Heart of Stone (23 page)

39.

Tamsin

Palace Royale, Éclat, Gemmes

He looked so fervent, standing there, asking Tamsin for her help, her expertise. For the dark magic her hands were committed to.

              Emel cried, “Henri, don’t do this. It is too risky. You can’t die!”

              The young girl was broken up as the boy she travelled with explained what must transpire. That he wanted to be the sacrifice she needed. That his love was pure enough and strong enough and real enough for Sophie.

              Tamsin looked at Rémy; his jaw clenched disapproving. Forgiving her for the dark magic was one thing, carving open the child’s chest, taking life and placing it in another, when she was no longer ordered to do so by the king … that may be a deed she couldn’t overcome.

She’d already spent her life trying to forgive herself for her transgression. Only she continued to multiply her offenses, never forgive them. Doing this now, saving Sophie was what she had always dreamed of doing herself.

This boy had offered himself, simplifying a complicated endeavor.

She shook her head, the gravity weighing on everyone.

“It won’t work, Henri. I had hoped, before, that a heart for a stone would be enough. Which is why I had always believed I would give my own heart for Sophie’s. But it has to be true love. That’s the only way the heart will survive in a new body. If there’s a hint of conditional love, it won’t work. I told you as much back at my cottage.”

“My love is real, true. As true as anything. That is why I will lay down for her!” Henri raised his voice, wanting to prove himself in the words he spoke. Tamsin knew the futility.

“The magic won’t work if there is a hint that the love is not real.”

Henri tried to interrupt, to say something of substance, but Tamsin kept speaking, “And you say you love her, but you don’t know the real Sophie. You don’t know if you would love her when she was a girl with a beating, pulsing heart.”

“Yes, however I’d also be dead. So what does it matter? Besides, it is true love. I’ve proposed to her for Hedge’s sake.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t. The magic is too risky. I can’t believe your love for her. I don’t know for certain if it is true. I can’t have your blood on my hands if the heart doesn’t take.”

“You are a crazy old
sorcière
, you know that!” Henri lunged for Tamsin, who screamed, not expecting this quiet boy to fight so strong.

              “Henri,” Rémy pulled him back. “We can’t kill you. It would be wrong.”

              “Just go, ask Sophie about my love. Even if she doesn’t accept it, you will see it is true.” Henri pushed open the door, not wanting to take Tamsin’s no.

              The walked in the chamber room and everyone let out terrified screams.

Tristan leaned over Sophie on the bed, Tamsin’s enchanted dagger in hand, ready to splice Sophie open.

              “No!” Tamsin screamed, diving for Tristan. “Let go of it!” She pulled back on his arms, trying to get the knife, but she was no match for his strength.

              “Just let him, okay?” Sophie spouted off coolly, throwing her hands in the air. “Just let him do it. I won’t let someone die for me. That’s senseless and silly and not what I want anyways.”

Rémy forced Tristan to let go of the dagger by prying it from his fingers. Everyone had become messy, disheveled wrecks.

              “Don’t say that, Jou-Jou.” Henri looked so broken.

              Tamsin put the dagger back in her satchel and everyone looked at one another in a face off. They wanted something, although not everyone could have what they desired. The weight of life and death clouded her judgment. Should she kill Henri and take his heart? Should she have let Tristan kill Sophie, taking the garnet, since she was on her way to death’s door anyway?

              The decision wracked her brain, and the one thing that didn’t seem to ease her agony was the fact that Sophie’s clock kept ticking.

She had already killed the king. What else was she to do to put the country of Gemmes in peril? The outside rioters were gaining momentum. It was clear by the blasts of canons and the gunshots beyond the Palace walls. This was no longer a protest. This was a battle.

Her heart sank, realizing there was no easy way. Except for Sophie to die.

Rémy forgave her, saw past her mistakes, and accepted her as the woman she was. But the truth remained; she wasn’t able to see past any of it. Even after Sophie died, she knew regret would fill the rest of her life. Regret for the woman she hadn’t been strong enough to be. Regret that she let this happen at all.

“Tamsin, I think we’re at a standstill, for now at least.” Emel knelt next to her. A girl who didn’t respect her, but still had agreed to work together. For the sake of the people in the room.

“Maybe we should eat, rest … wake with clearer judgment.” Tamsin set her lips in a thin line. “What would your Miora have done, Emel? You say she didn’t do
magie noire
, what did she do then, in times such as these?”

