Atticus had given up trying to call forth his axe. Instead, a jagged icicle formed between his fingers. He pressed the point to the soft spot under Taylor’s chin.
Taylor’s throat bounced with a desperate swallow, and a dribble of blood froze over the ice.
“I could kill you,” Atticus growled from somewhere demonic down inside him.
“At-At… I won’t… hurt you…,” Taylor croaked.
Atticus clucked his tongue. “That’s sad.” He shoved Taylor away. “Because I’m going to hurt
him
.” He pitched the icicle across the river, and Taylor could only scream as it hit its mark and stabbed into Corentin’s collarbone.
Corentin was flung back and splashed into the water.
Aliss dove in after him.
Taylor pounded on the ice patch. “Enough,” he growled. “
Enough
!”
Atticus had been determined to push Taylor to the edge. And now Taylor was more than eager to share his slice of madness.
Taylor’s rage and hurt sent Zee into a feeding frenzy. Her force ripped from his body, slamming Atticus across the ice. He released all the tethers that he’d used to keep her reeled in.
The earth trembled, and snow shook free from rooftops and trees, exposing the swath of destruction that Atticus had painted onto the city in bold, broad strokes.
Taylor stumbled, his own body light and his mind clear. He was the puppet on Zee’s string.
What started as sprouts just under his toes curled into black briar vines. They shot forth in all directions, stampeding in a herky-jerky scattershot pattern, diving into the water and obliterating all ice in its path. The magnitude of Zee’s power was equally as destructive as the magnitude of Taylor’s healing Blooming Lullaby. Sleeping Beauty had the power to bring pleasant dreams, but Sleeping Dragon invoked the darkest night terrors.
Taylor’s lucid dream state contorted into something else. Instead of peace and light, he thirsted for fear and darkness.
His hunger built inside him in comforting warmth. He understood the darkness in Corentin and why every inch of him—skin, mind, body, and soul—responded and drank fully of his evil. It had been too long he denied that lust to lose control. When he thought he was weak, powerless, or afraid, he was only holding himself back. He was never distracted; he had chosen to be distracted. He had chosen to fight his hunger because he lied to himself that it wasn’t real.
All it took was a little push.
Atticus was such a tiny push when put in perspective, but he might have been a semitruck that smeared him into thin red paste on the interstate.
“Taylor!” Atticus cried out. “Taylor, please!”
He woke from the seductive dream, and the world came back into focus. His feet settled on a woven nest of vines. “Atticus?” Taylor called out.
Atticus flailed from the chilly water. “I’m trapped!” He fell under, snarled in Taylor’s briars underneath the water. He pushed up again, trying to force himself free. “Help, please!”
The crack of desperation in Atticus’s voice resonated in Taylor’s heart. Zee whined her distress, and Taylor agreed with her. He could have done so many things to his brother. His mind ran over the infinite choices. But Corentin was right: pick only one and move to the next one. Don’t think. Just pick. Don’t think. Just move. Don’t surrender until surrender is your only option.
Taylor dove into the frigid water.
The temperature shock hit him like a sledgehammer square in the chest. He could only feel around as he swam through the tangle of briar vines, his own magic cutting into his flesh and scraping his armor. He reached out and Atticus bumped his booted foot into his palm. Taylor thrashed forward and snared his ankle. His lungs ached and his skin grew tight. He refused to let Atticus suffer from the horrors of their magic combining into a deadly mess. Atticus kicked against him, and Taylor tried to pull him close. But neither could budge. Taylor scrambled to the surface, choking for air.
Atticus fought to keep his face above water. He spat and blinked wildly.
Taylor cupped his icy cheeks. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” He coughed wetly. “We’re going to be okay. I will save you.”
“It’s… too cold…,” Atticus wheezed and went under again.
Taylor yanked his face to the surface. He glared into Atticus’s terrified gaze. “I’m not going to leave you.”
“Help… me…,” Atticus begged him.
Taylor took a breath and dove down again. He retraced his path, finding Atticus’s foot. Taylor pushed deeper, slipped through a tight knot of briars, and turned upward under Atticus to push him to the surface. Taylor planted his foot against a thick vine and shoved. He wouldn’t leave Atticus here. Even after all he had done, Atticus didn’t deserve to die.
Taylor knew he could be saved.
He would never stop fighting for his brother, even when Atticus never knew he was.
