Chapter Twenty-Five

She spends an hour watching Lottie's every breath, counting the seconds between them. Lottie's suffering is the work of the curse. It must be. When they come together, when their hearts collide, she gets sick. It all starts to make sense now, almost perfectly, minus a few missing pieces. When she is confident that Lottie is safe and recovering, Marigold silently steps out of the room. She tiptoes down the hall and walks into her own room to find her mother waiting there on the bed.

They lock eyes. Should she speak?

No, her mother should speak first. She is the one who never truly responded to her letter. She exhales, drops her shoulders, and waits. Her mother stands, approaching slowly, her steps cutting through the silence.

"Hello, Mari, darling," her mother says. She almost reaches for Marigold's hand but pauses. "I have missed you so much," she says through broken sobs, and Marigold cannot hold back anymore. In her mother's arms, she collapses.

"I've missed you more." Her head is buried in her mother's shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry for how I left."

"So am I," her mother says, stroking her hair. "I never should've hidden anything from you. I should have told you the truth from the beginning. I should've…" She pulls back and holds Marigold's arms. "I should have done everything differently, Marigold."

"I'm starting to feel the same way." She buries her face in her hands. Her mother wraps her arms around her and leads them both to the edge of the bed.

She releases a shaky breath. "Frankie sent me your unfinished letter."

Her mother looks surprised, but then she sighs. "I should have expected nothing less from him. And in truth, I should have sent one in the first place."

"I wish you did."

Her mother strokes her cheek and wipes away her tears. "Which letter did he send? I started many."

"The one that said that there are still truths I do not know."

Her mother nods and takes off her glove, revealing the scars across her hand. "This burn is from that day. From that witch who tried to kill you."

Marigold traces the burn scar with her finger.

"I'll never forget seeing this unnatural bolt of pure fire coming for you. Your little legs couldn't move fast enough. You froze there in front of the window, and I had to pull you out. I didn't even feel the pain when it happened, but I looked down at my hand to see nothing but blood and bone." Her lip trembles as she looks at Marigold's face. "That could've been you. It terrifies me to this day. That vision that my imagination created. You, and blood, and bone."

"But you saved me," she says with hardly any air left in her lungs.

"That's all I ever wanted to do. Save you from her. Marigold, that day awakened something in me. A rage I never knew I could possess. In that moment, I would have forgone everything I had in order to keep you safe. I asked your grandmother then if I could change my mind, give up my love so I could have my magic again and fight for you."

Perhaps she recognizes that protective rage—she felt it with Lottie as they kissed, like she would burn the world and everyone in it if it meant keeping her safe.

"You would have given up Father?"

She winces. "If it meant keeping you safe, yes. I would've given anything. Even my own life." Rage flickers in her mother's eyes. "I wanted to kill that woman. I wanted to rip her apart. And it killed me to know that I had given up the power I needed in order to do so." Shaking her head, she continues, "Don't misunderstand me, I love your father with all that I am. He is my soulmate. But you, you are our child. You and your siblings are our entire world. We love you in an entirely different way that words cannot express, and we would both give all that we have in order to protect you."

"I love you both so much. That's why it hurt to leave. It hurt to write. It hurt knowing that I had gone against all that you had done for me."

Her mother smiles. "No more of that. I am so proud of you. You did what was right for you."

She shakes her head. "I do not know if I did."

"Why?"

"I met someone." Her lip trembles. "Someone who cannot love me the way I want them to, and it's my fault."

"Is this the man you brought here with you?"

"No, it's—" She pauses. "How did you know I brought anyone with me?"

Her mother gives her a knowing look. In unison, they say, "Aster and Frankie."

Of course.

"It's not August," she continues. "It's the woman. Her name is Lottie. At first, I thought it merely lust, but now—" She stops herself. "Forgive me, I should not talk of such matters with you."

"Oh, nonsense. I do have three children, you know. I am no stranger to this."

She clears her throat. "Somehow, the woman is resistant to the curse. Not entirely immune, but able to withstand it to an extent."

"I don't know if that's possible, Mari," her mother says slowly with pity in her eyes.

Marigold crosses her arms. "I would agree with you if she hadn't just kissed me."

Mouth agape, her mother says, "Well, that changes things."

Her mother stands and looks around, as if to ensure that no one is listening. Force of habit from living among such notorious gossips for so long. "Maybe the fairy tales are right."

Marigold perks up. Her ears twitch like a cat's. "What do you mean?"

"You know how they all end. Perhaps any curse can be broken by true love."

"Lottie doesn't love me," she says with an incredulous laugh, followed by a sharp pain in her chest. It hurts to have said it aloud.

