Page 39 of Once Upon a Woven Wish
A hand over the heart.That’s what the stranger had said.And so, taking a deep breath, she flattened her right palm on his chest.Beneath her hand, his heart beat in an unnatural rhythm.Fast—slow—fast—slow.As she held her hand there, though, nothing happened.Her hand did not glow like it did when the stranger gave her the power.
Perhaps she needed both hands.She placed her left on top of her right.Still nothing happened.She bit the edge of her lip.
Movement in the room.The shuffle of feet.She sensed the Grand Duke edging closer to peer at her hands on the prince’s chest.She stole a glance and saw his face was pinched with a smug expression.One that said he was glad she was proving to him she was what he thought—a fraud.
She was not a fraud.
Well, she was.Truly.But—
You have the power now.
But perhaps there was more to it than simplyhavingthe power.Perhaps she had to make a wish.Like she had to the stranger.She closed her eyes to shut out the smug face of the Grand Duke and the deathly pale face of the prince.She thought only of healing, of banishing whatever ailment vexed him.
“I have the power,” she murmured.“I have the power to heal him.To take away his sickness.I wish for the prince to be well.”
Her hands burned.Her bones felt as though they were on fire, her blood molten gold.The power wasn’t hers—it was his, the stranger’s—and she feared she would shatter beneath it.
Sucking a sharp breath, she peeked through her eyelids.Her hands were engulfed in gold, glowing so bright they lit up the entire room.She squeezed her eyes closed again.Behind her, a scuffle.Shouting.Voices.The queen’s.The king’s.Angry.Frightened.Theshingof a sword as it was ripped from a scabbard.
They thought she was killing him.
“Be at ease,” she said, her voice calmer than she felt.Though who she spoke to—herself, the prince, or the others—she did not know.
Inside, her nerves jangled, her gut clenched into a tight knot.Her heart raced.Her pulse pounded a roar in her ears.
When she opened her eyes again, the prince’s body was encased in the golden glow from head to toe.Beneath her palm, his heart slowed to a normal pace.One beat.Two.For one terrible heartbeat she thought she’d stolen his last breath.And then his chest rose, his eyes flung open, and the world righted itself.He sat up so violently, it knocked her hands away.She stumbled back a step from the bed, curling her hands to her chest, clutching them into fists.
Immediately, color returned to the prince’s face.His breath see-sawed in and out of him.His wild eyes peered about the room.
Silence descended for a long moment.
And then it was broken with the queen crying out.She ran to the other side of the bed and flung herself at her son, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a tight embrace, her face streaked with tears.
Serena turned away, feeling as though it was an intimate moment she should not witness.When she did, she saw the pinched expression of the Grand Duke as he glared at her.Next to her, Ferris gaped.Then he snapped out of it to shove her aside and pick up his medical kit.
“I must examine him, my queen,” Ferris said.
He was already plugging the listening horn of polished silver into his ear to check the man’s heart.The queen released the crown prince and stepped aside as Ferris pressed it to his chest.He moved it up, down, side to side.Then he pressed two fingers against his wrist, checking his pulse.
“Well, Ferris?Is he healed?Will he live?”the king asked.
“His pulse is steady.His heart is strong.”He pulled the horn from his ear and dropped it into his medical kit.Steely eyes pinned her for the briefest of moments, then he turned to the king.“I believe he will live.”
A collective sigh escaped into the room.But Serena still felt the eyes of the Grand Duke on her shining with skepticism.Was he still plotting to expose her as a fraud behind those steely eyes?
The king dashed around the bed.Before she realized what was happening, he enveloped her in a bear hug and a jolly laugh in her ear that vibrated through his big body.
She let him, but inside she was hollow.This miracle was no gift.It was a debt, and the Well always came to collect.
When he pulled her away, he held her at arm’s length.“You truly are the miracle girl!”
“Well, sire, I—”
“Lachland,” he interrupted, turning to the Grand Duke, “make sure this darling thing has a room.The finest.And, by the gods, give her something decent to wear.And perhaps a bath.”
The Grand Duke bowed low.“As you say, your majesty.”Then he scurried out of the room to do his bidding.
The king turned back to her, his cheeks ruddy and his eyes twinkling with joy.“You’ll stay with us a few days, of course.”
