Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 63709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I come to a halt in the ballroom at the foot of the stairs, where Rose stood when she first breached my walls and entered my palace. This will be my final resting place. The vines will creep in and consume every last stone. One day, there will be nothing left but a wilderness.
I sink down onto the bottom step, allowing myself one last memory of Rose. The way she felt in my arms. Her intoxicating scent. Her smooth skin. The look in her beautiful eyes when she stood at the top of this very staircase and gazed down at me.
The pain is so sharp, so acute, that whatever happens next will be a blessed relief.
I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. As I do so, I extend my magic—my power and birthright—out beyond the castle bounds. I release the boundary magic, the barrier between myself and the world, the spell I wove when I awoke alone in a castle haunted by my parents’ ghosts.
My kingdom is hurting—I can feel it now. The ache intensifies in my body, sparks of fire in my fingertips swiftly spreading. My groan creaks out of me. The rash spreads swiftly, a scarlet tide crawling over my body. The curse burns like a thousand flames licking at my skin, and yet the pain is nothing compared to the agony in my heart.
I am dying as I have lived—all alone. It’s better this way. At least Rose is gone, so she won’t have to witness this, my final sacrifice. It is my hope that she will live a long, happy life with the healer, and remember me when the moonflowers blossom and glow.
Beneath the angry scarlet rash, my flesh crackles and turns ash gray. My fingers and toes harden first, my limbs follow suit. I can do nothing but sit here as my body turns into stone. The final stage of the Red Death. With excruciating slowness, the rot creeps towards my heart.
How long has it been since Rose left? An hour? A day? A week?
An eternity.
I send a silent plea to Ulf to hurry things up. To put me out of my misery. I don’t know how much more of this I can stand, and yet I have no choice.
I am suffering the same fate my father did. It seems fitting. I would smile at the irony but I can no longer move my face.
I can only hope my sacrifice isn’t in vain.
The king can heal the land.
For too long, I neglected my responsibilities. My endless shame and grief kept me in the shadows, hiding from the people I was born to protect and lead. Now it’s too late. I will never have the chance to rule over a happy kingdom as my father did, but for once in my life, in this very moment, I can be the king he wanted me to be. The king he believed I could be.
The king Rose believes I am.
Soon.
Rose
A breeze caresses my cheek, waking me. Rogue. I stayed up all night by Ma’s bedside, bathing her fevered brow, willing the stone-gray scales to retreat from her skin. Leelah made endless cups of tea and mixed tinctures until she was swaying on her feet—I finally sent her home to sleep. Rogue and I took over. I hovered over Ma as the whisp fetched what it could to help me.
At some point, I must have passed out on my stool, my face smooshed against the bed.
I raise my head. The window is open and the vines have crept in. The moonflowers’ glow is fading with the dawn. The dark blossoms’ heads droop, their petals floating to the floor. They’re withering before my eyes.
Something glitters in the candlelight—a flash of jewels gleaming amid the bedclothes an inch from my fingertips. I frown and am just reaching for it when Ma’s hand settles over mine.
She turns her head and her lips part. “Rose?
“Ma?”
She squints at me. Her eyes are clear. “Is that you? I dreamed—”
“It’s me,” I manage, my throat tight. “I’m here.” I squeeze her hand lightly. “How are you feeling?”
A smile touches her lips. “I’m better.”
An earthenware cup of water floats past me and towards her. I help her take a sip. She drinks it all greedily, and reaches for the mug of steaming, sweet tea that Rogue brings next.
“Help me up,” she says, her voice sounding stronger. I rush to prop pillows behind her. “Been in this bed too long,” she mutters—and that’s when I know she’ll be okay.
Overwhelmed with exhaustion and relief, I burst into great, gulping sobs.
“Rose?” Ma sounds alarmed. “Child, are you all right? Did you sleep here all night?”
“Yes.” I dash at my cheeks. “I’m okay, I just thought—”
“Would take more than a little fever to kill me.”
“Oh my god…” I drag in a shuddering breath, “I was so afraid you would die. It was the curse—”