Chapter Thirty-One

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I will tell the next bit as it was told to me, since I was not in a fit state to make observations of my own. It's a good story—though Grimm's narrative flair is distinctly lacking—mysterious in all the right ways.

He awoke on the edge of the forest at dawn, right next to the spot we had first crossed the barrier. Both of our swords were missing. My violin, however, had been placed lovingly atop my chest.

Grimm said I looked like a corpse laid out and waiting for funeral rites to be cast, but I choose to believe I cut a more romantic figure than that. ("You didn't. There were flies feasting on the blood that had poured out of your nose. Your hands were folded over the violin. I was certain you were dead.")

Anyway, in the pale first light of day, Grimm spent a few moments racked with grief over my untimely death before he realized that I was, in fact, still breathing. A little. Then in a feat of strength born of true concern ("I still had several lightfoot spells in my pocket. It really wasn't that difficult."), he carried me and my violin all the way back to the town where we'd first met Jayne.

There was a great uproar once Grimm arrived in town. Since we were returning heroes, a place for my recovery was immediately offered up, and the best doctor in town was called in to see to me ("He's the only doctor in town, but I guess he did his best."), whereupon it was discovered I was suffering from such severe spell exhaustion that it truly was a wonder I wasn't a corpse. No one knew exactly what had happened, of course, because I stayed quite unconscious for a long while, unable to be moved. I'm told that Grimm didn't leave my side. ("We were staying in that same loft above the bar, Loveage. My bed was right next to yours. Where was I supposed to sleep?")

During that time, the trials took place.

We both missed them.

And then I woke up.

Have you ever had your insides scraped out, mashed with a fork, and then put back in place? That's certainly what it felt like had happened when I woke up. From my pinkie toes to the hair follicles on my head, everything hurt.

"Dear me, no thank you," I muttered, and forced myself back asleep.

My second foray into consciousness lasted slightly longer. I blinked my eyes open and croaked for water, at which point Grimm did a very poor job of tipping a glass of water down my throat. I would have mocked him for it if only I was slightly more coherent. As it was, I lay down with my front soaking wet and promptly fell back asleep.

It continued on like this for a while. Until, eventually, one day, I opened my eyes and was actually able to focus on the ceiling beams above me. They were vaguely familiar, but the setting still struck me as wrong. There weren't enough trees. I was meant to be in the Unquiet Wood, not someplace with a roof, lying underneath a threadbare patchwork quilt.

Everything came flooding back to me. Mathias's ambush. The monster. The arrow in Grimm's back. I sat up quickly and then immediately regretted it and sank back down onto the pillows with a groan.

"It's not recommended you move just yet," Grimm said. "But you probably know that now."

He was sitting in a chair to my right. After a moment or two passed and I was still awake, he got up and poured me a glass of water from the pitcher next to my bed. This time I was able to drink it by myself, though my hands trembled. When I gave it back to him, I noticed that the nails on each of my fingers were black as pitch. My left hand was the same.

"How did we get here?" I asked.

Grimm told me.

"Huh," I said. "I'm sorry about the trials. I really did think we'd be back in time."

"It doesn't matter," Grimm said, brushing the issue aside with uncustomary impatience. He was watching me intently. "What happened, Loveage? When I woke, you were half-dead and I… I didn't have a scratch on me. What did you do?"

I studied my ruined nails and the blanket covering my knees instead of answering right away. The events of the valley had a dreamlike quality to them. Had it all really happened like that? It felt a little too strange, even for someplace like the Unquiet Wood. But it did make for a good story, so that's how I told it to Grimm. Like it was a story that happened to someone else.

I thought he might comment on the fact that I had written a successful healing spell. Or perhaps the bit where I claimed the monsters sang along with me to cast it. But when I was finished, Grimm looked at me and said, "You scrived Grandmagic?"

"Yes."

"And it worked."

"Obviously."

For a moment I thought he might say something else. Something congratulatory perhaps. But then Grimm's brows drew together in a familiar expression of dismay. "You cast it."

I smiled at him wryly. "It's uncharitable for you to look so angry, Grimm. After all, I saved your life."

"Nearly at the cost of your own."

"Hardly," I scoffed. "I'll admit I overextended myself a little, but it worked out in the end."

"Who do you think you're fooling?" he snapped. "You've been insensible for five days. You can't sit up straight, even now. The doctor said he'd never seen such a severe case of magical depletion and—" Grimm stopped abruptly midsentence and looked at me. "Thank you. For what you did."

