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Chapter Text

Asha stood outside the solid, oaken double-doors which led to the dungeon—a place she had not set foot in for quite some time.  Currently, it held only a single prisoner.  She took a breath, smoothed her long, blue dress, and reminded herself that she was not the child she’d once been.

“Be brave, Asha,” Valentino said softly.  He was old and gray now.  His deep voice suited him better.

She smiled, though it felt stiff and unconvincing on her face.  “He’s helpless, in this state.  There’s nothing for me to fear.”  Yet her hands were shaking.  She squeezed them into fists, willing them to be still.  When the shaking stopped, she pointed her wand at the doors.  They creaked open, revealing a long, stone hallway lit by sputtering torches.  Their magical green flames never died, never needed tending or replacing.  She said, "Wait here," to Valentino.  Then she strode down the hallway, past empty, barred cells, to the room at the very end.  With another twitch of her wand, the barred cell door opened.

Inside the cell, King Magnifico—no, she reminded herself, just Magnifico—was on his knees, his hands bound behind his back, a heavy, iron collar around his neck, a single green jewel glinting at the throat.  From the collar, a thick chain ran to the ceiling.  His ankles, too, were manacled, making it impossible for him to stand.

He raised his head and blinked a few times at her, squinting.  “Amaya?”  There was a hint of hope, quavering and fragile, in his voice.

She didn’t move, didn’t speak.  Just waited for his eyes to adjust.  When they finally focused on her, the hopeful expression vanished behind an irritated scowl.  He snorted.  “Oh.  It’s you.”

“Yes.”

“Well, thank goodness someone finally came,” he said dryly.  “I’ve been so bored.  Though I must admit, I’m disappointed.  I thought Amaya would at least have the guts to face me herself, rather than sending a child to speak to me on her behalf.  Although…”  He blinked again, frowned.  “No longer quite a child, I suppose.  How long has it been?”

“Eight years.”

“Hm.  Time gets a bit fuzzy when you’re trapped inside a magic staff, I suppose.”  He shifted.  He’d been bound in that position for hours; by now, he was probably in severe discomfort, if not pain, but he didn’t show it. 

Well, Magnifico was no stranger to pain.  He had lost everything, once, and had built this kingdom from the bricks of his own grief and determination.  He could be vain, foolish, arrogant, but he was not a weak man.  She could not allow herself to forget that.

“Well, go on,” he said.  “Clearly, Amaya decided to free me from that accursed staff for a reason.  Or…does she just miss me that much?  Honestly, I'm surprised it took her this long.”

Asha remained where she was, in the cell doorway, staring at him.  She kept her expression neutral, mask-like.  One hand remained clenched into a tight fist, nails biting into her palm.  Her wand remained clutched in her other hand.

“Ooh.  Let me guess.”  He smirked.  “Running a kingdom isn’t quite as easy as it looks, hmm?  There’s unrest in Rosas.  The economy is in shambles, unemployment has gone up, riots in the streets, enemies threatening to invade.  She can’t do this on her own.  She needs my sorcery, my expertise, my rugged good looks and charisma—”

“Amaya is dead.”

His face went blank.  He stared at her, mouth slightly open, blue eyes dazed and uncomprehending.  “What?” he whispered.

“There was a plague,” Asha said quietly.  “Just a year after your imprisonment.  It claimed the lives of many of our people, the former queen among them.  I am the queen.”

Horror washed over his expression.  Then, an instant later, it shifted to rage.  “You’re lying,” he growled.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.  She was supposed to mentor me, to guide me, for years to come.  We had so little time together, but still, before she passed, she charged me with the task of—”

“You’re lying!”  His irises glowed green.  The jewel on the collar glowed the same shade, and green electricity crackled inside and around it, spreading over his body.  He screamed, his back arching.  His muscles convulsed.

Asha stood where she was, keeping her face expressionless, as he continued to thrash and gasp for a long, agonizing ten seconds.  Then he went limp, panting, trembling, face drenched with sweat.  His blue eyes, now glazed with pain, lifted to hers.  A line of drool ran from the corner of his mouth.

“If you attempt to use forbidden sorcery again,” she said stiffly, “or any form of sorcery without my explicit permission, the collar will punish you.”

He stared at her for a moment, fear flickering in his eyes…then he laughed hoarsely.  “Well, you’ve become unexpectedly ruthless and twisted.  I’m a little impressed.  That lie about my wife—diabolical.  Well done.  I'm not so easily taken in, though.  Your technique needs a bit of work.”

“I wish that it was a lie,” Asha said.  “Believe me.”

His breathing quickened.  A muscle at the corner of his eye twitched.

“Your guess was essentially correct,” Asha said, “much as I’m loathe to admit it.  I never had a chance to learn properly about the art of ruling.  The kingdom of Rosas is in shambles.  The plague left us all grieving, picking up the pieces, and our people never truly recovered.  We are tearing ourselves apart.”

“And what of your magic star?” he sneered.

“It’s gone, as you know.  And without it, I’m not strong enough to fix this.  Not alone.”

“So you come crawling to me for help.  After you betrayed me.  My, my.  And what do you intend to offer me in return?”

She flicked her wand.  The green jewel glowed again.  She watched expressionlessly, a dull ache in her chest, as he writhed and screamed.  Electricity crackled.  When he finally went limp, groaning, a wet stain had soaked through the crotch of his immaculate white trousers.  He looked down, and a small, pained noise escaped his throat, as though this small indignity hurt him more than the torture itself.

“Let me be clear,” Asha said, “on the nature of our relationship.  This is not an alliance.  I am not bargaining.  You will not have a choice.  You will be my tool.  I will use your mind and your magic the way you once used the wishes of our people.  And until you accept that…I will hurt you as much as I need to.”  Her voice cracked only slightly on the last sentence. 

"Don't be a fool," he said flatly.  "You don't have the stomach for it."

"No?  We'll see."

He looked broken and helpless, sagging in his restraints.  But she could see the gleam of murder in his eyes.  She reminded herself that she could not afford to underestimate him.  If she let down her guard for a moment, he would find a way to turn it to his advantage.

“This…”  He let out a sharp, hysterical laugh.  “This is the thanks I get?  For everything I did for you, for the people of Rosas?  This is preposterous.  Undo these chains at once.  Let me out of this accursed cell.  Let me see Amaya.  Let me see my wife.”

“That’s impossible.  As I said.  If you wish to see her tomb, I could arrange that, but—”

“No.  No, no, no, no.”  He thrashed, straining, roaring, until the collar glowed green again.

As he screamed, Asha retreated from the cell and shut the door behind her, breathing hard.  She waited in the hallway, clutching her wand, as his screams died down into moans, and then into quiet, hoarse sobs.

“Amaya,” he whispered.  “Amaya, no, no.  It isn't true."

Asha closed her eyes.  “I will—” she took a breath and called out, mustering all the authority she could—“I will give you some privacy to grieve.  I’ll return later with food and water.”

He fell silent.  Only his raspy breathing echoed through the dungeon.  She peeked through the cell door's small, barred window to see him slumped over, head bowed, hair disheveled.  He didn't move.

After checking to make sure that the cell door was secure, she walked quickly down the stone hallway, through the open doors at the end, into the small room at the bottom of the long, granite staircase which led to the dungeon.  Valentino still waited there, sitting like a dog.  Asha leaned against the wall and put a hand over her face.  “That was…even harder than I thought,” she muttered.

“Cruelty does not come easily to you,” Valentino said gently.  “And you loved him once.  As all Rosas’ people did.”

“Yes.”  Loved him and looked up to him.  There’d been a time—it felt like another life, now—when she’d been so thrilled at the prospect of becoming his apprentice.  He’d seemed so benevolent, so wise and gentle.  How she’d longed to see those blue eyes shining on her with approval…and then she’d watched him become twisted into something barely recognizable.  But of course, the darkness had always been there, beneath the surface.  She’d willfully blinded herself to it.  She’d known, deep down, that there was something perverse about the system.  But Magnifico had a talent for making people want to see the best in him.  She would not be so foolish again.

“I’d best start preparing a meal for him,” she said, and started up the stairs.

Valentino trotted after her.  “Wouldn’t that be a task better suited to a servant?”

“No.  If I intend to do this—to break him and then wield him like a weapon to restore order to Rosas—then it’s best that I be his primary caretaker.  I must be the one to break and rebuild him.  His loyalty must be to me, and me alone.”

Valentino gave her a worried look, but he said nothing.

She kept trudging up the stairs.  This was for Rosas, she reminded herself.  For her people, for what remained of her family.  She would become whatever she needed to become.

Chapter Text

The tray held a bowl of porridge, a small bread roll, and a glass of milk.  Asha balanced it on one hand as she flicked the wand, and the cell door’s lock clicked open, revealing Magnifico still bound in the center of the room, arms behind his back.

“If I remove the restraints on your wrists and legs,” she said, “will you behave yourself?”

He stared at her dully.  The whites of his eyes were tinged pink from weeping, his cheeks streaked with the faint residue of salt from dried tear tracks, but his expression was a mixture between boredom and annoyance.  A carefully constructed mask.  “I can make no promises,” he said.  His voice was hoarse.

“If I don’t unbind your arms, I’ll need to feed you by hand, like an infant.  I’d prefer to spare you that indignity.”

He rolled his eyes.  “How very kind.”

Slowly, she leaned down to set the tray on the floor.  A pair of fresh pants was draped over her left arm.  She set it down next to the tray.  “I thought you—” she cleared her throat—“that you might want to change those, as well.”

He made a noncommittal sound in his throat.  A faint blush rose to his cheeks—though in the dim, greenish light of the magical torches, it was difficult to be sure.

She backed slowly away, out of the cell, and flicked her wand again.  The door closed; the lock clicked.  Another flick, and with two clicks, the manacles on his wrists and ankles came undone.  The chain attached to his collar remained, running to its iron loop on the ceiling.

She watched through the barred cell window as he winced, rubbing his wrists, then attempted to stand.  His legs gave out from under him, and he fell back to his knees with a grunt and a clink of iron chains, then slowly picked himself up and walked over to the tray and the folded set of white and silver pants.  He leaned down, then paused, looking up, raising one eyebrow—still perfectly trimmed, after all this time.  He had not aged or changed in any way while he was trapped in his mirror prison.  “Planning to watch?”

She averted her gaze, face hot.  “Go on.”  She stepped to one side and leaned against the wall next to the locked door, keeping a tight grip on her wand.  Cloth rustled as he changed out of his urine-stained pants and into the clean ones.  After a brief silence, she heard the clink of silverware.

“No butter?” he asked.  “No cream?”

“You’re a prisoner,” she replied.  “Prisoners don’t typically get luxuries.”

“Hm.”

“In any case, butter and cream are scarce right now.  You’re lucky to have milk.”  She stepped back in front of the door to stare in through the bars again.

Magnifico sat on the floor, legs crisscrossed in a lotus position.  He picked up the roll, sniffed it, and took a bite.  He chewed slowly.  His eyes slipped briefly shut, then opened as he swallowed.  His blue eyes flicked up, meeting her gaze through the bars.  “I take it the cows aren’t doing so well.”

“The plague which reduced our population also reduced theirs.  Many of the animals born now don’t produce as much.”  She paused.  “I do wonder why the cows under your reign were so much more productive.”

“Sorcery,” he said through a mouthful of bread.  “Naturally.”  He swallowed.  “You have magic, don't you?”

“Yes, but my magic…”  It pained her to admit this, but this was why she was here, wasn’t it?  Part of the reason, anyway.  “It…doesn’t always do what I want it to.  When I tried to cast a spell that would increase milk production in the newer cows, several of them…”  She paused, lowering her gaze.  “They died from burst udders.”  And they’d been talking cows.  They’d cursed her with their last breaths.  The memory still made her burn with shame and horror.

Magnifico sampled a bite of the unseasoned porridge, and wrinkled his nose.  His gaze lifted to hers again, an expression of mock-innocence on his face.  “Goodness,” he said, “that sort of thing never happened when I was king.  I wonder why.”

“Yes, so do I,” she said, choosing to ignore the sarcasm.  “Your spells always worked smoothly.  Mine started misfiring soon after the star left.”

He snorted.  “You think sorcery is just a matter of waving your hands, sprinkling some glowing dust around, and wishing?  I studied the magical arts for decades.  I carefully honed my technique before attempting anything practical.  You received a magic stick from a glowing sky-blob.  We are not the same.”

“I read all the books in your study,” she protested.  “It wasn’t enough.”

“Of course not.  There is a nuance and intuition to magic that books alone don’t convey.”

“Then teach me.”

He rolled his eyes again and stuffed the rest of the roll into his mouth.  Despite his sardonic mannerisms, that terrible dullness hadn’t left his eyes; a shadow lay in their depths.  “You took over my kingdom by force and imprisoned me.  Because I wasn’t there to prevent it, a plague ravaged the land, taking countless lives, including—” he stopped, lips clamped shut, staring down at the tray, and took a breath.  “Maybe I’m not particularly eager to help you.”

“You can’t blame me for the plague.”

“I just did.”

“Well, maybe,” she said, trying and failing to prevent the note of anger from creeping into her voice, “if you hadn’t outlawed sorcery for everyone except yourself, we would’ve been better prepared to deal with these problems once you were gone.”

“And in your utopia, I take it, sorcery is legal for anyone who’d care to attempt it.  How’s that working out?  Been any magical blood feuds yet?  What about botched spells?  And of course, even when it’s their doing, they blame you.”  At her silence, he smirked.  “Not always fun, is it?  Being the one who has to take responsibility for every problem.”

“You are not the victim here.”

“Oh, I’m not?”  Rage flared in his eyes.  The faintest green light flickered in his irises.  The stone on his collar started to glow and crackle, and he winced, gripping it.  His face twisted.  The light died down, but the sourness in his expression remained.  “My kingdom was a well-oiled machine before you decided to throw a wrench into it.”

“All I wanted was to give the wishes back to their owners.  I didn’t set out to hurt you or to take your throne.  You were the one who decided that I was such a threat that you needed to resort to dangerous, forbidden magic.  You were the one who started crushing people’s wishes and absorbing the power.  You brainwashed my friend and turned him into a berserker.  You threatened your own wife.”

At that, he flinched.  “I never—” he fell silent, the words dying in his throat.  Something shifted in his expression; the rage seemed to crumble, to slip away.  He closed his eyes and rubbed the lids with his fingertips.  “I never would have hurt her,” he murmured.  He opened his eyes and stared at his tray.  The porridge and milk remained untouched in front of him, though he must have been ravenous.  He hadn’t eaten for eight years.

Asha lowered her gaze.  She reminded herself, again, that it was dangerous to feel sympathy for him.  “You built this kingdom,” Asha said quietly, through the bars of the small cell window.  “I believe that a part of you cares about Rosas, even now.  Its people are suffering.  So help me.”

Magnifico’s gave remained downcast.  “I suppose they tore down that statue of me in the courtyard.”

“Yes.  That’s gone.  We replaced it with a fountain.”

“How dull.”  In a sudden, decisive movement, he picked up his glass of milk, drained it, and set it down.  He picked up the linen napkin from the tray and dabbed the traces of milk from his lips and his neatly manicured beard.  He ate a few more bites of the porridge, then set the spoon down, raised his head, and met Asha’s gaze.  “I wish to visit Amaya’s tomb.”  His tone was lower, now.  Subdued.

Asha hesitated, then nodded.  “If you are to leave your cell, then I’ll have to fetch the guards to accompany us.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll be back shortly.  And remember what will happen if you attempt sorcery.”

His hand drifted up to touch the collar.  “This is an impressive piece of equipment, I must admit.  Impressive and fiendish.  Did you create it?”

“I had Dahlia’s help.”

“How does it work?”  There was a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.  At her silence, he said, “It doesn’t matter if I know, does it?  I can’t remove it, magically or otherwise.”

“You already knows the basics.  It activates automatically if you try to perform magic.  Unless I suppress its power with my own.  And it’s linked to you.  Your body, your mind and soul.  We wanted to be sure it couldn’t be used on anyone else.”

“A bespoke torture device.  I feel so special.”

“You are a uniquely powerful and dangerous man, Magnifico."

"Flatterer."

"It’s simply a fact.”  She turned and walked away, leaving him with the remains of his breakfast.  Was that wise?  The glass or the bowl could conceivably be broken, the shards used as weapons.  Even without his magic, he might attempt an escape.  But of course, the guards would be ready when they opened the cell door.  She was taking no chances.

* * *

Four armored knights flanked Magnifico, two to each side, their faces concealed by plumed helmets.  Magnifico walked down the hallway, his wrists manacled in front of him.  Asha walked close behind him, the tip of her wand pointed at his back.  Even now, as a helpless prisoner, he carried himself like a king:  he held his head high, his gaze fixed straight ahead, shoulders squared and back straight.

“By the way,” Magnifico said to the armored men and women, his tone light, “if you and your fellow knights ever feel like revolting against this inept queen and reinstating me on the throne, there will be no hard feelings.”

“Don’t push it,” Asha said.

Magnifico chuckled.

They ascended the steps and continued walking down a wider, more brightly lit hallway.  Sunlight spilled in through arched, stained glass windows.  Magnifico blinked his dark-adjusted eyes against his first taste of sunlight in nearly a decade.

Valentino trotted along at Asha’s heels.  He still wore his signature yellow sweater.  Magnifico glanced down at him.  “What are you still doing here?  Weren’t you planning to leave and start your own kingdom of talking animals?”

“That was my dream, once,” he replied.  “When I was a kid.  But I am needed here.”

“And you’re…what, an advisor to the queen?”

“That’s right.”

“So your royal vizier is a talking goat,” he said, smirking over one shoulder at Asha.  “That’s actually quite funny.”

Asha gritted her teeth.  She considered giving him a small taste of the collar’s power—just a zing—but she’d resolved to only use it when he threatened her or someone else, or when it became necessary to control him.  Not when he was just being an asshole.  “Amaya’s tomb is just ahead,” Asha said, and his smirk vanished.

Magnifico turned his face away and kept walking.  “Inside the castle, then,” he said.

“It’s customary for royalty to have a private crypt in their own castle, is it not?”  And Amaya had never expressed a preference.  To the very end, she’d been focused on teaching Asha as much as she could before the plague ripped the last scrap of breath from her lungs.

“I think she would have preferred to rest under the open sky,” Magnifico replied.

They reached a set of closed double doors, carved with bas relief images of kneeling, praying angels and birds in flight.  Two knights lifted the iron bar resting across the doors, then pushed them open, revealing a large but simple stone room lit by magically fueled torches.  A coffin of pure white marble sat on a stone pedestal in the room’s center.  On the pedestal, which was decorated with carved stone roses, words had been chiseled:  QUEEN AMAYA, BELOVED WIFE, CHERISHED MENTOR AND HONORED RULER OF THE KINGDOM OF ROSAS.

The knights all lowered themselves to one knee.  Valentino followed suit, his front half dipping down, his head lowering until his horns touched the floor.  Only Asha and Magnifico remained standing.  She couldn’t see his face.  He remained motionless, hands still bound, his gaze fixed on the coffin.  Asha’s mind flashed to the torn and burned tapestry that still resided in Magnifico’s former study:  the image of his lost wife and daughter, two innocent lives destroyed by a random act of cruelty.  He’d built this kingdom from nothing with the sole purpose of creating a world where such things didn’t happen.  He'd devoted his life to that singular goal.  And he’d succeeded.  There had been a terrible price, of course.  People who came here, who chose to remain here, were required to surrender their most cherished wish, knowing it might never be granted.  And yet Rosas had been peaceful and prosperous.  Most of its people had been relatively content, even if they felt on some level that they were missing something.  They’d had love, friendship, steady work.

Standing there behind him, unable to see his face, Asha felt—in that moment—how deeply he must despise her for taking that away.  There was nothing she could say to him that would not sound hollow.  So she said nothing.

“I’ll return to my cell now,” Magnifico said at last, his tone unreadable.

“Very well,” Asha replied. 

The knights and Valentino all rose.  They left the crypt, shutting the doors behind them.

“Did she ever remarry?” Magnifico asked, his tone deceptively casual, as though he didn’t much care either way.

“No.  She had no shortage of suitors, but she always said there was simply no time.”

He made a small, hoarse sound in his throat.

They led him back to his cell, shut and locked the door.  Asha dismissed the knights.  She stood outside the cell, Valentino at her heels.  Magnifico stood motionless, facing away from her.  He drew in a slow breath…then turned to face her.  “If you show me to the cows,” he said, “I will work a spell that will soon have them producing ample milk.  Without killing them.  You can watch and learn.”

She hesitated, her gaze searching his face through the bars.  This felt too easy.  Was it some trick?

“What?” he said.  “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?  I may be a prisoner, but Rosas is still my kingdom.  I’m not about to leave it in the hands of some amateur.”

Valentino reared up, placing his front hooves against the door, and piped up indignantly:  “Queen Asha has sacrificed much for the sake of this kingdom.  She has devoted her every waking moment to restoring the glory of Rosas, for the sake of—”

“Val,” she said softly, “it’s all right.”

He placed his hooves back on the floor and snorted.  “This man is no king.  He had a chance to rectify his mistakes, and instead, he chose to become a monster.”  He huffed, turned and trotted briskly down the hallway.  He stopped at the dungeon’s exit, waiting for Asha, pacing.  His small, cloven hooves clicked against the stone.

Asha lingered.  She placed a hand on the cell door…then opened it again.  Magnifico crossed his arms over his chest.  They faced each other.  “You know what will happen if you double-cross me,” she said.

“Ooh, so intimidating.  Look at me quiver.”

"Tell me that you understand, Magnifico.  Look me in the eye and give me your promise that you will not attempt to harm me or any of my subjects."

"What good would it do?  You wouldn't believe me.  You don't trust me, and that won't change just because I say a few pretty words.  Let's just get on with it."

She strode up to him, closing the gap between them, and placed the glowing tip of her wand against his chest.  "Swear it.  On the memory of your wife."

He tensed, but his coolly defiant gaze remained locked onto hers.  "No."

Her eyes narrowed.

“Oh, such a fierce expression on that little face.  Like a lapdog about to start yapping.  Go on, then,” he said, his lip curling in a sneer.  “Use the collar.  Hurt me, if that makes you feel like you’re the one in control.  But we both know that it’s a show.  You brought me back because you need me.”  His sneer became a smile.  “Because you’re a fake.  You’re a scared little girl, utterly unprepared for the responsibility of ruling a kingdom.  And that won't change, no matter how many times you shock me with this collar.”

She stared at him flatly.

“Hey, no worries,” he said, lifting his hands.  “I’ll help you with your little problems.  I said I would, didn't I?  If, that is, you’re willing to bargain."  With one finger, he booped the tip of her nose.  "Maybe I ought to make you beg a little, first.”

"Must we play these games?"

"Go on."  He affected a high-pitched voice, fluttering his eyelashes: "'Oh, please, wise and benevolent King Magnifico.  Please help me fix the awful mess I made of your kingdom.'"

Her fingers tightened on the wand.  It would be easier to just say the words.  To humor him.  But of course, it wouldn't stop there.  If she backed down, he would keep testing her limits, keep pushing, keep finding ways to take control of the situation.  She couldn't afford to let that happen.  “You aren’t afraid of death,” she said quietly, “or physical pain.  I can see that.  What are you afraid of, I wonder?”

He laughed.  “Oh, believe me, I’ve endured worse than anything you can dish out, Queen Asha.”

“Yes, you have.  Haven’t you?”  She pressed the tip of the wand a little harder against his heart—and pulled.

Magnifico gasped, a hand flying to his chest as a glistening blue sphere emerged from within him.  “Wh-what did you—” his eyes focused on the orb, its glow reflecting in their centers, and widened.

Asha lifted the wand, the orb balanced on the tip, and examined it.  The swirling, glimmering clouds on its surface cleared.  Within, a younger, dark-haired Magnifico smiled as he hoisted a little girl aloft.  A brown-haired woman stood next to him, laughing.  The image changed, and he sat next to a bed, an open book in his hands as he read aloud.  The little girl lay in bed, listening intently.  The image changed again, and an older Magnifico stood next to Amaya, gazing out through the castle window at the kingdom they’d built together.

Of course, Asha thought.  This was Magnifico’s wish—to be reunited with the ones he had lost.  But there were some things even the strongest sorcery couldn’t accomplish.

From within the orb, she heard a faint melody, gentle and sweet, a voice singing—Magnifico’s voice.  A lullaby?  But the words were in a language she didn’t recognize.

“Give that back!” he snarled, eyes glowing a ferocious green, and made a grab for it—then let out a choked scream, falling to his knees as the collar activated and green electricity crawled over his body.

Asha stood over him.  She cradled the wish in one hand.  “Why?” she asked softly.  “It can't come true.  It only brings you pain.  Wouldn't it be a relief, to simply forget?”

“You…”  He remained on his hands and knees, shaking, tears dripping down his face.  He glared at her, eyes burning green, the electricity still dancing over and around him.  “You bitch.”  He reached up, his fingers closing on air as the magic gripped him again.  “Give it back!  Give it back!”

She released the wish.  It flew back into his chest.  He gasped, clutching his heart with one hand.  She half-expected him to lunge at her like a tiger, then, to grip her throat.  She braced herself, preparing to activate the collar again.  But he remained on his hands and knees, head bowed.  Soft, shuddering sobs echoed through the cell.  Tears and sweat dripped to the stones.

Asha remained silent.  She didn’t even need to articulate the threat; it hung in the air between them.  She could do what Magnifico had once done to his subjects—she could extract the most sacred and private part of him and lock it away.  Or destroy it.  She would never go that far, never cross that line, but he had no way of knowing that.

When his tears had quieted, she said, “You will accompany me to the stables, now.  But first, swear that you will not attempt to harm me or any of my subjects.”

Slowly, he picked himself up.  His hand remained where it was, pressed over his heart.  "I...I swear."

"Good.  Go."

He stepped out of the cell.  She walked behind him.  She considered summoning the knights again for added protection, but she decided against it.  No doubt he would kill her if he ever got the chance, but now that he had been reminded of the stakes, he would not risk defying her.

If this was the taste of power, she thought, then it was bitter. And yet she could see how easily a person could get used to it.

Chapter Text

“Hmm.  Rosas is a bit less green than I remember.”

“There was a drought,” Asha said.

“Oh?  Was this before or after the plague?”

“After.”

“Goodness, such misfortune.  It’s almost as though, before all this, there was someone working diligently to prevent these sorts of mishaps.”

Asha sighed.  After his breakdown in his cell, earlier, she’d thought he would be thoroughly subdued, but it seemed he’d recovered some of his sarcasm already.  Of course—his spirit was not easily broken.  She found herself oddly relieved at that.

They had taken the royal carriage from the castle to the edge of Rosas single city.  Beyond lay a small patchwork of farms and orchards.  Now, the carriage waited beside the dirt road while Asha and Magnifico stood side by side at the crest of a low hill, looking out over the rolling fields and pastures.  Aside from the carriage’s driver, the two of them were alone.  Even Valentino had remained behind in the castle.

“Have you gone mad?” her friend had asked her before she left.

“He’s under control,” she’d replied.  “He knows what will happen if he causes any trouble.”

Now, Asha glanced over at Magnifico, who stood with his hands manacled in front of him, and felt a flutter of fear.  There would be no one to protect her if he turned against her.  But she’d decided that having a pack of knights following them around the kingdom would set the wrong tone, would make the people nervous, make them doubt the power of her magic.  And of course, the collar could be activated at any time of her choosing.  She needed to prove—to Magnifico, and perhaps to herself—that she wasn’t afraid of him. 

“How does one prevent a drought, exactly?” she asked.  “Is there a spell for rain?”

“One thing at a time,” he said with a knowing smile.  The rage and agony he’d shown earlier had already vanished behind his smug mask.  He clung to that mask, she suspected, because it was all he had left.  “Shall we?”

“You first,” she gestured.  She wasn’t about to show him her back.

“Of course.  I am the king, after all.”  He strode forward, down the path leading to the pasture.

She followed, wand gripped tight.

Earlier, she’d sent a few talking birds out to spread the word among the people of Rosas that Magnifico had been freed from his mirror prison, but that he could no longer perform magic.  It might’ve been simpler to keep him a secret—at least for a while—but she didn’t care for the idea of deceiving her people, even by omission.  No doubt there would be controversy, but she would assuage their fears.  First things first, though:  they were going to visit a dairy farm.

Several dozen cattle grazed in a pasture.  At their approach, a large brown cow raised her head.  Her ears flicked toward them.  “You look familiar,” she said to them.  She had the voice of an overworked, middle-aged chain smoker.

“I am Asha.  The Queen of this land.”

“And I am Magnifico, the former king.  Regrettably, this tyrant—” he pointed at Asha, manacles clinking—“has taken my throne.  For the moment, at least.”

“Uh-huh,” the cow said.  “And I suppose you want some milk?”

Most talking animals, Asha had found, were not terribly interested in human politics.  Many of them had trouble even telling humans apart, in the same way that most cows looked pretty similar to a human.  Valentino was an exception, in that regard.  “Yes, actually,” she said.  “Magnifico is going to work a spell that will increase your milk production.”

“A spell?” the cow replied, unease in her voice.  Maybe she’d heard rumors about what had happened to her fellow dairy cows a few years ago.

