Chapter Twenty-Three

I cried out, rushing to Lefeli’s side. She sputtered, heaving gasps and staring in disbelief at the growing bloodstain on her dress.

“Hold on, hold on…” I lifted her gently from the dirt onto my lap and she tore her gaze from her wound to look at me.

The fear in her eyes. The terror. My heart sank, dread pooling in my stomach.

“Veia,” she whispered, her voice so small, “what did I do? Please, tell me… all I wanted was her smile.” She drew a shaky breath and cried out softly.

“Lefeli…” I glanced down at the blood that had soaked her whole torso and became nauseous. There was so much of it…

“All I wanted…” Lefeli breathed, her eyes losing focus, “was… a smile…”

Her body went slack and my heart pounded, panicking. I looked up at Evyne, who shook her head solemnly.

“Where are the medics?” I laid Lefeli down and jumped to my feet, my adrenaline running. “Isn't anyone trying to save her?”

Maestus. I spotted him at the edge of the broken street, his face grim. In his hand was a throwing knife identical to the one that had wounded Lefeli. My breath hitched and my knees buckled.

And as I sat there on the ground, Lefeli’s blood on my skirt and an irreparable tear in my heart, I realized that no one was going to save a murderer from her own death. No one would save a rogue magician on the brink of madness.

The fear in her eyes was the last expression she'd ever have.

My own tears mingled with the dust on the broken ground and the dirt ground between my fingers as I made fists of my hands. An uncontrollable sob overcame me.

I had done nothing to help her.

Not a single thing.

I watched Lefeli’s funeral pyre burn until all that remained were embers and a distinct feeling of wrongness.

The events of yesterday had drenched my night in cold sweat. After Lefeli’s death, my mind and body refused to be consoled and had taken on a relieving numbness.

I sighed, looking at Lefeli’s dagger in front of me. Small beads of blood collected in my palms where I’d dug my nails into them.

After that, I vaguely remember someone coming to fetch me before the night grew too dark, and so I sat silently in the Meekers’ parlor instead of in front of Lefeli’s ashes. It made no difference to the void in my chest.

“Veia, dear, the book,” Miss Mylda reminded softly, sitting on the couch across from me.

Everyone had gathered in the parlor with me to finally dispel the curse on the book. Atlas avoided my gaze and Evyne was entirely unreadable.

I set the book on the table. The curse on the cover only served to remind me of Lefeli. Next, I took Lefeli’s magic dagger in both of my hands and the room seemed to draw a collective breath all at once.

Firhetya had told us how to break it. According to him, all I had to do was slash over the exsecratus on the leather and it would be over. But now, as I held the dagger over the jagged letters, my grip faltered.

Evyne placed her hand over mine on the hilt of the dagger. I didn't look up at her, but I felt the resolve in her fingers. I brought the dagger down on the book, dragging the blade across the letters with a finality I didn't realize I had.

A long moment passed as I lifted the dagger back up, and nothing appeared to change in the book.

“Is it… done?” Atlas asked, peering down at it.

“I…”

Evyne carefully opened the cover and a quiet gasp escaped from Miss Mylda.

The words written in the book, the passages on each page that had foretold disaster after disaster, were blurred and splattered as if water had made the ink run.

It was final. I looked around the room at the Meekers, then at Evyne and Atlas. Atlas returned my gaze, blue eyes shining.

The curse was broken.

Things seemed to pass so quickly when you weren't paying attention.

Just like that, the Jeims siblings and I had left the extravagant City of Magic behind in all its glory to return to the unforgiving road. Before I'd left, though, I'd given the ruined book and Lefeli’s dagger to Firhetya in memory of his friend Miss Merenais, which he accepted with a solemn grace.

Some say that he crystallized the pages of the book and designed a magical wind chime from the broken curse, but that he never put it to use. They say it remains in his little shop to this day. I haven’t returned to find out.

The trip back to Esterwilde went much quicker than the trip away from it, which I suppose is understandable considering we no longer had a curse causing bandits and rockslides to slow us down. Still, every night when the sun set, I would sit away from the bicker of the two siblings and listen to the sounds of life. I would hear something different each night—the insects, the birds, the rustle of animals in the wood or wind through the trees—and I thought of my home, so close yet so far.

