since the last recorded case?” She arches a brow at Minerva and her mom, who nod in agreement, before I slowly turn around to face her. “You said Marianna mentioned to you that Dean imprinted on her before she turned twenty-one. Imprinting is not the same as being fated mates. It’s a different kind of bond, surface level. Rejection and the death of a mate wouldn’t carry the same kind of weight as it would for those who are fated, whose timelines cross, or however you see it.” She waves a dismissive hand in my direction before pacing to the window overlooking the city. Soren hasn’t returned yet. It’s been hours, and I can tell she’s growing nervous. “A binding spell mimics the fated mate bond in a physical way. It binds a couple using magic, turning the act of imprinting into more of a… magically induced bond.” She turns back to me, sighing heavily. “It’s similar to a blood oath. If anything were to happen to Dean, it would happen to her. She’d feel it in the bond, live it, like a real mate would.”
She struggles to find her wording, to come up with a way to explain, then continues, “If he were unfaithful, for example, it would be painful for her. She’d feel it in the mark. If he were to get hurt, or sick, she’d feel it. If something were to happen to him–if he were to… to die–” Her eyes meet mine, heavy and dark. “She’d–she’d die, Blake. She wasn’t really his mate. He forced her to be in the most dangerous, illicit way I can think of. He bound her with a potion and a spell, and I’m guessing she’s been… she’s been trying to escape him for a very long time and couldn’t because of this. He was always able to find her again using their bond. This is how it ends. She’s going to die.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“You have to,” Kenna says warily, shaking her head. “Any kind of treatment is just going to prolong her suffering–”
“There has to be a way to undo this. Misty–”
“Misty didn’t train in the dark arts like we did,” Maeve says, motioning to her mom and Minerva. “There are no cures for curses like these.”
“This is not how she dies!” I shout, and the room falls silent. Three sets of eyes are on me as I pace to the foot of the bed, gripping the footboard like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. “This isn’t how she dies because I’ve seen it, okay? How do we fix this? This is wrong. This shouldn’t be happening this way!”
“You can cut out the mark,” Minerva offers, but Kenna shakes her head.
“We’d risk the curse spreading at an accelerated rate. Right now it’s just within the mark.”
“It won’t stay that way, and you know that,” Minerva argues. “It’ll spread slowly, killing her slowly, painfully. We have a shot, I believe, to cut it out, but where it’s placed on her neck… it would be a tricky surgery. She could bleed out before any kind of healing drafts or spells take effect. We’d need a team of witches at her bedside constantly using their magic.”
“That is so risky, Minerva. It hasn’t ever been done,” Kenna argues.
“It’s worth a try. We need to do something,” Maeve says.
“We have… minutes to act,” Minerva says. “I’ll call down to the clinic and prepare to move her–”
“And if we can’t dispel the curse?” Maeve asks. “If we cut out the mark, and the curse takes hold anyway?”
Silence settles for several long, aching seconds. I glance between the women, my heart beating out of rhythm.
“We keep her comfortable. She’ll have moments of lucidity.” Kenna’s voice breaks over the words. “She can say goodbye to her daughter and her mom.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I snarl.
“Blake,” Maeve says softly, and I whirl toward her, taken aback by the tears clouding her eyes.
“I won’t accept this. He put her through hell. I saw it all, Maeve. Every single fucking thing he ever did to her, and you’re telling me the reason he was able to do it, to keep her down and under his thumb for so long, was because he fucking cursed her? She’s not going to die like this. I. Won’t. Allow. It.”
“It’s not up to you,” she says, her voice trembling. “If cutting out the mark doesn’t work–”
“Fuck you,” I hiss, and Kenna’s head snaps up, her eyes wide.
“Blake!”
“Fuck all of you.”
Kenna grits her teeth.
“You need to leave, High Lord,” Minerva says weakly as my powers begin to prickle to the surface, clawing for dominance, lighting behind my eyes.
I feel a touch on my back–soft and familiar. It makes me want to sink into myself, to fall to my knees and beg for someone to just… help her.
Grandma Maddy is standing behind me. The conversation about my relation to Marianna and Skye hasn’t been had yet. It’s not that I’m avoiding it, either; I just… can’t.
