Madly (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Samantha

“IF THEY WEREN'T READY TO before, your parents are going to absolutely murder me,” says Kirsty. “I swear, being a Finder isn't normally this exciting.”

“Oh really? I'm disappointed,” I reply with a small half-smile. We're back in Pahara, in a small but cozy hotel. Kirsty filled me in on how she, Jedda, and Zol struggled to get back down to base camp, and how Emilia escaped yet again, back down the other side of the mountain with her Sherpa. The others didn't want to leave the mountain but knew they couldn't find us on their own. Jedda's leg needed urgent medical care, but he was now recovering. I don't know what Zol must have paid to get a helicopter up to us. He probably could have bought the mountain with that amount of money.

It was Zain's attack on the abominable—his useless attempt to use the wand—that helped us in the end. The
spell worked like a flare. That, and the abominable scattering pieces of our orange tent to the wind. Of course, when Kirsty spotted the first sign of a ripped-up tent, her mind jumped to the worst conclusion. In her head, we were as shredded as that tent. Luckily, though, for his sins, Zol refused to believe that his son wouldn't make it down from the mountain alive.

As for my parents—they were beside themselves, but there was no point in them coming out to Bharat when I was going to be on the next flight home. (After my near-death ordeal, they weren't going to let me port anywhere—­and there was no way I'd have the concentration anyway.) Other people did make the journey—namely, the media. There was no hiding from them this time, no reflective material to ward them off. Cameras flashed in Zain's and my faces as we descended from the helicopter, and we rushed into the hotel to sounds of their shouting:

“Zain! Zain! How close are you to curing the princess?”

“Sam, what does your family think of you allying with ZA Corp.?”

“Are you together now?”

We're not allies, I don't think Zain and I are together, but thanks to me, we both have the ingredient.

Yes, I shared the fur. Of course I shared. Even though my pride won't let me entertain Zain's idea of working with him toward a cure, I wasn't going to thwart his
attempts. Someone has to win the hunt—and we can't let it be Emilia Thoth.

Admittedly, that's not the reaction I get when I speak to Dan and Kirsty that night.

“You gave ZA half the abominable fur?” says Dan. His voice is laced with scepticism. He's taking notes for his big piece, but I don't care how I come across.

“Of course I did. Zain helped save my life. Twice, in fact—once from Emilia, once in the cave.”

“It sounds to me more like you saved his life,” says Kirsty, her arms folded across her chest.

She's right about that. All Zain can go on about is how I saved him on the mountain with my impromptu mix of mountain sweet and wand fire. To the press, to his parents, to everyone, Zain's been insisting that I'm the hero.

I can't get his story out of my brain. Hearing it has filled in pieces of a puzzle I hadn't realized was incomplete. Great-grandma Cleo's missing diary. Granddad's outright refusal to entertain even the idea of synths. His virulent hatred of the Wilde Hunts.

But without Cleo's diary, I fear I'll never know the truth.

I always thought that the Kemi legacy was to be stuck in the past, rooted to our ways. Bound to our traditions like eluvian ivy around our hearts. But what if that wasn't true? What if being a Kemi meant being known for progress, for innovation? I think back to that
picture on the wall of the Mount Hallah base camp. My great-grandmother made it all the way up that mountain over a hundred years ago, without all our modern supplies and gear. She was an adventurer, a hero.

“Well, it doesn't matter now. I gave it to him, so it's done,” I say.

“Of course it does,” says Dan. “Especially now that only you and the Zs are the only real Participants left in the competition.”

My face drains of color. “There's really no one else? What happened to Arjun and Anita?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“The reports say everyone is fine.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“It was a close call,” continues Dan. “A spell was delivered by courier to their lab. Luckily, Mr. Patel had been called away and wasn't caught in the explosion.”

I drop my head in my hands. “That's awful. Wait, please, I have to call Anita.”

I dial her number but she doesn't pick up, and neither does Arjun. I email, Connect, text, and basically bombard them with messages, to no avail. I don't blame them. I can't imagine what they must be going through.

I just thank my lucky stars they're safe and unharmed.

