"If you kick me in your sleep, I'm sending you back."
She stood with one hand on her hip, the other on the open door, wearing an expression of feigned exasperation. Not knowing what compelled her, Charlotte bounded forward and wrapped her sister in a bone-crushing embrace. One that knocked the wind out of them both.
"Cant. Breathe."
"Sorry." Charlotte released her sister, unable to account for the swell of emotion that'd overtaken her. Made her voice quaver, her eyes well with tears. Her heart feel as though it might burst from her chest at the slightest provocation.
She dried Charlotte's cheek with the pad of her thumb. "Why are you crying?"
"I thought I'd never see you again."
While this was true, while it was deep and all-consuming, so devastating Charlotte was nearly bowled over by the intensity of it, it didn't make sense. She must've had a nightmare—why else would she have rushed to her sister's room in the middle of the night? But she couldn't remember how one event had led to the other. Didn't remember getting out of bed, crossing the corridor. Knocking.
One moment the world was dark, and the next…
She took in the vision of her sister standing before her, confusion furrowing a honey blonde brow, and suddenly there was a chasm in the place her heart should have been. Something about this moment, this night, something about the subtle glow around its edges, as though it were too good, too perfect to be real, told Charlotte that something was wrong.
Something was off.
At the same time, Charlotte didn't have it in her to resist. She'd never been the strong one. The good one. All that was pure and light in the world.
Well acquainted with the horrors that wove themselves into Charlotte's dreams, her sister smiled a sympathetic smile and took Charlotte's hand. "Come," she said as she guided Charlotte over the threshold and into a room swathed in moonlight. Bright and silver and shimmering, it danced along the edge of every surface. The world was not this vibrant, she knew. This brilliant.
Once the two of them were settled beneath the fluffy white, cloud-like covers, Charlotte's sister turned to her with a teasing grin and said, "Philip is handsome."
Charlotte frowned with a distaste for the start of this conversation so immediate, so absolute, it nearly shook her from the euphoric state this new dream—for what else could it have been but a memory revisited—had created. Tactile though it was, warm and welcoming. The closest to home she'd come in such a long time. Some rational side of her watched from beyond this moment, detached, like it was on the outside looking in, with a wariness she wasn't ready to entertain just yet.
"Well-mannered, considerate," her sister continued. "Laughs at Father's jokes…"
"If you're trying to sway me to their side, it won't work."
Her sister sighed. "You're no fun."
"I don't see what's so fun about an arranged marriage."
"You know it isn't like that. You have a choice—they just want you to be happy."
Charlotte turned her head atop the fluffy white pillow, one of a dozen that filled the empty corners of the bed. "And if my choice is the same as yours?"
Her sister shrugged as her eyes traced the fables that'd been hand-painted in painstaking detail across the ceiling when their mother was still a young girl. "Then our parents will find a way to content themselves with a grandchild-less existence."
"You know that marriage and children are not intrinsically linked. One may exist without the other."
"Don't let Father hear you talk like that."
"You're right. He blushed enough at the mention of wedding and night in the same sentence."
Charlotte laughed and her sister followed suit.
"I thought of something that might help with the nightmares."
"Pay another visit to your witch friend?" It was a feat for Charlotte not to roll her eyes. "What elixir has she cooked up this time, and which of Mother's heirlooms did she demand as payment?"
"No heirlooms, no elixir. And she's not a witch."
"And the sky is not blue," said Charlotte. "The grass is not green. Our mother is not queen, and we do not share the burden of her legacy—no small part of which is the sanctity of the Realm. Or did you so soon forget that magic has been outlawed?"
Her sister frowned, and not simply from the sting of Charlotte's sarcasm. Their parents' decision had come as something of a blow to them both when it was first issued. For their own protection, they'd been assured. And though Charlotte and her sister knew it'd stemmed from a place of concern, it'd still felt like punishment for something neither of them could control. They hadn't asked to be born with abilities outside the natural order. They hadn't, as some who'd been charged and tried as sorcerers and witches, sought out forces of darkness in open rebellion of the crown.