"Saving your life," I prompted.

Grimm sighed. "Fine. Yes. That."

"It seemed only right, since I'm fairly certain that arrow was meant for me. Which reminds me, what on earth prompted you to get in the way?"

"You got in the way of an arrow for me. Before."

"Yes, but I was compelled to do so. Love spell, remember? What's your excuse?"

"I just reacted. Didn't really think about it."

"How impulsive of you. You've spent too much time around me."

"Yes," Grimm said with feeling. "I have."

"Oh!" I sat up a little straighter against my pillows. "The feather! Mathias took mine, but he didn't know about the other. I imagine it's been a bit of a chore for you, sticking close while I was asleep. We can cast the spell now."

I expected Grimm to protest that I was too weak for any casting. In fact, I was rather counting on it. It wasn't that I didn't want to be free, but I didn't know how it would feel. Our proximity was familiar by this point, and who else was going to hand me glasses of water during my convalescence? If the comfort I gained from having Grimm there with me was a lie, I didn't want to know it just yet. But this was a selfish thought. I at least had to offer. It wasn't just my freedom at stake.

"There's no need," Grimm said. "The curse is gone."

"What do you mean?" I asked, certain I had misheard.

"I removed it while you were asleep. I thought you wouldn't want to wait. Was I wrong to do so?"

"No, I just thought—"

I thought I would have noticed. I stared at Grimm's face and tried to make sense of how it made me feel. But I was too tired and sore to make much sense of anything at all. Besides, the curse was sneaky. It had hidden itself from me before.

"Where's the feather? I want to make sure."

Grimm looked away. "After I removed the curse, I cast Sybilla's counterspell on it. It was destroyed, feather and all."

I frowned. "You're sure?" Casting the counterspell while I was unconscious seemed uncommonly reckless of him, and he wasn't meeting my eyes. What had happened while I slept?

"The curse is well and truly gone," Grimm said firmly.

"We need to test it." It wasn't that I didn't trust him, but there was only one way I would truly believe the curse was destroyed. "Tell me to do something."

Grimm sighed and finally looked me in the eye. "Stand up, Loveage."

Nothing. There was no buzz of insistence when he spoke. No burst of joy at the thought of carrying out the action. I did, however, take great pleasure in answering.

" No ," I said, then laughed aloud. "It really worked. We're free of each other."

"Yes," Grimm agreed. "We really are. That being the case, I think I'm going to go for a walk. The doctor asked me to fetch him once you were awake."

He got to his feet and headed for the stairs. The farther away he walked, the more certain I was there would be a pull, that strange discomfort I'd grown almost used to. But the restlessness was gone. Grimm was halfway down the stairs before I called out to him. He climbed back up again to peer over the railing at me.

"If the curse was gone, why didn't you go back for the trials?" I asked.

Grimm hesitated before answering. "Someone once told me that any sorcerer worth their salt could find placement without parading themselves around like a prize stallion. I don't think I would have been worth anything much at all if I left for Luxe before you woke up."

I felt it again, that little flutter kick in my chest, so faint I wasn't sure if it was real or simply habit. Echoes of the curse making themselves felt, like a phantom limb. It was so confusing that I became distracted trying to untangle what was real and what was remembered, and by the time I had decided to save such serious contemplation for another time, Grimm was gone.

We stayed in the loft above the bar awhile longer so I could rest on the advice of the best ("Only.") doctor in town. On the second day after I woke up, Phade arrived.

Grimm had written to them while I was still unconscious, but apparently even Grimm's word that my unexcused absence from the Fount was a result of near death (and not just me being my usual self) was not quite good enough for the Fount's academic board. Phade had been sent to observe my convalescence . A prospect that made shivers of dismay roll down my poor, abused spine.

The only good part of this was that they did not come alone. Agnes, blessedly familiar and beloved Agnes, came with them. Officially she was there to take notes for Phade while they assessed my condition and listened to the story Grimm and I had concocted about our chance encounter with a monster that had snuck through the barrier. She did this with a very dedicated air and only a few raised eyebrows at the parts in our tale where the truth grew most thin. But as soon as Phade and Grimm allowed us a moment alone, Agnes dropped her veil of professionalism and launched herself to sit on the end of my bed. Her hand sought mine and clasped it tightly.