“I hate Emilia,” I say when I look up from my devices. My whole body is shaking with rage. “We have to stop her.”

“No one has caught her in the act yet,” says Dan. “I've heard that some people are even starting to take her side. Saying that we are all scapegoating Emilia because of her past and that she deserves another chance . . .”

“After what she did to us on the mountain? She almost killed us!”

“But no one saw it.”

“Of course they didn't, we've been hiding from the media, remember!”

“Hey, don't shoot the messenger.”

Kirsty nudges Dan. “That's enough for tonight. Sam, you should hit the sack. You'll be back home tomorrow, and then we can tackle the next ingredient.”

The next ingredient. Now the pressure is on.

I ready myself for bed, taking extra care over everything that has previously seemed routine—brushing my teeth, for example, and putting on my favorite polka-dot pajamas.

Every moment feels like a luxury, but especially climbing into a proper bed and snuggling under a duvet. I make a resolution for tomorrow. The second thing I'm going to do when I get home (after the first: give my entire family big hugs) is go over to the Patels' house and apologize. Profusely. Grovel, if I have to.

Despite my tiredness, I can't shut my mind off. I pick up my diary, thinking of Granddad. I think he would be proud of my trick with the mountain sweet. I scribble down a few notes on a separate page:

Abominables. Characteristics: lonely, stubborn, reclusive, slow to anger—but long to hold grudges. Deep sleep can be triggered by fumes from mountain sweet. Abominable hair (coarse, brittle, 10 cm long) can be used in love potions.

Once I finally flick off the bedside light, there's a gentle tap at my door. I wonder if Kirsty has forgotten something. I turn the light back on again and walk over to the door.

It's Zain.

“Hey,” he says. His glamours—the normal ones—are back on. I feel a tinge of disappointment, and it makes me even more self-conscious in my pj's.

“Hey,” is all I can manage back.

“Can I . . . ?”

“Oh, sure, yeah.” I shuffle backward, bumping into the furniture. We perch awkwardly on the end of my bed.

“How are you doing?”

“Better now. I still . . .” I close my eyes, just for a moment, but behind them is the abominable and its claws. The scratch marks are almost healed now, magicked away with a potion they have here. I made a mental note of the ingredients, of course. Witch hazel—for scarring. Millefolium—for blood clotting. But the memory is still there. I shudder, despite myself.

“You were amazing yesterday. Honestly—I thought I was going to have a complete freak-out when we got to that dead end . . . but you kept your head.”

“Your smoking wand gave me the idea.”

Zain turns red with shame. “I keep thinking about what my dad said on the mountain. It was awful.”

I put my hand on his. “Your father said whatever he thought he needed to say to save your life. He was just trying to protect you. He was desperate.”

“It was pathetic.”

“You know what? I don't blame him. It's less stupid than walking up to someone with a gun.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Lucky I picked that mountain sweet when I did.”

“Well, you saved my life.” He holds my hand tighter. “Seriously, you are one amazing girl.”

“Stop it,” I say.

He lets go and looks a little hurt. “Sam, I mean it . . .”

“No, I heard what you said yesterday. You don't like me. You like this idea of me. You've been waiting for the right moment to talk to me because you think that since I belong to this ancient family, I'm somehow special. Let me break it to you, Zain: I'm not special. Evelyn is special. She's a princess. I'm just me. So either I need you to like me for me, or you need to leave me alone.”

“It is you I like, Sam.”

“You don't even know me,” I throw back.

“Okay, fine. You're right. My grandfather was obsessed with you Kemis and it made me want to meet you. He
thought you had some kind of mystical powers, some source of alchemical knowledge. But now I know the truth. You're just smart, Sam. So smart.

“That's why I like you. And I want to get to know you, if you'll let me.”

I stare down at the pattern on the duvet, unable to look up at him. He's said everything I want to hear, and I can't help my treacherous heart from swelling. He reaches out and touches my cheek.

“And plus, you saved my life.”

I look up at him, and he winks. I laugh; I can't help myself.

“We saved each other,” I say.

“Exactly. You're the only person in the whole world who knows what we've been through. Really knows.” He takes his hand away, and my face burns from where he touched it.