“A very safe and simple spell,” Magnifico replied.  “Well—safe and simple if you know what you’re doing.”

Asha winced.

The cow sighed, glancing out over the rest of the herd.  “We don’t have much choice, do we?”

“Well, we would like to proceed with your consent,” Asha said. 

“Because she’s all about consent,” Magnifico said, holding up his manacled hands.

“Maybe you could ask the non-talking cows if they’re all right with it?” Asha asked, ignoring him.

The cow stared flatly at Asha, still chewing a mouthful of cud like bubblegum.  “And supposing we say no, what then?”

“We’ll ask some other cows.”

“And if they say no?”

“Then I guess we find other ways to address the food shortage.”

The cow raised her head and let out a low moo.  A chorus of other moos greeted this.

Asha fidgeted.  “What did they say?”

“Here’s the thing,” the cow said.  “We’re domesticated animals.  We’ve been bred for this.  Wouldn’t survive long in the wild.  If you humans starve, we starve.  Doesn’t much matter if we like the arrangement.  We’re stuck with it.  Do whatever.”

“I, um.  I’m glad you understand,” Asha said.  “Before we proceed, we should probably let the farmer know we’re here, at least.  By now, he should have received the message that we were on our way.”  She looked around and spotted a burly, ginger-haired, thirty-something man walking toward them, a barrel balanced on his left shoulder, one muscular arm curled around it.  “Ah—that must be him.”  She glanced at Magnifico, wondering how the farmer would react to the presence of the former king.  After everything he’d done, there weren’t many warm feelings toward him among the people.

The farmer approached, lowered the barrel, and stopped, leaning against it.  “Good morning, Queen Asha.”  His bushy red mustache twitched as he spoke.  He bowed his head in her direction.  “I’m honored.”  His gaze flicked toward Magnifico.

“Good morning,” Asha said.  She cleared her throat.  “There’s no need to be alarmed at his presence.  He is completely under my control.”  She pointed her wand at the collar.

“It’s all right, I’m not alarmed,” the farmer said.  He raised a hand in greeting.  “Been a long time.  It’s good to see you again, K—I mean, Magnifico.”

Magnifico smiled broadly.  “Well, thank you.  Good to be out of that mirror.”

The farmer glanced at Asha again.  “Hope you don’t mind me sayin’ that.  What I just said.”

“Oh…no, it’s fine,” Asha said, a little off-balance.  She hadn’t expected such a casual reaction.

“He granted my wish,” the farmer added, almost apologetically.  “Years ago.  I know lots of people didn’t get theirs granted, I know it weren’t fair, but I’m still grateful.”

“Of course, of course,” Magnifico said.  He snapped his fingers and pointed, his manacles clinking.  “Ah—I remember you.  Bernie Trummond, am I right?”

“That’s right.”  The farmer beamed.

Asha shifted her weight.  “If it’s not too forward a question,” Asha said, “what was your wish?”

“Ah.”  Bernie chuckled self-consciously and rubbed the back of his neck.  “Well, let’s just say I had a different name when I first came to Rosas.”

“Oh?  Oh.  I understand.  I think.”

“See, now that’s a proper wish,” Magnifico said to Asha.  “Specific.  Concrete.  Want a different kind of body?  Boom, done.  It’s not abstract nonsense like wanting to ‘inspire’ the younger generation to do heaven-knows-what.”

“There was nothing wrong with my grandfather’s wish,” Asha said stiffly, knowing she shouldn’t rise to the bait.  “You were just paranoid.”

“Or maybe I just understood the system better than a teenager who showed up for a job interview and then, within fifteen minutes, decided that she knew better than I did what was best for the people of my kingdom.”

“I was supposed to do nothing, after I learned the truth you’d been hiding from us?” she shot back.

“What truth?  What was I hiding?  That not every wish got granted, that I was the one who made the judgment call about which ones were safe?  You already knew that.  You were just upset because I wouldn’t give you what you wanted.”

“Because I thought you cared, because I thought you would at least be willing to hear me out, but instead you just shut down any debate because you couldn’t stand to have your power challenged or questioned for even a second—”

“Because you thought your apprenticeship would be a fast-track to getting your family’s wishes granted, and when that turned out not to be the case, you threw a giant tantrum—”

“I threw a tantrum?  You crushed my mother’s wish in front of her eyes.  You tried to block the sky so that no one could wish on a star ever again!  Who does that?”

Bernie cleared his throat.  “So, uh…are you gonna see to my cows?”

They both snapped to attention.  Asha felt heat rising into her face.  “Yes.  Of course.  I apologize, Bernie.”  She turned to Magnifico.  “I’m going to undo his restraints now.”  She flicked the wand.  The manacles fell off.

Magnifico rubbed his wrists.  He raised an eyebrow coolly at her and said, with exaggerated sincerity, “I await your command, Queen Asha.”

She took a breath and raised the wand.  “I’m going to temporarily suppress the power of your collar,” she said, “so you can cast a spell on these cows to increase their milk output.  If you try anything funny, there will be consequences.  Is that clear?”  Her voice was low, serious.  She maintained eye contact.  The threat hung between them:  Defy me, attempt to harm anyone, and I pull the memories of your lost loved ones out of your living heart.

He looked away.  “Clear as crystal.”

“Good.”  The tip of the wand glowed.

Magnifico let out a small, gasping breath and touched the collar.  His eyes briefly lost focus.  He looked down at his hands, flexed the fingers and curled them into fists.  His eyes closed briefly as he felt the unobstructed flow of magic through his body once again.  Bernie and the cows watched him curiously.  Asha’s gaze remained fixed on him.  She could not let down her guard for an instant.  Already, she was second-guessing her choice not to bring any knights along on this excursion.

No—if she couldn’t control him with her own power, then she wasn’t strong enough to be queen.  That was what she’d decided.  This was a test for both of them.

Magnifico opened his hands, then clasped them together, his fingers interlaced in a complex and uncomfortable-looking position.  He bowed his head, as though in meditation.  A furrow appeared in his brow, then smoothed out.  A string of unfamiliar syllables rippled from his tongue.  His hands pulled apart, tiny bolts of lightning dancing between his fingers—white lightning, not the sickly green of forbidden magic.  His arms shot straight out in front of him.  He spread his fingers.

There was no dramatic beam of light, just a sort of shimmering ripple in the air, like a mostly invisible wave.

The cows—most of whom had been grazing—mooed, heads jerking up in surprise.  Their udders swelled.  Asha bit the tips of her fingers, remembering the disastrous results when she had attempted this exact spell.  Her pulse raced.

Then the cows lowered their heads and began grazing again.  Asha exhaled.  “It’s done?”

“Yes,” Magnifico said.

“Good.”  Quickly, she pointed the wand at the collar and reactivated the spell that prevented him from doing magic.  The green stone glowed briefly.  She waited for the talking cow to give some comment on what had just transpired, but it seemed she had nothing to say.

Magnifico shook out his hands, cracked his knuckles, and smiled at Bernie.  “Their output should be doubled, at least, for the foreseeable future.”

Bernie grinned.  “Thank you, K—uh, sir.”

Magnifico bowed at the waist.  “My pleasure.  I would do anything for my loyal subjects.  Well, former subjects.”

“Oh, uh…thank you as well, Queen Asha.”

“Of course,” she said.

* * *

Asha and Magnifico sat side by side in the carriage, riding past cottages and farmhouses, toward the city.  Magnifico stared straight ahead.  Asha had expected him to gloat and needle her, but he’d remained silent since the ride began.  Asha kept her grip on the wand, her gaze downcast.

“You did well,” she said.

He made a noncommittal sound.  “As I said, it was a simple spell.  I performed it many times, as king.”

“I didn’t know.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know.”

Asha didn’t respond.

She wasn’t Amaya.  She was young, still; she’d been barely an adult when she took the throne.  She’d been shaking when they placed the crown on her head.  Most of the time, she didn’t even wear it, because its weight was a distraction.  Many of Rosas’ citizens didn’t view her as a real queen.  It showed in little ways, even when they tried to be respectful.  And even after all the terrible things Magnifico had done, toward the end, it remained true that he’d presided over a long age of peace and prosperity and had granted many wishes, improved many people’s lives.  She knew that.

But what could she do?  Amaya herself had said that when a sorcerer embraced forbidden magic, he would always be under its evil influence, his judgment corrupted, his darker desires inflamed.  That line could not be uncrossed.  Magnifico would always be dangerous.  She could not simply set him free.

The carriage’s wheels bumped over rocks and roots in the road.  Asha should probably put his manacles back on, but it didn’t seem strictly necessary.

“I remember the wish-granting ceremonies every month,” Asha said.  “The way people’s eyes would light up when you gave them the thing they’d always dreamed of.  There was a woman who loved the sound of music more than anything, but she’d lost her hearing some years ago.  And you gave it back to her.  A wish doesn’t always have to be some big, grand dream, does it?  It can be something very simple.”

“Yes,” he replied quietly.  “Of course, there were limits to what I could do.  Things I couldn’t fix.”

Asha thought of her father.  Magnifico had remembered him, had spoken of him during their interview, so long ago.  She wanted to believe that Magnifico would have healed him, if it had been within his capabilities.  “You made a lot of people happy,” she said.  “Before…everything.”

“I did, didn’t I?”  He smiled, but it faded quickly.  A strange glint crept into his eyes.  “Yes.  I did.”

The surface beneath the wheels had changed.  The carriage now clattered over cobblestones instead of a dirt road.  Shops and houses glided past outside the window.  The castle loomed in the distance.

Without warning, Magnifico shoved the door of the carriage open and leapt out.

“Hey!” Asha cried.  Then, to the driver:  “Stop, stop!”

The driver yanked on the reins and the two white horses pulled to a halt, whinnying.  Asha gripped the wand and jumped out of the carriage, looking around wildly.  Her heart raced.  She’d done what she swore she wouldn’t.  She had let her guard down.

They were in the marketplace.  People everywhere, milling about, inspecting the wares of various sellers.  Magnifico strode into the middle of the street, arms open, white cape flowing behind him.  “My dear subjects!” his voice boomed out.  “This long dark age is over!  Your true king has returned!”

Asha gritted her teeth.  She started to raise the wand—then stopped.  His body language was confident but not aggressive.  He didn’t seem poised to attack.  She stood, wand aimed at him, tense and waiting, as the crowd stared in shock.  To know that Magnifico had been freed from the mirror was one thing; to see him standing before them was another.  A low murmuring rose from them.  Some of them began to back away.  Fear flashed in their faces.

Magnifico’s smile faltered, just a bit.  “It’s all right,” he said.  “I’m not angry.  What’s past has passed.  Today, we begin afresh.  Things will go back to the way they were—”

Something flew out of the crowd, whistling through the air, and struck his head with enough force to knock it back a little.  The object bounced to the cobblestones.  A rock.  He blinked a few times.  One hand flew to his brow, and his fingers came away glistening with blood.

Asha’s gaze darted to a young boy near the front of the crowd.  He held another, larger chunk of stone in one hand, and he was breathing hard.  “Monster!” the boy shouted.

Magnifico took a step back.  “I—” his face clouded over with confusion.  “Listen.  Things got a little out of control, back then.  I may have made a few…missteps.  But there was a time when you loved me, when you believed in me.  I built a kingdom where wishes come true.  If you can find the courage to believe in me now—”

“Liar!” the boy yelled.

“You stole our wishes,” a woman said, emboldened.

“You lied to us!” a man chimed in.

“I didn’t—I never—”

“You tried to control us!”

“You rotten, scheming thief!  You greedy bastard!”

“Go back to the dungeon where you belong!”

“The dungeon’s too good for ‘im.  He ought to be put down like a rabid dog.”

Magnifico’s breathing quickened.  His face twisted.  His eyes started to glow green.  The collar crackled, and he let out a cry, falling to his knees.

A tomato flew through the air.  He ducked his head, raising one arm, but it splattered onto his silver-embroidered white shirt.  A man advanced toward him, holding a shovel aloft.  Behind him, a woman gripped a butcher’s knife in one hand. 

Asha leapt forward, in front of him.  “Enough!” she shouted, wand raised and shining.  “All of you!  Stop this at once!”

The crowd fell silent.  Breathing hard, Magnifico lowered his arms.  The glow faded from his eyes.

“No one touches him.  He is under my protection.”

The crowd shuffled uneasily.  The man with the shovel piped up:  “With all due respect, Queen Asha—”

“Enough!  He spent eight years as a prisoner,” Asha said.  “He is free, now, only so that he can serve the kingdom of Rosas, and he does so under my command.  Regardless of what he says.  If anyone harms him, they will answer to me.”  She placed a hand on Magnifico’s back and guided him toward the carriage.

He went willingly, gaze downcast.  Tomato juice dripped from his chest.  Blood dripped from the gash on his forehead.  He and Asha slid into the carriage; she closed the door and said softly, “Drive.”  The driver flicked the reins, and the horses broke into a canter.

Magnifico stared at the blood staining his fingertips.  “Opinions on me are…divided, it would seem,” he muttered.

“I’ll have a healer take a look at that cut when we get back to the castle,” Asha said.

He said nothing.

“That rock was pretty big.  And it hit you pretty hard.  Any blurry vision?  Nausea?”

“No.”  His tone was subdued.  He sat slumped over, his face turned away from her.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “They shouldn’t have treated you that way.”

“Why not?  You agree with them, don’t you?  That’s why I’m wearing this.”  He touched the collar.

She ran her fingertips along the fine woodgrain of her wand, watching him through her peripheral vision. 

It struck her, in that moment, how profoundly alone he was.  Everyone he’d ever loved was dead.  Most of his former subjects now despised him.  For nearly a decade, he’d endured isolation and sensory deprivation in a mirror prison, trapped in a black void, looking out at the dungeon through that tiny window, with only the occasional conversation with a guard to break the monotony.  Even if his sense of time had been distorted, even if it hadn’t felt like that long from his perspective, she couldn’t imagine how it had not driven him mad.

She started to reach across the space between them, then stopped.  He didn’t move.  Cautiously, she lay a hand on his back and felt the muscles tense.  Still, he didn’t look at her.

“If you hate me, I can hardly blame you,” she said.  “And this may not be any consolation.  But I want you to know that I don’t hate you.  That’s not why I’m doing all this.”

“Oh?”  His tone was unreadable.

Her hand remained where it was, resting lightly on his back.  “My feelings toward you are…complicated.”

“I don’t particularly care about your feelings toward me,” he said, but his tone was subdued.  He stared out the window.

“Well, I wanted to tell you, anyway.”  She hesitated.  “Magnifico?”

“What.”

He was trembling beneath her hand.  “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

In the forest, she’d once rescued a fawn from an attacking wolf after hearing its cries.  When she’d held the fawn afterward, she’d felt it quivering like this, as if its body would shake apart.  Strange, to think of that now; she’d never met anyone less fawn-like than Magnifico.

“Hey…”  Cautiously, she started to rub his back.  “It’s all right.  You’re safe—”

He flinched away from her touch.  “Don’t,” he whispered.  There was something almost like fear in his voice.  “Do you think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?”

“I’m not trying to do anything.”

“Easier to control me, if I’m dependent on you for comfort as well as everything else.  The sugar cube and the whip is more effective than the whip alone, isn’t it?  I’m not a fool.  I know how subjugation works.”

Slowly, she pulled her hand away.  “I just…”  She drew in a breath.  “I think this arrangement might be easier on both of us if we could be…”

“What?  Friends?”  He laughed stiffly.  “You’re my captor.  I’m your prisoner.  That’s all we can be.”  Still, he wouldn’t look at her.

Her gaze lingered on the collar around his neck, then lowered.  He was right, of course.  Better, to maintain emotional distance.  Better not to let herself dwell on the fact that he was a person—a man grieving his wife, a man who’d once been a role model to her and so many people.  A man she still cared about, in spite of everything.  A lump filled her throat.  She folded her hands in her lap, over her wand.

For the remainder of the ride, neither of them spoke.

Chapter Text

“Okay, just follow the light from side to side.  Good.  Now up and down.  Great.  Now side to side again—”

“I’m beginning to think you just want an excuse to stare into my eyes,” Magnifico said.

“Uh…”  Simon froze, still holding the penlight in one hand, a deer-in-headlights blankness on his face.

“Not that I could blame you, of course.  Even I’m astounded, at times, by how blue they are.”

“I’m just checking your reflexes,” Simon muttered, his face reddening.

Asha stood near the door, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, wand in hand as she watched the examination.

Magnifico sat on a cot in a small, stone room, its shelves lined with medical potions and powders.  Simon stood before him.  He had a small patch of beard on his chin now, but otherwise, his appearance hadn’t changed much in the past eight years.  The trajectory of his life had, though.  After Magnifico was imprisoned, Simon had abandoned his wish to become a knight and had begun studying the healing arts.  He didn’t have the benefit of a wand like Asha’s, but he’d still learned some basic medical magic from Magnifico’s books, enough to set bones or close wounds.

“Count backwards from ten, please,” Simon said, his face still flushed.

Magnifico sighed.  “Ten, nine, se—eight.”  He paused.  “Eight.  Seven.  Sssss…stop fidgeting.  I can’t focus.”

“Sorry.”  Simon stopped fiddling with the penlight and cleared his throat.  “Anyway, you have a mild concussion.”

Magnifico scoffed.  “I was momentarily distracted.”

“Does your head hurt?”

“Of course it hurts.  A rock hit it.”

“Any vertigo?”

“No.”  Magnifico started to stand, wobbled a little, and leaned against the cot.

“I can heal it,” Simon said.  He set the penlight down.  “It will only take a moment.”  His large, soft hands settled gently on either side of Magnifico’s head.  “May I?”

Magnifico tensed and pushed his hands away.  “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Asha said.  In spite of herself, she felt a small flicker of worry.  “Don’t be stubborn.  Just let him treat you.”

“Forgive me if I’m not eager to have an amateur magically tampering with my brain.”

“He’s not an amateur.”

“It’s okay,” Simon said.  “If he’s not comfortable, I won’t force him.  He’ll just have to take it easy for a few days and let it heal naturally.”  With a damp cloth, he dabbed at the cut on Magnifico’s forehead, cleaning away the last of the dried blood.  “It should be fine, but let me know if there are any changes in his condition, and especially if he starts getting confused or agitated.”

Asha sighed.  “Magnifico, if I temporarily suppress the collar’s power, can you heal yourself?”

“People can’t really perform magic on their own brains,” Simon said.  “It’s like trying to see your own eyes without a mirror.”

“And, as I keep saying, I’m perfectly fine.  Do I sound concussed?  Listen to how clearly I'm enunciating.  Now, can we go?”

“In a second.  I’ve got a few questions I need to ask first,” Simon said.  When Magnifico arched an eyebrow, he added, “I ask these of all my patients.  It’s part of the Healer’s Code.” 

“Ask, then.”

Simon glanced in Asha’s direction.  “No offense, Asha, but it might be better if you waited out in the hall.  Just for a minute.”

She hesitated.  Even if he couldn’t do magic, Magnifico might still decide to try something sneaky if she left him unsupervised.  “Why?”

“The questions are a bit personal.”

“What, like…guy questions?”

“No.”

“She can stay,” Magnifico said, flicking a hand dismissively.  “It doesn’t matter.  Get on with it.”

“Okay,” Simon said.  He took a breath.  “Have you been experiencing any feelings of despair or worthlessness lately?”

Magnifico stared at him flatly.  “You’re joking.”

“No.”

“Then no.”  Still leaning against the cot, Magnifico ran a hand over his silver hair, a quick, restless movement.  “I know my own worth.”  He added in a mutter, “Even if the rest of the kingdom fails to recognize it.”

“Okay," Simon said.  "Any thoughts about, um...death?  Have you found yourself wishing that you could go to sleep and never wake up?”

Magnifico huffed.  "Why would I..."  His hand strayed to his hair again, which seemed to be a nervous tic of his.  “What is the meaning of this?”

“Healers are supposed to treat the mind as well as the body.  And you’ve had an intense couple of days.”

“My mind does not require treatment, thank you.  And even if it did, being asked such questions by one of the traitors who usurped my throne is rather ironic.  Don’t you think?”

Simon tensed.  “I never betrayed you.  In fact, I kept helping you even when I shouldn’t have.  Asha's the one I betrayed.  But she forgave me.”

“Oh, really?  I granted your wish—your wish to be my most powerful and loyal knight—"

"You put a spell on him!" Asha snapped.

"—and yet after I was defeated, Simon, you were content to forget me.  You left me alone in that mirror for eight years.  I saw the depth of passion in your wish.  I thought that you, among all of them, might have some guilt over what you did to me.  Yet you didn’t even bother to tell me that Amaya had died.  And now, you have the gall to talk to me about despair?”  Magnifico opened his mouth, as though to say more...then stopped and strode toward the door, cape flowing behind him.

“Hey—” Asha reached out.

He brushed past her, ignoring her completely, and kept walking.

Simon stared at the floor.  “I made him upset, didn’t I?”

“It’s not your fault,” Asha said.  Quickly, she followed Magnifico out of the small room and down the stone hall of the castle.

He walked briskly, gaze fixed straight ahead. 

“Wait,” Asha said, gripping her wand.

He stopped walking, turned to face her.  “I’ve completed the task you demanded of me.  I’ll be returning to my cell in the dungeon now.  Unless you require something else, my queen?”

She ignored the mockery in his tone.  “I’ve been thinking about that, actually.  I don’t think it’s necessary for you to stay in the dungeon.”

He blinked.  A small furrow appeared between his thick, dark brows.  “Where, then?  Somehow, I don’t think I’ll be getting my old bedroom back.”

“Well, no, I don’t think that would be fitting.”  Though that room had been vacant for years.  Sleeping in Amaya’s old bed—the one she’d once shared with Magnifico—would have felt too weird.  Asha slept in one of the guest rooms, which was still twice as big as the bedroom she’d had at her old house.  “But there are plenty of spare bedrooms.  You could take the one next to mine.  The door would remain locked and guarded, of course, but it would be more comfortable than a bare stone cell.”

He studied her face for a moment, then looked away.  “Why?” he asked quietly.

“You’ve been cooperating.  I think you’ve earned a few privileges.”  At his silence, she said, “I mean, if you want to go back to the dungeon—”

“No.  Eight years is long enough.”  His hand drifted to his collar.  His fingertips trailed over its dull metal surface, traced the semi-translucent, oval-shaped green stone at his throat.  His gaze lost focus.  “I have wondered.  If I attempted to end my life, would the collar stop me?”  His tone was casual, as though it were merely a matter of intellectual curiosity.

She hesitated.  “It would, yes.  That’s part of the spell.  It would react the same way it does when you attempt magic.”

“So it can sense my intentions.  This is a rather sophisticated piece of equipment.”

“It took months to develop.”

“You’ve been planning this for a while.”  His finger continued to idly stroke the stone.  “Makes sense, though.  If you need my power, you can’t have me throwing my own life away.”  He smiled, though a shadow had slipped across his eyes.  “So, whether or not I want to die is a moot point.”

“Simon was just trying to do his job.  It’s nothing personal.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not.”  He turned away and resumed his stride down the hall, toward the stairs.  He paused at the base of the staircase, gripping the railing.  His breathing had grown subtly heavier.

“Are you—?”

“Give me a moment,” he muttered.  Though he was trying to hide it, his head was obviously still bothering him.  After a few seconds, he started to climb the steps.

She followed, staring at his broad back as he ascended.  All of the guest rooms were on the second floor.  Once they reached the top, she cleared her throat.  “Magnifico.  That spell you performed, earlier, at the dairy farm, could you—” she stopped, rephrased:  “I want you to teach me.”

He stopped, looking over his shoulder, eyes narrowed slightly.

“I was watching your hands,” she said.  “But I can’t remember their exact position, now.  And the words you spoke…I didn't recognize them from any of your books.”

He faced her.  “Even if I showed you, there is no guarantee the spell would perform the same way for you.  That's one thing you should know about sorcery.  It's not just about arranging your hands into the right position and speaking the proper syllables.  It’s a mindset.  I spent years meditating, training my body and thoughts, before I began practicing magic in earnest.  To cast a spell and have it land, you have to mean it.”

“Like a wish.”

“Just so.  To focus your mind into a chisel that can sculpt the world, mold it into the shape you desire.  Like you did, when you summoned that damned star."  He added in a mutter, "Still haven’t figured out how you managed that.”

“Honestly, I still don’t know either.  Beginner’s luck, maybe.”

“No such thing.”  He smiled tightly.  “It cost me much to gain these powers.  But a simple spell like the one I worked today—yes, I suppose I could teach you that much.”

“Thank you.”

“I haven’t agreed to teach you.  I’m just saying I could.  If I were so inclined.”

She could threaten him again.  She could remind him of what she had the power to take away.  But she’d said herself that this arrangement would be easier, more sustainable, if they could become…not friends, exactly.  She knew that wasn’t possible.  But so long as he wasn’t a threat, they could have a relationship based on cooperation and mutual benefit rather than fear and pain. 

“If you agree to teach me, perhaps I could bring you some books from your study,” she said.  “Nothing dangerous, of course.  Not that you could do anything dangerous, in your current state.  Just things to occupy your mind.”  After being trapped and idle for so long, he probably craved intellectual stimulation.

He leaned against the wall, as though considering—or perhaps fighting off another wave of dizziness—then said, “We'll see.”

She followed him down another hallway lit by the ever-present, flickering green torches.  “Fair enough.  We can talk more tomorrow.  Tonight, you should rest.  Healer's orders.  Ah...here.  You can stay in this room.”  She pointed.

He stopped outside the door.  His hand rested on the knob.  “Are all these rooms unoccupied?  Doesn't your family stay in the castle?”

“My…”  She dropped her gaze.  “My mother and grandfather have both passed on, now.  The plague took them.”

His fingers tightened slightly on the knob, but still didn’t turn it.  His expression had gone blank, unreadable.  “You have no family left, then.”

“No.  But I’m still luckier than many,” she added quickly.  “Most residents of Rosas lost loved ones during that time, and I’ve had many friends to help support and guide me.” 

She wondered if Magnifico had had anyone to turn to after the loss of his own family, so long ago.

Magnifico didn’t reply; instead, he opened the door, revealing a spacious but (by royal standards) modest bedroom with a blue carpet and blue sheets on the bed.  A narrow, arched window let in a thin beam of fading sunlight.  He contemplated the room.  “It will do.” 

“There's an adjoining bathroom with running water, and some spare clothes in the dresser.  I’ll bring your books to you soon, along with your dinner.”  She slipped out of the bedroom, shut the door, and locked it.  She walked down the hallway toward her own room.

“Asha,” a familiar, deep voice called, and she heard the clip-clop of small hooves on stone.  She turned to see Valentino trotting toward her.  He stopped, glanced at the door, and said, “How did it go?”

“He successfully worked a spell on the cows.  Most of the citizens were not happy to see him, though.”

“I should think not.”  Val huffed.  “He’s in there, now?”

“Yes.  He’s been on good behavior, relatively speaking, so he’s graduated from a cell to a proper room.”

“Do not forget who he is,” Val said quietly.  “What he is capable of.”

“Oh, I haven’t.  I mean, it's not like he has the run of the castle.  And I intend to remain close.  Just in case.”  At Val’s silence, she said, “You don’t approve.”

“The dungeon is more secure.  Even with the collar, he’s far too dangerous.  And too clever.”

“Careful.  He may overhear you and take it as a compliment.”  She smiled, though it faded quickly.  “I’m aware of the danger.  Believe me.  He’s…had a bit of a rough day, though.”

Val sighed.  “I was afraid of this."

"What?"

"You’re getting attached.”

She tensed, opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it.  Her face burned.  “Before, you seemed worried about how far I was willing to go to control him.  Now you think I’m being too soft?  Which is it?”

“Either.  Both.  This entire situation worries me.”  Val sat on his haunches, ears swiveling toward her.  “Your empathy is an admirable trait.  You see the humanity in him, as Amaya once did.  But those feelings can cloud a person’s judgment.  She stayed by his side, trying desperately to see the good that remained in him, even as he slipped into darkness.  I fear you may make the same mistake.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

“Honestly,” Val said.  “If it were up to me, I would have left him in that mirror.”

She lowered her voice.  “We need his power.”

“It comes with a price.”

She glanced in the direction of Magnifico’s door.  “My first priority is the safety of Rosas’ people.  Always.  For now, just notify the guards and tell them where he’s staying.  If he gives me any reason to believe he would threaten our safety again…then I will return him to his prison.” 

After a moment, Val nodded.  He rose and trotted away.

Was he right?  She knew that this was risky.  She'd known from the beginning.  And yet the idea of returning the former king to that tiny prison made her shudder.  After all, Magnifico, too, was one of Rosas’ people.  And she was their leader.  His well-being was her responsibility.

* * *

As Asha waited for a servant to bring her dinner, she studied a book of spells in her room, reading by the waning daylight from the window.

Once he was up to it, she decided, she would bring Magnifico out to have a look at the olive trees, which had been sickly since last season, producing less than a third of the fruit they’d once yielded.  The grapes, too, were struggling.  And there were other problems that needed attention—social and political tension, family disputes, forest animals displeased with loggers, trade agreements, defensive spells surrounding the island kingdom which she’d only been hazily aware of before she took the throne but which were essential for protecting Rosas from pirates and foreign invaders.  The list went on and on.