"Your story is shit, I hope you know," Agnes said, voice rough. "The only reason the two of you are getting away with this—whatever this is—is because Phade has a soft spot for Grimm. And because anyone can tell by looking at you that the part where you almost died is true." She stopped and drew in a strange hiccuping breath, fingers going even tighter around my own. "Magic preserve us, Leo. You almost died. What actually happened out there?"

I opened my mouth to tell her, but I couldn't. My throat closed in on the words. We had made the outlaws a promise, and our contract with them held.

Agnes did not appreciate being left in the dark. She tried a myriad of ways to get me to reveal what happened, until my own frustration was almost equal to her own, and Mathias's certainty that I would find a way to break the contract began to seem less paranoid. But I was in no shape to give thought to such things just yet, and so the secrets remained.

"Is this some weird curse thing?" Agnes asked me eventually. "Has Grimm told you not to speak? Because if he has, I will—"

"Nothing like that," I said hurriedly. "The curse is gone."

"What? How?" Agnes's eyes widened comically behind her spectacles. "Don't tell me the sorcerer was real !"

But the contract had been very specific: None of our doings in the forest were to be spoken of, and that included Sybilla. My throat clenched up again at the mere thought of speaking her name. All I could do was smile apologetically as Agnes groaned in frustration. That story belonged to me and Grimm alone.

"My turn for questions," I said, before the lack of answers could become too heavy between us. "Tell me about the trials. How did you do?"

Agnes finally smiled. "Let's just say this," she said, sounding immensely satisfied. "Even if Grimm had been there, he would have had a hard time topping the number of offers I received."

"I'm glad," I said, even though I felt an unaccustomed twinge on Grimm's behalf over opportunities lost.

Agnes and Phade didn't stay long. The Fount was back in session, but I was not ready to make the journey back with them just yet, so Grimm and I lingered in the town until I could stand without seeing black spots. Even once I was cleared to travel, it was under very strict orders that I not tax myself by riding, and so Grimm used two of my remaining rings to buy the most comfortable carriage anyone in town was willing to sell to us. It was an ancient coach that required two horses to pull it and smelled strongly of goat for some reason, but at least there was plenty of room inside for me to nap as Grimm drove us back to Luxe.

I'd become quite fond of naps since our return from the forest. Even though I'd slept for five days straight, my body didn't seem to think that was sufficient, and I'd developed a habit of falling asleep at the drop of a hat. Midconversation. Sitting at the bar. In the bath.

There were a few other signs of my overextension. Or, as Grimm liked to refer to my adventures in casting, "consequences of poor decision-making."

My eyes had changed. They were a much paler blue than they'd been before, which I noticed once my hands stopped trembling enough for me to request a mirror for shaving. I'd also lost a tooth. It was toward the back of my mouth, thankfully, but it was definitely gone. And then there were my nails, which I was inclined to think were permanently blackened.

"You're lucky it wasn't worse," Grimm was fond of reminding me.

"Lucky I charmed a monster into being my backup singer, you mean," I replied smugly. "Do you think it was old seven-eyes who carried us back to the barrier, or one of my other admirers?"

Grimm said nothing to that. He'd said very little at all lately.

I had plenty of time to ponder the mystery of our deliverance, alone in the coach. I'd managed to smuggle a bottle of wine in under Grimm's nose, but truthfully the jostling didn't mix all that well with alcohol, so I spent most of my time sleeping or staring out the windows, remembering everything that had happened to us inside the Unquiet Wood. There was one thing in particular that I spent quite a bit of time thinking about. A question that had been poking and prodding at me ever since I awoke.

By midday, I'd had enough of thinking about it by myself. I wanted an answer, and I wanted it before we were back in the Fount. I banged my fist against the wall until the carriage rolled to a stop. Then I grabbed my violin from its case, opened the door, and walked around to look up at Grimm.

"You once said you were willing to risk the danger of casting Grandmagic written by me. Is that still true?"

Grimm's eyes settled on the violin in my hand. "You want to write a Grandmagic spellsong."

I nodded. "I need to know if what happened in the woods was just a fluke. I don't think it was. Everything in my heart says that something was rearranged by what happened that day, but I have to know for sure."

"All right," Grimm said, simple as that.

"I could be wrong," I warned. "This spell might set your hair on fire or fling you twenty feet in the air."

"I've healed from worse," Grimm said mildly, before getting down from the coach.

We walked a little way away from the road, just to be safe. The sun hung high and bright in the sky. Probably one of the last truly warm days of the season.

"When was the last time you cast a rain spell, Grimm?" I asked.

He looked at me, eyes dark. "You know the answer to that."

