All for a Rose (33 page)

“And how exactly did this apprenticeship come about?” the pixie prodded.

“I’m not her apprentice,” Corrine corrected automatically. “I’m not really a witch, at least not a powerful one. I’m just a human with a little skill for spells.”

The fairy arched an eyebrow. It stuck to a glob of honey under her hairline and stayed there in an expression of perpetual amusement. “Mother Briar told you that?”

Corrine nodded. Then she kicked herself for answering so easily even after remembering the risk.

“Did she also tell you that you wouldn’t be able to work magic without her help?”

Corrine bit the inside of her cheek, holding her answer in. She fought not to raise her hand to touch the amulet resting between her breasts.

“I am perfectly capable of casting spells without help,” Corrine corrected the pixie stiffly. “I told you, I have
some
natural talent for it.”

The fairy disappeared under the water. A long second dragged by. Curiosity ate at her and Corrine peered down into the teacup. The fairy blinked up at her through the honey-clouded water, blue eyes piercing even through the ripples. She blew a stream of bubbles that rustled the surface of the water and completely blocked her from Corrine’s view. Corrine rolled her eyes.

“Corrine?”

Corrine tripped over her skirt as she lunged off the bed. She managed to keep her feet, but just barely as she stumbled into the table the tea set was resting on. The china clinked together and rattled against the tabletop. The pixie’s makeshift bath tilted wildly to the side. The fey popped her head out of the water with a yelp and Corrine hissed and plucked her out of the cup with a muttered “Shush.”

The pixie glared at her, but didn’t say anything as Corrine dropped her into the cage and fastened it closed before shutting it away in her bag once again.

“Corrine, are you awake? It’s me. I want to talk.”

Corrine quickly dumped the honeyed water out the window and half-flew to the washing basin, rinsing out the cup and drying it quickly before rushing to replace it on the tray. She searched for any signs she may have missed, evidence of her spellwork, or her fey guest. No need for Maribel to know what she’d been up to. It didn’t matter now anyway.

She stood there for a moment, smoothing down her hair and dress, trying to regain control of her breathing. Finally, she straightened her spine and walked with slow, measured steps to answer the door.

Maribel stood there, her cheeks flushed with the evidence of what she’d been doing, making the wild tumble of her hair and the wrinkles in her gown all the more damning. Her eyes were still bright, her lips fuller, slightly swollen. Every detail pierced Corrine like the blade of a dagger, stabbing at her, torturing her with the double-edged sword of her sister’s happiness. It didn’t help that every physical sign was paired with the memory of it happening, the curse of the spell she’d used.

You cold-hearted heathen, be happy for her! When was the last time you saw her smile like that?

“How are you feeling?” Maribel asked.

Corrine twisted her mouth into her best attempt at a smile. “I’m feeling better. I was about to have some tea. I don’t suppose you have time to join me?”

Maribel’s face crumpled and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Corrine. Your dinner. I forgot.”

“It’s all right, really.” Corrine focused her full attention on the teapot. She had no idea what expression was on her face right now, but whatever it was, she wanted it to remain private. Maribel deserved this happiness, and she would not ruin it for her. It was time to get out of her sister’s way.

“No, it’s—”

“I’m not going to stay the night.”

Maribel snapped her mouth closed and half-fell onto the bed. “Oh, Corrine, please.”

“I think it’s for the best,” Corrine said firmly, her voice thick with the cursed tears trying to come back. She poured a cup of tea for Maribel and slid the saucer closer to her side of the small table. Then she poured a cup for herself.

“Why?” Maribel asked quietly.

Corrine made no move to pick up her cup of tea, barely caressing the saucer with her fingertips. “You’re happy here, Maribel. There’s nothing I can do to make it better.” She let out a long breath. “And so much I can do to make it worse. It’s better if I go. Really it is.”

The silence that fell between them was thick, charged with emotions the way the air before a storm is charged with the promise of lightning and the distant rumble of thunder.

“I miss you.”

Maribel’s words crept toward Corrine, hesitant, as if afraid of the reception they’d receive. A sob lodged itself in Corrine’s throat.