When she’d been younger, it had been easy to see Magnifico as a man who simply sat around in his castle all day and hoarded wishes.  But the work involved in running a kingdom was endless.  He’d delegated some of it to Amaya and his advisors, of course, but so much of the work involved spellcasting that only Magnifico himself would have been able to manage.  She reminded herself that he’d ensured the kingdom’s dependence on him by outlawing sorcery.  But now that she’d actually been practicing magic for a while, she could understand his rationale behind that too, even if she didn’t agree with it.  One misplaced word or gesture, in a complex spell, could result in disaster.

There was a knock at her door, and she answered. 

“Dinner, Queen Asha,” said the gangly kitchen boy.  A cart stood in front of him, two covered silver trays atop it.  “And the books you requested.  From Magnifico’s study.  Shall I deliver them?”  He cast a nervous glance in the direction of Magnifico’s room.

“Just leave them here, please.  Thank you.”

Once the servant had left, she pushed the cart down the hallway herself.  Two knights stood guard outside Magnifico’s room.  Motionless in their gleaming armor, they may as well have been statues.  Asha knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Magnifico called.

When she opened the door, he was standing before the full-length mirror on the wall, examining his own reflection.  There was still a red stain on his shoulder, marring his immaculate white and blue shirt where the tomato had struck him.  He brushed at it with his fingers.

She pushed the cart inside and, with a flick of her wand, closed the door behind her, giving them privacy.  “I thought we could eat together,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

She set the trays on the polished, imported oak table and removed their covers, revealing that night's meal:  grilled cod in broth, with a side of rather puny roasted tomatoes.  There were two mugs of dark herbal tea, as well, though they weren’t steaming.  “I drink it warm,” she said.  “But you prefer your tea hot, right?” she said.  She pointed her wand at one mug, and the wand's tip glowed.  A few seconds later, steam was rising from the tea's dark surface.

He approached and sat down at the table.  She sat across from him.  A candle sat unlit between them.  With a small gesture of her wand, the flame sprang to life.  She lifted a forkful of fish to her lips, blew on it lightly, and tasted it.  “Fish is the only type of meat I eat now,” she said.  “Since some of the animals started talking, it feels a little weird to—you know.  Consume their flesh.”

“I can see how that might be awkward.”

“I’ve never met a talking fish, though.  And we can’t afford to be too picky.  Given the circumstances.”  She gave a small, strained chuckle and ate another bite. 

“Magic introduces a lot of ethical complications, doesn’t it?  It changes everything.”

“Yes.  Yes, it does.”

Magnifico picked up his fork and ate a small bite.  “Your friend, Dahlia…she’s still baking?”

“Yes.  She’s our head chef now, actually.  And a trusted advisor as well.”

He sipped his tea, then ate another bite of the seasoned cod.  “Give her my compliments.”

“I will.”

For a few minutes, they ate together in silence.  The candle fluttered softly between them.  She found herself stealing glances at his face, trying to read his expression, wondering what was going on in his head.  Val’s warning echoed in her mind.  Her wand rested on the table, next to her fork, where she could easily reach it if needed.  But she kept thinking about the carriage ride, about Magnifico slumped over, trembling.  The adoration of his people meant everything to him.  To face their hatred, after devoting so much of his life to the protection of Rosas...

She gave her head a small shake.  Was she already forgetting about everything he'd done?  About the fact that he'd imprisoned Star, had tried to hunt down Asha like an animal, had crushed her mother's wish in his bare hand?

Once Magnifico had finished eating, he pushed his plate aside.  “Give me your hands,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“You asked me to teach you the spell.”

“Oh.  Right.  Yes.”

Magnifico held his hands out.  His palms were broad, his fingers blunt and strong, marred with tiny, faded scars.  Though clean and well-tended, in some ways they resembled the hands of a peasant, of a man accustomed to working the fields.  She knew little of Magnifico’s past, but she knew that he had not been born a prince or even a noble, and an early life of toil had left its marks on his body.  She placed her own hands in his.  His fingers closed around hers.  Her pulse quickened.

Carefully, he folded her fingers into a position she wouldn’t have thought them capable of bending into.  “Like this.  Keep your ring fingers extended, straight, and pressed together.  Thumbs tucked in, pinkie fingers down.”

“I…don’t feel like I’m doing this right.”

“It takes practice.  The more you use your hands, the stronger and more flexible they become.  But eventually, if you work at it, you won’t need that wand.  Your own body will be enough.”  His hands lingered on hers.  His fingertips were warm, calloused yet smooth.  “Now, repeat after me—” a slippery string of syllables rippled from his tongue.

She repeated it, knowing she was getting it wrong.

He shook his head and said it again, slower.  Several times, she echoed it back to him, trying to shape each syllable, though her lips and tongue didn’t want to cooperate, until he nodded and said, “You’ll get there.” 

His tone was warm and encouraging, the same tone he’d used during her first conversation with him, when she’d arrived at the castle hoping to become his apprentice.  And for a moment, she could almost pretend that the past eight years had never happened, that they were back where they had begun.  “What language is that?” she asked.

“Sumerian,” he said.  “The older the language, the more power it has.”

His hands remained where they were, folded gently around hers, and she felt heat rising up her neck, into her face.

He released her hands and leaned back.  She kept her gaze downcast.  “I would like to keep practicing,” she said.  “Perhaps we could devote an hour or two each evening to this sort of thing."  She flexed her fingers.  "And you can teach me some exercises to do on my own, in my spare time, to strengthen my hands?  Maybe the reason the wand doesn’t always do my bidding is that it was never meant to be permanent.  I can learn much faster, now that you’re here.”  Her gaze lingered on his hands, on a thin white line running across his tanned knuckles.  It was faint enough that she’d never noticed it, until now.  She frowned.  “That scar…”

“Do you find me handsome, Asha?”

Her eyes snapped to his.  “Excuse me?”  Her voice emerged a little strangled.

“It’s a straightforward question.  I mean, the candlelit dinner, the mood—if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

Her mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds.  “I most certainly am not.  The very idea—” 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Was this some new mind-game?  Was he trying to get her off balance, off guard?  Or just testing the leash, maybe, seeing how much mischief he could get away with?  She didn’t believe for a moment that he actually wanted her in that way.  Amaya was the one he wanted.  She’d seen as much in his wish. 

“You’re blushing,” he said.

“You’re seeing things.  You really ought to have let Simon heal that addled brain of yours.”

“That hardened, ruthless act of yours really is paper thin.  Or perhaps my charms are just that potent.”

She groaned.  "Do you hear yourself?"

He smirked.

This man…

He was a prisoner in the castle he had once ruled.  He was grieving for the one person who, arguably, had still loved him.  He had endured torture and been attacked by a mob.  She knew he must be desperately treading water to keep from sinking into an ocean of hopelessness.  And still, he flirted and teased.  Still, he clung to his pride.  He hadn't changed out of his resplendent royal outfit, despite the tomato juice stain.

She sipped a spoonful of broth from the bottom of her shallow bowl.  A few fish bones remained, floating.  “If I said you weren’t handsome,” she said, keeping her own voice carefully neutral, “that would be a lie.”

“Oh?”

“I'm not flirting with you.  All right?  I’m just acknowledging a fact.  Though I probably shouldn't.  You need a sign hanging around your neck that says 'Don't feed the ego.'  You make Narcissus look demure and humble.”

“Okay, but since we're talking about it, what trait of mine do you find most appealing?  Physically speaking.”

She sighed tensely.  “Does it matter?  You said it yourself.  We’re prisoner and captor.  Even if I were inclined to see you that way, which I’m not, I would have to be an absolute monster to attempt to seduce you under these conditions.”

“True.”

“So what’s your goal, here, exactly?”

“No goal.  Just curious.”  He shrugged.  “I’ve been told that vanity is one of my vices.  Though I don’t think of it as vanity so much as a healthy appreciation of my own good qualities.  You must have seen something in me you admired, once.  You did want to work for me, after all.”

"Well, yeah, but that wasn't about your looks."

"Well, sure, not entirely.  I have many good qualities."

Her wand still rested on the table.  She touched it absently.  Even if he tried to grab it, it wouldn’t work for him.  It responded only to her.  Of course, he could still attempt to break it.  “You know, before we brought you back from the mirror, I spent a lot of time thinking about that first conversation between us.  Playing it out in my head over and over, wondering how it could have gone differently.”

His teasing smile faded.

“I shouldn’t have been so quick to accuse you of wrongdoing,” she said.  “I should have spent more time talking to you, asking questions, trying to understand.  I could see how much it meant to you, protecting the wishes.  And after everything you told me, about—about your family, and what you lost—I should have given you the benefit of the doubt, at least.”

“Well, glad you realize that.  Not that it changes much, at this point.”

She waited.  At his silence, she said, “Anything you want to say?”

“What?  You want me to apologize for not granting your grandfather’s wish?  Are you still hung up on that?”

“It’s not that,” she said, trying to keep the annoyance from her tone.  “I know you had your reasons for that, even if I didn’t agree with them.  Just…anything you might do differently, if you could do that whole conversation over?”

He sighed, shoulders sagging.  His fork scraped lightly along the edge of the bowl.  His gaze wandered to the narrow window.  “I was…quick to anger,” he muttered.  “I should have been more patient with you.  You were scarcely more than a child.  And you were thinking about your family, which is only natural.  Your grandfather was getting old, running out of time to have his wish fulfilled.  I understood your impatience.  I still resented it.”  He gave a small smile.  “Amaya was always telling me that I needed to work on my ability to accept criticism.  It was true.  I didn’t like being challenged.  And I could be...paranoid, at times."  The fork kept scraping lightly back and forth across the bowl.  With his other hand, he plucked a tiny bone from the broth and toyed with it.  He pressed the sharp tip into the pad of his thumb, almost hard enough to draw blood.  "When I was young, when the invaders came to our land, I—I didn’t see the danger at first.  I treated them as guests.  I invited those men into our home, and they—” he fell silent.  His fingers tightened on the fork until the skin around his nails whitened.

He dropped the fish bone.  A drop of blood fell into the broth, spreading through it in a tiny red cloud.

Between them, the candle danced, a tiny light.

“You looked so happy, when you were with them," Asha asked softly. 

He turned his face away.

“Your first wife.  Your daughter.  I saw them, when I…”  She touched her own chest, remembering the glistening blue sphere.  “You were so young.”

He stared at the drop of fresh blood welling from his thumb, then squeezed his hand into a fist.  “When Li and I married, we weren’t much older than you were, when you came to me for that interview.  In my homeland, it wasn't uncommon for people to marry young.  We had our first child soon after.”

"What was her name?"

"Rosas."

Of course.  Of course he had named the kingdom after his lost daughter.

Had he watched her die?  Had his wife and child been killed in front of his eyes?

She started to reach out, hesitated, remembering the way he’d flinched away from her in the carriage, and then lay her hand on top of his.  He twitched.  But this time, he didn’t pull away.

“I’m truly sorry,” she said softly, “for everything you’ve endured.”

“Sorry enough to remove this collar?”

She pressed her lips together, eyes downcast. 

“No?  I didn’t think so.”  He gave her a slight smile and pulled his hand away.  “It’s all right.  I understand, believe me.  In your shoes, I wouldn’t trust me either.”

Her chest ached.  What could she say?  "I, um.  I'll let you get some rest."  She stood, tucked her wand under one arm, picked up his empty plate and set it atop hers.  She stacked the dirty dishes atop the cart, lifted the pile of books from his study and set it on the table.  “Here they are, as promised.”  He barely glanced at them.  “I’ll return tomorrow.”

He nodded once in response.

She started to turn, then paused.  “Your smile,” she said.

“What?”

“You asked me, before, what I considered your most appealing trait.”  Suddenly, she couldn’t look directly at him.  “I like your smile.”  Without waiting for a response, she pushed the cart of dirty dishes out of the room and quietly shut the door.

Chapter Text

Asha slept shallowly, fitfully.  Her dreams were a jumbled mass of fears and memories:  Rosas in ruins, its people gone, leaving only a husk of the once-thriving kingdom.  Her mother’s last, pained, gasping breaths.  Amaya shivering and sweating as the same disease ate away at her lungs.  Before slipping into unconsciousness for the last time, she’d whispered, barely audible:  “Mi Rey…Mi Rey, I’m sorry.”

The dream shifted to another memory.  Asha sat in the candlelit castle library with Dahlia, both of them exhausted from sifting through endless mountains of dusty scrolls and tomes, their eyes dry and sore.  “I’m still amazed you can read these ancient languages at all,” Asha said.  “I’ve barely learned their alphabets.”

Dahlia muffled a yawn against one hand.  “Reading and understanding are two different things.  So much of it doesn’t translate well.”  She bit into a ruby-red apple, chewing thoughtfully.  Her brow furrowed.  “Before, when Queen Amaya and I were reading through this together, we found this paragraph—” she pointed—“saying that when someone embraces forbidden magic even once, they belong to it forever.  At the time, we interpreted it as saying that the person is just gone, like they lose their free will when the magic possesses them.  But what if it’s something more ambiguous than that?  Like, what does it mean to ‘belong’ to the magic, exactly?”

Asha raised her eyebrows.  “You’re saying you think there’s hope for Magnifico?”

“I don’t know."  She took another bite, chewed and swallowed.  "But the more I think about it, the more it just doesn’t sit well with me, writing someone off as hopeless because of a passage in an old book.  Like, sure, maybe if someone crosses that line, the forbidden magic will always call to them.  Maybe the urge is always there.  Like addiction, you know?  But that doesn’t mean they lose all their agency.”

“He wasn’t a good person even before the magic took him,” Asha muttered.  “He just had us all fooled.”

“Amaya wanted to save him,” Dahlia reminded her.  “She must have seen something worth saving.”

“If we let him out of that mirror, you know what will happen.”

“I’m not suggesting that.  Too dangerous.  This is all just hypothetical.”

Asha touched the edge of the book, turned a page.  The centuries-old paper didn't feel exactly like paper; it had a silky texture, almost like cloth.  The letters pressed into it had their own texture, slight indentations in the surface.  An idea sparked.  Her tongue crept out, wetting her lips.  “Even if the hold of forbidden magic can’t be broken…what if there was some way to control it?  To keep it in check?  Some kind of…I don’t know.  Like a power limiter?  Does that exist?  Or a medicine.  Maybe a potion that dampens the effects.  There might be a recipe in one of these books, for all we know.”

“Now you’re thinking like a baker,” Dahlia said.

“Or a sorcerer,” Asha said.

“Same concept.  Different mediums.”  Dahlia smiled.  "Hmm.  Now that you mention it...it's not a potion, more like a type of...device, I guess?  It may just be a legend or a rumor.  But I seem to remember seeing a mention of something like that in one of the books.  At the time, I didn't pay much attention, because it was too vague to be useful.  But it's worth looking into, at least.  Just imagine if we could bring him back, but under our control."

"Oh, he would hate that."

Dahlia chuckled.  "It's probably not possible.  But we'll keep looking."

After a few seconds, she offered Asha the apple.  Asha took a bite.  The juice burst sweetly on her tongue.

The dream shifted again, and she was a child, sitting next to her father on the bough of the great tree, staring up at the night sky.  “The funny thing about stars,” he said, “at least according to some theories, is that they’re so far away and their light takes so long to reach us, some of the stars we see in the sky aren’t even there anymore.  They’ve already winked out."

"Really?"

"And yet, even though they’re gone, their light can still guide us.  We can still navigate by them.”

“So…they’re like ghosts.  Spoooky.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”  He laughed.  “I prefer to think of them as living spirits.  We’re all made of the same substance as those stars, after all.  It’s why, when I’m troubled or confused, I ask the stars what I should do.”

She gazed at the distant, winking points of light, wondered how many of them were already gone.  “But what if they can’t hear you?  What if there’s no one there, and we’re just talking to ourselves?”

“Someone definitely hears.”

“Who?”

He smiled and lay a hand gently atop her head.  “You.”

* * *

A fist pounded on the door, jolting her awake.  Asha’s body reacted before her mind even had time to process what was happening; she sat bolt upright, throwing the covers aside, and grabbed the wand from her bedside table.  It was never far from her hand.

“Queen Asha,” a man’s voice—one of the knights—called out from the other side of the door, low and urgent.  “Something is wrong with the prisoner.”

She was still half-awake, still wondering if this was another dream, but she sprang out of bed.  The stone floor was cold beneath her soles.  “I’m coming.”  No time to change out of her pajamas.  She didn’t even bother with shoes.  She hurried barefoot across the bedroom and flung open her door.

The knight had removed his helmet, exposing a deeply lined face with a graying black beard and a scar running across his left eye.  Dolf—that was his name.  He had served as a knight since Magnifico’s reign.  “He’s acting strangely,” Dolf said.  “Aggressively.  He seems delirious.  The door is locked, but I fear he may break out.”

“Where is your partner?”

“I sent him to fetch reinforcements.  In case we have to fight.”  His tone was grim.

“Magnifico can’t hurt anyone.  He can’t use magic.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.  I keep seeing flickers of that ghastly green light.”

She took a breath, mind spinning.  “I need to see him.”

“I don’t think that’s wise.  I woke you in case we need to evacuate the castle.  We knights will deal with—Queen Asha, wait.”

But she was already running toward the bedroom.  As she approached Magnifico’s door, she heard a muffled moan, then a loud crash, as though something heavy had been thrown at the wall.  Green light flickered in the narrow space between the door and floor.

She pressed an ear to the door.  He groaned.  He sounded like he was in pain.  “Magnifico!”  She pounded a fist on the door.  “Magnifico, what’s wrong?”

Another groan was the only response.

Dolf hovered behind her.  One armored hand came down on her shoulder, gripping.  “Stay back,” he muttered.

She bit her lower lip.  “Has he spoken to you?”

“We’ve tried questioning him through the door.  He doesn’t respond.”

Magnifico was muttering words, now.  Asha couldn’t make them all out—some of them seemed to be in another language—but she caught one word, repeated over and over—Amaya.

“I’m going in,” Asha said, wand raised.

"My queen.  You mustn't."

“He sounds like he’s in pain.  He hasn’t threatened anyone, has he?”

An animal roar from Magnifico nearly drowned out her last two words.  The door shuddered, vibrated, and green light flickered beneath it.  She flinched back.  Magnifico let out a strangled cry of pain, and more green light flashed as the collar activated.  “I’ll kill you!” he screamed.  “I’ll kill you all!”

Asha gulped. 

“You were saying?” Dolf said, a hint of wryness in his tone.

“Is he—is he talking to us?” Asha whispered, breathless.

“I don’t think so.  It's some fever dream.  Phantoms in his head.  Nevertheless, in his current state, he's likely to attack anyone who sets foot in that room.”

She braced herself.  She raised her wand, the tip glowing.  “If he attacks me, I can subdue him with magic.  This is why Dahlia and I created the collar.  We don’t need to risk anyone else’s safety.”  She placed a hand on the door.

“Asha, we knights exist to protect you.  You are our ruler.  If you die now, it will throw the kingdom into chaos.”

“Then I won’t die.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Forgive my disrespect.  I know you feel a sense of responsibility to this man, but to confront him now would not be brave.  It would be reckless and foolish.”

She knew he was right.  And yet…

Her fingertips lightly touched the doorknob, then withdrew.  Had she caused this, somehow?  Maybe she shouldn’t have given Magnifico those books.  Maybe he’d done something to himself; maybe he’d attempted magic and this was the result.  Yet she’d carefully selected ones that didn’t contain actual spells. 

Another roar.  Another crash.

Was it the concussion?  Had it worsened somehow?  Or…maybe this was just the natural progression of what forbidden magic did to a person’s mind.  Like a disease, eating away at his sanity.  Trapped in the mirror, he had been unable to use magic, in a state of suspended animation almost, so that progression had been temporarily halted.  Now, the darkness was consuming him once again.  Except...no, that didn’t feel right either.  This had come on so suddenly.  Something must have triggered it—some emotional turmoil within him.  Like a teakettle which heated slowly, steam and pressure building within until, all at once, it reached a boiling point.

The roars died down to moans again, then to small, pained sounds.  Almost whimpers.  It was surreal to hear Magnifico whimpering, like a wounded animal.  The sounds faded into silence.  Then came a hoarse, weak cry:  “Amaya.  Amaya, help me.”

Asha had never heard him sound so frightened.  So desperate.  Like a man on the verge of drowning, as though he were frantically treading water to stay afloat, calling out to anyone who might be near, without much hope that anyone would answer.  It could be a trick, a way to get them to lower their guard and unlock the door.  But she didn’t believe that.  The emotion in his voice was too real.  Or maybe he's just a good actor.

“Amaya.  Where are you?  It hurts.  It hurts.”

Asha gritted her teeth.  That did it.  She couldn't just stand here and ignore this.  “I’ll lock the door behind me.  Guard it.” 

Dolf gripped her arm.  “Don’t.”

“Let me go.”  When he didn’t, she said softly, “That’s an order from your queen.”

Reluctantly, he released her arm.  With a resigned expression, he drew his sword.

She pointed her wand at the lock.  A point of light shot from the wand’s tip.  The door sprang open.  She quickly slipped into the room, shut the door, and locked it behind her with another flick of her wand so that Magnifico couldn't burst out into the hallway.  Her heart pounded.

The room was dark, save for the faint moonlight from the window.  She stood there in her pajamas, back pressed against the door, feeling as though she’d just jumped into a cage with a hungry tiger. 

Magnifico was on the floor, on his hands and knees, head bowed.  He drew in a rasping, heavy breath.  He rose, arms hanging limp at his sides.  The movement was strange, unnaturally fluid—like he was a puppet pulled up by a single string attached to his back.  He turned and staggered across the shadowy room, away from her.  He didn’t even seem conscious of her presence.  He bumped into the table, roared, kicked a chair aside, and spun toward Asha…though even then, he didn’t seem to see her.  His eyes glowed a terrible, brilliant green.  Green lightning crackled around the collar and over his body.  He panted, growled, clutched his head and shook it as though angry hornets swarmed inside.  When he covered his face with his hands, the emerald light from his eyes leaked between his fingers. 

Asha opened her mouth.  At first, nothing emerged save a faint squeak.  She tried again.  “Magnifico.”

He didn’t react. 

“Magnifico.  Can you hear me?”

He lurched, turned away from her, and swept an arm out, knocking a stack of books off the table.

Her fingers remained locked around her wand.  She reminded herself that as frightening as he was in this state, she was the one with the power here.  She could do magic.  Magnifico could not.  Or…was that true?  Could she be sure?

He paced the room, a caged beast.  His eyes were luminous rings, bright as lanterns.

Think.  Think, think.

The collar had been based on designs that she and Dahlia had found in ancient books.  It had worked so far, but what if its power was wearing off?  That wasn’t supposed to happen, but it wasn’t inconceivable that they’d done something wrong.  And of course, even with his magic restrained, Magnifico was a strong man.  The collar prevented deliberate attacks against both himself and other people.  But his mind was in chaos right now.  If he threw something at her not knowing she was there, if she didn’t react fast enough, he could hurt her.

Magnifico stopped, panting.  He looked around the room with a dazed expression, his brilliant eyes blinking.  “Li,” he said hoarsely.  “Li, Rosas.  Hide.  I’ll protect you.”

“Magnifico,” she said, raising her voice.  She took a shaky step forward.  “You’re not there right now.  This is a memory.”

He spun to face Asha.  She flinched back.  He raised a hand, green light gathering in his palm.  The collar’s stone shone and pulsed.  Lightning crackled around it.  He convulsed, cried out and fell to his knees, then lurched to his feet again, hair hanging in his face, mouth contorted in a snarl.  Those demon’s eyes glared at her.

Her gaze connected with his, and she felt an almost physical jolt.  He went still.  He saw her, now.  Silence hung between them.

Asha pressed her back to the door, nauseous.  Her hand trembled as she raised her wand.  “Magnifico,” she said softly, keeping her voice as calm as she could, “do you know who I am?”

“You..."  His voice was the creaking whisper of an undead thing.  In the darkness, she couldn't see his expression.  Just those shining circles.  "You killed her.”  He took a step toward her.  "It was you."

She fumbled, grasping for the doorknob, and gripped it.  "No, I..."

"You killed my wife."

“I didn’t kill Amaya.”  Tears stung her eyes.  “I loved her, too.  I would have traded my life for hers, if I could.  She was...she was better than me.”

“No.  No.  You—” he clutched his head.  His expression contorted, then focused—“you took—everything—from me.”  His voice cracked.  “Rosas…my people…Amaya…”  His fingers dug into his hair.  His other hand reached out, grasping at the air.  “I lost—everything—again.” 

A tear escaped her eye and slipped down her cheek.  She lowered her wand.

He shuddered, swayed.  She half-expected him to lunge at her.  Instead, he sank to his knees, as though the invisible string holding him up had been cut.  He remained there, head bowed, breathing raspily into the darkness.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words hit a wall in her throat.  She didn't even know what to say.

“If there was any kindness in your heart,” he said, his tone almost normal, “you would execute me and be done with it.  Let me join the ones I love.  Instead you keep me alive as your pet, as your toy.  And now—” he gasped, gripped his chest, as though struck by an arrow.  A wobbly, hysterical laugh escaped his throat.  His head lifted, the thin rings of his irises still filled with green fire.  “Now that you’ve seen me like this, you’ll be too frightened even to use me.  You’ll lock me back in that empty void, behind the glass, with nothing but my memories.  You’ll cast me back into hell.”  He remained motionless, kneeling.  “Fine.  Do it.  I can’t stop you.  It doesn’t matter.”  His head lowered.  “Nothing matters, without her.”

Asha held still for several seconds, breathing shallowly.  Then, slowly, she crouched down and set her wand on the floor.  “I won’t put you back in the mirror,” she said.  Her voice wanted to tremble, but she kept it as low and calm as she could.  “I swear.”

Trembling fingers lifted to his temple.  His breathing sped.  “Go."  He sounded frightened, now.  "Just go.” 

“What’s happening to you?  What’s hurting you?  Talk to me.”

“I don’t—I don’t know.”  His voice was rising in pitch, almost panicky.  “My head, it’s throbbing.  I can’t think.  It’s—” he gulped, raising his brilliant green eyes to hers.  They seemed to stare through her, into another world.  “The magic.  There’s no going back.  It will destroy whatever is left of me.  And Rosas, along with me.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Please…just kill me.  Use your wand.  Stop my heart.  Before it’s too late.”

“I would never kill one of my own people.”

“Do you think your refusal is a mercy?”  His voice broke.

She knelt, inched forward.  Slowly, she reached out, touched his cheek, felt the prickle of his beard against her palm, the wetness of tears.  He flinched but didn’t pull away.  Asha drew in a small, shuddering breath.  “There’s something I should have told you sooner.  Amaya’s last words were to you.  She said she was sorry.”

He blinked a few times, staring at the floor.  His lips trembled.  A tear collected at the ends of his lashes, hung there like a tiny bead of glass, and fell, disappearing into the floor stones.  “Sorry,” he said flatly.  “Her?  For what?”

“I don’t know.  For the way things turned out, I guess.  She still loved you.  Even in her last moments.  She called you 'Mi Rey,' the way she used to.  You were her king, still.”

Another tear fell.  “Then why?  Why did she never come to see me?”

“I think…I think she was just afraid.  Maybe she thought you would hate her.  Maybe she couldn’t face that.  I was afraid, too.  But I should have told you.  I shouldn't have just left you like that, alone.  I'm sorry."

A few seconds passed, both of them kneeling on the floor in the dark room, facing each other.  He blinked once more.  The green glow faded from his irises, and his eyes rolled up, disappearing into his head.  He slumped over.  She caught him before he could hit the floor.  He sagged against her; she could feel the sweat soaking through his clothes, the heat of his body.  Her arms remained around him, propping him up.  He’d fainted.

She knelt there, holding him, dazed.  He was a warm weight in her arms, vulnerable and human. 

"Magnifico," she said.

No reply.

Tentatively, she stroked his hair.  Even unconscious, he trembled like a man in the grips of a fever.  He did feel unnaturally hot.  His pulse was too rapid.  She hugged him tighter.  "It's okay," she whispered into his ear.  "It's okay."  And she found herself thinking, unexpectedly, about the first time he’d showed her the wishes—the way he’d gathered them into his arms, the tender expression on his face.  The joy. 

It had been wrong for him to hoard them, to lock those precious living hearts away in his castle like jewelry or fine china.  Asha hadn't been wrong to question him, to challenge the system.  She still believed that.  All she’d wanted was a world where people had the freedom to pursue their own wishes.  But she wished, now, that she had done it differently.  They'd both been misguided then, both prone to black and white thinking, to seeing the worst in each other; Asha because she was young and naive, Magnifico because his mind was locked in place by trauma.  And yet, while he’d held the wishes of Rosas’ people, he’d truly cherished them.  He had seen himself as their protector.  Their soft light had brought him comfort, had soothed his paranoia.

He stirred in her arms.  His own arms lifted slowly.  She felt the tickle of his beard as his face pressed into the hollow between her neck and shoulder.  “Amaya,” he murmured.  Then, a half-second later:  “No.  It’s you.”  His tone was difficult to read.  It wasn’t disappointment, exactly.  Just a quiet recognition.  Acceptance.

