Page 116 of Wickedly Ever After
Hector’s Skeleton Roses looked sick. The vines hung on the walls of the courtyard, dark green and bloated, weeping strange juices. The paving stones were strewn with sticky, graying leaves and faded black petals.
Hari climbed out of the basket and landed gently next to her. “What happened here?”
“Hector,” Ida said. She gazed wearily at the immortal rose, undead and rotting, a fitting symbol of the fate that awaited both of them when they went back to the capital to explain. The rest ofthe plants in the courtyard were wilted and she could distinctly smell decaying fish. She thought about the funny little sensitive fern, drying out on the table in the library, its poor little fronds curled around itself in the agony of death. And Hector would need to kill to resurrect Tinbit too. She felt sick.
She touched the bloody bandage on her shoulder. The wounds no longer oozed. Adair himself had licked the cuts clean. His venom provided the antidote to the toxin in his claws. He’d told Ida not to worry; one of Hector’s skeletons had been a superb physician in his day. He’d donated his body for necomancy, intending to one day build an army of the living dead to take over the world, but when he discovered he wasn’t so keen on that after becoming a construct, having a new appreciation of what it meant to die, Hector had employed him as his personal doctor.Typical.
Ida glanced at Sebastian. The ghoul angrily directed his body out of the basket and then screamed when it walked off without his head. Even that worthless ghoul was a recipient of Hector’s compassion.
“Hari, help me get Tinbit out of the basket. I don’t think he would want Sebastian carrying him, and I’m not sure I can carry him with my shoulder.”
Hari patted her hand. “Don’t you even think about trying it. I’ll carry him. You go inside and rest. I’ll take him to his house. I think that’s where he’d most like to be until Hector revives him.”
She squeezed his hand. “And when he does, you’ll stay with him.”
“Well, if he’ll have me.” Hari laughed, but it sounded harsh and scared. “It’s up to him. I know his secret now. It’s only fair he knows mine.”
“When he sees you, he will love you,” Ida said. “I’ve no doubt.”
He flung himself around her legs and hugged her. “I wish you could stay too—here with me and Hector. You love him, I know you do, and I want you to be happy too.”
“Iwillbe happy,” she assured him. “And so will you. You’ll have Tinbit, you’ll have Hector, and everyone here will adore you. Even that old ghoul—once Hector tames him.”
“Don’t count on it, Witch.” Sebastian strolled by, bouncing his head. “Now, can someone show me where a guy can get a cold bone and a hot bath?” He strolled in the door, scowling.
Ida turned and followed Sebastian through the doorway.
***
Ida found her way to her old room with no trouble. The hellhound wasn’t there. She didn’t want to think about what might have happened. She’d refused to even glance in the library. She’d burst into tears if she saw the fern. Instead, she stoked up a small fire in her own personal grate and set the firepot down beside it.
“Your Goodness?” Cear climbed out of the pot.
“Yes?”
“Are you—are you well?”
“More or less, apart from my shoulder.” She sat on the bed. “But I’m tired and more than a little sad.”
“The dragon and the princess are happy. Tinbit and Hari will be happy. The prince and his lover are happy. Does that not makeyouhappy?”
“Of course it does. But some Happily-Ever-Afters take a little longer to feel than others,” she said, lying down on the bed. This was going to be one of those kind of endings. There was so muchleft to do, so much she had to arrange. Hector would take care of Hari for her, of course, and that was the most important thing. But once she confronted the Council, she’d be fired. There was no escaping that now. The dragon and the princess would not be coming back with them, and the only explanation she had left was the truth.
At least Hari and Tinbit would have a home, but she was going to miss her castle. She would take cuttings from the gardens, though, send some to Hector to replace what he’d lost, and plant the rest at her new house. But where would that be? Somewhere far away from Hector. Living close to him would be a recipe for disaster. Maybe she’d go back home. A sudden, horrible thought came to her of walking back into that tiny village grown to a large town, seeking out the oldest cemeteries, looking hopefully for headstones of her family that had long since crumbled into dust, and she wanted to cry.
Cear’s voice was curiously gentle. “You wanted things to be different for you and Hector.”
She sucked in a great gulp of air. “I wish many things were different. I wish Hari had never fallen into a potion as a child, I wish I’d never written those hateful letters to Hector, and I wish he’d not needed to kill his whole garden for me. I wish I’d been more willing to call him a friend a long time ago. We might have had a whole eternity to know each other better. There’s no opportunity now.”
Cear regarded her with those deep, fire-blue eyes. “Opportunity still remains. If you are willing to take it.” They stepped into the flame and became one with it.
Someone knocked on her door.
“Come in,” she said, rising and crying out as the wound twinged.
Hector came in, with him a tall skeleton who was missing one arm. He ground his teeth at Hector, and he nodded. “Yes, you can start. I want to talk to Ida.”
The skeleton carefully unwrapped Ida’s shoulder and examined the wounds with his bony fingers.