"Have you ever considered a protection spell?" Her sister persisted, lowering her voice to whisper, "I could perform it for you."
"On my mind?"
"Why not? People use them on their hearts all the time."
The reference to hearts triggered something in Charlotte's memory—not solely the rumors of what'd been done to the citizens of realms outside their own. Controlled by an evil sorceress, ordered to perform atrocities against their will. Forced to carry out the whims of a mad queen bent on revenge.
"I don't think so."
"Come on. What's the harm in trying?"
"I don't want to."
"There's no need to be afraid." Her sister brushed the hair back from Charlotte's face. "It won't hurt."
Her words echoed another's as her fingers crept toward Charlotte's temple.
"There's no need to be afraid."
Charlotte recoiled from her sister's touch and sat up, staring across the mattress with unbelieving eyes as the chasm in her chest broke open, devouring everything in its wake. Where once there'd been moonlight, tracing the room's edges with delicate finesse, there lay only shadow. The world was dark again, and Charlotte knew why.
"This isn't real."
—
"You didn't tell Emma I was coming, did you?"
Killian glanced over his shoulder from his position at the stove, giving Charlotte a clear view of his arched brow. "Should I not have?"
Charlotte fidgeted with her sleeves, pulling them over the knuckles of each hand. "It's fine, I guess."
"She'll be out a couple hours, at least, if you're wanting to avoid her."
"I'm not avoiding her," Charlotte lied.
She was happy for Killian, she was. He was one of the good ones—good instructor, good friend, good person for all Charlotte had observed in the short time she'd known him. She hadn't meant to make her discomfort so obvious, but being around Emma…
It was more than Charlotte could bear. She'd never been the strong one. The brave one. Fearless in the face of adversity.
Killian turned toward the counter where Charlotte's plate awaited whatever culinary treat he'd prepared. Sizzling pan in hand, he lay its contents before her, visibly pleased with the outcome.
"Go on," he said when all Charlotte did was squint at the bona fide Land Without Magic breakfast.
"I won't get…trapped here if I eat this…?"
"That's faeries."
"Oh. Right." Charlotte sat up straight and reached for her fork. "And you're sure you aren't one…?" Killian was not amused, which for some reason made Charlotte want to laugh. "As long as you're sure," she said before shoveling a forkful of food into her mouth.
"Well?"
"I could stand to be trapped here if all the food tastes like this."
Killian smiled. "I'm glad you approve." He returned to the stove and began clearing away the mess he'd made. "What have you been eating for the past week if you've been afraid of the food?"
Charlotte didn't take her eyes off her plate. "I may have…conjured a few things."
Killian clicked his tongue. "You know how the council feels about nonessential magic."
"I happen to think my life is quite essential, I'll have you know. And I'm sure the council would agree."
"Speaking of the council…" Killian moved to the fridge, returned a few items to its shelves. "How is your training coming along? Learn any new spells?"
Charlotte swallowed thickly as foreboding soured the bite she'd just taken. Dimmed the daylight filtering in through the shaded windows. "A few…" She set down her fork and stared across the kitchen at her erstwhile instructor, suddenly at a loss as to how or when she'd arrived at his apartment.
Last thing she remembered was hearing her father's laugh—full-bellied and robust—like an echo harkening her to a world beyond the one she presently inhabited. She remembered tears. Incapacitating fear. Numbness and pain somehow at once. A voice telling her not to be afraid.
"I've been thinking a lot about protection spells," said Killian.
Charlotte felt sick. She felt…wrong. Out of place.
She wanted to run for the door—where would it lead if she did?
"If you were to cast a protection spell on yourself—your heart, for example…" Killian faced her, as casual and unperturbed as she'd ever seen him, but something about his voice betrayed an underlying impatience.
A want for answers.
His eyes shifted from blue to gray. His hair tinged with streaks of blonde. "If you were to cast a spell so that your heart could not be crushed, were it taken, what would that spell be?"