With one final shove, Atticus kicked free from the vines and climbed to the shore.
Taylor followed, taking the same path as Atticus. He jerked back when a thorn caught between a weak point in his armor at his ribs. Taylor pulled against it, but it wouldn’t move. His breath exploded from his lungs, and he swallowed frozen water. Taylor panicked and shoved against the vine. His own magic would be the one to consume him.
Atticus’s hand shot into the water and grabbed Taylor’s wrist. He yanked, and Taylor broke free from the trap. Atticus pulled him to the surface, and Taylor gagged for air, spitting up long trails of water.
“You’re okay?” Atticus asked as he patted his back.
Taylor nodded as he retched in the water. “Where’s… Corentin… and Aliss?”
“They’re okay.” Atticus pointed down the shore. “See?”
Taylor coughed up the remainder of the water, and he spotted Corentin getting to his feet. He smiled weakly. “We’re all okay….”
“Come on,” Atticus said. “Let’s get you dried off.” And he pulled Taylor out of the water to lie on top of him.
Taylor sucked in a sharp breath from the freezing pain shooting into his stomach.
Atticus lay under him, his eyebrows drawn upward in concern. “What’s wrong, Tay? Does it hurt?”
Taylor twitched as Atticus hugged him tighter, the pressure pushing his ice dagger deeper into Taylor’s gut.
“See….” Atticus rolled his eyes in childish wonder. “Let’s tick off what you took from me.” He raised his hand in front of Taylor’s nose and ticked off with his fingers. “One. The freedom to be myself. Two. Idi.” He snorted. “That fuckwit’s around here somewhere. Oh!” He brightened. “Three. Every last chance of living Happily Ever After I could have had.” He whispered against Taylor’s cheek, “I’m sad you won’t die screaming. But I’ll take what I can at this point.”
With a hard crack, Atticus snapped the blade off into Taylor’s chest. Taylor fell into an unimaginable cold and drifted away.
May 14
The Inspiration of Idea
TAYLOR TURNED
up his nose at the bland oatmeal.
Honeysuckle angled the spoon at his mouth. “Taylor. You are a grown man. I am not pretending this is an airplane.”
Taylor sighed, and the pain of his stitches itched against his chest. “I’m dying for a pizza.” He clutched the thin fuzzy blanket and turned his attention to the tall infirmary windows.
Butterflies in vibrant, unbelievable colors bobbed happily as they flittered overhead. Outside, the sun shone and the trees swayed like it fell out of an all-too-perfect Disney movie. But everything wasn’t perfect. Nothing could be.
“I see the patient is giving the appropriate amount of attitude,” Aliss said as she strolled in with her head held high.
Honeysuckle stabbed the spoon into the bowl of oatmeal. She crossed her arms and puffed an exasperated sigh. “If he wasn’t being sassy, I’d worry actually.”
A tingle raced up Taylor’s spine. “Why can’t you just heal me completely and get it over with?” He raised his fingers to itch against his bandages, but Honeysuckle smacked his hands.
Aliss walked past him to the infirmary windows. “Lacey managed to destroy the majority of Idea. We’re only at a fraction of the capacity we once were, and even before then, it wasn’t very much because of….”
Taylor nodded. She didn’t need to say Corentin’s name for him to know what she meant.
“The Storytellers are working as hard as they can,” she said calmly. “But inspiration is a fickle thing. Many of them are too busy chasing plot bunnies out of the research libraries.”
“Plot bunnies?” Taylor asked in bewilderment. “That’s a thing?”
Aliss seemed to not understand. “They’re terrible pests. They chew through anything.”
“Plot bunnies?” Taylor repeated and tried to make her understand.
Aliss blinked. “You’ve never seen one?” She held her hands a few inches apart. “They’re about the size of a dwarf rabbit.” She watched him, seeming to wait until it all clicked for him. “They’re white, with purple and blue zebra stripes…? Have wings?”
Taylor tightened his grip on his blanket.
“You don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, do you?” Aliss asked.
“What I’m talking about is this young man is going to eat his oatmeal,” Honeysuckle said and picked up the spoon again.
“Where do we go from here?” Taylor asked. “I lost Atticus again. I had him. He was right in my grasp, and then he was gone.” He tossed up his hands. “And we had it all wrong about New Orleans.”