"Yes.  It's me."  Asha lifted his face between her hands, studying his eyes.  The green glow had faded.  For now.  His eyes were unfocused, dull, dark, like empty rooms. 

"I'm surprised you're still here," he muttered.  He pulled his face away from her, but remained where he was, on his knees.

“I want to show you something."  She moved slowly, not wanting to frighten him, as she picked up her wand and placed the tip against her own chest.  He watched with those empty eyes.

She felt a sort of click in her chest as the wand found and locked onto the most vital part of her—the fire, the engine that drove her.  She pulled.  There was no pain as the glistening blue sphere emerged from her chest; it was almost unsettling, how painless it was.  She felt only a faint, not unpleasant chill, followed by a sense of lightness.

Asha’s wish hung suspended between them, shining.  Magnifico stared into it.  His brows drew together.  “It’s Rosas."

“Yes.  Our kingdom.  Happy and free and filled with life.  That’s what I want more than anything—not to rule Rosas, but just to see it become the place it’s meant to be.”  She gave him a strained, self-conscious smile.  “I’ve wondered, sometimes, if there’s a kind of emptiness in me.  I don’t have a dream of my own.  I don’t want to be a famous explorer or a brilliant painter or anything.  My home—this place you created—it’s everything.  It’s all I have.”

He started to reach toward the slowly turning sphere, then stopped.

“It’s okay.  You can hold it.”

His fingers brushed against its surface, and her pulse quickened.  When his hands cupped the wish, cradling it, the sensation she felt was not physical; it was difficult to describe.  It was a sort of tug deep in her being, a sweet ache, something like longing or nostalgia, something like being seen.  Like undressing for a lover for the first time.  She tried not to dwell on that particular comparison.  He drew the orb close to his own chest and held it there, curling himself around it.

“I…”  His voice was hoarse.  She heard the faint click in his throat as he swallowed.  “I ruined everything.  It was my fault.”

“No.  You made some mistakes.  We—we both made mistakes.”  Even if the plague itself had not been Asha’s fault, she still wondered…if Magnifico had still been in charge, might he have been better prepared for it, better able to contain and manage it?  Maybe he was right; maybe if Asha hadn’t called down a star, hadn’t challenged his authority in the first place, Amaya and all the others would still be alive.  Or maybe not.  There was no way of knowing that, now.  “Rosas is still here,” she said.  “We’re still here.”

He didn’t reply, just remained where he was, hugging the wish—clinging to it, as though it were a life raft.  This close to it, she could still feel it; she still remembered her own purpose.  But she sensed how easy it would be to let that slip away.  She could understand why so many people had voluntarily given their wishes to Magnifico.  To want something, to need something in that way—pursuing one's dream could be a joy, but it could be agony, as well.  Like ascending an endless, twisting staircase toward a distant point of light that never seemed to get any closer, no matter how hard and fast you ran toward it.  Some philosophers claimed that wanting was the cause of all human suffering.  To simply let go of that desire, to exist in the moment, to share love and human connections and the warmth of the sun and the taste of food without yearning for anything beyond that…there was a peace and beauty in that way of living, too.  Her mother and grandfather had surrendered their wishes, but they’d never seemed like incomplete people to Asha.  And there’d been many like them.  For those who ached for impossible things, who could not find a way to let go, Magnifico had not been a thief, but a healer.  Even if it was a bittersweet sort of healing.

Magnifico held the wish tighter, and for a moment, she felt an alarming pressure, a building anxiety...then he released the wish.  It drifted gently through the air like a soap bubble, toward her, and settled back into her chest.  There was a soft glow, then it faded, and she was complete once again.  With that completeness came pain—the pain of knowing that Rosas was not as it should be, that she could not rest until it was restored.  Not even then, maybe.  She touched her chest.  There it was, her wish.  The beautiful, torturing, corrupting, life-giving fire of the human need for the world to be something other than what it was.  The force that moved mountains, built kingdoms and tore them down.

“My head won’t stop hurting,” Magnifico muttered.  “I think—I think I need a healer.”

Asha nodded and rose.  “I’ll bring Simon.”  She stood, unlocked the door with a touch of her wand, and opened it.

She was greeted by a wall of knights, bristling with swords.

“My queen,” Dolf said urgently, “are you unhurt?”

“Yes.  I’m fine.”  She gave a strained smile.  “Can one of you go wake Simon and bring him here, please?”

Dolf squinted.

“Magnifico is not dangerous.  And I would prefer to stay with him.”  She added softly, “Please.”

After a few seconds, he sighed, nodded, and glanced at his fellow knights.  “Keep an eye on that man,” he muttered and retreated, footsteps clanking down the hall.

Asha closed the door, returned to Magnifico’s side, helped him up, and eased him into the bed.  She brushed a few strands of silvery hair from his forehead.  "Do you need anything?  Water?"

"In a moment, perhaps."  He didn't look at her.  “It’s only a matter of time, you know."

“What?”

“Before the magic drives me mad.  That’s the price of this power.”

“Well, we don’t know that.”

“We do.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“The choice I made cannot be undone.”  He stared at the wall.  “Amaya understood that.  She knew that if I crossed that threshold, I would be damned.  If any hope remained, she would never have turned against me.”

Maybe he needed to believe that.  But she shook her head.  “It’s too soon to give up on yourself.  What happened tonight—we need to understand why it happened, and then we can figure out how to help you.”

“Or I could go ballistic and kill dozens of innocent people, and you’ll be left with the knowledge that you could have prevented it if you simply stopped my heart when you had the chance.”

“That won’t happen.  You lost control, just now, but you still didn’t hurt anyone.  You couldn't.”

His hand drifted to the collar, fingertips trailing over it.  He sighed.

When the silence became uncomfortable, she said, “Magnifico?  Are you—?”

“I don’t know if this feeling is real,” he said.

“What?  What feeling?”

His gaze remained fixed on the wall.  “Prisoners become deeply attached to their captors as a matter of survival.  I knew that, so I vowed to guard myself against that feeling, to remember that you’re the enemy.  I believed I was strong enough.  It would seem that I’m…weaker than I thought.”

Asha stood frozen.  A strange sense of helplessness washed over her.  How should she respond to that?

“Do you still draw goats?” he asked.

“What?”

“When we first met, you showed me a little booklet of drawings.  A goat hopping.”

“Oh.  Right.  No, I don’t—I don’t really have time for that anymore.  It was just a silly hobby.  It's been years since I've drawn anything.”

“That’s a shame."

She stood awkwardly for a moment longer, her hands clasped around her wand in front of her, and cleared her throat.  Her mind raced, trying to make sense of where they stood, the implications of what he’d just said to her.  There was a knock at the door, sparing her from the burden of answering.  “That must be Simon,” she said.

Magnifico remained silent, staring at the wall as she opened the door to let Simon into the room.  Her thoughts floated, drifting aimlessly and bumping into each other as the wishes had once drifted near the ceiling of Magnifico’s sanctuary.  She remembered the sight of his strong, calloused hands gently cradling her own wish between them, the way its light had reflected in his eyes.  The way he had huddled around it, as though it were a fire warming him on a winter’s night.

Chapter Text

Simon’s hands rested on either side of Magnifico’s head.  “Hold still,” he said.

Magnifico lay motionless on his back, atop the bed.  This time, he didn’t flinch away, but his entire body remained tense, muscles stiff as a corpse’s.  If he were a cat, Asha thought, he would be digging his claws into the covers.  “I sincerely hope you know what you’re doing,” Magnifico muttered.

“I do, I promise.  This is a routine procedure.  It won’t hurt.  At most, you might get a little drowsy.” 

“Hm.  So you haven’t ironed out that side-effect.”

“Yeah, sorry.”  Soft white light emanated from Simon’s palms. 

Magnifico’s eyes grew soft, heavy-lidded, as the light gently pulsed against his temples.  “It’s warm,” he murmured, a touch of surprise in his voice.

Asha stood near the bedside, watching.  Magnifico’s gaze briefly flicked toward her.  She could see the uncertainty in his expression; even this small gesture of trust, she suspected, was a big leap for him.  She gave him a tentative smile.

“Just another moment,” Simon said.  “You’re doing good.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Magnifico said.  He seemed to be struggling to focus his vision.  His eyes moved aimlessly back and forth; his eyelids fluttered. 

“You’re holding still good, I mean.  You aren’t squirming.  That makes it easier.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No.  I know it’s not always easy.  I squirm a lot when I’m nervous.”

“I’m not—” a yawn interrupted his words. 

“Almost done.”  The light began to fade.

Magnifico’s eyes slipped fully shut.  They rolled beneath the lids as he hovered on the edge of dreams.  His breathing slowed…then sped slightly.  His eyes cracked open.  He tried to sit up.

“Whoa.  Hey.”  Simon pushed him gently down, and he flinched.  “It’s okay.”

“I can’t—I can’t think.”  He was gripping the covers tightly in both fists.  “Why am I so tired?”  Asha reached out and lightly touched the back of his wrist.  He gave a start, his gaze jerking to her.  The faintest green gleam shone in his eyes.

“It’s okay,” she said.  “You need rest.  That’s all.”  She found herself slipping into the tone she’d use to console a child or a wounded animal.  “You’ll feel much better in the morning.”

“No.  I need…” he looked around, his brows knitting together, as though he’d forgotten what he was about to say and expected to find it somewhere in the room.  “I can’t.  I can’t sleep.  Not now,” he muttered.  “The magic…the magic will…”

“What?” Asha asked.

“I have to fight it.  All the time,” he whispered hoarsely.  “That’s its price.  I knew.  If I let down my guard—”

Simon lay a hand on his brow, and the white light pulsed dimly again.  Instantly, Magnifico went limp and fuzzy-eyed again.  “Do you want to sleep?” Simon asked.

He stared up at the ceiling through his barely-open eyes.  After a brief pause, he whispered, “Yes.”

“You can close your eyes, then.  It’s okay.”

Magnifico’s eyes slipped shut.  He murmured something inaudible under his breath.  A tear squeezed itself out from under his eyelid and crept down his temple.

The white light brightened slightly, then faded away.  Magnifico’s breathing grew soft and even.  Simon pulled his hands back and let out a heavy breath.  He turned away and wiped the back of one hand across his forehead, which was damp with sweat.  He looked a little pale, a little shaky.  “I healed his concussion.  There was still a little bit of swelling.  He’ll be out for a while.”

“Thank you.”

He walked out of the room.  She followed him out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.  A pair of knights remained positioned outside, gripping the hilts of their swords.

Simon and Asha kept walking until they were out of the knights’ earshot.  Then he turned to face her, his expression solemn.  “What triggered that episode?” he asked softly, urgently.  “Do you know?”

“I don’t.  I was in bed.  Dolf woke me up and said that Magnifico was acting strangely.”

“Did anything happen before that?”

Her head was still spinning, struggling to process everything.  “I…brought him some food.  We ate together.  We talked.  I left some books for him to occupy his time.  Safe ones.  History, mostly.”

“What kind of conversation did you have?” 

“It was—I don’t know.  We talked about a lot of things.”

Simon’s expression was focused, intent, in a way that she wasn’t accustomed to—not from him.  It unnerved her.  “Did you argue?”

“No.  Why?  Do you think this is my fault?”

His gaze shifted away.  “I’m not saying that.”  He raked a hand through his hair.  “I’m just trying to understand.”

Of course, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to assume that she had caused Magnifico’s meltdown, given the circumstances.  She was the one who’d put a magical shock-collar on him. 

“What he said in there,” she whispered, “about having to always fight the forbidden magic…what does that mean?  If he falls asleep, it’ll take control?”

“I don’t know.  But he can’t just avoid sleep.  If that flare-up was stress-related, then fatigue is going to make it worse.”

Eight years of idleness and sensory deprivation in a mirror…then he’d finally been freed (if you could call it that), only to be confronted with the knowledge that his wife was dead and that most of his people hated him.  And apparently, the forbidden magic was something he had to battle constantly—like some demonic entity inside his head, whispering to him.  Really, it was a miracle that he’d held up as well as he had.

“Stars above,” she whispered.  She blinked away tears.  “That poor man.”

“Hey…”  After a few seconds, he placed a hand on her shoulder.  It felt like a big, fluffy bird landing there, somehow light and heavy at the same time.  “I do think he’ll feel better when he wakes up.  Sleep is really important.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“We’ll figure something out.”  He gave her shoulder an awkward squeeze.

She drew in a breath and wiped the back of one hand across her eyes.  Pull yourself together.  She was the queen, now.  She couldn’t afford to collapse into a quivering mound of self-pity. 

When you feel lost and overwhelmed, Amaya had told her, before her passing, when the world seems to be going to pieces and every path leads to ruin—focus on the problem directly in front of you.  And if even that seems like too much, then break the problem into still smaller tasks.  Prioritize the one that is most urgent.

The most urgent task—stabilizing Magnifico—was already complete.  So there was that.  He was safe; everyone was safe, at least for the moment.  She had some time to breathe, now, to figure out the next step. 

“How are you holding up?” Simon asked.

“Okay.”  At his slightly raised eyebrows, she said, “A little overwhelmed.”

“Just a little?”  He gave a weak smile.

She laughed, a choked sound.  “I’m possibly freaking out.”

“Understandable.”

“I’m totally in over my head here.  I feel like I have to keep swimming or I’ll drown.”

“Remember to breathe.”

“Yeah.  I know.”  She rubbed her forehead and leaned against the wall. 

“I wish I had better advice,” Simon said.  “But I’m not much of a leader.”

“It’s okay.”  She stared straight ahead, her fingertips still resting against her brow.  “Val thinks I should put him back in the mirror.  And I told him that I would, if I decided Magnifico was a risk.  Which…after word of this spreads, I doubt anyone in the castle is going to feel safe with him around.  But I—I don’t think I can do that to him.  I just can’t.  After everything he’s been through…”

“No, you’re right.  It’s too cruel.”

The aching knot in her chest loosened, just a little.  She was glad Simon understood and agreed.  Because it wasn’t just Val, of course—many of Rosas’ citizens felt the same way.

“You said you brought him some books?” Simon asked.

“Yes.  Was that a bad idea?”

“No, I think it’s good to keep his mind occupied.”

Another piece of Amaya’s advice floated up from the depths of memory:  Surround yourself, always, with those whose judgment you trust, and ask their advice before making a decision.

She drew herself up, gathering her strength.

“Will you keep an eye on him?  For a little while?” Asha asked quietly. 

“I can do that.  Why, are you doing somewhere?”

“I think…I think I need to talk to Dahlia.  About this situation.”

After a few seconds, he nodded.  “Okay.  I’ll make sure he sleeps peacefully.  In the morning, I’ll ask him a few questions, try to understand exactly what set this off.  Be prepared—there might be other flare-ups like this.  But it seems like his power was contained, at least.”

She gripped her wand.  “Do you think I should be there?  When you talk to him?  Just in case?”

“I, um.  I think I’d better do it by myself.  No offense.”

“No.  I get it.  I’m not his favorite person right now.  For obvious reasons.”

“It isn’t that.  Kind of the opposite, actually.”  He rocked lightly on his heels.  “He doesn’t have any particular feelings about me.  I don’t think so, at least.  Sometimes it’s easier to be open with someone when you don’t have any particular feelings about them.”

Which implied that Magnifico did have some type of feelings about Asha.  She stared at the floor, her face warming.  Magnifico himself had implied as much, hadn’t he?  Deeply attached.  That was the phrase he had used. 

Simon’s hand settled on her shoulder again.  “You should probably get some rest, yourself.  You can always talk to Dahlia tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I could sleep right now.”

“If you want, I could help you.”

She glanced at the door.  “You cast a spell on him, didn’t you?  To help him drift off.  It wasn’t just a side-effect of the healing.”

“Yes.  I mean, it was also that, but yes.”  He shuffled his feet.  “Normally, I would’ve asked consent in a more official way, but he was completely exhausted.  I could feel it.  Anxiety was the only thing keeping him from drifting off.  I just gave him a nudge.”

“I understand.  It’s okay.  And I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m going to stay up for just a little longer.  If you have a spell that could improve my focus, though, I’ll take it.”

“No.  Spells like that are more complicated.  I’m not there yet.”

“That’s fine.  I’ll manage.”

He gave a small nod.  “If you need anything else, you know where to find me.”

* * *

In her room, Asha changed from her pajamas into a simple lavender dress, lit the tip of her wand in lieu of a candle, and made her way down the hall, toward the castle library.  That was where she could usually find Dahlia, even at this hour.  Dahlia always said she worked better at night because there were fewer distractions.  In addition to being the head chef, she was constantly amassing new knowledge about magic and history.

Asha poked her head into the library, where, sure enough, Dahlia was sitting at one of the cluttered tables, studying a scroll under a magnifying glass.  Asha cleared her throat. 

Dahlia looked up.  “Oh, hey,” she said. 

“Hey.”  Asha managed a half-smile.  “We need to talk.”

“I take it this is about what happened upstairs.”

“So you’ve already heard about that.”

“Everyone in the castle has.  The knights were running around like headless chickens, telling people that we might have to evacuate because ‘the prisoner’ was acting like a man possessed.  They seem weirdly superstitious about using his name, have you noticed that?  Even though they used to work for him.  Anyway, I told them that he’s not actually dangerous as long as he’s wearing the collar, but I guess you can’t blame them for being a little paranoid.”  She took a sip from the mug of tea in front of her and grimaced.  “Blech.  I let it get cold again.  So, I take it Magnifico has stabilized now?”

Asha sat down across from her.  “He’s resting.  Yes.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“No.”

“But you’re worried.”  Her gaze searched Asha’s face.  “You think that he might not be fully under control?  You’re questioning whether the collar’s magic is strong enough to contain his magic?”

“It isn’t that.”

She waited.

Asha sighed.  “What we did…what we’re doing…is it wrong?  Does it feel kind of…evil?”

Dahlia raised her eyebrows.  She set down the magnifying glass.  “We had a long, long conversation about this before we made the decision to bring him back.  Remember?  Letting him roam free with no power-limiter is too risky.  And the alternative is putting him back in the mirror, which is worse.”

“Yes, but…”  She stared down at her hands, which were clasped together on the table.  Her wand currently rested at her hip, tucked into a slender leather holster at her belt, specially made for the purpose.  Her left thumb absently rubbed the knuckles of her right hand.  “The collar doesn’t just control him.  It causes him pain.”

“Only when he tries to use magic.”

“That doesn’t seem fully within his control, though.  The forbidden magic flares up when he feels threatened.  I saw it happen with the mob, earlier.  The collar essentially punishes him whenever he gets scared.”  Which probably wasn’t great for his already wobbly mental state.

Dahlia hesitated.  “That’s…not ideal, yeah.  But we didn’t choose how the collar functions.  We had to work with the information we could find.”

“I know.  I’m having a lot of second thoughts, though.”

“Realistically, what do you think would happen if we took it off him now?”

“I don’t know.”  She shifted in her chair.  “He…would take his revenge.  And try to reclaim his throne.”  Whatever else he felt for her, he’d made it clear that he still saw her as the enemy.

“Well, there you go,” Dahlia said.  “I realize this isn’t the most comfy situation, ethically speaking.  But it’s the lesser of two evils.”  At her silence, Dahlia said quietly, “If it helps at all, I feel a little queasy about it, too.  But we have to consider what’s good for Rosas, as a whole.”

Would Dahlia feel the same way, if she knew just how brutal Asha had been with Magnifico when they first brought him back?  At the time, she’d felt as though she were doing what was necessary.  To gain his cooperation, she’d told herself, she needed to immediately establish dominance.  There was no taking that back, now, no way to know how things might have played out if she’d tried a different approach.

At her silence, Dahlia reached out and placed a hand over hers.  “Hey.  We both heard Amaya talk about how scary he got toward the end, how fast he spiraled once he felt like things were slipping out of his control.  And he trusted and respected her more than anyone.  If she couldn’t rein him in, I’m not sure who could.  He might seem like a wet cat right now, but Magnifico is not an opponent to be taken lightly.”

Dahlia was right.  She’d known this would be the response, hadn’t she?  At this point, removing the collar would simply be too dangerous.  Maybe someday…but not now.

She wondered if this was how Magnifico had become so obsessed with maintaining control:  through a series of choices that felt, in the moment, like a necessary response to a potential threat.

“In that case, I want to better understand how the forbidden magic works,” Asha said.  “What it’s doing to him, how it affects him.”

“Well, that’s an interesting subject.”  Dahlia released her hand and glanced down at the scroll on the table, which was covered in incomprehensible diagrams, with an illustration of a gold dragon snaking up one side.  “Unfortunately, there’s not a whole lot of information out there.  Rather than study it, most societies have tried to suppress it.  So most of the information we do have is essentially propaganda just talking in vague terms about how evil it is.  Which is a shame, because it’s fascinating.”  At Asha’s raised eyebrow, she added, “In an abstract, intellectual sense, of course.”

“So you’re not…”

“You think I’d try it after seeing what it did to him?  I’m more into theory than praxis, anyway.”

“Just checking.”

“I’m actually hoping that I can learn more about it by studying him.  I mean, this is an unprecedented opportunity.  We’ve got a live specimen we can observe up-close.”

Asha raised her other eyebrow.

Dahlia smiled awkwardly.  “Sorry.  Not a great word choice.  What’s a better one?  ‘Patient.’  We’ve got a live patient.”

“I don’t think he’d much appreciate being studied,” Asha said.  “Whatever you call him.”

Dahlia propped her cheek up on one fist, resting her elbow on the table.  “Well, you can share your observations with me, at least.  And once we start to better understand how it works, maybe I can figure out a way to modify the collar, help keep the forbidden magic under control without causing him pain.”

“If that’s possible, that would be amazing.”

“That’ll be my next project, then.”

“Thanks, Dahlia.”

“Anytime.”  She made a loose fist and tapped her knuckles lightly against Asha’s.  When Asha lingered, she asked, “Anything else on your mind?”

She thought, again, about what Magnifico had said to her just before Simon’s arrival, about prisoners getting attached.  Did it work the other way around, too?  “I’m a little worried that…”  Heat rose into her face.

Dahlia waited.

Asha shook her head.  “Never mind.  Later, maybe.”  She had enough to think about, for the moment.

* * *

Asha crumpled up another sheet of paper and tossed it in the direction of the wastebasket.  It missed, bouncing off the rim and landing on the floor. 

She sat at the desk in her bedroom, a sketchpad open in front of her.  She’d thought that drawing for a bit might help steady her nerves, clear her head so she could settle down enough for sleep, but it had been so long since she’d sketched.  Her hands felt clumsy, like a small child’s.  She knew she was just out of practice, that the only way to get better was to keep doing it, even if the goats she produced looked like misshapen potatoes with legs.  And with this, at least—unlike with magic—there was no disastrous consequence for failure.  Still, the exercise ended up being more frustrating than anything.

It was nearly dawn.  If she didn’t go to bed now, she was unlikely to get any rest. 

Well, so be it.  She would take a nap tomorrow.

She left her bedroom and her sketchbook and wandered the castle like a restless ghost.  She made her way to Magnifico’s study, her shoes whispering across the stones.  Her wand illuminated a small portion of the enormous room.  With a flick, she lit the lamps.  Her magic might not be good for much, given the unpredictability of its effects—especially on living things—but it did come in handy, sometimes.

The study’s walls soared around her.  She remembered the wonder that had filled her when she first set foot in this room on the day of her interview.  Her fingertips trailed over the spines of the beautiful old books. 

“I thought I might find you in here.”

At the sound of Valentino’s voice, she turned.  He was standing near the entrance to the room.

Asha gave him a strained smile.  “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Sleep, it would seem, is a scarce resource around here.”

She turned her face away.  “I guess by now, you heard about what happened.”

He trotted up to her, hooves clicking softly on the polished floor.  “Dolf told me you chose to face him alone.  Against his advice.”  He sighed.  “These senseless risks you take—my old heart can scarcely bear the strain.”

“You’re not that old.”

“In goat-years, I’m well into middle age.  I find more gray fur around my muzzle every morning.”  He twitched his nose at her.  “Not to mention my digestion…and this isn’t helping.”

Slowly, she crouched and lay a hand on his head, gently ruffling his fur.  He leaned into her palm.  “I’m sorry for worrying you.  But everything is fine now.  No one got hurt.  And Simon, Dahlia and I are already working on how to prevent incidents like this in the future.”  She straightened and gave him an encouraging smile.

He gave her a wary expression in return.

She sighed.  From the beginning, Val had been opposed to bringing Magnifico back.  Of course he wasn’t going to change his views so easily.  She should just let it be.  But a spirited debate was one thing she’d never been able to resist.  That was what had started everything, wasn’t it?  “You know, he isn’t a bad person.”

“You cannot be serious.  After everything he did—”

“He embraced forbidden magic, which was a mistake, but it was because he believed the kingdom was being threatened by another magic-user.  If I’d just come forward and told him that I was the one who’d caused that flash of light—”

“Oh, you think he would have reacted well to that?  After he responded so maturely to you questioning his authority?”

“I don’t know how he would’ve reacted.  Look, I’m just saying.  Things got a little out of control.  There were overreactions.”

“You have an enormous skill for understatement.  That man has caused us nothing but misery.”

“That simply isn’t true.  You were only three weeks old when he was imprisoned.  Your clearest memories of him are when everything went wrong and he started going off the rails, but before that…Rosas was a beautiful, wonderful place.  I’m not saying everything he did was right.  But I can’t discount the good he created.  And there is good in him, even now.”

Val shook his head.  “In the months after his defeat, you had nightmares about that man.  I slept at the foot of your bed so I could wake you if you started to cry out.”

“I remember.”

“You know what he does.  How he manipulates people.  He’s fully capable of turning on the charm and even showing kindness when he needs to.  But it’s all in the service of gaining more power.  You’re the one who told me that.”

“Yeah, well.  Maybe I was wrong.  In any case, don’t you think he’s been punished enough?”

Val sat down on the floor, looking up at her.  “Believe it or not, I don’t hate him,” he said quietly.  “This isn’t about punishment.  I just don’t want you to suffer anymore.  And I believe, if you keep going down this path—trying to rehabilitate him, or whatever it is you’re doing—you will suffer.”

Asha looked away.

“He wants his kingdom back.  And you are the obstacle standing in his path.  He has every incentive to deceive you.  How can this not end in disaster?”

It was a fair question.  “I’ve seen his wish, Val.  It’s a vision of the people he loves.  The ones who died.  He blames himself for that.  Yes, he can be vain and paranoid and quick to anger and all those things.  But that’s not the core of him.  That’s not what drives him.”

Val’s ears drooped.  He let out a tiny, resigned sigh.  “I take it you don’t intend to send him back to the mirror, then.  Even after this incident.”

“He would rather die than go back there.  He’s here, now, and I’m going to be working together with him for a while.  I know that it won’t always be easy.  I know that not everyone is going to be on my side, and I can’t even blame them.  He’s hurt a lot of people.  But I could really use the support of my closest friends.”

He pawed the smooth floor.  “You put me in a difficult position.”

“Try to keep an open mind.  That’s all I’m asking.”

After a moment, his head dipped briefly in a nod.  “Very well.  For your sake, I will endeavor to ignore all of my quite-rational concerns and fears.”

Asha smiled.  “I appreciate it.”

He made a noncommittal sound and pawed the floor again, a habit he lapsed into when he was self-conscious.  “So…what is it you’re looking for, in here?”

“Oh.  Nothing in particular.  Just hoping it would spark some ideas.”  She wandered to the back of the study, Valentino trailing behind her.  “I wanted to bring him something tomorrow.”

“Yes—lavish him with gifts.  That will put him in his place.”

“Val.”

“I know, I know.”

“They’re not even really gifts.  I’m just giving him back some of the things that used to be his.  Which is the least I can do, if he’s going to be helping us from now on.”

“Hm.”

She leaned in to study another set of books.  “Let’s see.  This one’s written in Greek.  I think it translates to Theory of Magic.  Just how many languages can he read, anyway?”

“A more pertinent question…what sort of grown human has a toy set of his own kingdom?”

“Toy set?”

“That thing.”  He pointed a foreleg at the scale model of Rosas sitting on a counter.  “Something sinister about it.  I’d wager he used it for his dark magic.”

Asha paused to examine it.  She’d seen it before, of course—she’d been in the study many times—but it had always just felt like part of the décor.  The craftsmanship was impressive.  It was chiseled from smooth white stone, accurate down to every detail.  She supposed he must have commissioned it from one of the sculptors in Rosas. 

Of course, that didn’t explain all the little wooden peg people scattered throughout it.  Some of them were assembled in small groups; some stood alone.  A few lay on their sides.  A few tiny wooden animals, mostly chickens and goats, stood around the farmhouses on the outskirts.  In the eight years since Magnifico’s imprisonment in the mirror, the setup had remained untouched.  Occasionally, Asha worked a minor spell in the study to blow away the dust, so there was only a fine layer over the model and its tiny inhabitants. 

“It doesn’t seem sinister to me,” she said.  “It’s sort of cute.”  She picked up one of the wooden figurines and turned it over in her fingers.  They had simple faces, just dots for eyes and lines for mouths, but they were all smiling.  Gently, she placed the figurine next to its tiny house.