Eight days passed in the blink of an eye on Evyne’s new cart. Most of the time I sat dazed and distant until I began to recognize the scenery. The tall, wooden windmill teetering on the hillside, the brush of the trees and the feel of the ground.

Then I saw the flower field, and beyond it, Esterwilde.

I remembered sitting under that tree in the field as we passed it. The snow was gone now, but I remembered well the cold mud that dripped from my clothes. That had been the first time I’d met Atlas.

I peeked up, fighting the urge to bounce in anticipation, as we passed through the town gates, which were always open and felt more than ever like welcoming me home.

“Atlas,” I said, unable to contain myself, “that's Tremie’s dress shop!”

He glanced where I’d motioned and nodded, somewhat distracted.

Oh. Right.

In all the time I'd spent sitting on the same bench with him, we still hadn't talked. And I still hadn't apologized for turning him down so rudely.

My face flushed with shame and I drew my hand in. Maybe us not talking had been purposeful after all.

It didn't take long after that for us to pass through the town and emerge on the other side, straight onto a nostalgic forest path. The cart continued to thump along down the dirt road as we passed Emrita Saravani’s house, looking dejected as ever, and continued on to a large, gnarly willow tree. There, Evyne pulled us to a stop.

After a moment of absentmindedness, I stood and climbed down from the cart. My feet planted on familiar ground and yet I stumbled. It didn't feel right after all this time.

“So.” Evyne sat back with a sigh. “Our little hitchhiker finally returns home. What an emotional parting… so tearjerking…”

After a moment, she cocked an eyebrow, not satisfied, and suddenly shoved Atlas off the bench. “What, are you just not gonna kiss? I've been waiting forever for you nitwits to make up!"

I gawked as Atlas stumbled down next to me. We gave each other flustered glances, then Evyne cleared her throat and began chewing on a piece of dried meat from her bag. She kicked her legs up and folded her arms, waiting.

“So, um,” Atlas fumbled with unslinging his bag from his uninjured shoulder. “I’m—well, I’m sorry about the whole asking you to stay thing… so… here.” He pulled a little wooden scroll tube from his bag, tied with a simple twine bow, and pressed it into my hands. “I know I didn't ask your permission, but…”

I removed the lid of the tube and slid the paper out from inside, unrolling it, then I gasped quietly.

It was a drawing. One of those charcoal portraits I'd heard of in the big cities and art towns. My own eyes stared back at me in strokes of ashy black and my face took on a serene grace I knew I didn't have.

“Did you…?” I looked up again at Atlas as he glanced away shyly. “I didn't know you could draw!”

“I haven't had the inspiration to.” He tried to hide his smile.

“It’s… beautiful,” I breathed, glancing down again at the drawing. I took it all in. It was too perfect. My chest swelled and ached with appreciation. “Thank you, Atlas. For this, and helping me break the curse. Thanks for being so nice to me.”

He caught my eye and his lips quirked. “Thanks for making it fun.”

“Just kiss already!” Evyne shouted.

We both blushed.

“Then, uh,” Atlas stammered and grabbed my hand, “it was a pleasure to travel with you, Miss Veia Phelde.” He dipped stiffly and pecked my fingers, his face aflame. He forced a crooked smile with eyes wide and squeaked a small laugh to himself, then let my hand go abruptly as if he felt he’d held it too long. He shot a nasty glare at Evyne.

I chuckled, putting his drawing back in its case, and nodded gratefully. “Thank you also, Atlas Jeims, for your outstanding service to a girl in need. Oh, and Evyne,” I added, winking, “thanks for the ride.”

She laughed loudly, then shook her head and motioned for Atlas to get back on. “S’been nice, Veia.”

And just like that, she yipped to Birdy and they started down the road, leaving me standing with my knapsack and a portrait in front of the one place I'd wanted to be most.

My home beckoned me, and yet I waited for the sound of the cart to fade.