Hexes and curses, Robin was right but still, Bryon had hidden his magic from me. I knew that he’d loved me, but he hadn’t trusted me.
Why should he?
I took shaky breaths at the realization. He’d tried to show me that there was a different way to be with Robin. But what if I’d turned out like Henrietta, as soon as I’d become a woman, married a prince, and taken over the academy?
“Don’t blame him,” Robin urged. “Your papa helped me, even before you noticed me. I believe your mother turned a blind eye to it and his unusual views on equality because she knew how hard it was for him to suppress his magic. Plus, your papa loved you so much. You were his only joy in a miserably hard life. All he ever talked about was making your life brighter. Yet…pan’s balls…he was terrified that you’d end up despising him.”
I’d died without being able to reassure Byron that I loved, admired, and would never despise him.
Why hadn’t I told him?
As if he could read my thought, Robin reached for my shoulder and pulled me back against his chest. “He knew that you’d turn out different to your mother.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because he trusted you enough to reincarnate me.”
I remembered Byron pressing his hand against the wall, after Henrietta had sealed Robin up, and chanting like an invocation. For a moment, I’d hoped that Robin would burst free, but instead, Bryon had collapsed like he’d used up all his energy.
I’d been too caught in my grief to understand.
By the branches of the tree, save your children, blessed be…
“He resurrected you…?” Magenta flowers sprung to life like a bridal bed beneath our feet. Bryon had saved Robin, after all. “This is real?”
Why were Robin’s eyes suddenly so sad?
“Silly sweetheart, I’m only an echo. I’m not truly here.”
I grasped his arms tight in my horror, and he grimaced. “I beg strongly to disagree. You can feel…and I can touch…and you’re real…you have to be…”
I choked on a sob, before my eyes widened.
Hadn’t he said reincarnated, rather than resurrected?
“A shimage is viewed as the wickedest form of mage by Hecate, but as the most blessed by Pan. Imagine your mother’s fear at what would happen if both Hecate’s and Pan’s most powerful were united. She wouldn’t have been able to control us. Hate is at heart fear.” He hesitated. “It was your papa’s duty to make sure that my spirit was reincarnated, even if it took many decades to find…”
He broke off, gazing at me searchingly.
“Fox,” I breathed.
My magic surged through me, and it told me that it was true that Robin had been reincarnated as Fox, in the same way that I’d sensed how special Fox was to me the moment that he’d walked onto the Rebel Academy grounds.
He’d connected the Immortals; his blood had resurrected me.
I’d needed Fox and been desperate to protect him. We’d gifted each other our virginities.
Tears slipped down my cheeks because while I’d been grieving for Robin, I’d had my second chance with him all along.
“But he’s not you,” I whispered.
Robin smirked. “I’d hope not. I’m unique, and so’s he. A Soul reborn is its own.” Robin curled his arms around my lower back again, and we danced like this was our ball alone. “But he’s getting weaker because I’m here. It’s why you can touch me. Mama would know why; the dead feed from the living. But I’m the shade. A shadow.” His eyelashes were matted wet. Don’t let him say it…please…don’t. “I love you like a crushing ache. I’d haunt you always. But I have to grant Fox life. I had mine, and now it’s his chance. Yours…together. This moment is enough for me. It’s more joy than I ever thought that a mage could experience. I’ll die with your name in my heart and on my lips. Will you kiss me one last time, Magenta?”
“Not last…” I begged.
Robin only pressed his mouth to mine, and it was just as intoxicating as our first kiss in the glade had been. My lips fizzed with magenta magic, which bubbled along the seam of his lips. He opened them, and his tongue danced with mine.
Never let the music stop.
But then, as the dreamy vocal died away, Robin faded in my arms.
The tingling feel of his lips on mine lingered, along with the scent of blackberries like lost summers.
I was alone. And Robin was gone. Forever.
I should’ve fallen to the floor. Screamed. Sobbed.
But instead, the cold ball in my stomach made me tilt my head and straighten my shoulders. I craved to wreck, curse, and tear the academy apart. My magic wanted to rip from me.
After all, I’d been shattered. Why should I battle to control my Wickedly Charmed magic any longer?
I stared unseeingly at the archway into the ball.
Then I heard Fox’s laughter and I remembered why Robin had chosen to fade.
I’d see this through. There’d be no more death.
I marched into the ball, glancing down at the yellow brick road that led like a red carpet down the center of the room.
I wiped the back of my hand over my eyes. I wouldn’t let Titus think that my distress was over him.
A fae’s ego was such that they believed the universe revolved around them. Just look how they made the stars come down from the heavens for their balls.
On an ice pedestal in the corner, Sleipnir rocked out to a song about how bad he was, while looking like he was having sexy times with his guitar and any moment would need to go somewhere more private with it, which was a decidedly perfect entrance for me (and what Fox would’ve called subversion, I believe). Mist headbanged in Sleipnir’s trouser pocket with aquamarine mane to match Sleipnir’s hair.
Well, Titus had wanted entertainment, hadn’t he? Possibly, he’d imagined more Mozart and opera.
Damelza, along with the other professors and patrons, sat at a long obsidian table at the back of the hall. Damelza appeared caught between constipated and horrified at the choice of song.
She crossed into outrage at my grand wicked witch entrance.
If I hadn’t been shaking from the effort of not showing my anguish, I’d have delighted in the way that Titus’ elegant eyebrow arched.
For him, that was quite the reaction.
Snow and Emerick served the Head Table, passing out crow-shaped goblets of wine. They wore bizarre blue robes with pointy hats.
Frogs and toads, for once I was glad that I couldn’t change out of my dress. Who knows what Fox would’ve dressed me in for the ball?
Emerick shot me a sardonic look, before bending to refill Bacchus’ goblet.
One side of Crow Hall was entirely glass and looked out over the academy grounds and the weird flying monkey dragons. In front of it was a table groaning with a feast: sides of beef, pies, fruit, and chocolate cake.
The roof itself twinkled with stars, the dance floor was surrounded with tree ice sculptures that glittered like crushed diamonds, as if I’d wandered into a frozen forest.
When I crossed the dance floor, I skidded. It was covered in ice. Well, who wanted to make dancing easy, anyway?
Ah, everybody.