Page 121 of Wickedly Ever After
When they cantered into the courtyard of the Hall of Witches, a tall sylph with white hair and blue skin was waiting to take their horses. An equally impressive salamander took the firepot from Ida’s arms without a word.
“Take good care of them,” Ida said. “They’ve had a long journey.”
The salamander said nothing and walked away. Ida’s gaze followed them with a curious intensity. She was planning something—he knew that look. Well, he’d have to get ahead of her, that was all.
“Are you ready?”
She sighed. “Whether I am or not, there’s no point in delaying this, is there?”
“I don’t suppose so.” He reached for her hand. “Ida, whatever happens, I—”
She raised her eyebrows.
He let go of her hand, a soft smile curving his lips. He hadn’t needed to write that letter after all. He didn’t need to say anything when she could read the look on his face so well.
They walked into the Hall together.
***
Tara and Agatha were waiting for them, each with their elemental attendant. The fire crackled on the hearth as Cear emerged, dusting ashes from themself, and took their place beside Hector. Agatha stared at him impassively, but Hector saw the look in her eyes. Pure, unadulterated hatred. They’d always been professional rivals, but this was something different. Momentarily, he wished he’d brought his staff. But both he and Ida had agreed that if they were to get the other witches to listen, it would be better if they didn’t go in armed.
Ida walked toward her usual chair, turning to say something in a quiet tone to the sylph, who nodded and melted into the air.
“Are you going to sit down, Hector?” Agatha asked in a dangerously pleasant voice. “Or remain standing on your dignity?”
“Standing, I think,” he said. “I’ve been sitting most of the day.”
Ida eased around him, pulled out her usual chair, and sat. Tara stared at her with a sweet smile, but there was professionalmalice in her gaze. “Well? Is that it, then? No princess. No dragon. No prince. And no wedding.”
Ida spoke with acid in her voice. “Tara, don’t pretend you don’t know the prince has already married. I saw the news in the first mud puddle I happened upon.”
“And yet, Happily-Ever-After doesn’t seem to be working, given the flooding along the river or the unseasonable blizzard that wiped out two-thirds of the grain in the north, not that it was a huge loss, as it had ripened before it was ready and was already ruined.”
Agatha pressed her fingertips together, leaning forward in a ridiculous parody of the way Hector often sat when he was hearing people out before deciding against their proposal. No wonder Ida had thought him such an insufferable egotist.
“No, it isn’t. And it’s my fault,” he said quietly. “I’m prepared to take full responsibility.”
Ida glared at him. “You ought to be. It’s been your fault the whole time.”
Oh, thank the Gods. Shewasgoing along with his plan. He’d been concerned, but at least the fiasco with Alistair and Amber had taught her that when they’d decided on a course of action, unity was the best policy.
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with Happily-Ever-After,” Ida went on. “Long ago, four witches thought they knew what was best for the world. And so they brewed a potion that forced a prince to marry a commoner—a sacrifice that would ensure the peace they paid for with their hearts would last. They even made it look good—a pumpkin coach, oversized white mice to draw it, glass slippers that pinched they were so tight. Everyone was happy. The long war was over. No one would ever be hungry.The clouds of magic polluting the sky were gone, the rivers became clean, and no one ever needed to worry about their future, because they would all live happily-ever-after.”
Wait a minute. No, no, no, no, Ida.He was supposed to explain this. Not her. “If I may interject here—”
“But was it Happily-Ever-After?” Ida rose, folding her arms behind her back, one much more slowly than the other. The dragon wound was clearly bothering her. “When was it better to take away anyone’s choice for peace? I’m not just talking about the right to fall in love with and marry whom you choose. We denied the world the chance to fix itself. We fixed it for them. We erased all the horrible things they’d caused, and worse, we told them that all they had to do was perform a little ritual to keep it that way—to stage a fight with a dragon instead of fighting the monsters inside themselves. That’s when we failed Happily-Ever-After. That’s when we failed the world. Ironic that we cut out our hearts when maybe if we’d kept them, we’d never have done this horrible thing to the people we were trying to save.”
“Ida, I—”
But she wasn’t even looking at him.
“This year, the courage of one woman, the valor of a dragon, and the subterfuge of a captain of the guard who couldn’t bear to lose the man he’d given his heart to almost destroyed the foundation of this world we worked so hard to create. But for their love—real love—Hector and I might not even be here today. We didn’t make Happily-Ever-After for them. They made it for themselves out of the wreck of that spell. And yes, there are going to be consequences that we’ll have to live with and fix. We owe it. It should be our penance for ever thinking we were wise enough to fix the world’s mistakes with a spell.”
Agatha’s sharp mouth curled upward at the corners.
Tara, though, looked down at the table. “Do you hear yourself, Ida? You’re saying youwantHappily-Ever-After to end? After all it’s done for the world? For us? It’s kept the kingdom happy for a thousand years. If we let it expire, what happens to us?”
“What do you mean,what happens to us?”Hector asked. “Didn’t you hear what she said? We have work to do. There will be famines to fix, levies to build on the river, and it rather sounds like someone needs to go summon a warm front.”