Valentino stood a short distance away, watching her.

“I’ll bring this to him tomorrow,” she declared.  “As a gesture of good faith.”  Her gaze strayed toward the tapestry on the wall, the burned, frayed edge, the missing piece.  Slowly, she approached, reached up, and traced the ragged, charred edge.  A homeland, a family, ripped apart.  The only thing he’d kept from his past.

Valentino stood beside her.  Together, they gazed at the tapestry. 

“His homeland?” he asked.

She nodded.

“What was its name?”

“I don’t think he’s ever told me, come to think of it.  Amaya probably would’ve known, but…”  She left the rest unspoken, hanging in the air between them.  “I get the impression it was a small country.  We might not even recognize its name.”

“And his family, they were killed by…”

“Thieves.  That’s all he said.”  Her fingertips wandered over the faces of the family in the tapestry, the dyed strands of rough fabric woven together.  Had it hung on the wall of their home, once?  “He blamed himself.  Everything in him, the good and the bad—it’s all because of this.  It was why he acted the way he did—because he was so afraid of this happening again.”

“Shouldn’t have been king, then.  Should’ve become a watchmaker or some such thing.  A ruler driven by fear is a hazard to his people.”

“Well, in that case,” Asha said.  “I shouldn’t be afraid of Magnifico.  Right?  I—we should believe in him.”

“Not what I was implying.”  But the cutting edge was gone from his voice, replaced with a weary acceptance.  “I can see that you won’t be swayed.  And regardless of what you do, I will remain your loyal advisor.  And your friend.  But my mother had a saying—‘If the wolf tells you he has a sore throat, don’t stick your head into his mouth.’”

“Meaning…?”

“I think the meaning is self-evident.  She also said, ‘If you wake the bear, you’d better be prepared to make him breakfast.’”

“Your mom had some weird sayings.”

“Just have a care for your own safety.  If you won’t do that for your own sake, do it for those who love you.”  He trotted away, hoof-beats fading into silence.

Asha remained where she was, staring at the tapestry—the loss that had seared itself into his soul.  But a tiny, wriggling worm of doubt had crept in.  It was odd, now that Val mentioned it, that Magnifico had never called his homeland by its name, so there was no way to validate through history books what had actually happened there.  The only information she had about the tragedy had been given to her by Magnifico himself.  Was it possible…?

No.  She’d seen his lost family in his wish.  There was no way he’d invented that story.

He has every incentive to deceive you, Val had said.  And yet Magnifico had never outright lied to her, or to anyone.  Not even after he succumbed to the forbidden magic.  Would he really lie about something so important?  Why was she even thinking about this, now?

She turned and walked out of the study, shoes whispering over the smooth stone floor.

Chapter Text

Asha hesitated outside Magnifico’s bedroom door.  She knocked lightly.  She’d decided that if he was still asleep, she would let him be.  But after a few seconds, the door creaked open.

Simon peeked out. 

“Oh.  Simon.  Hi.”

“Hey,” he said.  “I was just leaving.”

“How is he?” she whispered.

He gave her a small smile.  “Better.” 

She let out a breath, resting a hand on her chest.  “Glad to hear it.”

When she entered, Magnifico was already up and sitting at the table, a book open in front of him, a cup of steaming tea on the tabletop.  His hair was damp, as though he’d washed it recently.  He wore a white, long-sleeve tunic with a gold diamond pattern along the arms, a V-neck with a border of the same pattern, and a matching set of white trousers.  The outfit resembled a simpler, streamlined version of his royal attire.  In the stream of sunlight from the window, he seemed almost to glow.  Dust motes winked around him, reminding her briefly of Star’s sparkles.

His feet were bare.  Had she ever actually seen his feet before?  They were rather handsome feet.  Masculine yet elegant.  Which was probably a weird thought to have.  She probably shouldn’t be staring at them, for sure—

Shit.  Was she staring?  Her gaze jerked up.

He took a sip of his tea and closed the book.  His expression was calm and guarded.  “Good morning, Asha.”

Asha lingered by the door.  “Morning,” she said, her voice a little breathless.  She wasn’t afraid of him—whatever had taken over him last night, it had plainly passed—but she felt suddenly, inexplicably paralyzed with self-consciousness.  So much had happened last night, and now she didn’t quite know where they stood or how to approach this interaction.  “How’s your head?”

He brushed a hand over his damp hair.  “The pain is entirely gone.  I feel remarkably clear-minded, actually.  Perhaps that young man does know a few things about healing.”

She wondered what he and Simon had been talking about, just now.  She was tempted to ask, but she restrained herself.  “Great.  Well.  The servants are bringing up breakfast as we speak.  Would you like to eat together?”

“I assumed we would.”

“Great.  I thought we could go over the itinerary, in the meantime.”

“Itinerary?”

“Oh, yeah.  Lots to do today.  If you’re feeling up to it,” she added quickly.  “Of course, if you need to take some time to rest—”

“I’m fine.  A full night’s sleep was all I needed.”

“Great.”  She winced.  She’d said the word great at least three times in the past minute.  Seeing him like this, calm and collected, like the king she’d once known—except in casual dress, with wet hair and bare feet, drinking a cup of tea—was sabotaging her brain in unexpected ways, regressing her back into a babbling teenager, like he was siphoning away her years of experience just by sitting there.  She was transported back to that day when she’d shown up for the interview—the way masses of words just kept spewing out of her like geysers, each sentence more stupid than the last, as he stood there with a bemused expression.

This was unacceptable.  She needed to get a hold of herself.  “So,” she started to say.

At the same moment, he said, “Asha—”

She fell silent, waited.  “Go on,” she said.

His mouth opened, then closed, and he dropped his gaze, his expression suddenly troubled.  One hand rested atop his book.  The other rubbed over his knuckles absently.  “I should apologize.  For alarming everyone last night.”

“Oh, no,” she said, caught off guard.  “That wasn’t your fault.”  She took a step closer.  “I mean…you had a concussion.”

“Regardless.  My behavior was unbefitting of a king.  It won’t happen again.”

Of course, he was no longer a king.  But in that moment, he felt like the king of Rosas again.  “You’re not in this alone, you know,” she said quietly.  “We’re going to help you.”

“We?”

“Me, Simon and Dahlia.  And everyone else, eventually.  We want to make this easier for you.  So if there’s anything you need, just let us know.”

“With the exception of my freedom or my kingdom, I take it.”  He smiled, taking the edge off the words.

She shuffled her feet.  “Yes.”

“I appreciate the offer.  I’ll think on it.”

Simon hadn’t been kidding, when he said Magnifico was doing better.  It was disorienting, how much more self-possessed he seemed.

From outside the door, she heard the creak of wheels.  “Oh, there’s breakfast now.  And something else, too.  I had the servants bring it down from your study.”  She opened the door, thanked the young woman in the hallway, and tugged in a long wooden cart.  Atop it were two covered trays…and, looming behind them, the model of Rosas.

His eyebrows lifted.  A series of tiny expressions flickered across his face, too fast and too many to process.  “That?”

“I thought you might like to have it here.  It’s so beautiful, and it’s just been sitting in your study, gathering dust.  It seemed like a shame to leave it.”

Slowly, he stood, approached, and leaned in to study the model.  A faint smile tugged at his lips.  “I’d almost forgotten about this.”  He reached out and lightly touched the top of the tiny stone castle.  His voice dropped to a low murmur, as though he were speaking to himself:  “This belonged to me.”  His finger trailed down one side of the castle.

“And now it’s yours again.”  She cleared her throat.  “I, um.  I like the little toy people.”

“They’re not toys.”

“Oh?”

“This is…it’s a tool for city planning.  Population distribution.  That sort of thing.  I’m a visual thinker.”

“Oh.  That makes sense.”  Sort of.  “But also, if they were toys, that would be fine.  I still have a ragdoll from when I was five.  I even sleep with it occasionally.”

“Hm,” he said.

Oh, stars.  Why had she told him that?  “Anyway…”  She lifted the silver covers off the breakfast trays, revealing the food beneath:  oatmeal, fried eggs, toasted bread, and two small dishes of berries.

“A heartier breakfast than my last one,” he remarked.

She set the plates on the table and eased herself into one of the chairs.  “Things are looking up.  Now that you’re going to be assisting with food production, we can afford to dip into the rations a little more.”  She took a bite of oatmeal.  Today, there was a pat of melting butter on each serving.  It had been a while since she’d had butter; she’d almost forgotten how much it improved the flavor of anything it touched.  “Mm.  Wow.  So—” she pointed her spoon at him—“after breakfast, I thought we could visit the olive trees and the vineyards, give them a little magical attention.  Oh, and there’s some repair work to do on one of the fishing vessels and a few houses that were damaged in a recent storm.  Which doesn’t strictly require magic, but that will speed up the process.”

He sat across from her.  “My, you do have a full day planned.”

“Too much?  If you can only handle one thing, I think repairing the houses and boat is the biggest priority.  Though of course, I can assist, if you’ll just give me some guidance.”

“That’s not the issue.”  His expression had gone blank and guarded again.  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?”

He plucked a raspberry out of the bowl and rolled it slowly between a thumb and forefinger.  “The people of Rosas made their opinion of me quite clear.  I can’t imagine that they’ll be eager to accept my help.”

“They don’t all feel that way.”

“No.  Just the majority of them.”

She hesitated.  “The road might be a little rocky, at first.  But once the people of Rosas see how much you’re helping and realize that you’re not a threat, they’ll change their attitudes.”

“You sound very sure.”

“Because I know our people.  We’ve fallen on hard times, but still, Rosas has a generous spirit.  And you’re its founder.  For most of your reign, they adored you.”  Until I showed up for that interview.  Until I called down Star and tipped the first domino.  “They just need a chance to remember how much you’ve done for them.  And we’ll take it slowly.  At your pace.”  At his silence, she said, “Amaya would want you to be a part of this kingdom, I know it.  She always—”

“Do not invoke her name.  Do not tell me what she would have wanted.”  His voice was quiet but firm.

Asha hesitated.  Frustration flickered inside her, tightening the wires in her chest.  Why? she wanted to ask.  Why shouldn’t she talk about her?  After all, she’d known Amaya, too.  She’d lost her, too.

But it was different, of course.  Asha had lost family, but she didn’t know what it meant to lose a husband, a wife, a soulmate—the person you were supposed to grow old with.  She wasn’t a virgin, exactly (she supposed that depended on one’s definition of the term) but since coming of age she’d been preoccupied with her duties; there’d been no time for romance.  Magnifico had spent decades at Amaya’s side.

“All right,” Asha whispered.

His gaze wandered to the model of Rosas.  Slowly, he picked up one of the figurines and turned it over in his hand.  “You’ve been very conciliatory toward me, since last evening.  What of all your threats?”

She sighed.  “I guess by now, it’s obvious that that was a bluff.  I could never take your precious memories away from you.”  At his silence, she said, “I mean…you knew that, right?”

“No, I didn’t.  I believed you.  I didn’t think you were eager to cross that line, but I thought you would, if I pushed you too hard.  If I became a threat.”  He smiled thinly.  “You shouldn’t have told me that.  Now you’ve lost some of your leverage.”

“That’s the idea.  Like I’ve said, I’d prefer to work with you.”

His expression started to soften—then he turned his face away.  His fingers clenched around the tiny wooden person.  “A threat is like a promise,” he said.  “It can be taken back, but it can’t be truly erased.”  He set the toy down on the table, next to his plate.  “When I first embraced the forbidden magic, Amaya chastised me—rightly—and I threatened her with my staff.  I saw the fear in her eyes.”

She’d heard about that incident, of course.  “It was the book.  That awful book.  You would never have done that if you were in your right mind.  She knew that.”

“It didn’t matter.  At that point, I stopped being her husband and became a threat.”  There was a flatness in his tone, like a brick wall.  “At the time, I was so wrapped up in the thrill of the magic, I barely noticed.  But since then, I’ve replayed that moment in my head again and again.  That was the moment I lost her.” 

Asha didn’t know what to say. 

“I thought she would always be by my side,” he said.  “I began to take that for granted.  I was a fool.  But even if she had forgiven me, had taken me back…that moment would always exist between us.  I would always be the man who held a weapon to her face.” 

“And I will always be the woman who threatened to crush the most important part of you.”

His gaze met hers.  He blinked.

“Even if our past deeds can’t be undone,” she said.  “I think it matters—the next steps we take.  We can always choose what sort of person we’re going to be today or tomorrow.  I mean…already, our relationship has changed in ways that I never could have predicted.”

His gaze shifted away from hers.  He let out a faint, hoarse laugh.  “You’re better at seduction than I might have imagined.”

The floor seemed to drop out from under her chair.  “Oh, I’m not—I swear, this isn’t—”

“I don’t mean that kind of seduction.”

“Well, if that’s not what you mean, then don’t call it that,” she muttered, face burning.

“My apologies.  I’m being impertinent.  It’s a habit.”

Did he know exactly where to sit, to make the sunlight hit his eyes like that, lighting them up like stained glass?  Could that possibly be deliberate?

“In any case, I don’t resent you,” he added.

She found that hard to believe.  Would an apology mean anything?  Last night, she’d told him she was sorry for his pain.  Sorry enough to remove the collar? he’d replied.  Did words, divorced from action, carry any weight at all?

He took a few bites of oatmeal, then pressed the edge of his fork into an egg, cutting it in half.  Yellow yolk bled out onto the plate.

“Of course,” he continued, “as long as we’re measuring our sins, I will always be the man who bewitched your friend and destroyed your mother’s wish and imprisoned your little yellow hobgoblin in my staff.”  He ate a bite of egg.  “Which I’m not proud of.”

“Star wasn’t a hobgoblin.”

“Smiling little abomination?”

“No.”

“Nature spirit, then.”

“I guess that works.  I mean—he definitely wasn’t a literal star.  Since most scientists believe those are enormous balls of flame like our own sun, just countless miles away.”  She smiled stiffly, then cleared her throat.  “Do you want to keep it?”

“Hm?”

“The sculpture.”  She gestured toward the model of Rosas, still sitting on the cart.  “It does take up a lot of space, I realize.  And this room is smaller than your study.” 

“I do wish to keep it.”  With his fork, he cut off another bite of egg and ate it.  “It was a gift from Amaya.  Its miniature citizens were added at my request.”  After a moment, he continued:  “Sometimes, I found it…calming to rearrange them into different formations.  I thought of it as a sort of meditation.  I suppose, if I’m being honest, they don’t have much practical function beyond that.”

“I think they’re adorable.”

He snorted.  “Maybe they can have a tea party with your ragdoll sometime.”

She laughed.  “Careful.  I might take you up on that.” 

“Of course, your doll would rule over them like a god-queen, being so much larger.  She could crush them beneath her feet.”

“Mm, probably.  But she’d be a benevolent dictator.”  She ate another bite of oatmeal.  “No human sacrifices.”

“Good to know.”

They’d been eating in silence for a few minutes when he asked, “You don’t think it’s strange?”

“What?”

He made a noncommittal sound in his throat, gaze averted.  “For a man my age.”

The toys?  Was he actually embarrassed about the fact that he sometimes enjoyed rearranging wooden figurines?  “No.  Though…I’m not even sure how old you are, come to think of it.”

“Older than I look.”

“I figured.  It doesn’t matter, though.  I mean, if you enjoy it and if it’s not hurting anyone, what’s the problem?  Joy is scarce enough in this world.  Take it where you can find it.”

He stared at her.  A strange expression, a mixture of unease and wonder, slipped over his face.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No.  Please tell me.”

His lips pressed together into a firm line, then softened.  “My wife—my first wife—she once said something similar to me.  I think.”

“Oh.”

“It was so long ago.  There are times when I no longer trust my memories.”

Asha’s gaze searched his face.  For a moment, the question—What was the name of your homeland?—teetered on the edge of her tongue.  “That song,” she said instead.  “The lullaby you sang…”

“When?”

“I heard it in your wish.”

“Ah.  That.”

“What language was that?  It sounded a bit like Spanish, but it wasn’t.  Was it?”

“Similar roots, but different, yes.”  After a few seconds, he spoke a word. 

Estrel?  Estral?  Something like that, but not quite.  There was almost but not quite an h at the beginning, and the sound at the end was not quite an l, but something her tongue never could have pronounced, something that seemed to come from a place deep in his throat, close to his chest.  “Estrel,” she tried.

“Close enough.  The language of my people.  It was only spoken in a few places.  I haven’t heard it on another’s tongue for decades.  It may be entirely gone from the world, now.” 

“You’re sure of that?”

“Doing detective work, are you?  Trying to figure out who I really am?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it.  “I won’t lie, I am curious.  Even now, I know so little about your origins.”

“You know what matters.”  He opened his mouth, as though to say more, then stopped and focused his attention on the food in front of him.  He ate grimly, mechanically.

She decided not to probe.  For now.

* * *

Once they’d finished eating, he put on some sandals—white, to match the rest of his outfit—and they headed downstairs.  On the way out, they passed Valentino.  The goat froze, staring at Magnifico, who stared back. 

“Morning, Val.”

“Good morning, Queen Asha.”  Then, in a frostier tone:  “And good morning to you, Magnifico.”

“It is a lovely morning, isn’t it?  Asha and I are just heading out to take care of some official business.  Saving the kingdom and all that.”

Valentino’s eyes narrowed.  He pointed a front hoof at his eyes, then at Magnifico.  Then he lowered his leg and resumed trotting, disappearing around the corner.

“Ignore him,” Asha whispered into Magnifico’s ear.  “He’s just grumpy.”

“I’m glad you told me that, because I was about to be terrified,” Magnifico replied dryly.

They kept walking, down the stairs, out through the main doors of the castle, into the sunlight.  The carriage waited for them outside.  Magnifico stared at it, then took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and strode forward.  They climbed in.

As they rode, the carriage’s wheels bumping and clattering over cobblestones, Asha glanced at Magnifico from the corner of her eye.  He stared straight ahead, back straight, hands clasped in front of him.  There was a subtle tension in his fingers; the skin around his nails had whitened from the pressure.  “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” she said.  “I promise.”

“Are you this protective of all your captured enemies?”

“No.  You’re special.”

A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.  “Good to know.”

“Also, you’re not my enemy.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.  He leaned slowly toward her, until his lips hovered barely an inch from her ear, and the muscles in her back stiffened.  She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.  “Do not mistake a muzzled wolf for a dog,” he said, very quietly.

She breathed shallowly.  Her heart was suddenly beating too fast—though it wasn’t entirely from fear.  She was afraid to look too closely at what she felt.  “I don’t mistake you for anything.”

She half-expected him to keep pushing, to take the opportunity to make her squirm.  But he just crossed his arms over his chest and turned his attention to the scenery outside the window.  Her heart was still racing.

“Ah…the olive groves are just ahead,” she mumbled.

“Yes.  I see.”

“My friend Gabo tends these trees.”  Of her old friend group, only Simon and Dahlia still lived in the castle with her.  The others had gravitated to their own places, over the years.  “You remember Gabo?”

She didn’t actually think that he would, but he replied, “The grumpy one.”

“He’s more complicated than that, but yes.  He’s expecting us.”

“And what are his feelings about me?”

“I’ll be honest, he’s not your biggest fan.  But I’m sure we can change that.”

Magnifico was turning something over and over in one of his hands, she noticed—something he’d been keeping tucked into his palm, hidden.  One of the toy figures.

The carriage pulled to a halt outside of a small stone house.  Smoke rose from the brick chimney.

“Do you still want to do this?” Asha asked quietly.

“If I say no, what then?” he muttered.  “We turn around and go back to the castle?”

“Yes.”

His brows knitted together. 

“What happened last night—I don’t want to do anything that could trigger another episode like that.”

He stared at the smiling toy figure in his palm, breathed in slowly through his nose, and let it out.  “I will master my own weakness.  I must.  This kingdom is everything to me.  Its people are everything.  To regain my crown would mean nothing if they all despise me.  So I’ll work alongside you—for the time—to win them back.”  He gave her a sudden, fierce glare, as though she had challenged him.  “I meant what I said.  What happened last night will not happen again.”

Even if he did mean it, Asha didn’t think it was fully within his control.  But she merely nodded.

He tucked the toy into his pocket, opened the carriage door, and stepped out.  He started to stride forward, then stopped.  “Perhaps you should go in first.  So as not to alarm him.”

“Sure.”  She climbed out and walked ahead, Magnifico close behind her.

Chapter Text

The house’s front door swung open, and Gabo emerged, wearing the same irritated frown that had been his resting expression since he was a teenager.  He’d gained a bit of height since then, though he was still shorter than Asha, and some of the baby fat had melted away from his face, giving him a sharper look.

As she and Magnifico approached, Asha raised a hand in greeting; Gabo returned the gesture.  They stopped a short distance away.  “Morning,” Asha said.

Gabo looked Magnifico up and down, his gaze lingering on the collar.  “Huh.  So it’s true.  You really let him out of the mirror.”

“You did get my messenger bird, right?  He was supposed to mention that Magnifico would be accompanying me today.”

“He did.  Just had to see it with my own eyes for it to really sink in, I guess.”  Gabo’s voice was casual, but there was a subtle tension in the muscles of his neck and shoulders.  “And he’s under control?  Not gonna go into Evil Green Mode?”

“No,” Magnifico said.  “‘He’ will not.  Also, he’s standing right here and can hear you.”

Gabo snorted.  “Eight years in a mirror hasn’t dampened your sass much, has it?  Well, good for you.”

Magnifico frowned.

“He’s here to help,” Asha said.

“I know.”  Gabo removed a small, silver flask from the pocket of his overalls and took a swig.  Whatever was in it, it had a sharp, almost acidic smell that Asha could detect even from six feet away. 

“You’re probably curious about the collar,” she continued.  “It’s there to help control the forbidden magic.  He can only do spells when I suppress its power.”

“Look—I’m not going to ask too many questions.  I’ll trust that you’ve got it managed.  Just follow me to the olive trees, and once we deal with that, I can tell you about the latest political unrest.”

“Political unrest?”

“There’s been a murder.  The forest creatures are talking about seceding from Rosas.”

“Wait, what?”

“Trees first.”  Gabo turned and walked around the side of the house, toward the grove.

Asha made a frustrated sound in her throat.  She and Gabo weren’t exactly close these days—in fact, it had been weeks since she’d spoken to him, and that had been a brief exchange—and of course, he’d never been the brightest ray of sunshine.  But even by his standards, he was being standoffish.  She had the impression he was slightly drunk.  And it wasn’t even noon.

She followed, Magnifico at her side.  “Gabo, come on.  You can’t just say something like that and not explain,” Asha said.  “What murder?”  There hadn’t been a murder in Rosas for—she couldn’t even remember the last time.  “Who?  Give me a name.”

Gabo sighed, tucked his flask into his pocket, stopped and faced them, arms crossed over his chest.  “You know Bambi, the deer?”

“I know a Bambi.”

“Yeah, come to think of it, there are several.  It’s a popular deer name.  This one’s a yearling.  Started talking when he was a fawn.  Inherited the magic from his dad, I guess.”

“Okay.  So.  He killed someone?  Or…he was killed?”

“Not him.  His mother.  A hunter shot her with a crossbow.”

“That’s terrible,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, Bambi is pissed.  He’s got the other forest creatures all riled up.  They want the hunter executed, to make a statement.”

“Oh.  Wow.”

“And if we refuse, apparently, they’re going to declare the forest an independent state.  Any humans who cross its boundaries will be considered invaders.”  Gabo took another swig from the flask.  “He’s got a couple of the bears on his side, apparently.”

“This is…wow.”  Asha pressed her fingers to her temples.  “How did I not hear about any of this?”

“Because it just happened, and because you don’t live next to the forest.  I’ve got a pack of gabby woodpeckers gossiping outside my window every morning.  I know things.  But, see, this is why I wanted to wait.  Now you’re just going to keep asking questions about this and we’re never going to get to the trees.”

“Show me to these trees,” Magnifico said.  If this news had any effect on him, his face didn’t reveal it.  “I’ll tend to them.”

“Great.  Thanks.”

Gabo led them around to the back of the house, past a creaking wooden gate, to a small, fenced-in grove.  The olive trees were pitiful specimens, leaves limp, fruit withered.  Magnifico approached one tree, placed a hand on the trunk, and closed his eyes.  “Asha,” he said.

She hesitated only briefly before lifting her wand.  She ignored the urge to ask him if he would behave himself.  There was no point to any of this unless she was willing to trust him, at least enough to give him access to his magic.  The wand’s tip shone silver as she temporarily suppressed the collar’s power.

Magnifico’s palm glowed with white light.  He breathed in.  A small furrow appeared between his eyebrows as he moved his hand over the bark of the tree.  The leaves rustled.  He stepped back and folded his hands into the same complicated position he’d used for the milk spell.  “The basics are similar,” he told Asha.  “But the incantation is different in two places.  Listen closely.”  He spoke the words.

She tried to pay attention, though after what Gabo had just told her, it was hard to focus.

Again, there was that ripple and shimmer through the air.  The trees rustled, their branches creaking and swaying as though in an invisible wind.  The narrow leaves grew glossy and green.  The olives plumped, turning a dark purple.  Magnifico exhaled, unlaced his fingers and lowered his arms.

“Okay, that was a bit impressive,” Gabo said.  He walked around one of the trees, examining the branches.  He reached up and plucked one of the fruits.  “Thanks.”  The word was tinged with reluctance.

“I am, as ever, at your service,” Magnifico replied with exaggerated deference.

“Great,” said Asha.  “So, Bambi’s mother?  A civil war with the forest creatures?”

“Oh.  Right.”  Gabo sighed.  “Guess you might as well come in.  Both of you.”

He led them into the house, into the kitchen, which was small and clean, with a creaking wood floor, wood cabinets, and a tiny fire crackling in a stone hearth.

Asha couldn’t help but notice that Magnifico positioned himself on the other side of the room, far away from the fire.  The tapestry—its charred, ragged edge—flashed through her mind. 

Gabo faced them, took another swig from the flask.  “I guess I should offer you something.  Tea?  Something stronger?”

“I think we’re okay,” Asha said.  “Unfortunately, we can’t stay long.  We’ve got a lot on our to-do list today.  Though…I guess this situation just jumped to the top.”

“Yeah, it’s a fucking mess,” Gabo said.

“Do the same laws apply to animals and humans?” Magnifico asked.  “Is this murder, legally speaking?”

“Well, that depends,” Asha said.  She glanced at Gabo.  “The deer, the one who was killed…was she a citizen?  Could she talk?”

“No.  But you have to understand, the whole speaking verses non-speaking thing is not as big a deal to the forest creatures as it is to us.  They can understand each other, regardless.”  He took another swig.  At Asha’s worried frown, he sighed and said, “Yes, I know.  I have a problem.  Trust me, it’s low on the list of problems we should be worried about right now.”

“So there’s a difference, in the law, between the speaking and the non-speaking animals,” Magnifico said.

“It’s complicated,” Asha said.  She struggled to collect her thoughts.  “After Star left, Amaya and I spent some time grappling with the legal status of the talking animals.  Are they citizens of Rosas, with all the same rights and protections?  I mean, my impulse was to say yes, given that a talking animal is one of my best friends, but that presented a lot of problems.  It wouldn’t make sense, for instance, to treat it as murder if a bear killed a deer or a fox killed a rabbit.  That’s just the food chain, right?  So, should a human killing a deer or a bear killing a human be regarded in a similar way?  That was the question.”

“And what was the answer?”

“We asked for input from Val and some of the forest creatures, and in the end, we decided that domestic animals would have a sort of modified automatic citizenship and that the wild animals—the ones who could talk, anyway—could become citizens if they wished, but would otherwise be regarded as outside human law in much the same way they had before.  Very few of them actually seemed interested in citizenship status.”

“So hunting them is still legal.”

“Well, no, I outlawed it.  But the penalty is a fine.  Not execution.”

“If someone killed one of your family members, would you be satisfied with a fine as a penalty?” Gabo asked.

Asha sighed.  “No.”  She should have known that a problem like this would come up, sooner or later.  She should have given the issue more attention.  But there’d always been some other, more pressing matter to deal with.  “And the hunter…what was his motive?”

“Her,” Gabo said.  “Trying to feed her family.  What else?”

“So they ate this deer’s mother,” Magnifico replied.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I don’t want any more loss of life,” Asha said firmly.  “There’s never been an execution in Rosas.  I don’t intend to start now.”  Exile was the punishment for the most severe crimes, and even that hadn’t happened for many years. 

“That’s kinda what I thought,” Gabo said.  “But I don’t think we can ignore this.  It’ll come to a head, sooner or later.”

“What if the hunter apologized?” she asked, aware even as she said it that it sounded ridiculous.

“Yeah, no, that’s not gonna cut it.  And in any case, the hunter’s not sorry.  She said that she’ll pay the fine if she’s ordered to, but she also said that when food is scarce, it’s unreasonable to make it illegal for people to provide for themselves.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean she can just take the law into her own hands!”  Asha hesitated.  “Wait.  Do you know her?”

Gabo winced and ran a hand over his hair.  “This part’s gonna be hard,” he muttered.  “I didn’t tell you right away because I thought you should have a chance to look at the facts first, but…”

“But?”  Her stomach sank.  “Who is it?”

He stared at the floor and said in a small, resigned voice, “Bazeema.”