I nodded, then tucked my violin snugly beneath my chin and said, "Well, I suppose this will be a second chance for the both of us, then."

I'd been thinking of what words to use as we drove, and they came to my lips easily now. The tune they went with was lilting and bright. This was not a day for storms; rather it called for downpours. Here and then gone, leaving the world clean.

Grimm listened to the song once before beginning to sing. There was no hesitation in his voice. If there was fear, it belonged to me, waiting, waiting for the song to end and to see what would happen.

Lightning did not strike anyone down.

No bones were broken.

No one died.

All that happened was that clouds began to roll in, swift and dark. I barely had time to put my violin safely away before they burst over us in a shower of rain and we stood there, getting drenched. Grimm held up a hand and let the water collect and run over his palm.

"I'd like to keep doing this," I said abruptly. "Writing spellsongs, I mean. If you'll keep casting them, that is."

Grimm's hand fell. I had become fairly adept at reading his face over the past few weeks, but it was hard for me to make sense of his expression now. I thought it almost looked angry, but I genuinely couldn't find anything offensive in what I'd said.

"We're free of each other now. You said so yourself. Why would you want to change that?"

I did remember saying something along those lines, but I'd meant it in a different way than it sounded on Grimm's lips, harsh and final.

"That doesn't mean we're not still…" The word friends was on the tip of my tongue, but I suddenly doubted that was what he would want to hear.

"Still what?"

"Partners," I blurted out. "In Duality class. We still need to work together there for the remainder of the year. And we're good at this, are we not?"

Grimm's eyebrows rose a fraction. "Are you saying you're going to give me something to work with besides cosmetic charms and cantrips that call insects?"

I closed my eyes and tipped my face up into the rain. A part of me was still waiting for it to go terribly wrong. But even though my heart pounded, it wasn't entirely from terror.

I scrubbed a hand over my face and turned to Grimm. "I can't promise to never slip a charm or cantrip into the mix, but I'm trying to branch out. And I think…" I held up my own hand and let the water pool there. I had done that. "I think I want this."

Grimm looked at me sharply. "Want what?"

"The same thing you do. To be a part of things. To better them, somehow. Isn't that strange?" I grinned at him. "All our years of opposition, and yet we both want the same thing, in the end."

"You've changed your mind about joining the Coterie?"

"I'm considering it," I admitted. "I healed you, Grimm. I'm not sure I can write something like that again, but I have to at least try." I needed to learn more. I needed experience and practice writing the sort of magic I'd avoided for so long. And I really did want it. I could admit that now. I'd denied myself the Coterie the same way I'd denied myself Grandmagic, because I thought I wasn't fit for such things.

Now I wasn't so sure.

I let the rainwater run from my hand and said lightly, "Maybe I'll finish fifth tier and get myself recruited into the most illustrious Coterie troop I can find. Make a name for myself by writing the grandest spells you can imagine and become exactly the sort of sorcerer everyone's always telling me to be."

Grimm shook his head, expression sober. "You have a rebel heart, Leovander Loveage. You will never be anyone but yourself."

Somehow, this did not feel like the condemnation it once might have been. It almost sounded like praise, though Grimm did ruin the effect slightly by adding, "Besides, you'll need to work very hard to get recruited by any troops now that we've missed the trials."

"I can put in effort when properly motivated. And I like a challenge. What do you say, Grimm?" I asked, feeling oddly nervous. "Would you like a little help on your quest to change the Coterie from the inside? You know how much I love disrupting things."

Grimm's silver hair was plastered against his forehead and cheeks. He had to blink water from his eyes when he looked at me. "Are you sure that's what you really want? You told me before that you wished to leave when you were done with the Fount. To go to your mother's estate."

"You remember that?" I'd thought Grimm was nearly insensible while I babbled in his ear.

He nodded. "I remember."

"Well," I said. "It's not that I don't still want that too, but… things change, don't they?"

I meant me. I meant the rain pouring down on us and where it came from. I meant Grimm a little bit, breaking rules and standing there beside me.

"I suppose they do," he agreed quietly.

We walked back to the carriage after that, both of us soaked through. The rain was already beginning to taper off, sun peeking through the clouds. I climbed up onto the bench next to Grimm rather than going to sit inside.

"You should rest," Grimm said.

"I will," I told him. "In a little while." Inside the coach was safe and warm, but I wanted to catch the last of the raindrops as they fell.

I wanted to look down the road and see where I was headed.