He tilted his head to the side and the transformation was complete. It was no longer Killian's inquisitive brow asking her these things. It was Noah's.
"How did you find me here?"
Before he could answer, the world went dark.
—
"I do hope the weather stays temperate until our wedding."
Though Philip's words would have Charlotte believe his full attention was there, in that garden with her, that it took pleasure in the patches of sunlight breaking through the trees, casting dappled patterns on their joined hands, Charlotte wasn't fooled. His thoughts were somewhere else. With someone else.
"You don't have to say that."
"I mean it. I hear rain is bad luck."
Charlotte let go of his hand. "And I've heard the opposite."
"I suppose we'll find out which of us is right in a few days." He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. The look he gave her was as warm and inviting as a freshly dug grave.
Charlotte walked ahead on the path. She needed time to think, space to breathe. Her thoughts warred too heatedly with one another when Philip was near, torn between what was right, what was prudent, and what was tempting. She could've plead duty, like Philip had done. Gone through with a marriage of mutual benefit that would've pleased all parties save one. She could've been selfish and admitted that what she truly wanted, in her heart of hearts, was to be by his side always. Call him husband and lover. But would they ever be friends? Would he ever look at her the way her father looked at her mother, even after all these years? If she succumbed to her own desires?
She could've called it off, claimed an unflattering match, and seen him rightly returned to the one he truly wanted, in his heart of hearts. She could've set him free.
She could've pretended to know naught of his suffering. How he'd longed those past weeks to leave and never look back. She could've demanded he honor the agreement their parents had made, the contract they, themselves, had signed. She could've asked what kind of man went back on his word. What man made a promise with no intention to keep it?
She could've been like one of the villains in her mother's books. Put her own happiness above all else.
She could've done any number of things to assuage her own heartache.
"Philip?" Charlotte kept her back to him, lest she lose her nerve to those soft brown eyes. "I think it's time for you to go home."
"What was that?"
"Tell your father what you wish of me—that I'm an insipid, unseemly sort of girl, unfit to take the crown. Tell him I called it off, if you like. Tell him I couldn't be reasoned with—women and their madness, and all that. An excuse like that should work on someone like him—" despite swearing not to, Charlotte turned around, her hands rushing to cover her mouth. "Oh, I'm—that was—"
"Rather astute." Philip smiled. A genuine expression that weakened Charlotte's resolve.
A terrifying thought crept up in its place. If she sent him away now, would she ever feel this way again? Who could there be but him? He was everything she'd ever wanted—how could she give that up?
The two of them stood silently, and Charlotte observed a new energy in her betrothed. One that dared her to hope as she'd scarcely allowed herself these past weeks. Even in the privacy of her own mind.
"Do you really want me to leave?" He tried to sound contrite, and damn if it didn't make Charlotte love him more.
Her chest grew tight, denying her even a moment's deluded optimism. She loved him.
More than anyone or anything.
There was no decision to be made. No hope to entertain.
She had to send him away.
Charlotte walked toward Philip and rose up on her toes to brush a kiss across his cheek. "I want you to find your place in the world," she said upon pulling away. "And it is not with me."
His smile widened, lighting up his face. He grasped her hands in his, kissed each one in kind, and then leaned forward. Pressed his lips gently to hers—
Charlotte shoved him back. "What are you doing?"
"Relaying my…gratitude?"
"I doubt Aurora would appreciate your chosen method."
"Who?"
"Aurora," Charlotte repeated the name with emphasis on each syllable. "Your True Love? The woman your father forbade you from seeing before he sent you here?"
Philip's expression was blank. His eyes empty. "I'm not familiar with any such person. My father sent me here to win your hand, and so I have." He moved in for another kiss, and Charlotte retreated with every step he took toward her.
"I don't understand what's happening," she said, trying to make sense of this sudden shift in him. The trees grew quiet as the breeze died down. The sunlight that'd cast the day in a subtle glow, faded. The garden grew dark. Gray. "This isn't how it happened before…"
"Whatever do you mean, my darling?"