She stared.  Bazeema?  Gentle, soft-spoken Bazeema who—when they were all friends as teenagers—had refused to even step on a spider?  She’d shot Bambi’s mother?

Gabo cracked a weak smile.  “It’s always the quiet ones you’ve gotta watch out for.”  The smile faded.  “Yeah, I know.  Not funny.”

Asha’s head spun.  She couldn’t exile Bazeema or throw her in the dungeon.  She would never have done something like this if she wasn’t desperate.  And she knew that Bazeema had lost both her parents in the plague; she’d been left to provide for her younger siblings on her own, which couldn’t have been easy. 

But if she’d been in such a bad position, why hadn’t she come to Asha for help?

“This is awful,” she whispered.  She took a breath, trying to steady herself.  “You—you said that the forest creatures as asking for independence, if we won’t execute the hunter.  Do you think we should let the wild animals have their own kingdom, if that’s what they want?  Tell the citizens of Rosas to just…not go into the forest?  I mean…I don’t like the idea, but if it would avoid a war, if it would prevent any further bloodshed—”

“No,” Magnifico said at once.

Gabo raised an eyebrow at him.

“To immediately concede would be taken as a sign of weakness,” Magnifico said.  “Of defeat.  Rosas must not be divided.  The spirit of its people is already faltering.  What will you tell them?  That they’re no longer allowed to set foot in the forests of their own backyard because a deer is angry?  What if a child wanders in by mistake?  Will you build a wall along its entire border?  No, that won’t work.”

“So what do you suggest?” Asha asked.

“You could remove Bambi’s wish for revenge.”

“And make him forget about his mother?  No!  That’s horrible!”

Magnifico shrugged.  “You said you wanted a bloodless solution.  You’ve got a potential rebellion on your hands with a bereaved son as the ringleader.  Do you think you can politely talk your way out of this?”

“Hey, buddy,” Gabo said coldly.  “She’s the queen.  Show a little respect.”

“It’s okay, Gabo,” Asha said.  “I appreciate the support, but Magnifico is just offering his perspective.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t seem to realize how lucky he is to not be stuck in a mirror right now.”

“She’s wise to listen to me,” Magnifico said.  “I ruled this kingdom for half a century, after all.”

“And how did that end, again?” Gabo asked.  “Oh yeah, with you blitzed out of your fucking skull, laughing maniacally and restraining all your citizens with green ghost tendrils while you imprisoned our wishes in a sky orb and ranted about how you were the handsomest of all.  Great, A-plus leadership.  Very inspiring.”

“Gabo…”

A muscle at the corner of Magnifico’s eye twitched, but he replied coolly, “I had a brief lapse in judgment.”

“That’s what you call it?”

“Enough,” Asha said.  “This isn’t helping.”

Gabo flung up his hands.  “So we’re all just supposed to make nice with each other?  Pretend like none of it happened?”

“We’re moving forward,” Asha said.  “We’re looking to the future, not the past.”

“What’s that saying about history, again?  About how we’re doomed to repeat it if we don’t learn from it?  Maybe he’s under control for now, but who says he’s not going to crack under pressure and unleash another lime-flavored apocalypse?”

Magnifico’s breathing had grown heavier.

“If that’s what you’re afraid of, maybe you should stop deliberately stressing him out,” Asha said stiffly.

“Great, so we all just walk on eggshells around him forever, trying not to piss him off.  You might’ve noticed, but I’m not so good at being delicate,” Gabo snapped.  “I don’t censor myself, okay?”

“That doesn’t mean you need to be cruel.”

“Cruel?  You think this is cruel?”  His voice cracked.  “Have you forgotten what it was like, that night?  I thought we were all going to fucking die!  I thought he was about to murder the entire kingdom!”

“You truly believe I would have slaughtered my own citizens?” Magnifico asked.  “I never threatened your lives!  All I ever asked for was respect.  Was I not owed that much, as your king?”

“What, the statue in town square and the cookies shaped like your head and the giant castle and the adoring wife and half the people in the kingdom wanting to bang you wasn’t enough?  You had everything!”  Gabo poked a finger into his chest.  “And still, the moment we started asking questions, the moment everything wasn’t in your control, you freaked out and did the most extreme thing possible!  You didn’t want respect, you wanted unquestioning obedience!”

“Gabo, stop!”

He lapsed into silence and drew in a breath, as though startled at his own outburst.  His face was flushed.  Magnifico glared at him.  Green light flickered in his eyes.

Gabo tensed and took a step back.  The color drained from his face.

The collar’s stone flickered, too.  Green light crackled over it.  Magnifico flinched.

Asha stepped between them, placing a hand lightly on Magnifico’s chest.  “We, um.  We should probably go.”

Magnifico breathed in and squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds.  When he opened them, the glow was gone, but the grim expression remained.  “You took it for granted,” he said quietly.  “All of you.  Everything I built.  Everything I did to protect you.”

“Excuse me?” Gabo said.

“You were born here.  You believed that peace and prosperity were the norm.  That you were entitled to it.  You didn’t see the sacrifice it took, because to you it was like air.  And then you threw it away and you blamed me for its loss.  You don’t know what it’s like out there.  How cruel the world is, how carelessly it crushes ordinary people’s dreams.  You—” he was breathing harder now, trembling visibly.  He stopped, turned away, and strode out of the house.  The door banged shut behind him.

Asha and Gabo stood motionless.  In the silence, the fire crackled. 

“He regrets what happened.  What he did,” she said quietly.  “He’s trying to make amends.  That’s why he’s here.”

Gabo ran a shaky hand through his hair.  His expression crumbled.  “Sorry.  I am sorry, I just…this whole situation…”  He pulled out his flask again, started to raise it to his lips and then dropped it abruptly.  Its contents spilled onto the floorboards and soaked in.  He stared at the stain.  He wiped one wrist across his lips.  “Seeing him again after all this time, it sort of…rattled me more than I thought it would,” he muttered.  He raked his hands through his hair again.  He was only twenty-five, like her, but it was already starting to thin a bit in front.  “Sorry.  I know I’m just making your life harder, I—”

Asha placed a hand on his shoulder, and he fell silent.  “It’s okay.  We’ll talk later.  I shouldn’t leave him alone right now.” 

Gabo nodded, his expression subdued.

Asha walked out of the house, to the waiting carriage.  Magnifico had already climbed in.  She slid in beside him, shutting the door, and the carriage started up.  A dull, heavy ache filled her chest.  She watched him from her peripheral vision.  He stared straight ahead, his expression blank.

“Nothing is ever simple, is it?” Asha asked quietly.  When he didn’t answer, she bit the inside of her cheek, then stopped when she tasted copper.  “Are you all right?”

After a few seconds, he exhaled.  “I’m disappointed in myself.  I let the magic slip again.”

“Just a little.”

“I promised myself that wouldn’t happen.  No matter what he said to me.”

“Gabo can be…abrasive.  I don’t blame you for getting upset.”

“Confrontations like this are inevitable.  If I’m ever to win back the faith of my people, I need to do better.  I need to prove to them that the magic does not control me.  Not anymore.”

After a few seconds, she reached out and put a hand on his arm.  “You did fine.  You have no reason to be disappointed in yourself.”

He remained tense, staring straight ahead.

Outside the window, trees and houses glided past.  They were near Asha’s old house, where she’d once lived with her mother and grandfather, before she moved into the castle.  Before the plague took them.  She glanced at the driver.  “Pull over.”

The carriage slowed to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” Magnifico asked.

“Nothing.  I just want to show you something.”

“We have a lot to do today.  You said as much.”

“I know.  This won’t take long.”  She climbed out of the carriage.  After a moment, he followed, and she led him across an expanse of grass, past a tiny stone well and up a hill, to the huge old tree perched on its crest.  “You remember that tree I told you about, long ago, the one where I used to sit with my father and look up at the stars?  This is the one.”

They stood at the tree’s base, gazing up at the sky beyond the branches.  The day was soft and overcast.  Earlier, the sky had been mostly clear, but a blanket of clouds had rolled in, and now only a few rays of sun pierced the cottony fields above.

Asha began to climb.  Her hands and feet easily found the familiar crevices and knots of wood.  She paused, looking over her shoulder.  “Come on.”

After a few seconds, Magnifico followed.  They climbed to the low, sturdy bough and sat, side by side.  From up here, they could see the rumpled green expanse of the forest, now mottled with patches of brown, and beyond that, the misty gray-green expanse of the Mediterranean Sea.  A salty breeze cooled the sweat on her brow.

“I am glad your friends survived the plague,” Magnifico said.

“Not all of them did.  Safi didn’t make it.  His lungs were always sensitive.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve visited his grave.  I feel awful, it’s just—”

“You have a lot on your plate.  He wouldn’t blame you for prioritizing the living.”

She managed a faint smile, which vanished quickly.  “I wish I knew what to do,” she whispered.  “I want to find a solution that helps everyone.  But maybe…maybe sometimes, that kind of solution doesn’t exist.”

She felt Magnifico’s gaze on her.  She’d sat here next to her father so many times.  They’d shared an easy, warm closeness.  They could tell each other anything.  This was a different feeling.  She was very conscious of her own heartbeat, and of his shoulder, a few inches from hers.

“I’m scared for the future of Rosas,” she said.  “Sometimes, I wish that Star had never come to me.  That none of it had happened.”

“The people of Rosas have their wishes back,” he said.  “There’s that.  They no longer have to wait for someone else to grant them.  They’re free to pursue their dreams themselves.  Just as you wanted.”

Was there a subtle resentment in his tone?  It was hard to say.

Free…she didn’t even know what that word meant anymore.  People were free to pursue their own dreams now, yes, but everyone was too busy trying to survive.  “This didn’t happen because I freed the wishes,” she said.  “I still don’t regret that.”

“Revolutions tend to destabilize things.  At first, the future seems rosy.  But with sudden, dramatic change, there are always unforeseen consequences.”

“It didn’t need to happen this way.  We could’ve changed the existing system for the better, if you’d been willing to make a few compromises.  If you’d just—” she sighed.  “Never mind.  Let’s not do this again.”

“We’re going around in circles, aren’t we?”

“Yes.”

A breeze sighed through the tree’s boughs.  In the distance, a dark smear of approaching storm clouds hung over the ocean.  The scent in the air had changed subtly, heralding the coming rain.  Just as well—they needed some rain.  Rosas still hadn’t fully recovered from the last drought.

It occurred to Asha that if she divided Rosas between the humans and the wild animals, she might not be able to come here anymore.  At least, not without permission.  This tree was within the boundaries of the forest.

“We should probably go tend the vineyards,” Magnifico said.  “Repair the damaged homes and ships.  And at some point, you’ll need to have a discussion with your friend, the hunter.”

“Just another minute,” she said quietly.  “It’s peaceful up here.”

Tonight, she would summon Bazeema to the castle.  Better, maybe, to have the conversation there.  But for now…

Tentatively, she rested a hand on his back.  His muscles tensed briefly, then relaxed.  She slid her hand up a little, until she could feel his heartbeat.  It was a little faster than normal.

He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. 

“Magnifico?”

He gently pulled her head to his shoulder.  She sat very still, her cheek against the smooth, almost silky fabric of his tunic.  She could feel the warmth and solidity of him beneath.  He smelled like books, like herbal tea, like fresh-cut wood, and like something else, something harder to define—a whiff of spice, of potions and powders.  An electric sharpness.

“You’re bearing a heavy burden for one so young,” he said softly.  His arm remained around her.  His other hand rested atop her head.

“I won’t break,” she said.

“I believe you.  But I know how painful this is.  Believe me.  I know how you must ache for your people.”

She remembered the first time she’d told him about her father’s death, the gentleness and earnestness in Magnifico’s voice when he said, That’s not fair, is it?  When she looked up, now, she saw the same expression on his face—the sadness and empathy in his large, beautiful eyes, as though he saw and understood every particle of her soul.  As though he would do anything to take that burden of suffering from her.  It would be easy to fall into those eyes, to let them swallow her up like the ocean.  They seemed to offer so much.  It was so tempting to believe in him, in the goodness within him.  She’d felt it back then, too, when she’d seen those eyes gazing lovingly at the wishes of Rosas, the reflections of countless orbs shining within them like constellations.  The hearts of all his people, cradled in his eyes.  No—trapped in them. 

Not the worst place to be trapped, though.

She wondered if this was some new strategy of his—offering comfort, reminding her how easy it would be to surrender that burden of power to him.  She knew better.  But she let herself take the comfort, anyway.  She leaned into him, breathed in his scent.  He was so large, so warm, and he smelled like Rosas itself.  Like home. 

Was she falling in love with him?  Was that what was happening?  She didn’t have words for this feeling.  It was so messy, so complicated.

“I know this is coming out of the blue, but I've always wondered.  Is Magnifico your real name?”

“Hm?  Of course it is.”

“I mean…not that it isn’t real, but you know.”

He hesitated.  “It is a name I gave myself, if that’s what you’re asking.  A name for a sorcerer-king.  It's who I am, now.  But I did have another name, once, when I was a far less powerful man.”

“Would it be terribly rude to ask what it was?”

His gaze shifted away from hers, toward the storm clouds on the horizon.  From the distance came a faint rumble.  “Mir,” he said.

“Mir,” she repeated, feeling the single syllable on her lips.  It rhymed with near.  Such a small, simple word.  And yet it suited him, somehow.  She smiled.  “Thank you.”

Then she leaned up and kissed his cheek.  She did it without thinking.  He gave a start, as though the collar had given him a tiny jolt.  His hand flew to the spot on his cheek where her lips had touched.  His wide-eyed gaze connected with hers.  They stared at each other.  A flush rose up his neck, into his face.

Thunder rumbled again, louder.

“That—” he cleared his throat—“that storm is approaching fast.  We’d best take shelter until it passes.”

She nodded.  They climbed down from the tree.  The sunlight had a strange, umber hue.  The air around them was filled with the restless twittering of birds.

Chapter Text

Mir, Mir, Mir.  The syllable pulsed in Asha’s head like a heartbeat. 

His name.  His real name.

A group of crows burst from a nearby tree and winged away, cawing loudly.  The wind picked up, thrashing the branches.

No sooner had they climbed into the carriage than the rain began.  Within minutes, the light patter had become a roaring downpour, as though the heavens had been torn open.  The carriage had a roof, but the vehicle wasn’t really built for enduring a storm of this caliber.  Asha sat next to Magnifico.  The carriage hit a bump in the road, jostling them, and their shoulders bumped together, sending a tiny jolt through her nerves. 

Since climbing down from the tree, neither of them had mentioned what had happened.  Or, more accurately, what Asha had done.  But the memory burned bright in her mind.  The way he’d startled, the rush of blood to his cheeks…

She glanced over at him.  Magnifico kept smoothing his hair in small, absent motions.  His gaze connected briefly with hers, then shifted away.  “Where shall we wait this out?” he asked.

Asha struggled to collect her thoughts.  Did I cross a line?  In the moment, it had felt so natural, so right.  And it had been only a kiss on the cheek, after all.  But now, it felt as though gravity had shifted.  “We’re close to town,” she said.  “We can go to The Laughing Place.”

“The what?”

“My friend Hal owns a tavern now.  That’s what it’s called.” 

“Sounds more like a madhouse.”

“Well, it can be.”  It had been Hal’s wish to give the people a place where they could dance and drink and sing their worries away—a wish she’d fulfilled without any help from magic, Asha reminded herself.  Under the old system, she might still be waiting.

The carriage driver, a taciturn, middle-aged woman named Sophie, spoke for the first time that day, raising her voice to be heard above the rush of rain:  “Queen Asha, beg pardon, but is it a good idea to bring him into a public place?  You saw the way the crowd reacted last time.”

Asha hesitated.  “Well, where should we take shelter?  You’re getting drenched, driving us around in this weather.”

“I’m already drenched.  Makes no difference.  I’ll survive.”

“I guess we could head straight back to the castle.”  And Magnifico had already endured one angry confrontation today.  Even if he was in a more stable frame of mind than he’d been last night, they probably shouldn’t push it.

But Magnifico shook his head.  “I won’t hide from my own people.  I’m here to stay, after all.  They’re going to be seeing me around town quite a bit, in the days to come.  They might as well get used to it.” 

Asha studied his expression.  There was no hint of green in his eyes.  “You’re sure?”

“I am.  Let’s see this tavern.”

“All right, then,” Asha said.  “We’ll just stay until the worst of the rain passes.  They have a stable out back, so the horses should be okay.”  Her hand strayed to her wand; her fingers curled around the hilt.  She’d developed a habit of gripping it whenever she was nervous.

She started to say Mir, then bit her tongue.  She wondered how he’d react if she were to start calling him that—but it felt presumptuous.  Even if he’d told her his birth-name, that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted her to use it.  Especially in front of others.  “Magnifico,” she said instead.

His gaze jerked toward her. 

“Are you…”  Again, the words died on her lips.  She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to ask.  She felt as though they needed to have a talk, at some point, about the exact nature of their relationship.  But this wasn’t the time or the place. 

She’d already decided that nothing could happen between them, regardless of her own feelings or his.  Too risky.  She’d said herself that she would be a monster to attempt to seduce him while he was still her captive, and then—

She gave her head a shake, pushing the thoughts away.  Later.

* * *

There was a rabbit carved into the wooden sign over the tavern door, smiling slyly over its shoulder, one eye closed in a wink.

When they entered, a wave of raucous laughter and chatter washed over them.  The place was teeming with customers, but most of them were congregated around the bar itself.  A goat—not Valentino, but another talking goat called Bertrand (whose name she knew because there were only a few of them in Rosas)—lapped ale from a dish on the floor. 

Asha, Magnifico, and Sophie took a seat at a secluded booth in the corner, their clothes dripping from their brief dash through the rain.  Asha pulled down the hood of her blue cloak and shook her braids out.

Within seconds, all heads had turned toward them, and Asha quickly began to reconsider the wisdom of coming here.  Her hand drifted again to her wand, which rested against her hip in its leather loop, hidden beneath her cloak.

No one approached.  But an awkward hush suddenly hung over the room.  The laughter and booming voices had been replaced with a chorus of murmurs and urgent whispers.

Asha leaned forward and spoke in a low voice.  “We don’t have to stay.”

“Nonsense.  Let them gossip,” Magnifico said.  “I can’t help being the center of attention.”  He ran a hand over his hair again, smoothing a few strands into place.  He flashed a toothy smile at the nearest table of gawping patrons, who quickly averted their gazes.  Magnifico chuckled.  But she could see the tension in the muscles of his neck, the flutter of his pulse beneath his jaw.  She didn’t doubt he was remembering the pain of the rock striking his head.

“Asha!  Wow!  I haven’t seen you in ages.”

She looked up and was greeted by Hal’s beaming face.  Asha smiled back, the tension seeping out of her shoulders.  Hal’s easygoing joy was always contagious.  “It has been too long, hasn’t it?  I’m sorry.  I’ve wanted to come here so many times, but I’ve been busy.”

“No worries.  I mean, come on, you’re the queen!  Though, yes, we all miss you.  The old gang really should get together, one of these days.”  She glanced at Magnifico.  Her smile faltered, but only slightly.  “I heard you were back in town.  Welcome.  You’re looking…well?”

“As are you.”  His gaze roamed over the room.  “Quite a successful little business you’ve made for yourself, here.”

“Yes!”  She spread her arms, as though to embrace the tavern itself.  “I’ve been very lucky.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” Magnifico said, his tone light.  “I’m sure you’ve worked hard to build this.  This new Rosas is a place where people must grant their own wishes, after all.  Though I suppose alcohol is always a reliable source of income, even in—especially in troubled times.  Smart move.”

He wasn’t exactly being rude, but there was a sardonic edge in his voice.  Asha gave his foot a light kick beneath the table.  He kicked back.

Hal gave a small, nervous chuckle.  “Thanks.  The ale I brew is my own recipe.  Honey, orange peel and ginger.  Would you like to try it?  On the house.  Fair warning, it’s strong.”

Of course, they weren’t planning to stay long, but it felt rude to refuse.  “I’d love to,” Asha said.

“Three glasses, then?”

Come to think of it, she had no idea if Magnifico drank.

“Hot tea, for me,” he said. 

“With honey?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have an ale,” said Sophie.

“Coming right up,” said Hal.  “And just holler if you need anything else.”

They sat, waiting.  Murmurs swelled and faded around them like the ebb and flow of waves.  A young man brought out their tray of drinks; Hal was behind the counter, chatting with one of her other customers.  She caught Asha’s gaze and waved to her.

Asha took a swig.  The ale was a strange blend of bitter and sweet, and it tingled lightly on her lips and her throat.  Already, she was reconsidering the wisdom of drinking on an empty stomach.

Magnifico sipped his tea and smacked his lips.  “Too much honey,” he said.  “Should’ve been more specific.”

Sophie, silent as usual, drank her ale with the methodical confidence of someone who knew her own tolerance.  Asha wondered if it was wise for their driver to be indulging.  But then, the horses knew the route.

Across the tavern, nearly hidden in the shadows, a large, tawny owl perched atop one of the tables, pecking at a biscuit on a plate.  Its head swiveled toward them, reflective retinas flashing like gold coins.  The owl leaned forward, shielded its beak with one wing, and whispered something to the one-eyed man sitting across from it.  The man grunted and gave a small nod.  His head turned toward them, and both he and the owl stared pointedly at their booth.

Uh-oh.

Was the pair going to start trouble?  Asha took another swig of ale, in spite of her better judgment.  Her stomach felt funny—warm, electric.  They weren’t looking at Magnifico, she noted.  They were looking at her. 

Outside, thunder rumbled.  Rain drummed against the glass of the windows.

The one-eyed man rose from the table, walked across the room, and stood before them.  He wore a dark brown, hooded coat; his face was deeply lined and weathered.  A leather patch covered his eye and part of his cheek.  The owl flapped across the tavern, its wingbeats heavy and ponderous, and landed on the man’s shoulder.  Its strong yellow talons dug into his coat. 

Asha clutched her wand tighter.  “Is there a problem?” she asked.

The owl clicked its sharp, iron-gray beak and spoke in a creaking voice:  “Message for the Queen of Rosas, from the Prince of the Forest.”

“Who?”

“In one week’s time, on the evening of the new moon, come to the clearing of the speaking trees to meet with His Majesty.”

She blinked.  “Are you going to tell me who this ‘prince’ is, or—?”

“His Majesty is powerful,” croaked the owl.  He flexed his talons on the silent man’s shoulder and stretched out one wing.  The feathers on its underside were creamy white, speckled with gray.  “He knows great magic.  Wild magic.  Do not underestimate him.  If you do not arrive at the appointed time, it will be taken as a sign of disrespect.”

“Excuse me,” Magnifico said coolly, “are you attempting to threaten us?”

“His Majesty will speak only to the queen.  Good day.”  The silent, one-eyed man turned and walked away, the owl still perched on his shoulder.  He threw some coins onto the shadowy table, then strode out into the rain; the door banged shut behind them.

“Bloody hell,” Sophie muttered under her breath.  “One thing after another.”

“Were they talking about Bambi?” Asha asked.  “Is he the prince?”

Magnifico arched a brow.  “So the deer claims to be a sorcerer.  I’ll believe that when I see it.”  He took another sip of his steaming tea.  “Gabo said this Bambi has only been alive for a year.  A year isn’t nearly enough time to learn any significant battle magic.  It’s barely enough time to learn how to move a teacup.”

Asha stared into her ale, watching the bubbles swirl on the surface, forming wisps of foam.  Her fingers tightened on the glass’s handle.  “So you think this is a bluff.  You think I shouldn’t take it seriously.”

“Oh, you should.  A challenge should always be taken seriously.  But you needn’t take orders from them.  Don’t let them intimidate you with these theatrics.  Come to them on your own terms.  If I were in your shoes, I’d track down this challenger immediately.”

“I don’t want to instigate a conflict.  We don’t know that this is a challenge.  The owl just said he wanted to talk.”

“If he’s calling himself a prince, then he sees himself as your equal.  You will need to correct his misperception.  Or he will only grow bolder.”

She rubbed her temple.  “I think overreaction is more likely to cause a problem.  Anyway, I’m not going to have an audience with him before I’ve spoken to Bazeema.”  She whispered, “Also, keep your voice down.”

Magnifico sighed but nodded.

She was conscious of the murmurs surrounding them, the countless eyes.  She wondered, suddenly, what might happen if anyone had witnessed them together in the tree—Magnifico’s arm around her shoulders, Asha leaning in to kiss his cheek.  What might people assume?  Stars, she hadn’t even thought of that.  At this point, rumors could be disastrous.  The conversation with Gabo, the confrontation with the mob, had proven there was still a great deal of fear and hostility toward Magnifico.  If the people were to feel safe, they had to believe that Asha was in control.  If they started to think that he was unduly influencing her—or worse, secretly pulling the strings—it might erode trust in her.

“What will you do, then?” he asked quietly.  “How will you approach this?”

It took her a moment to remember what he was asking about.  “I don’t know.”  She drained the rest of her glass in one long, burning chug, then wiped her mouth with one wrist.  “I have a week to think about it, anyway.”

“The clearing of the speaking trees…is that even a real place?”

“It is.  I know what he was talking about.”  It was close to the place where Star had first come to her.  He’d enchanted several of the forest trees, along with a cluster of fungi, and now those trees still sang and whispered and babbled cryptic nonsense.  Asha had never had any discomfort with the talking animals, but the talking trees and mushrooms...she had to admit, she’d never really liked them.  They were weird.  Did that make her some kind of plant bigot?

“Once the weather clears, I’ll call a gathering,” Asha said.  “I’ll warn the citizens to temporarily avoid the forest, or at least not to go too deep into it, and not to bother any wild animals.  At least until I’ve met with this so-called prince.”

“You’re going to deal with this as timidly as possible, then.”

“Yes,” she said. 

He frowned at her.

“If you’d dealt with me a bit more ‘timidly,’ you’d still have a kingdom.”  The words slipped out before she could think better of them. 

He tensed.  His eyes narrowed.

“We both overreacted, back then,” she said, a little softer.  “And we both assumed the worst about each other.  Things spiraled out of control.  Because distrust and anger just breed more distrust and anger.  I’m not going to make the same mistake now.  Aggression isn’t the same as courage.  It’s a sign that you don’t feel secure in your own power.  So I’ll wait.”

He looked away.  “Well.  Perhaps you’re right.”  His fingers drummed on the tabletop.  “We will see.”

Sophie had finished her drink.

Asha lifted her own glass to her lips again, then lowered it, realizing it was already empty.  “Maybe when some time has passed, the situation will cool down on its own.”  Even as she spoke the words, she doubted them.  If there was one thing that her years of leadership had taught her, it was that nothing was ever as simple as one might hope.

* * *

Once the rain had passed, they visited a few of the damaged houses in town.  Magnifico used his magic to repair a partially caved-in roof, an unhinged door and some shattered windows, the result of a previous storm.  The houses’ residents watched them nervously from the other side of the street, but no one threw any rocks.

When the sky started to darken, they headed back to the castle.  They hadn’t accomplished nearly everything on their list, but Asha’s head was hurting.  A small, hot point throbbed behind her left eye, and her stomach shifted uneasily.  It was her own fault for drinking on an empty stomach.  Should’ve ordered some stew or biscuits along with it.

Later, once they were inside the dry warmth of the castle, she and Magnifico ascended the steps to the second floor, their cloaks still damp with rain.  Without thinking, Asha started to follow him to his room…then stopped. 

He stopped as well, looking over his shoulder.  “Are you coming?”  His tone was guarded.

“I should probably get changed, before anything else.”  She lifted a fold of her damp cloak.  The last time she’d attempted to use magic to dry her clothes, they’d ended up a frizzy, half-unraveled mess.

“But after that.”

“Do you…”  She felt her face warming.  This conversation felt laden with subtext.  Or was that her imagination?  “Do you want me to?”

“You did suggest that having our meals together was going to be a regular thing.  That I would teach you magic one-on-one.”

“I did.” 

“Have you changed your mind about that?”

Had she?  Were they getting too close?  She’d decided, in the beginning, that cultivating a bond with him would help keep him under control, but she hadn’t factored in her own feelings.  She certainly didn’t feel in control.

“Well?” he said, a subtle tension in his tone.  He remained facing away from her in the dimly lit hallway. 

Was he going to bring up what had happened earlier?  Was she? 

“Magnifico, I think…”  She put a hand to her temple, trying to steady her sore, wobbly brains.  “I think I shouldn’t have done what I did.  In the tree.”

The muscles in his back stiffened beneath his tunic.

“It’s important that we have…boundaries.  Given the situation,” she said.  “I feel like I crossed one, today.”

He breathed in slowly, exhaled through his nose.  “I see.”

“And I’m sorry about that.”  The words felt awkward and stiff in her mouth.  She rubbed her wrist.

He turned to face her.  He was smiling, though it didn’t reach his eyes.  “Sorry?  About a peck on the cheek?  Please.  This is hardly worth treating like some sort of scandal.”

Asha tensed.  There was a hint of scorn in his voice that she hadn’t expected.  She felt heat rising up her neck, into her face.  “Are you angry?”

“Why would I be angry?  I told you from the beginning, as long as you are my captor, you can be nothing more than that.” 

