Page 35 of Once Upon a Woven Wish
“You have the power now.”
She blinked, clutching her burning hands to her chest.“How do I—?”
“A hand over the heart will heal the ailment,” he said, his voice even and cold.“And now the price will be paid.”
Her gaze snapped to his.“Now?”
“When the crown prince is healed, you will return here to me.You will take your place as the Weaver of Wishes.”
“What?”The word trickled out her in a roughened whispered.“I don’t understand.”
“When you take my place, my servitude to the Well of Wishes ends.Forever.”
“But—what—does that mean?”
The Well’s voice curled through the night like smoke in a tavern.It means, Serena Windriver, he dies and you take his place.
Her knees buckled and down she went, landing in the snow and knocking over the lantern.The light snuffed out.She clutched her still glowing hands to her chest as if hiding the magic from the world and herself and knowing she never could.
The stranger stood rooted in place, numb from the cold and what was taken from both of them.His hands curled against the stone rim of the Well until it bit into his palms, burning faintly.He watched, mute, as Serena snatched up her darkened lantern and turned away.Tears slicked her cheeks.Her boots pressed deep into the snow, leaving a fragile trail as she disappeared into the darkness.
Pain lanced through him, sharp enough to make his breath hitch.He should have been glad—his servitude was nearing its end.Death was meant to be a mercy.But this freedom came at the cost of an innocent girl’s life.A mortal who would never survive as Weaver of Wishes.
Had it been anyone else, elation might have surged hot and bright through him.
But it wasn’t anyone.It wasSerena.
A beautiful, selfless girl who wanted nothing more than to do the right thing, to heal her father and keep a roof over her head.Her mistake, though, was coming to the Well of Wishes.And yet…he could not name it a mistake.Not when her presence had breathed warmth into his cold, lonely soul.
“The price was too high,” he whispered hoarsely.
For that kind of power, the price had to be too high,the Well said.
There was nothing to be done about it, either.Once the crown prince was healed, she was to return here and the exchange of power would happen.His death.Her servitude.
Her teeth had chattered when she asked,Wh-what about my family?
They will forget you,he’d said.Cruel.It was too cruel.
Her face had contorted in pain.
And then she whispered,And if I don’t return?
Your life will still be forfeit.And so will mine.
The words twisted inside him, worse than any blade.
She thought by simply not returning, he would live and she would remain in the village.But the Well always took its due.
You should be happy, dear boy.Your time is ending.No more loneliness.Your dream of release has come true.
“As if that’s a consolation,” he rasped.
He hated the Well knew his innermost thoughts.Unbidden, Serena’s face rose in his mind—not pale and stricken as she had been tonight, but as he longed to see her.Her lips curved in laughter, her eyes bright with mischief, her hair loosened and caught in sunlight.He wanted to see her smile.Gods, he needed it, more than breath.
When he had taken her hands—her small, frigid hands—his own senses had sparked alive again.Her pulse had fluttered against his palms, and for the first time in centuries, something inside him had pulsed, too.Not duty.Not magic.Something far more dangerous.Hope.Desire.
He did not know what it would cost him.What it would cost her.
