“I thoughtyousummoned us,” I said through gritted teeth. “Undo it.”
“Though I did summon our last Chosen One, it was not I who cast the spell this time,” said Amy. “According to our history books, we often never discover who summons Chosen Ones. Sometimes it’s fates. A skilled mage. A farmer who happens upon the spell. Sometimes the universe itself summons warriors forth, as though the gods themselves have sent them to us. Indeed, since the dawn of time—”
Amy’s droning voice faded as rage swelled in my ears. I loathed this world. It was a sick parody of everything I used to think I wanted. I’d bet anything the universe dragged me here after I’d finally broken free to say,You’re not allowed to give up. Now run along and save the world.
There were milestones everyone was expected to reach in life. Gatekeepers stood at each of those milestones, guarding the path to happiness. When you were a kid, you were allowed to be content. You weren’t allowed to do that once you’d reached a section of your life that said you had to go to college or get married or have a child before you could continue to achieve joy.
When I wouldn’t perform, I got shoved into this place as punishment, where I would be stuck until I broke.
I urged my horse into a run, leaving Amy in the dust. My fists balled around the reins, my pulse loud and hot in my ears.
By the time Bryce caught up to me, I was already back at the stables, handing my reins off to a groom. Bryce’s horse slid to a stop, puffs of dust swirling from its hooves.
“Thank you so much,” I said to the groom, lifting my voice to a high falsetto. “However can I show my appreciation?”
“Cut it out.” Bryce dismounted, shoving his reins at the same flustered stable boy. “That Yoda guy is an out-of-touch fossil. We’re going to find a way out of this. You don’t have to smile to save the world.”
Claustrophobia pressed in. The stable roof felt lower, the shadows darker. Who did I think I was, playing hero again? I was as naive and stupid as I was when I was ten, trying to use the Force to levitate my stuffed animals. The mental strain felt the same—exhausting, desperate, futile.
“This isn’t me,” I said. “It’s all an act. I’m not a hero. I can’t get anyone to like me, and I can’t get us home.”
“Youcando it,” he said. “I can tell you’re trying.”
While I was pretending to be someone else, the compliment felt like he was saying,Thank you for not being you. I’d slipped on a cape to play the part of a hero, and Bryce had fallen for it. Instead of me showing him that even losers could save the world, he simply thought I wasn’t a loser anymore.
I couldn’t even set him straight because, in order to get home, I’d have to keep wearing the cape. I missed what we used to have. He’d made me feel seen, even if he only saw me as a nuisance. Now, it was like he didn’t see me at all.
Distance. We just needed distance again. Straw crunched under my boots as I marched for the stable doors. My nose filled with the musty scent of manure and hay.
Bryce’s footsteps pounded closer. “Wait.” He caught up, slowing to walk beside me. The light streaming through the cracks in the stable boards flickered over his face with each step, highlighting the stubble along his jaw, the angle of his cheekbone, his eyes. His lips. The light swept across them, and my finger itched to do the same—to trace the ridges of his cupid’s bow, to see if his breath would catch.
Something under my ribs jumped and tingled at the thought.Touching Bryce should inspire existential dread, not tingling. I shouldn’t want his breath to catch unless it would catch and stop altogether.
His brows furrowed as he looked me up and down. “Damn it, Court, say something. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry it’s unfair.”
I stopped, and he plowed into me, nearly knocking me off my feet. Turning, I shoved him off. “Why did you do that?”
He pressed a hand over his chest where I’d touched him. “Do what?”
“Court,” I breathed. “You called meCourt.” My voice grew louder. “Then yousympathizedwith me?” My heart pounded in my ears. Last night. His lingering looks and half smiles… they all added up to something. Something bad. “Why’d you call me Court?”
“I don’t know? I couldn’t be bothered to say the whole thing? Would you rather I go with the second half of your name and call you Ney?”
I shook my head, already backing away. Everything felt too fast, like I could suddenly feel the whole world spinning and slinging around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour.
Real-world, part-time job, paid-the-rent-late Courtney never caught his eye. Only fantasy-world, aspiring-Chosen-One, planning, scheming Courtney. Whatever positive feelings he felt for me were built on a lie. Just like Will’s had been.
“I don’t want a friend, Bryce,” I exclaimed. “Friends want what’s best for each other. I don’t want what’s best for me. I want what everyone believes is worst for me, and no friend can understand that!”
I always knew, if someone started to care for me, they’d try to help me. If I cared for that someone back, I might just let them, and then I’d be living a lie again. I’d change to try to keep them, to convince them I was worthy of their affection. The next thing I knew, I’d be serving Thanksgiving dinner ten years from now with ten million goals involving PTA, HOA, and every other typeof stifling, mind-numbing acronym. And then, one day, all the lies would come to light, and I’d be left alone again.
I turned and ran.
I burst into my room back at the castle, buried my face into my pillow, and screamed.
Someone tapped my arm.
I lifted my head and screamed again. There, standing on the bed, was the mouse.