“She was blind, too. Just like how you can’t see beyond your past. Miora believed, more than anything, in the power of the gemstones.”

“Maybe a reading would help us know what we should do?”

“I don’t know … I have never done one alone.” Emel and Tamsin looked at Sophie. She was busy arguing with Henri and Tristan, while Rémy tried to make peace. No one saw straight.

“If you try, perhaps we would have a bit of peace, regardless?” Tamsin pressed.

“Alright, Tamsin,” Emel spoke quietly. “I didn’t want to lose Miora. I loved her, fiercely, but it was her time to pass. That was okay, sometimes it’s hard to accept the life that we have, the lot we are given. In that wake two choices are offered. Move forward, or fall behind.”

“When did you get so wise, girl?” Tamsin asked, her eyes brimmed with tears, still unable to forgive herself, always clinging to her like a noose, threatening to choke her.

“I am a stone seer, yes, but also, I’m human. We’re not so different, you know.”

Emel left to get her stones from her wagon, escorted by Rémy and several Palace guards. She set to work setting lemongrass and burning incense of sandalwood on the table. The room filled with the scent of magic, this time, hopefully, it was Miora’s kind.

This very room was the place Tamsin had come so many years ago, sent by the King’s Légion, to save the queen. It was eerie, but also fitting, to be here again, now, to try and save her daughter.

40.

Sophie

Palace Royale, Gemmes

Henri and Tristan helped drag a bedside table over, and the handmaiden, Scarlet, provided a tablecloth to lay on top of the fine wood grain preparing the room for the reading.

“Should we call upon the queen?” Scarlet asked.

“No, I wish we could … but she brings too much pain to Sophie. I wish there was a way, but there isn’t.” Tamsin said, and it was true. Sophie knew she couldn’t bear the pain without passing out again.

Still.

She had never known her mother, and wanted so badly to know her now. As long as her heart was in the queen’s chest, it was too painful for Sophie to near her.
Cruel would be an understatement
, Sophie thought.
To want what you can’t have.

Sophie stood with her arms crossed, watching Tamsin from across the room. She didn’t trust her. She wanted to keep her distance. Tristan swore she was a good woman, still, not just anyone can conjure
magie noire
; the fact that she was able to the night of Sophie’s birth made her someone to be wary of.

Then there was the matter of her father. A man Tamsin herself had killed. It felt as if this woman was doing her best to destroy whatever sliver of a family Sophie had left. She closed her eyes, wishing she had the power to cry in sorrow because if she had ever wanted to shed those kinds of tears, now was the time. Her father had chosen her mother over her.

Yes, it was twisted. It was also a sort of love Sophie had never imagined could be real. Love so true and strong you would sacrifice a child to keep it alive. Impenetrable love. Dangerous love. That love had given life, at least a pseudo-life, to her. Sophie shivered, shaking her head. Desperate to push away the things she couldn’t quite understand. She needed to focus on the things that made sense.

Trays of
bonbons
were delivered to the room, along with a tray of hot chocolate, per Sophie’s request. Distractions. This was nothing new.

Besides
, she’d thought fleetingly,
I might as well go out with a bang
. She looked at Tristan and smiled to herself, as she ate a weightless pink macaroon. Not that she was interested in
that
anymore. Henri in the room complicated things.

“I’m ready for you,” Emel said seriously. Emel patted the seat next to her, wanting Sophie to sit so she could begin.

“Can you try to not make it too dire? I mean, I know everyone wants a solution. I’ve offered a perfectly acceptable one. Slice me open now, take the jewel, and voila! Everyone can go on their merry way. I mean, except for me, of course. I’ve never been a person? Have I?”

“Shush, Sophie. I know your last reading with Miora was hard to accept. Let’s try to use this reading to get some clarity, okay?” Emel said gently.

Sophie nodded in acceptance. Her stomach flip-flopped, a reaction, she realized, that had more to do with her lack of a heart than anything else. She’d always felt pain in shoulders, strain across her back, and knots in her stomach. No wonder she’d never understood Henri’s descriptions of heartache. She couldn’t relate. At least she would die understanding.

Emel laid the diamond silhouette cloth on the table, and untied the cord on the bag holding Miora’s stones.

              “Don’t you think it’s kind of creepy that she died the day after I met her?”

              “No. I think she waited to pass on for a long time. She was waiting for you before she could let go.”

              “Stop acting so sweet, Emel. I was pretty awful to Miora.” Sophie seemed to be looking for an argument.

