Page 102 of A Fragile Enchantment

Rosa quailed. She gathered her veil around her arms, shrouding herself in shadow again. “I am sorry. I have forgotten myself entirely. If you cannot accept it—”

Miriam leaned over the barrier between them and took Rosa’s face in her hands. She kissed her, and Rosa’s eyes widened with shock. Miriam drew back, her chest heaving against her stays. “I love you, too, you stubborn wretch! Seeing you there on that altar, in that gown, was the cruelest torture I could have ever imagined.”

“Perhaps,” Niamh interjected, “I should give you two a moment?”

“Oh, Saints. I’m sorry.” Miriam hid her face in in Rosa’s shoulder. Rosa’s hand lingered at Miriam’s waist.

“We don’t have a moment to spare. The duel will begin in thirty minutes.” Rosa pursed her lips. “I’m afraid to confront him.”

“If you aren’t ready, you don’t have to tell him.” Niamh gave her an encouraging smile. “But if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that making yourself miserable to please others isn’t worth it. You deserve to live on your own terms.”

Without warning, Miriam pulled both Rosa and Niamh into a crushing hug. Niamh clung tight to her, a fizzy happiness filling her up from within. Rosa, however, endured it for all of two seconds before wriggling out of their hold. She took great pains to smooth out the front of her gown.

“All right, well, that is quite enough of that.” Rosa sniffed, once again the embodiment of dignity. “Shall we put an end to this?”

30

Without a single hitch, Rosa commandeered the pair of horses meant for her and Kit’s carriage back to the palace. When Niamh climbed onto the mare, too petrified to care if anyone found her riding astride, she could practically feel the energy thrumming beneath her. The horse was ready to run.

Good,Niamh thought. So was she.

Niamh threaded her fingers into the mare’s intricately braided mane to steady herself, and her horse followed hot behind Rosa’s. Their hooves ate up the earth as they galloped past throngs of confused paraders still waiting for the newlyweds to be announced. A half-hearted cheer rose and died like a very unsatisfying sneeze. Others tossed handfuls of grain in front of them, which the rock doves promptly descended upon in droves.

They tore out of the city and into the open fields. Out in front of Niamh, Rosa looked positively ethereal. The train of her gown billowed behind her, and the rose petals woven into her hair came loose and danced through the open air. Overhead, the clouds began to swirl and darken. The temperature dropped, and the humidity bore down on them heavily. Her eyes stung from the sudden gust of wind. The tall grass hissed at her urgently:hurry, hurry, hurry.

Niamh bent over her mare’s neck and urged her on. She could barely hear the horse’s snorting breath above the thud of hooves against the earth and the wailing of the oncoming storm in her ear.

“Come on,” she pleaded.

The King of Castilia had won wars with the powerful magic he wielded. Kit had never seen combat in his life. It was not at all a fair fight. It would take no more than thirty seconds for Felipe to kill him, as easy as extinguishing a candle. In the distance, she could see four figures, dark against the rising gloom. Two silhouettes—Kit and the king—stood back-to-back.

Please don’t be too late.

The figures took one step away from each other.

The sky itself seemed to spin ominously, eager to obey their king’s command. Rain began to fall, slowly at first. A fine mist clung to Niamh’s eyelashes.

Another step.

The trees looming over the men hunched closer with malicious intent, their very roots straining and groaning against the earth.

Another step.

Hurry,the grass hissed,hurry, hurry, hurry.

The skies opened, and rain pelted them in sheets. Mud splattered the hem of Niamh’s dress, and water streamed down her face in rivulets. Through the hair plastered to her face, she could see the whites around her mare’s fearful eyes—and every horrible detail of the dueling grounds.

Kit and Felipe now stood on opposite sides of the field, lookingfor all the world like gods among mortals. Lightning crackled in Felipe’s palm. His features were skeletal in the white light of his magic. The wind had torn Kit’s hair free of its tie, and it lashed his face. A thicket of briars tore free from the earth, flinging clods of damp earth like ballistae fire. Its thorns seethed like a serpent prepared to strike, every one of them primed to shred the king to pieces. A deadly storm pitted against the ravenous earth. The sky overhead and the ground below, each a roiling sea.

Kit and the king slowly turned to face each other.

No.Niamh searched desperately for Rosa through the squall, and she saw them realize it at the same time. Someone they loved was about to die.

Rosa’s eyes flashed golden. Lightning gathered in her fist. “Stop!”

The king whirled toward his daughter, his face slack with surprise. She loosed her magic like an arrow. It crackled through the field, so bright that Niamh’s vision flashed white.

But it was too late. Rosa’s magic exploded against a tree, setting it ablaze. Her father’s cut clean and true across the dueling grounds—and straight toward Kit.