“It was kind of a crazy first date,” I say.

“A story to tell the grandkids.” He grins and looks awkward. “I've got to transport back to Nova in a couple of hours. My father—”

I don't want to hear this, but even before I can let it sink in, there's a big bang as the shutters of my hotel window are thrown against the glass by the wind. It makes us both jump. Ordinarily I would have laughed, but I'm too tense after the abominable.

“Can you stay with me till I fall asleep?” I ask, hating
how small my voice sounds. But he's the only person in the world I want to be with right now.

“Of course.”

I head back into bed, resting my head on Zain's chest, listening to his heartbeat pound beneath my ear. I close my eyes and drift into a deep sleep.

*   *   *

When I wake up, there's a cup of coffee on the side table that he's enchanted to keep warm. I mutter something about Talented flirting techniques, but I have to admit: His tactics are pretty good. As I sip the coffee, warmth spreads from my mouth down to my toes. I catch sight of something on the cup—words, glamoured to appear just underneath the coffee line:

You are special to me, Samantha Kemi.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Princess Evelyn

“WHAT'S HAPPENING . . . WHERE AM I?” She opened her eyes, a sweet dream of Lyn fluttering away. There was someone in the room with her. But it was not Lyn, as her heart so desperately wished—it was another. Zain.

His face was etched with concern, deep frown lines criss-crossing his forehead. He had a scar between his eyes she couldn't remember seeing before.
It doesn't suit him,
she thought, and she chuckled to herself. “Tell me how you did it, Evie,” he whispered. “Please . . .”

He looked strange, too. And then she realized it was because he had a weird tan around his eyes. Had he gone on a ski trip without her? How unfair. Then she thought of Lyn. Maybe Lyn didn't like skiing. That would explain why she hadn't gone too. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she said.

Zain walked over and placed his hand on her head.
She shook it off. He looked at her, his eyes wide. “How are you? I heard about the incident with the mirrors . . .”

“I was just sleeping,” she began, but as she said it, something about the statement immediately struck her as false. “Oh God . . . oh God, Zain, I am so sorry!”

“Shh, shh,” he said. “It's okay.”

“Okay? No it's not! I tried to give you a love potion! Wait . . . you're not here because you love me now, right?” Suddenly her stomach filled with dread. What if that was the reason Lyn wasn't here?

“No, no,” Zain reassured her. “The love potion . . . didn't affect me.”

“Well then, I know someone you just have to meet. She's the love of my life, Zain. She's amazing. Lyn? Where are you, Lyn?” Her voice got higher as she gazed round the bare room. There were dark squares in the wallpaper, where something had once hung, although Eve couldn't remember what.

“Calm down.” Zain kept his voice soft but she could hear its urgency and sensed movement beyond the walls, someone ready to come in. “I need to know what the ingredients of your potion are. Please, Evie . . .”

“Don't call me that!” she screamed. “Only Lyn can call me that! What have you done to her? Where is she? She should be in here with me!” Her skin crackled, and that's when she realized that her wrists were shackled to the bed. “Did you do this?” she said to Zain, who backed
away, shaking his head furiously. “You did, didn't you? To keep us apart? How dare you!”

“No, no, Evie . . . Evelyn—you know I would never do that. I'm trying to help you.”

“Help? I don't need any help!”

The shackles disintegrated as if they were nothing. Her parents, Renel, Zain—they thought they could contain her, but nothing could. Not when they were standing in the way of her true love.

“She's breaking loose!” Zain was shouting. The room was shaking. Someone slammed through the walls—Renel—and now he was shouting too.

“I told you this wouldn't work!” he thundered.

But she didn't care. She was floating now, floating high above the bed. She could feel the magic in the atmosphere, and she brought it toward her, sending sparks of it out like lightning bolts into the walls. She was going to find Lyn, wherever she was. She would break apart the palace to find her, if that's what it took.

The brick crumbled, and the beautiful tile mosaic that had been on the ceiling rained down on Zain's head—but he had stood in the way of her and her love, so she didn't care what happened to him.