“I’ve missed you too.” Her vision blurred. “Maribel, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“No.” Maribel seized Corrine’s hands, her blue-eyed gaze boring into Corrine as though she could stop her from speaking through sheer force of will. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. We’re starting with a clean slate—all of us. I’m going to make sure you and Father have all the help you need—and you’re going to come visit—all the time.” Maribel’s eyes turned glassy, the threat of tears turning them into twin blue ponds. “Or you could stay here. I’m sure—”

“No, no, I can’t stay here.” Corrine pulled a hand free, rubbing the arcane mark as the tattoo started to itch. “It’s better if I go. But I’ll…I’ll visit, yes.”

Maribel smiled, sniffling and blinking away her tears. “If you’re sure.”

No! I’m not sure.

Panic reared its ugly head, wild eyes and screaming mouth painting a horrifying image on the inside of Corrine’s mind. Her sister’s words echoed in her head, and suddenly it hit her—
really
hit her.

Maribel was staying. Corrine was going home alone. Alone. Alone to face those horrible people, alone to watch her father sink further and further into depression. She wouldn’t have Maribel’s energy anymore. The nightmares, the monsters…

Her heart leapt into her throat. Mother Briar. She would be furious with Corrine for not getting Jeanne’s location. She would shun her, stop helping her, stop teaching her. She would be alone then, truly and utterly alone. Vulnerable.

Dying.

The bond between Corrine and her sister pulsed, throbbing like a second heartbeat. It glowed like a bright gold thread inside her and Corrine tugged on it, desperate, needing more energy to keep her sane. She needed more, more to get her through, more to keep her safe. Oh, Goddess, she was going to make the journey home alone. Again.

The string gave easily under Corrine’s panic-fueled tugs, pouring a churning, roiling rush of energy down the connection. Corrine startled at the power of the flood, the weight of it. That shouldn’t be. Maribel was too strong, Corrine shouldn’t be able to pull so deeply from her. Until now, calling on that bond had only fed her minimal amounts of energy, like water dripping from a silent pump. It was as Mother Briar had said, she couldn’t take much from Maribel because her sister was so much stronger than Corrine.

Unless…

The amulet around Corrine’s neck had begun to glow. Red flame lit the crystal, pouring warm power out over Corrine’s body. It invigorated her, making her feel stronger, more confident. Secure.

Corrine jumped as Maribel suddenly collapsed on the bed, blue eyes glazing over, shifting from a bright sapphire to a muted winter sky. Her head lolled from side to side and she let out a soft sigh as if she were falling asleep.

I just need a little more. Just enough to get me home, to last me for awhile until I find some other way.

Corrine held her breath and pulled harder on the thread, tugging at the energy that was so abundant in Maribel. The power came like a flood from a shattered dam. Corrine pulled again, trying to make the flow faster, to get what she needed quickly so she could get out of here, away from Daman and his smug face, away from Maribel and the temptation to use the arcane mark, to keep leeching energy from her. This was it, the last time, and then Corrine would break the link for good.

Energy like nothing she’d ever experienced before washed over her. Her muscles swelled, flexing as if dreaming of great feats of strength. Her heart pounded, a firm, steady beat that invigorated her entire body. Her mind sharpened and it was as if she were thinking clearly for the first time in her life, as if a curtain had parted and she could finally see.

Chapter Sixteen

Maribel’s head throbbed, sending a pulsing wave of pain over her scalp to the back of her head. It flowed back like an angry tide, rose, and flowed forward again, bringing its agony with it like foam laced with broken shells. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead into the down coverlet on Corrine’s bed, seeking relief.

“Corrine…something’s wrong.” Her voice came out heavy and slurred. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth and she could barely hold her wits together long enough to swallow.

“Maribel? Are you all right?”

Corrine laid a hand on Maribel’s shoulder and Maribel rolled her head to the side to rest it on her hand, grateful for the comfort. Her sister’s skin was cool against her feverish cheek, a welcome balm to the miserable heat holding her in its suffocating grip. Corrine cupped her jaw, whispering soothing, nonsense words.

A second later, Maribel’s stomach lurched. Something twisted inside her body, like a string was being pulled from somewhere deep inside her, a string connected to her heart and stomach both. The sensation wasn’t exactly painful, but strange and nauseating. Maribel leaned away from Corrine and the pulling sensation intensified and she groaned.