              “I know why you treated her that way, though. It is scary to watch the life you know unravel. It’s hard to watch the things you want slip away,” she said, glancing at Henri.

              Sophie puckered her lips; knowing Emel was too kind to get into this with her again. Deep down in her gut, Sophie knew the solitary reason she disagreed was to avoid the inevitable reading.

“You need to draw five stones from the bag, and you will set them on a corner of this diamond, starting in the lower left, moving clockwise, like before,” Emel explained, eyeing Tamsin for help. “The first stone represents the emotion involved with the problem.”

Tamsin took her cue, picked up the bag from the table, and held it to Sophie. Sophie put her hand inside and spun the gemstones.

She remembered last time how new and exciting it was to feel so many precious stones. Now it felt empty, vapid. She was drawn to them because they were her life force.

She drew the first stone and showed Emel, palm up.

“That is the aquamarine, symbolizing tests, trials.”

“True,” Sophie said, coldly. “This could be considered a trial if there ever was one.”

Emel nodded her head seriously, and Sophie felt a hand on her shoulder. Tristan. The boy who heartlessly offered to carve out her garnet for his gain. She brushed his hand aside.

“The second stone indicates obstacles you must face, ones you may not be aware of.”

Sophie revealed her second stone, an agate.

It was a stone she’d seen before. Its smooth exterior had been seared in her memory. Emel didn’t need to explain.

“Death. Hmmm.” Sophie bit her fingernail. “I thought the death stone would be last,” she told the room.

No one responded. The reading was too charged to speculate on yet.

“Okay, third stone, this means the forces at work, right?” Sophie asked Emel. The seer nodded yes.

Sophie laid the stone on the table, not knowing what it was. She looked at Emel expectantly.

“The quartz crystal,” Emel stated, and then looked at Tamsin, with sadness.

“It’s the Shaman. It represents magical attainment and control,” Tamsin filled in, not looking anyone in the eye. “It represents the Hedge. They have decided that my heart isn’t pure enough, that’s why I can’t give it to you myself.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” stated Sophie, blocking the moment from piercing her. “The Hedge is not in control of any of us. We live in our own free will.”

Tamsin shook her head, and Sophie rolled her eyes. This superstitious woman wouldn’t control anymore of her destiny.

“Draw again,” Emel requested. “This one will mean the foundation of the problem.

This time Sophie did it with an embellished swish of the stones. She fished noisily and drew a moonstone.

“Well, I know what this is. A moonstone,” she pulled out her necklace from under the emerald stands still clasped to her neck. “It warns me of danger when it warms.”

“In this case though, it means cold. Winter. Tide’s changing, like seasons,” Emel explained.

Sophie remembered when Miora first had her touch the moonstone that had hung on the blind woman’s neck. The stone hot as fire, yet contrasted with Sophie’s own icy flesh. It was no different now. The moonstone reflected who Sophie was.

“Just like me, then, huh? I’m icy cold, like the winter.” Sophie spoke, sending a chill through the room. “You know, I don’t want to do this anymore. Okay?” Sophie stood, not angry. She was drained. Done.

“You know, Sophie,” Emel started. “It’s like I told you before, outside Miora’s wagon, there are more than one way to see the stones. Maybe icy now, but don’t you see? Seasons change. The tide rolls over; every day starts a new. Maybe you can….”

“What? Maybe I can try again in another life, okay, Emel? But this one, this life, is nearly done. My chest is pounding violently. I feel myself dying. I should say goodbye, and stop playing these foolish games. This reading, it gives me no new lease on life. It draws the inevitable. I’m dying!”

Sophie pushed the stones off the table, leaving the silhouette empty, just as she felt. As she had always felt. Empty. The gems skittered across the floor, dropping like the pieces of her heart that never was.

“Sophie. Draw the final stone. It will show us the outcome.” Emel’s voice was clear. She spoke with influence. Even though everyone else seemed to tremble at Sophie’s rant, Emel didn’t waver.

Sophie obliged.

“Fine, but this is not for me. Not for my pleasure. It’s for yours.”

She pulled a beautiful red gem and held it for the room to see. Emel beamed, in appreciation.

Tristan literally guffawed in recognition of the stone. Sophie knew he’d know what it was, but she didn’t understand his response.

“What does this mean, oh wise seer?” Sophie asked, scoffing her.

“The garnet means strength, Sophie. It means courage. It is, in essence, you.”