Chapter Forty-One

The landv?ttir remain trapped in their monstrous forms, poisoned with ash. Chesha keeps her unwavering grip locked on Marigold. Her wrists are probably broken by now, but her body is starting to go numb. She had to use the rest of her energy to put out Versa's wildfire—once a fire that big has started, even an Ash Witch will lose control. Summoning a rainstorm was the only way to stop it. She's now held under the wisteria tree, barely able to stand, watching her world fall apart. Odessa and Talaya take all that is left of her honey and dump it into the lake so that Marigold will have to maintain the isle using only the magic in her blood. Exhausting herself like that, with no honey to restore her, will keep her weak—too weak to fight back.

The Ash Witch ritual is a dark mirror to what Marigold performed with Althea. The tip of Versa's finger ignites, and she presses the flame onto Lottie's waiting palm. Lottie winces as the witch presses the sharp point of her long fingernail into her skin until she draws blood. As it pools in her hand, it starts to bubble and boil against the flame, and Lottie screams. Her knees buckle beneath her and she falls to the ground, but Versa keeps a firm grasp on her hand.

"Power is pain. We burn for it," Versa bellows. Lottie claws at her throat with her other hand until suddenly, she ceases. Her eyes frantically take in the world around her. Can she see the beauty that Marigold sees? Or is there a hidden darkness making itself known to her? Versa utters something under her breath, and her eyes glow as the air grows warm around them. Marigold's skin is burning up as it feels like her blood is boiling in her veins.

"What are you doing to her?" Lottie screams, but Versa gives no response. Marigold is then hovering just above the ground, gasping for air. Her heart feels like it could explode inside her and tear her body to pieces. Black smoke spills out of her mouth as she falls back onto the ground, the impact forcing the rest of the air from her body. As she lies there, unmoving, she feels a weightlessness that she has not felt since before accepting her magic.

The curse is broken. Turning her head slowly, she meets Lottie's eyes that are filled with worry. Marigold can see the moment her heart gives way to all the love that has been waiting there for so long. Lottie tries to pull away, but Versa will not let her go.

"I love you," she mouths to Marigold.

Marigold struggles against Chesha's grasp, unable to break free, unable to get to Lottie's side. "I love you," she shouts.

Versa laughs. "Look at what love has made you both." She picks Lottie up by her hair and walks her over to Marigold. "So weak," she says, flinging her forward. She clings to Marigold, hugging her waist tightly. "It was always going to end this way, Honey Witch. Your grandmother knew that, too. The only way to win is if you have not a heart to lose."

She starts walking toward the cottage. "Come, pet. Help me reclaim our home."

"What about Marigold?"

"She will stay outside like the insect that she is."

Marigold doesn't have the strength to fight. Chesha's grip on her is already bruising her. If she pulls too hard, the landv?ttir will crush her bones.

"Go, Lottie. I'll be fine here."

Lottie tightens her arms around her. "I cannot let you—"

"Pet. Come!" Versa commands.

"Please," Marigold says. "Neither one of us needs to suffer more tonight. Follow her. It will be okay. I love you so much."

"I love you," Lottie says, reaching up to her face. "I just started loving you the way I want to. I can't leave you."

"She is not going anywhere. She'll be working through the night to create flora for us to burn." Versa pulls Lottie off her and grabs Marigold by the throat. "Isn't that right, Honey Witch? When we wake up, there will be gardens waiting for us. There will be dire consequences, if not. Who knows who will reap the worst of my punishments? You, or my pet?"

With that, her twisted fingers thread back into Lottie's hair and tug her away. They close the door, and Marigold is alone.

Fearful of what punishment could await either one of them, she works through the night, exhausting all her magic and energy to regrow the beauty that was burned. Roses, oak trees, bloodred berries, rows of lavender, and ivy vines. Chesha's grip never wavers in strength and does not yield. Through it all, she thinks of Lottie. In her wildest dreams, they are far away from this. They kiss in the mornings and Marigold brings her tea in bed. They can hardly escape each other's arms. The moon rises early just to watch them dance. There is no ash, no curse, no pain. They have all that they have ever truly wanted—love. Unconditional, all-encompassing, damn-near-suffocating love. She wants all of it, too much of it. She would let herself drown in it. That would be the perfect little death.