“Corrine, I don’t feel well.”

Corrine’s grip followed her, her fingers digging more firmly into Maribel’s shoulder. “It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right.”

Corrine’s voice had changed. There was an excitement in her tone, a fluttering nervousness that left her words breathy. Maribel forced her eyes open.

The paleness that had always given Corrine a haunted, ghostly pallor had been replaced by a rosy-cheeked glow. Her brown eyes shone bright and lively, more brown than the black they usually appeared as. She was curled to hover over Maribel, but her posture was different, more confident, nurturing instead of slumped under some invisible weight.

Maribel tried to raise a hand to pet Corrine’s cheek, but her fingers were too heavy. “You look wonderful.”

In an instant, the peaceful expression on Corrine’s face cracked, revealing wide, panicked eyes that darted from side to side, scrutinizing Maribel from head to toe. Her fingers curled into claws, digging into Maribel with painful stabbing motions.

“Maribel? Maribel!”

Maribel kept smiling, the fuzzy feeling in her head flowing down her body like warm honey, leaving her muscles limp. “It’s so nice to see you looking so healthy.” She blinked slowly, lethargically. “You’ll be fine. I’ll stay with Daman and you can go home… I’ll send you…so much money. You’ll be…”

Pain exploded in her cheek as Corrine landed a ringing slap across her face. She grabbed Maribel’s head in her hands and shook her, Maribel’s body barely rocking where she lay on the bed.

“Maribel!” Corrine screamed.

“Get away from her!”

Daman’s voice broke over the room like a tremendous clap of thunder. There was a flash of glittering scales and a jagged shriek tore from Corrine as a clawed hand wrapped mercilessly around her biceps and flung her halfway across the room.

Maribel’s heart pounded, an acidic wave of adrenaline washing over her, pushing back the pain and nausea enough for her to struggle into a sitting position. She swayed, feeling like a small boat being tossed to and fro on a raging river, and braced both hands on the bed to hold herself up so she could see what was happening.

Daman was on the floor, his tail wrapped around Corrine’s waist. The large bluish green scales of his lower body covered Corrine from her ribs to her hips in a punishing vice. His silver eyes blazed like liquid starlight, his lips pulled back to reveal two sets of wickedly curved fangs. He lunged, reaching out for Corrine’s throat with a hand tipped with vicious, sharp white claws.

Maribel tried to scream, tried to yell for Daman to let Corrine go, to stop. Then her gaze landed on her sister and the words faded away under a flood of awe.

Corrine’s eyes were no longer the dark brown of pure bitter chocolate. They were green, a vibrant, glowing emerald like paintings Maribel had seen of the lights in the Dacian winter sky. Corrine was gripping Daman’s hand by the wrist, muscles trembling as she fought to keep his claws away from her throat. At the same time, she groped for his face with her other hand, straining for his eyes as if she would blind him. Only Daman’s grip on her wrist kept her from gouging out those silver, glowing eyes.

“Stop!” Maribel tried to shout, but her voice came out a breathy plea. She closed her eyes but opened them immediately when the room started to spin. The tugging on the string inside her grew worse, the nausea threatening to empty her stomach. She swallowed hard and focused on the couple fighting on the ground.

“Daman,” she tried again. “Stop. Please.”

“Sshe wass hurting you.” Daman lurched forward another inch, claws flexing as he strained to rake the tender flesh of Corrine’s throat.

“I was not!” Corrine’s voice rose an octave, her eyes wild. She risked a glance at Maribel. “Maribel, are you all right?”

“Do not pretend you care for her!” Daman bellowed, rage tearing his voice to shreds on his fangs. “What were you doing to her, witch?” His tail flexed, squeezing Corrine until she gasped. “Tell her!”

“Daman, stop, please,” Maribel shouted hoarsely. “Don’t hurt her.”

Daman faced her, reptilian eyes widening even as the black slits narrowed to the width of a hair, almost completely lost to the silver. “Sshe hurt you.”

Maribel cursed as the haze refused to lift and every movement sickened her further. “I’m fine. Maybe a little tired.”

“Perhaps you wore her out,” Corrine snarled, the strain in her voice betraying how hard she was struggling. “Being taken on the floor like an animal can be hard on a woman.”