"Don't call me darling. I don't know who you are, but you're not Philip. And this isn't my home."
Philip sighed, dropping his hands at his sides. "How the hell do you keep doing that?"
No. No, no, no, no.
"I'm sorry." Charlotte knew what would come next. What happened when she failed the test. She didn't know who was conducting it, or to what end. All she knew was she didn't want to go back to that soundless place filled with shadows. "I'll tell you what you want to know, just please don't—"
—
Charlotte stared into her sister's eyes, and their mother's understanding stared back. Late mother, she amended.
She mouthed the words I'm sorry, but her sister only shook her head. It's not your fault. Hands grasping bars, tears coating cheeks, she looked out at Charlotte from the usurper queen's carriage and smiled.
"I'll be okay," she whispered. "Just do what she says."
"I won't," Charlotte insisted. "I'll find you. And I'll bring you home."
"With what magic?" The queen stepped in front of Charlotte, blocking her sightline to her sister. Something in Charlotte's face—the same reckless determination that'd gotten her parents killed—made the queen scoff. "Let this be a lesson to you, dear. Never make deals with strangers. Especially in these woods—teeming with the most unseemly characters. And I should know." The queen's ruby red lips pulled back in a sneer. "Most of them work for me."
Her sneer turned slowly to a triumphant smile, and she cackled as she sauntered away, mounting her horse with the same easy grace as she did everything else. How long had she plotted against Charlotte's parents? Hiding her betrayal behind a façade of friendship. How long had she made them suffer before the end?
One final glance at her sister, and Charlotte's vow was reaffirmed. "I will find you. If it's the last thing I do."
A snap of the reins and they were gone.
"I will make this right."
It was Charlotte's fault that this had happened. It was her fault her parents had died. If it weren't for that infernal prophecy, they might still be alive. They'd been so fearful in those final days, so eaten up with paranoid imaginings. What if it comes true? What will we do then?
"We'll do what we've always done," her father had said in that resolute way of his. "We'll survive."
But they hadn't. They'd walked steadfast into their doom and never returned. The queen had won. She'd taken everything. Charlotte's parents. Her magic. And now her sister. What was left?
What else could Charlotte possibly destroy?
She'd only wanted to protect what remained of their family. Small and broken though it was. She'd known what the others refused to say, what Charlotte had seen in each of their eyes—she was the one predisposed to darkness. She was the one who would fall. She would bring their kingdom and their legacy and their once bright future to ruin.
She was the last person to believe in prophecies. In some invisible entity deciding her fate. But even as her rational mind laughed off her parents' superstitions, something inside Charlotte had known that if such things did indeed exist, if one of them was destined to go dark, it wasn't her sister. She was the epitome of goodness. Of hope and happily ever after. She had their father's strong will and their mother's unwavering belief. Charlotte had always been the outlier. The piece that didn't fit.
Her parents had been so sure. So afraid. Her sister had sworn she wasn't scared. That Charlotte could never hurt anyone, much less someone she loved. But something had shifted the day their parents died. Something had awoken. Crept up and taken hold, and Charlotte didn't have it in her to resist.
She'd never been the forgiving one.
But the one constant in her life, the one thing she could always count on, was her ability to make a mess of everything. Her attempts to fix what'd gone awry only made matters worse. Of course they had. What had Charlotte ever been to her family but a burden?
And now, when her sister needed her most, Charlotte had ensured that she'd be incapable of rescuing her. That she'd be incapable of rescuing herself.
Charlotte looked up at the night sky, a distant patchwork of stars high above the trees. When one bright star streaked across her narrow view of the heavens, as the winds picked up speed and swirled around her, Charlotte took it as a sign. Her last chance to make things right. For real this time. For good.
I will find you.
It hadn't been a lie. It wasn't a promise she'd intended to break. But suddenly, those words were not the answer they'd once seemed.
She would rewrite their fates. She would save them all. And they would never know the pain and fear and disappointment that Charlotte had wrought upon their lives.
She held her breath and closed her eyes and for a moment, the world was perfectly, blissfully dark.