“No.  That’s not—I mean, we can still be friends.  I just felt like maybe I sent some signals that I wasn’t completely intending to.  Like I should say something.  To clarify where we stand.”  She winced.  She was babbling.

“Well, now you’ve said it.  So relax.”  He flicked a hand, as though brushing away a fly.  “It was nothing.  It meant nothing.”

That stung.  But then, how did she want or expect to react?  She’d just told him that it was a mistake.  “It didn’t feel like nothing,” she murmured. 

“What is your goal here, Asha?  What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing.  Nothing.  I just feel like maybe I need to…step back, a bit.  But it’s not your fault.  I want to make that clear.”

“I just told you.  It’s fine.” 

“Well, I feel like you’re upset.”

He scoffed.  “What do you think I am?  Some trembling maiden that you need to handle like glass?  If you’d prefer not to have dinner with me tonight or in the foreseeable future, you can just say so.  I survived eight years of solitude in a mirror.  I won’t wilt if you stop giving me your attention.”

“I’m not saying you will.”  She winced.  “Sorry.  I have a headache.  This didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.”

His expression softened and crumbled.  He looked away, rubbed a hand over his face.  “No.  No, you’re right.  This is for the best.  We are working together out of necessity.  But that’s all this can be, and we would do well to remember it.  Boundaries, as you say.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything, after all.  Even if she couldn’t pursue these feelings, maybe she should have just let that moment of connection exist quietly between them, something untouched and warm.  Now her heart felt like a tangled ball of yarn jammed through with knitting needles.

She stared at the floor.

“It’s been a long day,” Magnifico said.  “Perhaps we should just get some rest.”

She raised her head.  Her gaze searched his face.  Was it okay to leave things this way? 

But she was tired.  She was in no state for a prolonged conversation.  Tomorrow, maybe.  “All right,” she said.  “Sleep well, Magnifico.”

He turned his face away.  “Sleep well, Asha.”  He retreated into his room, shutting the door behind him.

With a flick of her wand, she locked it.  She started to walk away, toward her own room…then doubled back, creeping softly to his door, and placed a hand against it.  She listened.  From within, she could hear the faint click of wood against stone.  Small, sharp clicks, over and over, as though he were moving his figurines around on their model city.  She balled one hand into a fist to knock on the door…then her arm dropped to her side.  She turned and walked back toward her own room, her steps heavy.

Chapter Text

One week, the owl had told Asha.  The night of the new moon.

Three days had passed since then.  She still hadn’t met with Bazeema to discuss the issue.  Asha was dreading the encounter, putting it off…which was easy to do, because there was always something more urgent that needed attention.  But she couldn’t delay anymore.  It had to happen today.

Of course, that wasn’t the only thing weighing on her mind. 

Over the past few days, she’d avoided being alone with Magnifico.  She still took him out each morning in the carriage to attend the citizens’ needs, still aided him in performing the necessary spells.  But when they arrived back at the castle each evening, they parted ways with terse goodnights.  She hadn’t set foot in his room, nor he in hers. 

It was hard to tell what was going on in his head.  When they went out, he was his usual self, smiling and waving to his former citizens (even the ones who scowled at him), making sardonic comments and fussing with his hair.  But there was an invisible wall between him and Asha, now.  When they sat next to each other in the carriage, he was careful to leave a foot of space between them so that no part of their bodies touched.

This was better, she kept reminding herself.  Getting emotionally involved with him was perilous, for a multitude of reasons.  She’d pulled back before things had gotten too serious.  She’d done the responsible thing.  Right?  Yet now there was a small, hard knot of pain buried deep in her chest, and it never quite went away.  She drifted through the days feeling anxious and preoccupied.

It didn’t help that she’d started having very…intense dreams about Magnifico.  She woke up aching and restless, the sheets damp with sweat, as though she were in the grips of a fever. 

Why him, why now?  When she was younger, she’d admired him, but that was all. 

Their positions had changed since then.  Everything had changed.

* * *

Asha ate breakfast alone in her room, which had been the norm for most of her time as queen.  She rarely used the dining hall—that vast, empty, echoing space, with a table longer than anyone could need.  She missed living with her mother and Saba.  She missed the warm, easygoing chatter that had accompanied meals in the cozy little house.  She could invite others to eat with her, she supposed, but togetherness never felt quite the same when it had to be coordinated and planned.

She scooped out a bite of grapefruit with her spoon.  The fruit had been sweeter and juicier, these past few days.  Most of the island’s plants were doing better.

There was a knock at her door.  She washed down the fruit with a swig of tea and glanced up.  “Yes?”

The knock was too high up to be Valentino.  She expected Dolf or one of the other knights.  Instead, Dahlia called out, “It’s me.  Can I come in?”

It was rare for Dahlia to come up to her room.  The stairs were hard on her leg.  Asha usually went down to the library or the kitchen when she needed to speak to her, and when Dahlia had something to tell Asha, she would send one of the servants up with a written message.  This must be important.  “Yes, of course.  Hang on.” 

Asha opened the door for her, and Dahlia limped in.  She was flushed with exertion, panting lightly.  She must’ve been baking recently, because she was wearing an apron, still dusted with flour.  She looked around.  “Jeez, I think it’s been months since I’ve been inside your room.”

“Here, sit down.”  Asha pulled up a chair.

“I’m fine.”  She elbowed the door shut behind her.  “So, how did it go yesterday?”

“How did what go?”

“You and Magnifico were working on some spell, right?  To strengthen the defensive barriers around Rosas?”

“Oh…right.  Yes.  It went fine.  Or at least, I assume it did.”  The barriers were invisible, but theoretically, they would repel any sailors with malicious intent.  Rosas had never needed soldiers to guard its borders; the entire kingdom was protected by a dozen knights.  Magnifico was Rosas’ army.  And apparently, the defensive spells had been pretty decayed before yesterday.  If they’d been attacked by pirates or another kingdom while Magnifico was trapped in the mirror, what then?

It was insane, of course, relying so much on one man—especially when that man happened to be as vain, paranoid, and mentally fragile as Magnifico.  Yet it was hard not to be impressed at how much he’d taken onto his own shoulders.

“Hey, everything okay?” Dahlia asked.

“What?  Huh?  Oh, yes.”

Dahlia adjusted her glasses.  “You seem a little spacey.”

“Just…a lot going on right now.  What about you?  Everything okay?”

Dahlia grinned.  “Better than okay.  I made a breakthrough this morning and I wanted to tell you.  I often have breakthroughs while I’m baking.  Look.”  Dahlia wiped her hands off on her apron, pulled a folded sheet of paper from her pocket, and unfolded it.  The paper was stained with flour and smears of melted butter.  It had a ragged edge, as though it had been torn from a book.  On one side was a recipe for chocolate croissants, in Dahlia’s handwriting.  On the other side was a messily sketched diagram which involved a lot of concentric circles, dots, and arrows going in various directions, with words like interesting and hmmm, nope scribbled in the margins.

“I…have no idea what I’m looking at,” Asha said.

“The collar!  Remember?  We talked about modifying it so that it doesn’t hurt him?”

Asha’s eyes widened.  “You figured it out?  Already?  Dahlia, that’s incredible!”

“Don’t get too excited yet.  I still need to iron out a few kinks.  But I’ve grasped the basics.  This is the pathway we need to change.”  She tapped one of the arrows.  “There’s a thread of magic that passes from the collar through his atlas vertebrae—that’s the top of the spine—here.”

There was nothing in the diagram that looked like a head or a neck, but Asha said, “Uh-huh.”

“And this node—” she pointed at a tiny circle—“senses when magic is about to be performed and clamps down, redirecting a small amount of that magic to create a burst of painful magical energy, like this—” she traced a path with her finger, leaving another smear of flour.  “If we can reconfigure the pathway to harmlessly disperse the energy into the air, instead, then we’re good to go.”

“Does that mean you know how to fix it?”

“I’m close.  There is a catch.  In order to make the modifications, we’ll need to remove the collar for a short while.  And once we do that—”

“Then we have to put it back on.”

“Which, I imagine, he won’t be inclined to cooperate with.”

When they’d first pulled Magnifico from his mirror prison, the shock of the transition had left him unconscious—as Dahlia had predicted it would—so they’d been able to fit the collar around his neck before he woke.  Asha remembered the sight of him sprawled on the floor of the dungeon, motionless and pale.  It had been strange, almost unnerving, to see him so helpless.

“Of course, there are things we can do,” Dahlia said.  “We can have Simon work a sleep-spell on him, then remove the collar and do the modifications while he’s unconscious.  Simon’s been helping him sleep most nights anyway, right?”

“I don’t know.  Has he?”

“Well, that’s what Simon says.  So it would probably be easiest if we just do the change when Magnifico’s already asleep and then tell him about it once he wakes up.”

Asha bit her lower lip.

“What?”

“It’s just…I’d prefer to do this with Magnifico’s cooperation.  And he understands, by now, how dangerous the forbidden magic is and how important it is to have a means to control it.”

Dahlia raised her eyebrows.  “You’re suggesting that he’ll just let us put the collar back on, once we’re finished?”

“Yeah, maybe not.  But I do want to talk it over with him first, at least.”  She took the diagram, examining it, trying to make sense of the tangle of lines.  The collar was hooked directly into Magnifico’s nervous system through magic, and they were still figuring out the specifics of how it worked.  She could only imagine how vulnerable he must feel. 

“Does he know?  That I was working on this?” Dahlia asked.

“No.  I didn’t want to mention this to him until we were reasonably sure we could do it, because I didn’t want to get his hopes up.  But if you’re sure this will work—”

“This is all untested, obviously.  But my theories have held true so far.  Only way to be sure is to try it.”

Asha nodded.  “I’ll discuss it with him today, then.”  She felt a twinge of nervousness.  But she’d avoided real conversation with him for too long.  And this was a practical matter.  “Can I bring him this diagram?  To give him an idea of what we’ll be doing?  I mean, I don’t know what I’m looking at, but he might.”

“Go ahead.  I’ve got it all in here now, anyway.”  She tapped her temple.  “It’s pretty straightforward once you grasp the concept.  Oh…have you decided what you’re going to do about that situation with the forest animals?”

Asha winced.  Of course Dahlia had heard about that.  “I guess I can’t keep putting that off, can I?”  Her fingers tightened on the diagram.  She folded the paper and tucked it into her pocket, then sat down at the table and ate another bite of grapefruit.  Her appetite had deserted her, but she should at least try to finish her breakfast.  “I’ll summon Bazeema to the castle tonight.  Actually, I was thinking about summoning the whole gang.  Or what’s left of us.  I think this is important enough that I should get everyone’s perspective.  Val will be there too, of course.”

Dahlia eased herself into the chair across from Asha.  “It has been too long.  It’ll be good to see them.”

“Yeah.  Even if these aren’t the best circumstances.”  She sighed.  “Thank you.  For all your work on this.  I appreciate it more than I can say.”

“No problem.  My brain gets restless when it doesn’t have a problem to chew on, anyway.  And I’ve learned a lot through the process.”

“I really hope this works.  I hate the fact that the collar gives him pain.  Every time it zaps him, it’s like I feel it in my bones.”

Dahlia tilted her head.  “You’ve gotten pretty attached to him, haven’t you?”

Asha flushed.  There was no accusation in Dahlia’s voice, just curiosity, but a wave of self-consciousness passed over her.  “I mean…we have been working pretty closely together.  And we’ve made a lot of progress.  I think the people are starting to warm up to him, too.”  She cleared her throat.  “Anyway.  I don’t think I can finish this toast.  If you want any—”

“Hey.  Did something happen between you and Magnifico?”

She froze.  “What?  What do you mean?”  Her voice emerged a little wobbly, like it was walking across a patch of ice.

“I don’t know.  I didn’t want to pry, but things have felt a little weird for the past few days.  When the subject of him comes up, you get all nervous and kind of shut down.  Like…did he do something, or threaten you, or—?”

“No.  No, it isn’t like that.  He’s been behaving himself.”

“What, then?”  At Asha’s silence, she said, “Come on, Asha.  We’ve been friends since we were six years old.  You can talk to me.”

Asha rubbed her forehead.  “It’s complicated.” 

But if not Dahlia, then who could she talk to? 

Her gaze wandered to the window.  The patch of sky outside was a clear, vibrant blue.  Like his eyes.  Not a great sign, that that was her first thought.  “It’s like you said.  I’ve gotten…attached.  I’ve been trying to distance myself, but that’s hard to do.  And a few days ago, we had an argument.  I think I really hurt his feelings.  We been civil to each other these past few days, but we haven’t had a real conversation since then.”

Dahlia tapped a finger against the tabletop.  “To be clear, what type of ‘attachment’ are we talking about?”

Oh stars.  Here it was.

When she didn’t answer immediately, Dahlia said, “Ah.”

“It’s not—nothing’s happened,” Asha murmured.  Though, was that true?

“But you’re attracted to him.  Romantically speaking.”

Did she have to be so blunt? 

“Yes,” Asha whispered. 

“That is a bit of a pickle, isn’t it?”

Asha rested her elbows on the table.  Her head sank into her hands.  “What is wrong with me?”

“I mean, you’re only human.  And he’s, well—look at him.  I know he nearly destroyed the kingdom, but that doesn’t change the facts.”

“Dahlia.  This is serious.”

“I know, I know.”  Dahlia sighed.  “I guess if you’re asking my advice, I would have an honest discussion with him about these feelings.  That seems like a good starting point, anyway.”

“I tried doing that, and it just made things worse.” 

“Did you ask him how he feels?”

She shifted uneasily.  “No.”  What would it solve, anyway?  Regardless, he was still her prisoner.  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.  I’m trying to distance myself, and talking about feelings is the opposite of distancing.”

“Well, what you’re doing now is obviously not working.  It’s draining you.  It’s making you distracted, and if you’re distracted, you’ll be a less effective leader.  Though, admittedly, I might not be the best person to ask about stuff like this.  Simon is the feelings guy.  I have trouble with problems that can’t be diagrammed.”  She picked up a half-eaten piece of toast with honey and took a bite.  “But we should probably deal with this thing with the collar first.  And wait until after the big meeting tonight.  One thing at a time, right?”

Asha gave her a faint smile.  “One thing at a time.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, picking at the remains of Asha’s breakfast.  The ache inside Asha’s chest had eased a little.  Even if Dahlia hadn’t offered any real answers, it was a weight off just to tell someone.  This had been gnawing at her.  Even more than she’d realized.

“It’s funny, but I was thinking the other day that I miss making those Magnifico cookies,” Dahlia said. 

“You still make cookies.”

“Flower-shaped ones.”  She licked a bit of honey from her thumb.  “Same recipe.  Less fun to decorate, though.  And making cookies shaped like your head would feel unnatural.  No offense.”

“None taken.  I don’t know if I want to be a cookie.  Everyone loved those Magnifico ones, though.”

“Oh yeah, I used to send one up to him with his lunch when he ate in the study.  He would send back notes requesting extras.”

“You should make them again sometime.  Just for us, just for old times’ sake.”

“Do we share with him?”

She chuckled.  “Sure, why not?” 

They smiled at each other across the table.  Warmth blossomed in her chest.  There was a path forward now.  She touched her pocket, and the sheet of paper inside crinkled faintly. 

This, she thought—this new, improved collar might be the tool she needed to start repairing her relationship with Magnifico.  She would figure out the rest later.  For now, it would be enough if they could just start talking to each other again.

* * *

Asha found Magnifico in his study, idly riffling through a book from one of its numerous shelves.  He wasn’t wearing his cape.  He’d taken to wearing only his tunic and trousers—as though he’d come to some decision that he wouldn’t dress like a king until he’d regained his status.  Dolf stood a short distance away, looking bored.  His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, though it seemed more a matter of habit than anything.

Magnifico was no longer confined to his room.  At least, not during the daytime.  His door was still locked and guarded at night, but before lights out, he could go anywhere in the castle, provided he had a chaperone.  Usually one of the knights.

When Asha entered the room, Dolf and Magnifico turned toward her.  A tiny, almost imperceptible expression flickered across Magnifico’s face, then vanished beneath a calm mask.  “Good morning,” he said coolly.

“Queen Asha,” Dolf said, nodding in greeting.  “What brings you here?”

“I’ll keep an eye on him for a while,” she said.  “Thank you, Dolf.”

Dolf glanced from Magnifico to Asha.  “As you wish.”  He walked out of the study, footsteps echoing through the vast room.

Asha and Magnifico stood motionless, facing each other.  Alone.  Asha’s heart was beating quickly. 

“I—” her voice emerged a little thin.  She tried again:  “I hope you slept well.”

“Well enough.”  He closed the book in his hands.  His fingertips idly wandered along its edges.  “And you?”

“Same.”

He turned his head in the direction of the reflective black doors that had once blocked off the wish vault.  “Tell me…do you ever go in there?” 

“No.  There’s no reason to, now.  It’s empty.”

“Of course.”  He ran one palm over the book’s cover, traced the lettering of the title.  His gaze wandered to the empty glass case which had once held the book of forbidden magic.  Of course, was no longer in the study.  It was kept locked in an iron box in the library.  Initially, they’d tried to burn it, but it had resisted their efforts.  “When this was my castle,” he said, “I would go into the wish room when I needed space to think.  To breathe.  I found their light calming.”

“They were very beautiful.  When I saw them for the first time…honestly, it was one of the most incredible moments of my life.” 

“It was an incomparable feeling.”

“Yes.”  Quickly, she added, “But now their light lives on in the hearts of Rosas’ people.  Where it belongs.”

“Of course.  Inaccessible to me.” 

Silence descended.  He slid the book back into its place on the shelf.  “I assume there is some purpose to your visit?  Is there more work to do in the kingdom?”

“There’s always work to do in the kingdom, but that’s not why I’m here now.  I wanted to show you this.”  She approached, pulled the diagram out of her pocket and held it up.

His eyebrows lifted slightly, but he gave no other reaction.

“Dahlia’s been working on this,” she said.  “We didn’t know if it would be possible, but recently she made a breakthrough.  We want to modify your collar.  Once the changes are made, if her theories are correct, it will keep the forbidden magic under control without causing you pain.”

He stared at her.  Another faint twitch of an expression crossed his face, then disappeared.  “Is that so?  Hm.”

She’d expected something more.  Gratitude?  Relief, at least?  “Of course, we’ll have to take it off to make the changes.  Which—obviously, we’ll have to be careful about that.”

“Yes.  That would be dangerous, wouldn’t it?  For you.”

“Well, I don’t think you would take the opportunity to attack me.  Or anyone else.”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

“Because it would be foolish.  I know you still want to reclaim your throne, but you want to win back the hearts of your people first, right?  That takes time.  And you need a way to keep the forbidden magic under control while you’re regaining their trust.  But we are going to take precautions.  Just in case.”  She caught herself nervously running her fingers through her hair.  She dropped her hand to her side.  “Simon can put a sleep spell on you, so you’ll wake up with the collar back in place, already altered.  What do you think?”

He turned away.  “I appreciate the thought, but it’s not necessary.”

Asha frowned.  “What?” 

“The collar is sufficient in its current form.  There’s no need for you to change it.”

“But it causes you pain.  Whenever the magic flares up.”

“Yes.”

“Then…I don’t understand.  Do you want that?”

He touched the collar, his fingertips wandering over its smooth surface as he stood, facing the bookshelf.  “I find it odd that you would do this.  Why should you care if it hurts me?  Your first priority ought to be the safety of your people.  What if these changes make the collar less effective at controlling the magic?”

“They won’t.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“I don’t pretend to understand how it all works, but I trust Dahlia.”

“She’s intelligent, but she’s still quite young.  You are working with forces you barely comprehend.  You’ve been lucky, so far.”  His fingertips lingered over the stone at his throat. 

“The forbidden magic flares up when you become emotionally unstable,” Asha said. 

“Interesting theory.  And?”

“And the pain probably worsens that.  It’s a self-feeding cycle.  So there’s a practical reason to change it.”

“On the contrary.  The pain focuses me.  It clarifies my thoughts and keeps me on guard against the magic.  If you remove the collar and start tinkering with it, there’s no telling what will happen.”

A helpless feeling washed over her.  If it was part of some new strategy of his, she couldn’t figure it out.  “This is really what you want?  To leave things the way they are?”

“It is.”  He started to remove another book from the shelf.  “I apologize for any time you’ve wasted on this matter.”

“Are you punishing yourself?” she blurted out.

He froze.  Slowly, he pushed the book back into its slot and turned to face her, his gaze sharp.  “Excuse me?”

“I asked if you’re punishing yourself.  By refusing this.  Or…are you punishing me?”

His eyes narrowed.  She remained where she was, fighting the urge to look away.

“I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on in your head,” she said.

“You’ve spend the past three days hiding from me,” he said, “and now you have the gall to ask me a question like that?”

“I’m not hiding from you.”

“Then why is this the first time we’ve spoken alone since the day we tended the olive trees?”

She swallowed, throat suddenly tight.  “I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence.  You made your intentions quite clear.”  He turned away again, facing the bookshelf, and interlaced his hands behind his back.  “You wish to keep me at arm’s length?  Fine.  But you don’t get to have it both ways.  You demand to know my true thoughts.  Yet you won’t take your meals with me.  You won’t look me in the eye.  You won’t even step inside my room.”

Asha dropped her gaze.  “I’m…”  She swallowed, her hand tightening on the paper, crinkling the edge.  Tears swam into her eyes, and she blinked them back.  “I’m not demanding anything from you.  But it doesn’t make any sense that you would say no to this.  There’s no benefit in forcing yourself to suffer.”

“Then do it.”  He spun to face her, irises glowing green, mouth contorted in a snarl.  “Do whatever you wish.  If you’re just going to argue with me until I give you my consent, then what’s the point in getting my consent, except to soothe your own conscience?”  His voice was tight, the syllables sharp and clipped.  “We both know that you always get your way in the end, so you might as well—” he gasped and convulsed.  Green electricity buzzed and danced over the collar.  He fell silent, breathing heavily, clutching his chest with one hand.  The glow faded.

A dull ache filled her own chest, squeezing her heart. 

Of course.  She’d pushed him away.  Whatever crack had opened in his armor, before, had slammed shut.

“I’ll leave,” she whispered.

“Don’t I need a chaperone?  I thought I wasn’t allowed to wander the castle unattended.”

But she was already striding toward the study doors.  She pushed them open and kept walking down the hall, down the stairs.  Tears blinded her.  She kept walking aimlessly until she ran into a large, sturdy, soft wall of a person.

“Oof.” 

“Sorry,” she muttered, pulling back.  She stumbled a little. 

A pair of gentle, warm hands settled on her shoulders, steadying her.  Simon.  Maybe he’d overheard the argument in the study and come to investigate.  “Asha.  Are you okay?”

“Yes.”  Her voice quivered.  She sighed.  “No.  No, I’m not.”

He wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her close.  A lump swelled in her throat, and she shut her eyes tight, hiding her face against his shoulder.  She remained that way for a minute or two, just absorbing comfort from his familiar solidity, then pulled back and wiped one forearm across her eyes. 

“Do you want to talk?  Is this about him?”

“Yes.”  Asha’s arm hung at her side, her hand still clenched tight around the paper with the diagram on it.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

She exhaled, uncrumpled the paper, and showed it to him, though she knew it probably wouldn’t be any more comprehensible to Simon than it was to her.  “Dahlia has found a way to modify the collar so that it will still work, but it won’t hurt him anymore.”

“That’s good.  Right?”

“Yes.  But he says he doesn’t want it.  He says the pain ‘focuses’ him.  I just…I don’t understand.”  Of course, that was only part of the problem.  But she wasn’t sure if she was ready to explain everything to Simon.

Simon was silent for a moment, then said in his soft voice, “Did he know about this new collar while Dahlia was working on it?”

“No.  I just told him.  I wanted to wait until it was a sure thing.  Or close to it.”

He nodded.  “Give him time.  Let him think about it.”

“What is there to think about?”

Simon frowned—not an annoyed frown, but a pensive one, as though he were searching for the right words.  “Even if he doesn’t like the collar or the pain it gives him, enough time has passed that he’s sort of gotten used to it.  When the magic slips out, he feels pain.  It’s a thing that he can predict and that he can at least sort of control.  And he doesn’t have control over much of anything in his life right now.  He’s already dealing with a lot of changes.  He might not be ready for things to suddenly change again.”

That hadn’t even occurred to her—that having the pain taken away might make him feel less in control.  It was counterintuitive, but she could see how he might come to rely on it, as a gauge.  She bit her lower lip.  “So you think it’s better to leave things as they are?  Even though he’s being hurt?”

Simon hesitated.  “I think it should be his choice.”

She brushed the tears from her cheeks, took a deep breath and let it out.  So be it.  For now, at least, she wouldn’t push.  “Dahlia mentioned you’ve been helping him sleep.”

“Yeah.  He asks for it.  Sleep spells can have side effects if you use them too often for too long—the patients start getting fuzzy-headed—but I think for now, it’s okay.  Anything that helps keep him stable.”

“Does he talk to you?”

“Sort of.  I check on him every morning.  I ask him how he’s doing.  He always says ‘I’ll manage’ or something like that.” 

“I’m worried about him.  I was hoping he had at least one person he felt safe opening up to.”

Simon rubbed the back of his head.  “We did have one longer conversation, the other day, and he talked to me about some stuff he’s been going through.  But, uh—it’s private, so.”

Would Magnifico have told him about…that?  About what had happened between them?  Her face warmed.  “It would really help if I knew what he was thinking.  It would help me help him.”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”

Simon shrugged.  “You’ll have to wait until he does want to talk to you, then.  Sorry.”

Asha clenched her teeth.  She could order him, as the queen, to share any information he’d gained.  Magnifico was technically an enemy prisoner.  Did Healer’s Code rules apply in that case?  She didn’t actually know.  But regardless, she knew she shouldn’t be pushing him.  She sighed.  “No, you’re right.  Of course.  I’m just feeling sort of…lost.”

Simon made another pensive frown.  “Where is he now?”

“In the study.  I think.”  Of course, Asha had bolted out of the study and left Magnifico on his own.  Stupid.  Dolf wasn’t there now.  “I should check on him.  Will you come with me?”

“Sure.”

They turned and made their way up the stairs.  When they opened the doors to the study, however, it was empty.  Her stomach tightened.  Could he be in the wish room?  No, he would have no way to open the doors.  He must have slipped out.

Damn it.  What had she been thinking, leaving him alone?  What if he’d taken the opportunity to escape the castle?  He was limited as to how much trouble he could get up to, without his magic, but that wasn’t what she was afraid of.  If some drunk, rowdy, angry group of villagers found him wandering alone, unable to defend himself…

“This is bad,” she muttered.  “We need to find him.”

“Let’s check his bedroom.”

But when they knocked on the bedroom door, there was no answer.  Asha checked inside.  It was empty.

“Don’t panic,” Simon said.  “He can’t easily get out of the castle.  There are always knights stationed near the main doors, right?”

“Yes, but Magnifico knows this castle better than anyone.  If there are any secret entrances or exits, he’ll know about those, too.”

“Oh.  Jeez.  I didn’t think of that.  There’s no way to locate him using the collar?”

Come to think of it, Asha had never actually tried that before.  “Hang on.”  She pulled out her wand and activated its magic.  She’d never had to study to learn how to use the wand; it had always been intuitive.  Now, she closed her eyes and reached, letting her thoughts sprawl out like a hundred tiny tendrils stretching into the air.

Where are you?

She felt…something.  A tiny ping at the edge of her mind.  A feather-light brush.  It was hard to say if it was even real.  “This way.  I think.”  She pointed the wand and kept walking.  They descended the curving stairs to the ground floor of the castle, down another hallway.

The tip of the wand pulsed and shimmered.  Asha focused.  There.  Ahead, a simple wooden door stood open a crack, and faint yellow light crept through.  Asha and Simon approached the door.  She pushed it open, slowly—the hinges squeaked—and poked her head through. 

Beyond lay a spacious stone room with a domed ceiling composed of glass panels.  The glass was dingy now, streaked with bird dung, some of the panels cracked or shattered, but sunlight still filtered through, illuminating a small, overgrown indoor garden.  A single tree, its trunk splotched with moss, stretched its branches toward the sunlight.

This garden had always been here, tucked away in its quiet, neglected room in the back of the castle, but it had fallen into disrepair since Amaya’s death.  She must have been the one tending it, because no one had bothered once she was gone.  Asha had nearly forgotten it was here.  Patches of dusky pink roses poked their heads out of the tall, thick grass, though half of them were withered and shedding their petals.  Thorny hedges grew in a row along the wall, sheltering it from view.  A birdbath had collapsed onto its side.  Some patches of vegetation had turned brown and dead; only the spots under the broken panels were lush, watered with the recent rain.

Magnifico sat huddled on the other side of the room, his back against the wall, his arms folded over his knees.

Asha exhaled a small breath of relief, placing a hand over her chest.  Magnifico raised his head, then lowered it again.

Simon and Asha exchanged a glance.  They lingered there awkwardly in the doorway for a few seconds.  Simon gave her a nod and quietly retreated back into the kitchen, letting the door creak shut behind him.

Asha approached Magnifico.

“Come to have me fitted with the new collar?” he asked.

