Page 3 of Once Charmed, Twice Cursed
Because he’s Marked, too. Except his triquetra—an inverted version of mine—marks him as a Null. Not blessed by Fortuna, but forsaken. Bad luck follows him as faithfully as favor follows me, though when we stand close enough, our magic temporarily cancels out.
If we ever touched each other... We’d both lose our luck, good and bad. Forever.
My yearning for him swells into something monstrous. Maybe I can’t wish Weston here through magic, but he’ll come for me, even without Fortuna’s intervention. Ten years of heated looks and loaned books and sheer, unadulterated longing can’t possibly end with me marrying someone else. Can they?
Brendan checks his pocket watch and sighs. “Look, I know you weren’t thrilled about Mom and Dad deciding you should marry, but you might as well let this idea about Weston go. He’s fighting tonight, anyway.”
I jolt. “He’swhat?”
“Fighting. In town. At the cotton mill.”
I almost choke. “What? Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“But...he didn’t tell me that.”
My brother frowns. “Why would he?”
“Because,” I say, unable to scrub the alarm from my voice. “I should be there. I have to be there.”
Without me nearby, Weston’s Mark will be in full effect. And for all his surly grace, for all that he can absorb a punch without flinching, something will happen to throw the match. A section of the ceiling will collapse as he prepares to land the winning blow, or someone will spark a cigarette and accidentally burn the place down. A floorboard will give way under Weston’s feet, and he’ll fall and break his neck. Something.
“I have to go,” I say.
Brendan shakes his head. “What? No, you don’t.”
“I do. He’ll lose without me there.”
“So he’ll lose.” His eyes narrow. “Honestly, what’s gotten into you? He fights all the time without you there. This is no different.”
That brings me up short. Weston always invites me to his matches. Or so I thought. “He fights without me?Regularly?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
Bitterness floods my tongue. “Has he ever won? When he was on his own?”
Brendan rubs a hand across his jaw. “Once, maybe. Twice? But that’s not the point. The point is that he’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions. Without you.”
A burn takes up residence in my chest and spreads outward. I have to get to Weston. Keep him safe. I don’t care what Brendan says.
I turn on my heel and sail down the hall. I’ve already wasted half the afternoon standing at this window like an idiot, and Weston is probably getting his face punched in as we speak.
“Bria! Where are you going?”
“To help Weston win,” I call back.
“Stop.”
I don’t. I don’t even slow. I just hurry down the staircase and out into the cooling evening, then make for the stables. No time to bother with a cloak.
I saddle my yellow mare and vault into the stirrups, then bolt out into the falling darkness.
As the manor retreats and Pine’s End draws nearer, betrayal slices across my heart. Weston isn’t coming for me. He never was, and I don’t know what that means. How that could possibly be. How he could let Brendan marry me off to someone who doesn’t even care about me.
Nor do I know what I’ll do once I reach him, because I’ve never had to fight for anything before. I’m not sure I even know where to start.
But I am certain of one thing.
