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. Thespell will fade when my blood dries. I kissed his cheek.My lips left their print in blood on his jaw.Theblood was drying, even as I turned away.I ran into the gardens, but the tall heels of the shoes Minette hadgiven me kept sinking into the damp earth.I kicked them off, and mademuch better time for having rid myself of them.I found a fountain on myway to the front gates of the palace, and rinsed the blood from my lipsbefore continuing on.The guard at the gate came running when he saw me. Mistress,where is your coach? Perhaps it turned into a pumpkin, I laughed.The guard looked at me as though he thought I was mad.I smiledat him and confirmed it.My tongue had not stopped bleeding, and myteeth were red with blood.He backed away.I walked past him, out through the gates and intothe night.118 www.bettiesharpe.com Ember9.The HappilyYou are thinking I was either callous or stupid to leave my sistersunprotected though the Prince had twice used threats against them tobring me to him.Believe me, I d no doubt he would try a third time, and Iwas not ignorant of their vulnerability.If you insist on finding some sortof lesson in my tales, it must be this: few situations are what they appearto be.Yes, I left the city, but I did not flee the Prince.I left because Ineeded time and distance to craft my spells of retribution.I went into the Dark Forest again, and headed east.I was betterprepared this time, for I d returned home to scrub the paint from myface, exchange my finery for sturdy woolens, and retrieve three strands ofRian s the Prince s dark hair from my pillow.After three days travel, I made camp again within the ring of paganstanding stones, and built a bonfire there.By firelight, I sewed a littledoll of burlap and stuffed it with ash.I put the Prince s hairs insidebefore I stitched it closed.I d tried to snare a hare or some other small forest creature to useas fuel for my spell, but growing up amidst the crowds and cacophony ofcity streets has left me loud and clumsy in the relative quiet of nature.Idid not catch so much as a mouse.Lacking lesser lives to spend in myspells, I made a fist around my knife s blade and used my own blood topaint features on the little doll.www.bettiesharpe.com 119 Bettie SharpeI was, perhaps, too careful in the likeness I drew of Rian s face, foronce I d finished it I could only hold the doll and weep.I d sketched thebump in his nose, the crooked tilt of his smile, the way shadows fellacross his deep-set eyes.I remembered the burn I d left on his cheek when we argued in thegardens.Even now, though I meant to curse him, I hated that I had hurthim.I stroked the doll s opposite cheek.It felt as warm and rough asRian s unshaven jaw.The miles between us dissolved.I felt his face beneath myfingertip, his breath against my still-bleeding palm.From his bed in thepalace, the Prince said my name, his voice rough with sleep and desire.He sounded as close as when Rian and I had lain in my narrow bed,sharing the same pillow.He spoke in the same yearning whisper he d used so many nightsin the cookshed after the first frantic coupling was behind us and welazed sticky, naked and replete, entwined in damp, twisted sheets.Hespoke in the whisper that had once roused me to his kisses and mademe ready for him though I was yet half asleep.Memories assaulted me, wrestled with me, and won.I relived therough, exquisite urgency of his hands on me in the darkness.I trembledin remembrance of the hazy, sleep-muddled fever of my response.And Ihated him anew when my mind recalled the acid burn of guilt I d felt120 www.bettiesharpe.com Emberupon waking from all those passionate nightmares in which my lover andthe Prince were one man instead of two.Anger chased away my memories of pleasure.I unclenched myhands and let the doll fall to the dirt at my feet.As if from a greatdistance, I heard Rian shout, No! Please! He sounded broken anddesperate, like a gambler who has risked everything and lost.The pain in his voice made me hurt for him.For all that I hatedhim and hated how he d hurt me I could not douse my love, norsmother it, nor starve it.For me, love was not a Fire.It was a thingoutside of magic.It was a power beyond my control.Had I loved Rian less, or hated the Prince more, I might have hadthe strength to wreak a witch s vengeance on my former lover.But as itwas, I yearned and wept and worried for him this man whom I wouldhave tortured, if only I could have made myself enjoy it.After a long, sad moment of self-pity over my soft heart, I retrievedthe hex doll from the dirt.I did not let my eyes linger on it, but insteadpicked apart its seams while reciting backwards every word I d said tomake it.I scarcely had an hour of sleep after I finished unmaking the doll.Just before dawn, the fire crackled and flared to wake me, as it had donetwo times before.I did not open my eyes right away for fear of what Iwould see the Prince using some new threat against my sisters to forcewww.bettiesharpe.com 121 Bettie Sharpeme back to his side.I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and glared into thefire s yellow light. What is it? The fire flickered and formed a picture of Maison d Aube on theAvenida Delpalacio.The Prince faced my sisters in the front parlor.Despite the veneer of perfection his Curse stretched across his features,he looked rumpled and worn, as though he hadn t slept.Half a dozensoldiers had crowded into the room behind him. No, Minette said. We are done with you.We won t help you findher again. She came back to save you once. She won t need to save us again. Rian glared at Minette.Even in the inexact image formed by thefire, I could see the power of his curse burning in the air around him.Dulcie and Sylvie clasped Minette s hands, and all three shook theirheads no to the Prince [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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. Thespell will fade when my blood dries. I kissed his cheek.My lips left their print in blood on his jaw.Theblood was drying, even as I turned away.I ran into the gardens, but the tall heels of the shoes Minette hadgiven me kept sinking into the damp earth.I kicked them off, and mademuch better time for having rid myself of them.I found a fountain on myway to the front gates of the palace, and rinsed the blood from my lipsbefore continuing on.The guard at the gate came running when he saw me. Mistress,where is your coach? Perhaps it turned into a pumpkin, I laughed.The guard looked at me as though he thought I was mad.I smiledat him and confirmed it.My tongue had not stopped bleeding, and myteeth were red with blood.He backed away.I walked past him, out through the gates and intothe night.118 www.bettiesharpe.com Ember9.The HappilyYou are thinking I was either callous or stupid to leave my sistersunprotected though the Prince had twice used threats against them tobring me to him.Believe me, I d no doubt he would try a third time, and Iwas not ignorant of their vulnerability.If you insist on finding some sortof lesson in my tales, it must be this: few situations are what they appearto be.Yes, I left the city, but I did not flee the Prince.I left because Ineeded time and distance to craft my spells of retribution.I went into the Dark Forest again, and headed east.I was betterprepared this time, for I d returned home to scrub the paint from myface, exchange my finery for sturdy woolens, and retrieve three strands ofRian s the Prince s dark hair from my pillow.After three days travel, I made camp again within the ring of paganstanding stones, and built a bonfire there.By firelight, I sewed a littledoll of burlap and stuffed it with ash.I put the Prince s hairs insidebefore I stitched it closed.I d tried to snare a hare or some other small forest creature to useas fuel for my spell, but growing up amidst the crowds and cacophony ofcity streets has left me loud and clumsy in the relative quiet of nature.Idid not catch so much as a mouse.Lacking lesser lives to spend in myspells, I made a fist around my knife s blade and used my own blood topaint features on the little doll.www.bettiesharpe.com 119 Bettie SharpeI was, perhaps, too careful in the likeness I drew of Rian s face, foronce I d finished it I could only hold the doll and weep.I d sketched thebump in his nose, the crooked tilt of his smile, the way shadows fellacross his deep-set eyes.I remembered the burn I d left on his cheek when we argued in thegardens.Even now, though I meant to curse him, I hated that I had hurthim.I stroked the doll s opposite cheek.It felt as warm and rough asRian s unshaven jaw.The miles between us dissolved.I felt his face beneath myfingertip, his breath against my still-bleeding palm.From his bed in thepalace, the Prince said my name, his voice rough with sleep and desire.He sounded as close as when Rian and I had lain in my narrow bed,sharing the same pillow.He spoke in the same yearning whisper he d used so many nightsin the cookshed after the first frantic coupling was behind us and welazed sticky, naked and replete, entwined in damp, twisted sheets.Hespoke in the whisper that had once roused me to his kisses and mademe ready for him though I was yet half asleep.Memories assaulted me, wrestled with me, and won.I relived therough, exquisite urgency of his hands on me in the darkness.I trembledin remembrance of the hazy, sleep-muddled fever of my response.And Ihated him anew when my mind recalled the acid burn of guilt I d felt120 www.bettiesharpe.com Emberupon waking from all those passionate nightmares in which my lover andthe Prince were one man instead of two.Anger chased away my memories of pleasure.I unclenched myhands and let the doll fall to the dirt at my feet.As if from a greatdistance, I heard Rian shout, No! Please! He sounded broken anddesperate, like a gambler who has risked everything and lost.The pain in his voice made me hurt for him.For all that I hatedhim and hated how he d hurt me I could not douse my love, norsmother it, nor starve it.For me, love was not a Fire.It was a thingoutside of magic.It was a power beyond my control.Had I loved Rian less, or hated the Prince more, I might have hadthe strength to wreak a witch s vengeance on my former lover.But as itwas, I yearned and wept and worried for him this man whom I wouldhave tortured, if only I could have made myself enjoy it.After a long, sad moment of self-pity over my soft heart, I retrievedthe hex doll from the dirt.I did not let my eyes linger on it, but insteadpicked apart its seams while reciting backwards every word I d said tomake it.I scarcely had an hour of sleep after I finished unmaking the doll.Just before dawn, the fire crackled and flared to wake me, as it had donetwo times before.I did not open my eyes right away for fear of what Iwould see the Prince using some new threat against my sisters to forcewww.bettiesharpe.com 121 Bettie Sharpeme back to his side.I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and glared into thefire s yellow light. What is it? The fire flickered and formed a picture of Maison d Aube on theAvenida Delpalacio.The Prince faced my sisters in the front parlor.Despite the veneer of perfection his Curse stretched across his features,he looked rumpled and worn, as though he hadn t slept.Half a dozensoldiers had crowded into the room behind him. No, Minette said. We are done with you.We won t help you findher again. She came back to save you once. She won t need to save us again. Rian glared at Minette.Even in the inexact image formed by thefire, I could see the power of his curse burning in the air around him.Dulcie and Sylvie clasped Minette s hands, and all three shook theirheads no to the Prince [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]