Her mother shrugs. "Maybe not yet. But if what you say is true, if she can resist the curse and acts as though she cares for you, then maybe there is hope. She's already doing what we thought was impossible. Who knows what could happen next?"

Breaking the curse is a thrilling thought, but one met with many logical objections. Her head is spinning wildly, her pulse quickening so much so that her vision blurs. "I think Grandmother would warn against this kind of talk. She was very adamant that the curse was unbreakable."

"Your grandmother would want you to be happy. She would want you to follow your heart. And if there was a possibility that you could break this damned curse," she says, touching Althea's emerald ring that Marigold wears as a necklace, "she would want you to try."

Perhaps her mother would think differently if she knew what happened when she and Lottie got too close. It wasn't safe. But maybe it was worth it.

Wrapping her arms around her mother, she says, "Thank you, Mother. For everything. And for loving me, even when I didn't deserve it."

"You always deserve love, Mari. Always."

Marigold quietly enters Lottie's room, careful not to disturb her in case she is still sleeping. Luckily, she is awake, and she rushes to Marigold's side as soon as the door closes behind her.

"There you are," she says with relief. "I have been pacing for what feels like an eternity, but I know this place is a maze so I did not dare venture out. We have much to discuss."

"Indeed, we do," Marigold says. "The curse—"

"I have it all figured out," Lottie interrupts. "I have feelings for you. I believe I have had them since the first time I saw you, because that is when all this started." She speaks of her feelings academically like she is discussing an equation. "You got out of the carriage with your grandmother, and your face… it made me feel…"

Lottie pauses, waving her hands around like she is riffling through the air in search of the right word. Marigold's very soul is on fire.

"Made you feel what?" Enchanted, perhaps? That is how Marigold felt.

"Nauseous," Lottie finally says with a massive grin. "Absolutely disgusted. I could have been sick right then and there all over your dress."

She crosses her arms, deflated. "How lovely of you to say."

"No, this is good, Mari!" Lottie takes her hands.

"It is good that my face makes you physically ill?" she asks, brows raised.

Lottie's lips press into a thin line. "It is not your face, you impossible girl. It is your curse. That is what it has been all along. When I try to act on my feelings, it is immediately followed by pain and the smell of salt and smoke. I know now that scent means magic. I could recognize it anywhere." She is nearly leaping with excitement as she speaks.

"That's not how it's supposed to be," Marigold says, throwing her arms up in frustration. "You shouldn't be able to feel anything for me at all. Are you certain it's not simply lust?"

Defensively, Lottie says, "It's more than that. I know it." She reaches for Marigold's hand, sending shivers up her spine.

"It makes no sense," Marigold says, palming her forehead in confusion. "It's as if you are defying the curse, and it's punishing you for it."

"What else is there to understand? It simply doesn't affect me the way you thought it would, and that's a good thing."

"But why you? How are you resistant to it?" Her mind wanders to the night she saw Lottie's tattoo on her sternum—the rune of protection. Could that be it?

Lottie interrupts her thoughts and says, "Don't you see, Marigold? Now that we know what causes it, perhaps we can outsmart it."

"How might that work? We draw the curtains and blow out all the candles so that it cannot see us in the darkness?" she chides. "We cannot hide from this."

"I know that. But you see, every time we try, we get a little bit further. Before, I could not look at your face without feeling like death. And now I am holding your hand and my head is only throbbing slightly!" She squeezes her hand and leans in. "Let us try, Marigold. Let us see how far we can go."

"Lottie, that is so dangerous. I will not risk your safety. You did not see what I saw. You, lying on the bed, convulsing like you were being strangled. Your body looked broken."

"It is my body to break if I so wish! Please, Mari. Please do not deny me. I want to try. For you." She wraps her arm around her waist. "For this."

She looks deep into Lottie's green eyes as if she is trying to read a book while the pages are turning too fast. She takes a breath and touches Lottie's hand at her waist.

"I cannot deny you. But will you allow us to wait until our return to Innisfree? I don't want the curse to hurt you here when I don't have all that I may need to heal you. It scares me." Beyond that, Innisfree needs to be healed first. If the isle continues weakening, they could be vulnerable to an Ash Witch attack. She could lose everything and be forced to come back to Bardshire, powerless and alone.

"I'm not scared," Lottie says, tightening her arms around Marigold. "I'm yours."

As a light gasp escapes Marigold's lips, a bell rings throughout the estate to signal dinner. She blinks, letting Lottie's words echo in her mind. Squeezing Lottie's hand that rests on her waist, she says, "And I am yours."