When morning comes, it is not Lottie who wakes her. It's Versa and the smell of sour smoke. The gardens that she healed through the night are on fire.

Crack.

Snap.

Gone.

Versa kicks her in the ribs. "Get up. Do it again."

Breathless, she says, "Where is Lottie?"

"Training. She will not see you until she is strong enough to kill you if she must."

Horrific visions flash in her mind of Versa poisoning Lottie against her. Lottie's words from the battle echo in her ears: "Marigold does not love me." That's what Versa forced her to say. What if she starts to believe it?

It goes on like this for three days. Everything she creates, Versa destroys. On the third day, when she has had no food or water or honey to replenish her magic, she breaks. Her blood feels too thin in her veins. Her bones are her heaviest burden. Every breath is a reminder that all this pain is earned. Lottie felt this every time they kissed. Every time they got too close. Every time Marigold pushed her too far.

She does not scream. She does not cry. She sits with her punishment, makes friends with it, pours it a cup of tea sweetened with her blood. That is her only choice.

That night, Lottie comes to her with food and water. Chesha stands guard, one hand still firm on Marigold's wrist.

"I am so sorry I couldn't come to you earlier," Lottie says, kneeling beside her. "Her magic trapped us all inside. She's been forcing me and the other landv?ttir to try to heal her."

"How… did you… get out?" she asks between ragged breaths.

"I have been studying. I learned how to undo her spell."

She brings a cup to Marigold's cracked lips, and the water is so cold it feels like it's shredding her mouth. She spits it out.

"You must drink, my love."

She nods, letting Lottie bring the cup back to her lips. She forces herself to swallow.

"My… love…" she says.

"You must understand, Marigold. I took this power for us. I am going to find a way to end her myself. I'll burn that house from the inside if I have to. Give me a little time."

It's no use. Lottie will not be able to defeat Versa in whatever short amount of time Marigold has left of this life.

Without honey, she is nothing.

"Let me go, Lottie. You must think of yourself. You have to survive her without me."

"I cannot, Marigold. You are the other half of me." She reaches into the bodice of her dress and pulls out her soulmate spell. It glows as she brings it close. "You are my soulmate."

She tries to gasp, but the air shreds her dry throat. "What?"

"I felt it the moment the ritual was complete. It was you all along." She kisses her softly, wary of hurting her, but Marigold does not care. She forces herself to sit up and take Lottie's perfect face into her free hand.

"You're mine," she says, weeping.

"I'm yours. And I will not let you die here."

Their kiss deepens, breathing life back into her. She tastes Lottie's magic as it mixes with her own—this warm, sweet ash. Still entangled in the kiss, she reaches for the soulmate spell around Lottie's neck. It's warm in her hand. She runs her fingers along the glass, feeling the curves and points of the heart shape.

Lemon seeds.

Rose petals.

Moon water.

And honey. Sweet, soft lavender honey.

"Lottie, the spell," she whispers. "It's honey."

Lottie pulls back, nodding. "Of course."

"No, you are not hearing me, my love. It's honey."

Confused, Lottie tries to give her more water, but she pushes it away with the back of her hand and tightens her grip on the spell. "Lottie, we can use this to give a honey offering to Chesha and free her from Versa's control. I'll be free. Then we can destroy Versa together."

Lottie gasps, wrapping her hand around Marigold's as she holds the spell in her palm. "You are brilliant." She kisses her cheek. "You are perfect." Then kisses her forehead. "You are the reason we are going to be free."

Their lips find each other, and they melt like harsh winter under a ruthless sun. This is love. This is the secret that everyone is searching for. This is the warmth in the bones, that sleepy-sweet feeling in the muscle. This is the moment between a dream and the morning, where such goodness feels so real but impossible to hold.

And yet, here she is, holding on to it. Holding on to her.

Her hand flexes and moves to Lottie's hair.