She pushed her magic out even further. She felt Renel, felt her mother, felt her father, felt her grandmother's magic pushing back against her, but she could be stronger than all of them—didn't they realize that?
She was so hurt that they would do this to her. It was their fault. All they needed to do was reunite her with Lyn, and then she would be happy again.

There was another deep crack, as if an earthquake was beneath the room, but how could that be, since the palace wasn't on the ground?

Lyn, Lyn, I will find you. Wait for me. Wait for me.

She felt a tap on her foot, so gentle she could have imagined it. She looked down, and saw that somehow Zain had managed to crawl toward her. Renel was screaming at Zain, something that sounded like “Stop!”

Yes, you should stop, Zain. We might have been friends once, but that won't stop me if you get in my way.

Then she saw what he had in his hands. It was his watch. Or rather, it was the reverse side of his watch, which was mirrored. And in it, she caught a tiny glimpse of Lyn.

Immediately she felt her power, her magic, concentrated on that one tiny spot. Lyn, the one I love. She came back down to earth. Then there was a stab of pain in her neck, and she collapsed into Zain's arms.

“Is she out?” asked Renel.

She wanted to scream “No!” but her lips, her vocal chords, wouldn't respond. Whatever they'd done to her, she couldn't move or speak.

“I think so,” said Zain. He placed her gently on her bed, stroked her hair. She wished he would get away
from her. She wanted no touch but Lyn's.

There was an oscillation of power in the air, and her parents strode through the walls and into the room. “What happened?” asked the king. “The ceiling of our throne room almost collapsed on my head. The chandelier almost killed the queen.”

Good,
she thought.
Serves you right for sedating your own daughter.

“It's the princess, sire. The potion is breaking down her mind; she's losing control of her magic. We've given her a stronger sedative, but it won't hold her forever.”

The king turned on Zain. “How close is your father to finishing the potion?”

“I . . . I don't know, Your Highness.”

“Well, work faster!”

Ah, so that was their plan. They wanted to hurt her by taking away the one person she had only ever truly loved.

Renel spoke next, his tone tentative. “Sire, the physicians are saying we might only have a few days before she goes past the point of no return. The government is asking us to take her to an underground bunker they've prepared. If the magic floods her system completely . . .”

“We can't think about that. But she can't be moved far from the horn. When the right potion is found, we will need to administer it immediately.”

She wondered if the sedative had reached her heart
then, because it appeared to stop for a moment. Was her love for Lyn really causing so much harm? Her whole life, her parents had encouraged her to marry. Now that she had chosen, they wanted to punish her for it. It was just as her aunt had said.

“As you say, sir. They might start evacuating some of the city. You will be putting lives in danger.”

“That is what this blasted Wilde Hunt is for! Someone will find a cure.”

“And if it's your sister?”

“If Emilia wins—then magic save us all.”

Her aunt was in on this? Emilia was the only person on the planet who knew what it was like to have her life ruined by the royal family of Nova. And now she was working to keep Eve from Lyn? It didn't make sense.

“You should have got rid of that woman when you had the chance!” said the queen.

Of course you'd want that, you cold and vicious woman. All you care about is your position in life. I didn't even know I had an aunt. Not until her letters came. How she got them into the palace, I still don't know. But I relished every word. She understood the pressures I was under.

No one else even tried to understand.

“We can't destroy a Novaen heir.”

“Then you should have locked her up in a dungeon from which she could never escape instead of letting her gallivant off—”

Her aunt had inspired her. Inspired her to take her future into her own hands.

“This isn't the middle ages, Richeline! We can't put her in a dungeon anymore. We have better mixers than her and someone will cure Evelyn. Watch her,” her father said to Renel, as if she were a rabid dog rather than his beloved daughter. He swept out of the room.

She needed to throw them off, somehow. She couldn't let them take Lyn away.

“Love,” she said, forcing the word up and out past her paralysis.

“What?” Zain swooped down, his ear close to her lips. “What did you say, Evelyn?” Her eyes were still closed, but she knew he had heard her. She cursed him for being so slow.

“Be in love and . . . ,” she said. Then her body gave up fighting and let the sedative take her away into a deep and powerless sleep.