“Misty,” I breathe, shaking my head. “Misty can break curses. I’ll get her, I’ll bring her here, and she’ll fix this.”
“This is different from the curse Richard of Arcane Umbra used on his people, Blake,” Maeve says solemnly. “This isn’t–” She licks her lips, shuddering. “She was bound to Dean, okay? He’s dragging her into death. She’s not–there’s nothing keeping her here anymore.”
“Then bind her to me,” I say, my voice edging on pleading. “I will mark her right now–I swear on the Goddess, I will. Save her! Save–”
Grandma Maddy grabs my hand and guides me backward out of the room. I don’t fight it. I don’t think I have the strength to. Marianna is… fading right before my eyes, her breath shallow and uneven. In the next room, which I can see into when Grandma silently closes Marianna’s door, and I turn around, Leona looks up at me from her perch on a stool next to Skye’s bed, her eyes full of tears.
“You need a minute of quiet, I think,” Grandma says in a near whisper and walks me away, into a snug living space just beyond the hallway housing both bedrooms.
“I need to get Misty.”
“I think it’s wise, yes. But I’m not a witch. What do I know?” she chuckles, but her voice is edged with the same hurt currently tearing me to shreds. “I’m the only normal person in the family besides Brie, and maybe Cole, I suppose, but I….” She tapers off as she guides me past the living space and into the corridor. “Why didn’t you tell us about them?”
“I made a vow to protect them from everything I saw as a threat,” I admit, unable to look her in the eyes as I shatter beyond repair. “I didn’t want Skye to be like me. I thought if I–I thought if I wasn’t there, if she didn’t have someone to guide her, her powers wouldn’t emerge. I thought if I gave up on Marianna and let her go, she’d–” She’d live past her twenty-sixth birthday, when our… when her tether abruptly ended, so short. So brutally insignificant. That’s what I’d seen back then, that one time I let myself look into her mind. She was just… gone.
But like this? Gone because of that fucking asshole?
“I wanted Skye to have a normal life,” I continue after a moment. “I didn’t want her growing up in the glare of cameras and public speculation, especially knowing what she could become, and Marianna agreed. I wasn’t under the impression I would ever know her. This has all–this has all been very abrupt.”
Grandma tilts her head, considering my words. “She’s beautiful. They both are. I remember Marianna.”
“She came to the castle a few times.”
“Now what, Blake?”
“How can you ask me that?” I whisper, meeting her stormy blue eyes. “She’s dying.”
“That doesn’t sound right to me,” she says matter-of-factly, her narrow shoulders lifting in a shrug. “All of these powerful people in this family, and nobody can do anything? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“This isn’t funny–”
“I never said it was, but you’re smart. You know her. Would she go down without a fight?”
“No.”
“Then why are you under the impression that she’s just going to give up now?”
I search her eyes, resigned, but Kenna edges into the room with a rough sigh. “She’s asking for you, Blake.”
I rise without hesitation and brush past her, crossing the threshold of the bedroom in a matter of seconds. Minerva packs her things and leaves, and then it’s just Maeve, who lingers long enough to glance out of the window once more before turning toward the door.
“He’ll come back. This is the most freedom he’s had in weeks,” I tell her dryly, and thankfully, she gives me a soft, knowing smile that falters as quickly as it came.
Marianna opens her eyes to slits like she has a horrible headache as Maeve shuts the door. I sink onto the side of the bed, hanging my head in my hands for a moment just looking at her. Kenna treated the mark and stuck a bandage on it like that’ll do anything.
“They told me what was happening to me,” she says, her voice like gravel. “I’m not going to let him kill me, okay? They’re going to cut the mark out. I asked them to do it.”
I can’t form words. My throat feels impossibly tight as she closes her eyes again with a shallow sigh.
“Skye is doing better,” I tell her, the words a heavy weight on my tongue. “She’s going to be fine. She’ll wake up soon, I think.”
“She killed him, Blake.”
“She did.”
Silence swells between us for several moments before Marianna adds, “Do you think she knows what she did?”
“Yeah, I do. It’s what she wanted to happen.”
Marianna smiles softly, her face blooming with pride, but it’s weak. “She’s stronger than me. She always has been. She’s always been so brave. She’ll be fine without me, I think–”
“Don’t say that–”
“Because she’ll have you now.”