"Does it hurt?" she asks.

Lottie smiles against her kiss. "Not anymore."

Lottie strengthens Marigold every night, and Versa is none the wiser. She sneaks out during the smallest hours, bringing food and water and a heart full of love. Marigold can feel it working within her—muscles stitching back together, bones clicking into place. They start planning their attack. Marigold is too weak for battle, and without honey, she's useless. Lottie's magic, while strong, is too unstable. She can hardly manage it, and Versa refuses to teach her anything that would allow Lottie to fight back. It was Lottie who came up with the most perfect plan, one that allowed for such poetic vengeance.

Tonight is the night. In the morning, they will be free.

As the moon reaches its highest point, Lottie sneaks out of the door with the Honey Witch's grimoire in her hands. That was the only thing that Marigold asks to be saved. Everything else can burn. Lottie lays the book at the base of the wisteria tree and kisses Marigold deeply, as if it is the first and the last time she will get to do it.

"Are you ready?" she asks when she pulls away, pulling the soulmate spell from her neck and handing it to Marigold.

"Yes," she says, pulling out the tiny cork with her teeth. She stands and lightly runs her finger across Chesha's white-knuckle grip.

"Chesha, my sweet girl, I'm going to save you."

Chesha does not acknowledge her. She remains cold and still like a statue. Lottie takes a deep breath, then lunges for Chesha's throat and drags her to the ground. The landv?ttir thrashes violently, pulling Marigold around as if she were weightless. Her head collides with the gnarled roots of the nearby tree, but before the pain can set in, Chesha flings her to the other side and smashes her back against the earth. Something cracks. Pain shoots through her neck and chest.

"I cannot hold her!" Lottie says.

Gritting her teeth, swallowing down the worst of her pain, Marigold pulls herself up. The soulmate spell is broken in her hand, and glittery shards of glass burrow deep into her palm. Her fingers find the part of the bottle that is most intact. With all the fight in her body, she brings her hand to Chesha's mouth and pours the honey inside.

It is instant. The milky haze leaves Chesha's eyes, and they light up when she sees Marigold. Her grip releases. There are bone-deep black bruises and broken blood vessels in its wake. Lottie pulls her away from Chesha, but the landv?ttir does not move.

In Chesha's eyes, there is such profound apology, such deep sorrow. Marigold smiles up at her. There will be no grudge held here.

"I'm free," she whispers, as if she cannot believe it. If she says it too loud, will some cruel fate chain her up again? She keeps this freedom close to her chest, nurturing it with quick, desperate breaths. Her pain is extreme, but she has to push through it. There will be time to heal in the morning.

"Chesha, guard the door. If Versa tries to escape, do not let her." Chesha nods, moving silently to her post.

"We must be quick," Lottie says, kissing her fast and pulling her toward the back of the cottage. They crouch below the window of the enfleurage room, still shattered from Versa's battle cries. Inside, there is the large cauldron filled to the brim with tallow. That is the key. If they can get it hot enough to catch fire, the cottage, and everything in it, will burn. Marigold will feed the oil fire with wind and spread it with water. Lottie will keep it burning with her magic no matter how much Versa tries to fight it.

Versa will die the same way that she killed Lottie's parents.

Lottie raises her palm. Dark tendrils of magic unfurl from her hand and reach into the room. Marigold keeps her hand on Lottie's shoulder and encourages her to keep going. It's not easy for her to control her magic yet, but they have no other choice. As the cauldron heats, the tallow melts into a yellow-tinted liquid. Marigold calls to the smallest slivers of magic that remain to try to make the plants in the room grow enough to reach the tallow. They need to be touching it when it catches fire if this plan is going to work. Her eyes close. Her body shakes. It feels like her insides are being ripped through her mouth as her magic moves into the room and threads through the veins of the plants. The leaves start to rustle and the flower buds open, but she's not strong enough to grow them to the height she needs. Sweat pours down her face and burns in her eyes.

"I cannot do it," she says through her teeth.

"You have to, my love. We're so close," Lottie says.