Aliss glanced out the window. “Well, you were right about it being a wellspring of magic. We’re using it to rebuild Idea and permanently link it to Tulane.”
Taylor propped up his chin in his palm. “And we know the whole setup about Hook was bullshit. It was a dead end at Zane and all just to throw us off.”
Aliss seemed to contemplate his observation. “Perhaps….”
He gently pressed his hand to his bandaged chest. “And Atticus just wanted to take New Orleans just to fuck with… us.” He wiped away the traces of tears on the back of his hand. Taylor tried to hold himself together. “How is Corentin doing? He hasn’t had his journal in four days. I don’t know if it’s permanent.”
Aliss gave a slight smile. “Mr. Devereaux is handling things pretty well, all things considered. Highly confused most of the time, but quite adaptive.” She leaned in to whisper in Taylor’s ear. “And he’s been camped out in a chair just outside the door.”
Taylor’s eyes widened and his face flushed.
“Do you want me to send him in?”
Taylor’s stomach knotted. “Please…,” he whispered, but the uncertainty took hold.
Aliss smiled and swept a bow. “I’ll leave you to it.” She took her leave, and Taylor waited for what seemed like days.
Honeysuckle set down the oatmeal. “I think I’ll go tend to Ringo, sweetie.”
Taylor nodded as he took a steadying breath.
Honeysuckle vanished in a pop of bubbles and left Taylor alone in the long hanging silence.
What would he say? Was there anything he could say? Would he believe any of it?
“Hi.” Corentin’s voice rolled like warning thunder into the infirmary.
Taylor’s lips quivered into a smile. “Hi.”
Corentin stepped in and Taylor held his breath. “It’s Taylor, right?” he asked as he pulled up a chair.
Taylor swallowed and tucked a ragged lock of hair behind his ear. “Mmmhmm.”
Corentin watched him with furrowed brows, and Taylor clutched his blanket tighter. “I’m not going to bite,” Corentin said. He looked away. “Aliss said you knew me best.”
Taylor sniffed and smiled. He wiped his face, trying to blot away the water in his eyes. “You could say that.”
Corentin smiled crookedly. “I seem to mean quite a lot to you.”
Taylor nodded quickly and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah.” He sniffed again and wiped his face. “I’m such a fucking mess.”
Corentin laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t know. I’d remember if you’re a mess.” He reached out and took Taylor’s hand.
Taylor froze from the contact as Corentin ran his thumb over his fingers. Corentin watched him with the same patience and kindness he had that night in Mackinac Island. Taylor couldn’t stop his tears.
“We’re in love, aren’t we?” Corentin asked with a confident smile.
Taylor nodded quickly and squeaked. “Yeah….”
Corentin chuckled. “I seemed to get that part.” He squeezed Taylor’s hand. “Are we married?”
Taylor jerked away, his heart racing at the suggestion.
Corentin sat back and raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa. Was that too much?”
“
No
,” Taylor spit out, then tried to make his thoughts stop firing in all directions. “It’s not too much.” He managed to find his logical thought. “We’re not.”
Corentin crossed his arms and hummed in thought. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Taylor arched a brow. “How does it not make sense? I would know if we were married. We’ve been together for two years. We just haven’t gotten there yet.”
Corentin shook his head. “What do you mean, we haven’t gotten there yet?”
Holy fuck
, Taylor thought. Even without his memory, Corentin already went into the jackass zone. “You haven’t asked me,” Taylor said and failed at hiding his irritation.
“Well, why haven’t you asked me?”
Taylor slapped his forehead. “Did you miss the memo? I’m a princess.
Weird
, I know. I’m not allowed to do that. It’s in the rules.”
Corentin blinked. “What rules?”
Taylor groaned. “The rules! There’s all these stupid Enchant Laws and rules and shit. Like, they’re the way they are because they just are.” He pointed to indicate his idea. “So, therefore, I can’t ask you to marry me. You have to ask me.”
“But I’m a huntsman.”
“Gold star for you!” Taylor pointed at Corentin’s forehead.
“Not a prince.”
Taylor sighed. “Nope.”
“So I can’t ask you.”
Taylor tossed out his hands. “Thus you see my dilemma. Congratulations.”
Corentin thumbed his chin. “But you’re a princess and I’m a huntsman. That’s against the rules, yeah?”
Taylor palmed his face. “You’d better fucking believe it.”
“So.” Corentin rubbed the back of his neck.