Breathing deeply, she pushes even harder. Her knees buckle beneath her. The bones in her wrist that Chesha fractured start to crack into pieces. Blood drips from her nose, her ears, and her mouth.

And it is not enough. The plants hardly grow at all. The vines are nowhere near the cauldron.

"I have to go inside," she says.

"You can't," Lottie says. "She'll hear you. It's too dangerous."

"We don't have a choice. The tallow burning on its own will not be enough to burn the entire cottage. The plants must catch fire, too."

"Then let me do it," Lottie says.

"No. I will not run the risk of your magic accidentally starting a fire while you are inside. You stay far away from this."

"Mari, I—"

"Just let me. You have been burned enough. Please."

Lottie tries to protest further, but Marigold silences her with a kiss.

"I'll be quick," she promises as she fights against the burning pain in her wrist and pulls herself through the window. Shards of cold glass scrape her skin. Her feet hit the ground with a thud, and she balances herself against the wall. She allows herself three seconds to breathe it all in, and another three to say goodbye.

Her grandmother's favorite room.

The happy memories they made here.

The cottage where she found magic, love, heartbreak, and grief.

This is how it ends.

Quickly, she breaks away dry branches from the wall and dips them into the tallow before tossing them onto the floor. She does this repeatedly, covering the floor with saturated petals and leaves.

The handle of the door twists.

The hinges start to creak.

With all her strength, she shoves the hot cauldron over, pouring the rest of the tallow onto the floor and burning her palms so much so that the skin sticks to the iron.

Versa flings the door open. "What are you doing?" she shrieks. She takes a step forward and the tallow squelches beneath her. Enraged, she lunges for Marigold, who is just out of reach. Versa falls onto her stomach and chokes as the impact knocks the breath out of her.

"Do it!" she yells to Lottie. "Now!"

"You need to get out first!" Lottie screams.

"There's no time! Start it!"

"You have to get out," she sobs. Arms outstretched, palms open, she starts to summon her magic, holding it back until Marigold escapes.

Versa howls as she pulls herself across the floor by her arms. She slips in the oil every time she tries to stand. She meets Marigold's gaze with death in her eyes. Her wicked face contorts into that familiar crazed smile, and she summons a bolt of fire in her palm.

"If I burn, you burn with me," she growls as she throws it onto the floor. The flames move like water, smooth and merciless, and the entire room ignites in seconds. The smell of salt and smoke burns Marigold's nose. Thick black smoke makes it impossible to see.

"Mari!" Lottie screams from outside. She tries to follow the sound of her voice.

"Lottie," she yells with the last of the breath in her lungs before the smoke takes hold.

Marigold's tallow-soaked dress catches fire as she reaches the window. The flames feel like knives slicing through her feet. She fights for air as she claws her way out. Her arms reach out the window, and Lottie rushes to her with a look of horror across her face.

"Get away," she yells, but Lottie doesn't listen. She takes Marigold's bloody hands and starts pulling her out, but Versa grabs her by the ankles. Looking back, Marigold sees that the Ash Witch's body is consumed by flame. Glowing embers stick to her face and eat away at her skin like maggots.

"Burn with me!" she shrieks, and the whole cottage shakes. Pieces of the ceiling start to fall. A wooden beam lands on Versa's legs, crushing them flat. The witch's head snaps back, and her hair ignites. Marigold kicks her in the jaw, feeling the bone split beneath her heel. Lottie pulls the rest of her body from the window. The remnants of the broken window stab into her legs. The skirt of her dress is still burning, and she cannot stand. Lottie starts dragging her body far away, screaming something Marigold cannot make out. It feels like her limbs are being torn off her. Her lungs are heavy with thick smoke. Her mouth drips with hot blood. She keeps her eyes on the flames, though blackness creeps into the edges of her vision.

There it goes.

Her home.

Her grandmother's home.

Her favorite place in this world. The cottage groans and creaks as it gives way to the flame, as if it, too, is screaming out in pain.

Versa's fingers are curled over the windowsill until they burn away. The last thing she sees is the cottage crumbling into nothing but ash.