“No.  No one’s going to do that without your permission.  We just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”  He didn’t look up, didn’t move from his huddle on the ground.

“May I sit next to you?” Asha asked.

“Do as you please.”

Asha rearranged her dress and sat down beside him.  The grassy soil was cool and slightly damp beneath her.  She still had the diagram folded up in one hand.  She tucked it into her pocket, now.  “I’m sorry if I was pushy, earlier.”

He turned his face away. 

“Magnifico…”  She stopped, biting the inside of her cheek.  “Mir?”

His clothes rustled as he shifted his weight, just slightly.  She wondered if Amaya had ever called him Mir.  Surely, she had known his birth-name.

“Is it okay if I call you that?  At least when we’re alone?”

“It makes no difference to me.”

She found that hard to believe.  She felt a flicker of frustration.  A part of her wanted to tell him to stop sulking, to act like a grown man and not a petulant adolescent.  But she remembered what Simon had told her.  Magnifico wasn’t acting this way just to spite her.  He was a deeply wounded and broken man, a man who had lost nearly everything.  More than that—he was afraid of her, and for good reason.  A threat is like a promise, he’d told her once.  It can be taken back, but not truly erased. 

She wouldn’t hurt him.  Not now.  But that didn’t change the fact that she could. 

She kept her voice low and gentle.  “Then…Mir…will you look at me?”

His shoulders stiffened.  He turned his face toward her.  The whites of his eyes were tinged pink. 

He’d been crying.  If this had been Amaya’s garden, then maybe he’d come here to grieve.  Maybe it felt more connected to her, in his mind, than the cold marble tomb.  Asha wished she’d done a better job of tending it during his long absence.

“Tonight,” she said, “I’m inviting my old group of friends to the castle to talk about what’s happening and what to do next.  Valentino will be there.  And Hal and Gabo and Bazeema and Dorio, along with Simon and Dahlia.  I’d like it if you were there, too.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d like your perspective.  Because I value your wisdom and experience.”

He smiled thinly, without mirth.  “Hm.”

She plucked a blade of grass and twined it around one finger.  “I don’t pretend that you’ll ever forgive me for taking your throne.  And I know you’ll never stop trying to get it back.  Who knows?  Maybe one day, you’ll succeed.  Not that I intend to make it easy for you.  In the meantime, we can still work together.  We’ve proven that.”

He bowed his head.  A flat, bitter laugh escaped him.  His eyes squeezed shut.

“Mir?” 

“I will never regain my throne,” he said.  “I think we both know that’s a fantasy.”  His voice was low, oddly calm, but there was an undercurrent of something dark and empty.  “The forbidden magic is not a curable disease.  It can be managed, yes.  But it will always have a pull, a hold on me.  In the mirror, I felt it, but I could do nothing with it.  Out here…I see how easily it slips out of my control, and how people react to it, how frightened they are.  They will never fully trust me again.  And I will never again be fit to rule them.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Then what do you want?”

He leaned his head back against the wall.  “What I want, since you asked, is to join my wife in death.  But since you will not allow that, all that remains for me is the well-being of this kingdom.  Even if Rosas is no longer mine, I want to see it heal.  If there are things I can do, I’ll do them.”  He smiled grimly.  “So there you are.  You’ve successfully broken me.  Congratulations.  I’ve resigned myself to being your tool for the rest of my lifespan.”

“That isn’t what I want.”

“That is the nature of our relationship.  I’ll attend this meeting if you order me to.  Otherwise, I think I’ll remain here, with the memory of her.”

Asha hesitated, then slowly reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.  He twitched.  “I’d like to start eating meals with you again.  And talking.  Like this.”

He didn’t respond.

A flush crept into her face, but she plunged ahead:  “I’m still…confused.  About a lot of things, including my own feelings.  I don’t know how to navigate this.  But I want you to be a part of my life.  I’ve known you my whole life, even if it was just from a distance.  You made Rosas.  My home.  You’re a part of me.”  Her hand slid from his shoulder.  “I know this isn’t just about what I want.  If I already ruined my chance, if you want me to leave you alone, I will.  But at least talk to someone.  Simon, maybe.”

“Is he your little messenger bird, then?  Does he tell you what I tell him?”

“No.  When I started getting nosy, he stonewalled me.”  She half-smiled.  “He’s a healer first and my subject second.  And he cares about you.  I mean, you saw that in his wish, right?  You know it’s true.”

Magnifico’s soft, unsteady breaths echoed through the silence.  The muscles in his throat constricted as he swallowed.  When he spoke, his voice was so quiet, she had to strain to hear it.  “When I was in the mirror, there was…something with me.  Not a person.  A darkness in my own mind.”

She listened, motionless.

“In the mirror, there was nothing except my mind looking back on itself, watching myself watching myself.  Outside, there was nothing except a stone wall.  Shadows, torchlight, voices.  The sound of a rat running across the floor.  It almost would have been easier without that, without the reminder that there was a real world that I could no longer touch, no longer see.”  He ran his shaking hand over his hair, over his face.  “Over and over, I cried out Amaya’s name.  I begged her to save me.  I called out for people long dead.  For Li and Rosas.  For my father and mother.  I went mad, in there.  I lost all sense of myself.  A part of me is gone, now.  And that thing in the mirror, the thing that was with me, whatever it was…it’s still there.  I feel it.  It whispers to me in the night.”

She lay a hand on his back. 

His breathing had grown heavier.  His eyes were wet, shiny.  His irises shone green.  Light crackled and buzzed, and he flinched.  A low, pained groan escaped his throat.  He gripped the collar.

“It’s all right,” she said.

He closed his eyes—she could still faintly see the green light shining behind his lids—and leaned his head back.  He knocked it against the stone wall, once, then again, harder.

She placed her hands on either side of his head, anchoring it in place.  His breathing rasped in his throat.  His eyes slipped open.  The glow had faded.  “There was no physical sensation inside the mirror at all.  Not even pain.  This pain…it reminds me that I’m here.  That I’m still alive.”

She ached for him.  Ached, knowing that she had done this to him.  They all had.  It had been so easy to forget, to pretend that he wasn’t there.  “I’ll never send you back there,” she said.  “Never.  I swear on the memory of Saba and my mother.  And Safi.  I’m sorry for being such a coward.  I won’t abandon you.  Not again.”

His lips parted, quivered, and pressed together.  “You promise?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

“Kiss my cheek, then.  My little betrayer.”  When she didn’t move, he muttered, “A joke.  Only a joke.”

She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, then his temple.  His breathing quickened.  She rested her forehead against his.  His eyes were so close, she could barely focus on them.

Slowly, he lifted one hand.  His fingers curled around the nape of her neck, warm and strong, pressing lightly against the tender skin there.  His lips parted, and for a moment, she was certain he was going to kiss her.  She could feel the warmth of his breath tickling her lips.  But he remained where he was, an inch of distance between them, his hand on her neck, her forehead against his.  They stayed that way for several minutes, their breaths mingling in the silence of the decaying garden.

* * *

When they left the room, Simon was waiting for them in the hallway.  He lifted one hand in an awkward wave and gave them a tiny smile.

The three of them made their way upstairs to Magnifico’s room.  When they opened the door, there was a plate waiting on his table, covered by a silver dome.

“The servants must have brought lunch,” Asha said.  “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“I bet there’s one in my room, too.  Why don’t I bring it in?  Simon, you can join us.”

“Are you sure?”

“I bet there’s enough to share.”

“And if not,” Magnifico said, “we can always ask for more.”

Once Asha had retrieved her plate, the three of them sat around the table in Magnifico’s room.  Asha lit a candle with her wand.  They lifted off the silver dome-shaped covers.  On each plate was a tomato and mozzarella sandwich on hearty bread, an apple, a glass of milk—still slightly chilled—and a Magnifico cookie.

Magnifico stared at his.  He uttered a low, throaty laugh, picked it up, and stared at it, a dazed smile on his face.

“Wow,” Simon said.  “That takes me back.”

“Here.”  Asha snapped hers in half and handed one half to Simon.  “I bet Dahlia baked a whole tray of these.”

“I…”  Magnifico raised a hand to touch his forehead.  The dazed look hadn’t left his eyes.  “I haven’t thought of these in years.  What a curious thing.  These were…”  His grip on the cookie tightened.  He lowered his head.  His breathing grew heavier.

“Magnifico?” Simon said.

He remained hunched over the table, cookie in one hand, the other hand covering his eyes, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

In the same moment, as though moved by a single mind, Asha and Simon rose from their chairs and leaned toward him.  Their arms surrounded him, cocooned him.  Asha’s cheek rested on top of Magnifico’s head, and Simon’s cheek rested on top of hers.

“This is ridiculous,” Magnifico gasped out, his voice choked.  Tears dripped onto the cookie.  “I—I must be losing my mind.”

“It’s all right,” Asha whispered.  Her hand rubbed up and down his back.

“Let it out,” Simon said.

The candle danced and fluttered softly as his ragged, hitching breaths echoed through the room. 

Chapter Text

Magnifico’s sobs had trailed off into hiccups, then silence.  Asha and Simon remained where they were, arms folded around him.  Asha could feel his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest.  His face, wet with tears, was hidden against her shoulder.  He lifted his head.  Asha and Simon straightened, their arms sliding away from him.

Magnifico’s hand was clenched into a fist.  He uncurled his fingers, revealing the cookie, which he’d clutched so tight that it had cracked into several pieces in his palm.  He set the fragments down on the plate, his hand shaking slightly.

Simon tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to him. 

Magnifico accepted the kerchief with a murmured, “Thank you.”  He blew his nose.

“Are you okay?” Asha asked.

“Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse and a little nasally, as though his sinuses were plugged up.  He’d cried for several minutes.  He wiped his cheeks with a clean part of the kerchief.  His eyes were red, the lids sore-looking and puffy.  “I…lost control.”  He gripped the wet handkerchief tightly.  “I behaved like a child.  I have no excuse.”

“You don’t need an excuse.  There’s nothing wrong with crying,” Simon said.  “I cry.”

Magnifico sniffled, wiping his eyes.  “That's different.  Your generation is soft.  I believed I was made of stronger stuff.”

Asha made an exasperated sound.  Could he not just have a vulnerable moment without being an asshole about it?  “Our generation is not soft,” she said.  “We’ve had to deal with a plague, a drought, chronic food shortages, a revolution—”

“A revolution you started,” Magnifico pointed out.  He was still sniffling, his face still flushed and blotchy.  “Though I will acknowledge you’ve had some hardships since overthrowing your benevolent protector, and I’m sure it was a rude awakening.  Perhaps I shielded you too much from the horrors of this world.”  He winced.  “God, my voice sounds ridiculous.  I can only imagine how I must look,” he muttered.  He shielded his face with one hand.

“Oh, stop,” she said, softening her own voice.  “You look fine.”

“You’ve survived a lot,” Simon said.  “You’re still processing all this.  Give yourself permission to fall apart once in a while.”

“Funny that you would encourage me to lose control, after what happened last time I ‘fell apart,’” Magnifico muttered.  He continued to clean himself up as best he could.  “I stole your free will, as I recall.  Turned you into my puppet.”

Simon shifted his weight from one foot to the other, rubbed the back of his neck.  “I mean, it was a little more complicated than that.  I wasn’t a zombie.  I was just in an altered state.  One where I was really, really emotionally invested in doing whatever you wanted.” 

“Oh yes.  So much better,” Magnifico said dryly, his voice still nasally.

Simon shrugged.  “I did wish to be your most loyal knight.  Obviously, the way it happened wasn’t quite what I expected.  And yeah, once the magic wore off I felt kind of…violated.  But I’m the one who chose to snitch on Asha in exchange for having my wish granted.  And you were under the influence of the magic, too, when you did that to me.  It…changed you.  I know exactly what that’s like.  Because I felt it.” 

Magnifico’s gaze lifted, meeting his.  “Are we absolved of culpability for anything we do under its influence, then?  Even though we did it to ourselves?  Seems a bit too easy.”

“I don’t think it’s quite that simple, but I do think it matters.  I mean, that’s why forbidden magic is forbidden—because when a person uses it, they’re not completely in control of what they do.”  He cleared his throat.  “Anyway, I don’t hold that against you.  That whole experience did teach me some important things about myself.  Like, I don’t actually enjoy fighting.  After that, I figured out what I really wanted.  Maybe I should thank you.”

Magnifico let out a small, husky laugh.  “You’re an odd young man.”

Simon half-smiled.  “Thanks.”

“The situation has changed, too,” Asha pointed out.  “You’re not in a position to hurt anyone right now.  The magic is controlled.  So you don’t need to suppress your emotions.”

“Lucky me.”  Magnifico touched his collar, drew in a slow, wavering breath, blew his nose once more, and glanced down at his plate.  “We should probably eat.  I…I would prefer that you didn’t tell anyone about this.  That I lost my composure over a cookie.”

“Of course we won’t,” Simon said.

Magnifico nodded once.

Simon and Asha sat down.  Asha took a bite of her sandwich.  Magnifico picked up a fragment of cookie and placed it in his mouth.  He chewed slowly, eyes closed, and swallowed.  “Your friend Dahlia made these?”

“Yes,” Asha said.

“Thank her for me.”

“If you attend the meeting tonight, you’ll see her.  So you can thank her yourself, if you like.”

“That’s right,” Simon said.  “I hope everyone can make it.”

“I’ve already sent out messenger birds,” Asha said.  “They should be back anytime with confirmation.”

Magnifico’s gaze flicked up, meeting hers.  “You truly want me there.”

“Yes.  Of course.  Is that so strange?”

He ate another fragment of cookie.  “Gabo wasn’t thrilled to see me, when we visited.  I can’t imagine the rest of your friends will be much happier with my presence.”

“Simon and Dahlia will be fine with it.  Obviously.  Hal will take it in stride.  You met her in the tavern.  She’s never one to bring down the mood of the room.  And nothing really upsets Dario.  He goes with the flow.  Gabo can grumble all he likes.  He’ll survive.”

Magnifico dunked another fragment of cookie in his milk.  “And Bazeema?”

Asha had been wondering about that, herself.  “Honestly, I have no idea.  It’s been a while since I’ve spoken to her.  And even when we were closer, she was always a bit mysterious.”

“Hm.  And of course, we can’t forget your goat friend.”

“Oh…Val.”  She sighed.  “He’s just afraid that you’re going to hurt me.  Once he realizes that you’re not dangerous, he’ll come around.”  At Magnifico’s silence, she felt a flicker of doubt.  Was this a good idea?

Asha watched as he consumed the rest of his milk-softened cookie, then began to peel the crust off his sandwich.  She vaguely recalled Dahlia mentioning, once—back when Magnifico was still the king—that he liked the crusts cut off of his sandwiches and that he was more likely to eat vegetables if they were boiled soft and sweetened with honey or molasses.  His eating habits were unexpectedly childlike, which made her wonder what his childhood had been like.  He’d never spoken much about it, but he’d said that people in his homeland tended to marry young, meaning he’d taken on adult responsibilities when he was still a teenager.  Even as a child, he’d probably had to work the land.  Of course, she knew so little about his past that she couldn’t say anything for sure. 

Her mind flickered, again, to the burnt tapestry in the study.  Had it actually belonged to his family?  It seemed more like the sort of thing that might hang on the wall of a castle.  Had he ever actually told her that he was a farmer, or had she assumed that? 

“Asha?” Simon said.

“Just daydreaming.”  She pulled her thoughts back to the present and glanced at Magnifico.  “I won’t force you to attend this meeting.  I can always just tell you about it afterward, and you can give me your input then.”

“But you would prefer I be there.”

“Yes.  I mean…Simon, you think he should be there, right?”

“If he wants to.”

Magnifico sighed, raised one hand, and brushed a few strands of silver hair into place.  “I will consider it.”

They resumed eating.  Asha didn’t have much of an appetite, preoccupied as she was, so she gave her cookie and half her sandwich to Simon, who happily finished them.

“There’s a lot of work to do for tonight,” Asha remarked.  “I’ll need to plan a proper dinner.  I’m thinking cod stew for the main course, fig pudding for dessert.  I’ll have to ask Dahlia what ingredients we have on-hand.”

“I can check in with her,” Simon said.  “She probably needs some help in the kitchen, anyway.  Guess I’ll see you both at dinner?”  He glanced at Magnifico. 

“We will see,” he said.

Simon nodded.

“I’d give you your kerchief back, but it’s a mess.  I don’t think you’d want it.”

Simon chuckled and stood.  “It’s fine.  I have plenty.”  He cirled around the table, and his hand came down to rest briefly on Magnifico’s shoulder.  “Take care of yourself, okay?  If you need anything, you know where to find me.”  He walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The candle had burned down to a nub, though the flame still glowed steadily.  The empty plates sat on the table; a few crumbs were all that remained of the meal.  Asha and Magnifico sat facing each other in the dimly lit room.  Alone again.

Asha caught herself staring at his eyes, watching the flicker of reflected candlelight in them, and looked away.  She thought about the moment in the garden, her forehead against his, their lips so close she could feel his breathing.  This was all so awkward, so delicate.  She still wasn’t entirely sure where they stood.  Their relationship seemed to defy categorization. 

Magnifico finished his milk and dabbed his lips with a napkin.  “What time is this dinner?”

“Five o’clock.  After we eat, we’ll discuss Bazeema’s…situation.  Just let me know when you decide whether to attend, so we’ll know how many places to set at the table.” 

“Very well.  I’ll take some time to wash up and make myself presentable.  Just in case.”

She hoped he would be there.  It was remarkable how, in a short time, she’d come to view Magnifico as a supportive presence rather than a threat.  But she felt a flutter of nervousness, nonetheless, wondering if she was about to throw a lit match into a powder keg.

She rose and walked to the door.  She lingered there for a moment, looking over her shoulder.  Magnifico remained sitting at the table, his gaze fixed on the low-burning candle. 

He’d regained his composure; his eyes were still a little red and sore-looking, but that was the only sign of his earlier breakdown.  She remembered the way his body had convulsed with sobs, how they’d poured out of him as she and Simon held him tight.  She’d heard him weep before, when he’d first learned of Amaya’s death, but even so…throughout her childhood and adolescence he’d seemed so untouchable, so godlike.  A part of her was still getting used to the idea of him as vulnerable.  As human.

Asha slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

The dining room table had been draped in a white cloth and set with the finest plates and silverware.  A chandelier hung from the ceiling, dozens of tiny lights glimmering with magic fire.  A massive, silver tureen of cod stew sat in the center of the table.  Loaves of bread gleamed, their crusts golden.  Hal had sent a message promising to bring the wine.  Now, all that remained was to wait.

Valentino hopped up onto one of the empty chairs.  “Are these napkins clean?  This one looks a bit dingy.”

“They’re clean,” Asha said.  “They’re just old.  They’ve been around since Magnifico’s reign.”  Which was evidenced by the fact that each square of linen had a faint, ghostly M in a circle on the corner.  The M had once been embroidered in blue and gold; the thread had been painstakingly removed from each napkin, since then, but a trace still remained if you knew what you were looking for.

“Queen Asha?”  One of the knights poked his head in through the doorway.  “The first two guests have arrived.”

“Excellent.”  She squared her shoulders.  “Send them in.”

The knight vanished.  A moment later, approaching footsteps broke the silence.  Gabo appeared in the arched doorway, frowning as usual, with Dario at his side.  Dario now wore a long, floppy, light green robe with large buttons running down the front.  The hood was down, exposing his head, which was completely bald.  It gleamed in the light of the chandelier.

Val hopped down from his chair, trotted up to them, and squinted up at Dario.  “That is a bold look.”

Dario grinned.  “I’ve been getting spiritual lately.  I was kind of going for a monk vibe.”

“You look more like a clown,” Gabo said.

Dario laughed, unoffended, and ran a hand over his scalp.  “Well, that suits me, too.  And this is less work.  I don’t have to wash or comb it.”

“You never did that anyway,” Gabo said, smiling a little.

“True.”  Dario faced Asha, smiling, and opened his arms.  She hugged him, and his arms squeezed, skinny but surprisingly strong.

“Good to see you again,” she whispered.  “And I like the new look.”

“Good to see you, too.”

She hugged Gabo as well.  “Let’s not get all mushy,” he said, hugging her back.  “I’m not even drunk yet.”

“This food smells amazing,” Dario remarked.  He sat down.

Gabo approached, surveying the table.  “So, I take it we’re eating before we dive headlong into the snakepit that is the political situation in Rosas right now?”

“I figured that would be a logical order of events, yes,” Asha said.  She looked up at the sound of Dahlia’s familiar, uneven gait, the clunk of her cane.

“Hey,” Dahlia called from the doorway as she and Simon entered.  “Sorry we’re late.  I was putting the finishing touches on the fig pudding.”

“It’s fine,” Asha said.  “You’re not late.  We’re still waiting on a few people.”

“Dario, Gabo, hi!”  Dahlia waved at them.

Dario waved back.  “Simon!  Oh man, love the beard.”

“Love the hair.  Or…lack.”

“Oh, it’s Hal!  Hey, Hal!”

As laughter and chatter filled the air, Asha relaxed.  Their group had drifted apart over the years, so she hadn’t quite known what to expect, what the mood would be, but even after all this time, the rapport and banter settled effortlessly into place.  There were hugs and smiles and friendly back-slaps.  They sat down around the table.  Hal uncorked a bottle of wine and began pouring glasses, and Asha cut into the bread.  Her gaze swept over the room, and a faint unease rippled through her.  Bazeema still hadn’t arrived.

Gabo spread some butter on his bread, glanced around and said, “I thought Maggie was gonna be here too?  That’s what the bird said.”

“Maggie?”

“‘Magnifico’ is too many syllables.”

“He said he might come,” Asha said.  She glanced at the doorway.  “Maybe I should go check on him.  You all can start eating, if you—Bazeema?” 

Bazeema was suddenly sitting in the previously empty chair next to hers. 

“When did you get here?” Simon asked.

“Two minutes ago,” she said in her small, soft voice.  Her hair was longer now, bound back in a braid similar to the one Amaya had once worn, but otherwise, her appearance was mostly unchanged.

Hal chuckled.  “She’s still got it.”

Bazeema gave Asha a tiny smile, then dropped her gaze.  She picked up her glass of wine and took a slow sip.  It occurred to Asha that Bambi’s mother had probably never heard her, either.  She’d probably never realized what was happening.

There was so much they needed to talk about.  But for now, Asha let it be.  She let the warm glow of her friends’ company wash over her as they ate and drank and talked, their voices a familiar chorus.  She could almost pretend that none of it had happened—that they were teenagers again, living in blissful ignorance in a perfect world, each of them nervously excited about turning eighteen and surrendering their most cherished desire to the man who had promised to keep it safe. 

Val lapped his stew from a bowl on the table, his front hooves resting on either side of it.  Dario removed a small portrait of Safi from his pocket and set it on the tabletop in front of an empty chair.  He raised his glass.  “To Safi.”

“To Safi,” they all echoed back, clinking their glasses.

Bazeema discreetly wiped away a tear.  Gabo—who was on his third glass of wine—covered his face and started to sniffle.  Dario and Simon both put a hand on his back until he’d gotten control of himself again.

Once the bowls of fig pudding had been brought out and the conversation settled down, Asha heard footsteps once again.  She looked up in time to see Magnifico appear in the doorway.  Everyone froze, staring.

He was wearing his full royal outfit, complete with cape.  There was no trace of redness or puffiness left in his eyes.  He smiled at them.  “Good evening.”

Silence hung over the room.  Then Dahlia smiled and lifted one hand in a wave.  “Hey.  Glad you could make it.”

“Sorry for my lateness, but I thought you all might like a chance to catch up with each other before I stole the spotlight.”  He strode into the room, up to the nearest empty chair, pulled it out, and sat.  “So.  What did I miss?”

Asha cleared her throat.  “Well, we haven’t really started discussing the issue at hand.  I guess we should, shouldn’t we?”

Bazeema lowered her head.  She pulled a small, jingling pouch from her pocket and dropped it onto the table.  “Here,” she whispered.

Asha frowned.  “What is that?”

“The fine I owe you.  For breaking your law against hunting.  It’s all there.  You can count it if you like.”

Asha stared at the pouch.  She didn’t even remember the amount she’d specified for the fine, but she’d deliberately set it high enough that the risk wouldn’t be worth it.  At least in theory.  She raised her eyes to Bazeema’s.  “Help me understand,” she said.  “If you had enough money to pay the fine, why not just buy food?  Why kill a deer?”

Bazeema met her gaze, calm and unflinching.  “With all due respect, Queen Asha—when is the last time you actually bought anything in your own kingdom?”

“I…”  She stopped, thinking.  Her meals were always brought to her, now.  If she needed something, she asked the servants.  “I don’t know.  Years.  I take it prices have gone up.”

“Ten years ago, this money would have been enough for a week’s worth of food.  Now, it’s barely enough for a single meal.”  Bazeema’s voice was as soft as ever, but there was an underlying firmness, now. 

“That bad?” Asha said, rattled.

“Our currency has plummeted in value.  You should know this, because after the plague and the drought, you minted a huge quantity of new coins as an emergency measure, hoping to spur our little economy.  It worked.  For a short while.  But now we’re left with money that’s worth less than the metal used to make it.  I know a blacksmith who melts down coins to make knives and utensils that people can use or barter for food and drink.”  She stopped, taking a breath.  “Finn complained of constant pain in her stomach.  Levi had swelling in her feet and legs from malnutrition.  My money wasn’t enough for eggs and fish, not in the quantities we needed to stay strong.  There was never enough.  They needed meat.  So I took matters into my own hands.”

“You could have come to me for help,” Asha said.

“And what would you have done?  I’m sure you have some modest reserves, but you aren’t hoarding food.  You wouldn’t do that.  You have only what you need, here, to feed all the people in your castle.  In any case, you were always busy dealing with other people’s problems.  I don’t like to make a nuisance of myself.”

“I would rather you have come to me.  I could have done something.  There’s always another way.”

“With all due—” Bazeema stopped.  Her jaw tightened.  “I didn’t want to rely on you.  I didn’t want to put my fate in your hands, or in anyone’s.  We all relied on Magnifico for everything, and when he was imprisoned, we were helpless.  Like orphaned children.  Even Amaya…she was barely holding things together, and once she died, everything fell apart.  None of us knew how to provide for ourselves.  I’m tired of relying on the promises of others.  I did what I had to, for my own family.  I’m sad that it’s caused trouble for you.  But I’m not sorry.”  Bazeema lowered her gaze again.  “In any case, it’s done, now.”

A hush lay over the room.

“And now, we have talk of secession among the woodland creatures,” Magnifico said.  He scooped up a spoonful of the pudding and sampled it.  “This is excellent, by the way.  My compliments to the chef.”

“Oh.  Thank you,” Dahlia said.

“I appreciated the cookies, as well.  Brought back some fond memories.”  He smiled and winked at her.  He’d settled back into his confident public persona, the one he wore when he and Asha went out into the kingdom together.

“I’m glad.  I had fun making them.  They were always one of my favorites.”  Dahlia cleared her throat.  “Anyway…I can certainly understand why Bambi is angry.  But if Bazeema has already paid the fine in full, then she’s square with the law, right?  The forest animals were all given a chance to become citizens of Rosas, to be protected under its laws, and they weren’t interested.”

“Technically, only the talking animals had that option,” Simon said.  “It would get sort of complicated with a non-talking animal, I guess.  We’d have to rely on interpreters.”

“Well, regardless.  It doesn’t make sense for them to just demand a harsher penalty,” Dahlia said.  “It sounds cold to say that maybe we should just ignore this, but—what can we do, really?  If we apologize, it’s going to sound hollow and disingenuous.”

“Ignoring it may cause further problems.”  Asha started to scoop up a bite of pudding, then lowered her spoon.  Her appetite had deserted her.  “Some of you know this already, but Bambi—or someone calling himself the Prince of the Forest, who I’m assuming is Bambi—has asked for an audience with me on the night of the new moon.”

“That’s in a few days, isn’t it?” said Hal.

“Yes.  And the messenger I spoke to claims that he has magic powers.  Which…I don’t even understand how that’s possible.  I mean, people don’t just pick up sorcery on their own.  He would need a teacher.”

“What about you?” Simon said.  “You didn’t have a teacher.”

“Yes, but I had—” she froze.  Star. 

Was it possible?  Had Star—?

No.  No, the first time he arrived in Rosas, everyone had seen the flash of light.  That was the very thing that had started Magnifico’s paranoid spiral.  If Star was back, they would know.  Wouldn’t they?

She shook her head, a small, sharp movement.  “It has to be a bluff.”

“I see the same possibility has just occurred to you,” Magnifico remarked.  He’d already finished half his pudding, though he hadn’t touched his wine.

Her mind raced.  “Why would Star be helping the forest creatures?”

“They’re rebels,” Magnifico said.  “Perhaps he likes rebels.  Perhaps that’s the sort of energy he responds to.  Perhaps this Bambi wished upon a star for the power to avenge his mother, and the star answered.”

No.  Star had helped put Asha in power, helped liberate Rosas.  It made no sense that he would try to destabilize Rosas, now.  But then, what did she know about what went on in a nature spirit’s mind, what motivated an entity like that?  She couldn’t discount the possibility…even if there was something about the thought that unsettled her deeply, like a cold jab into some private, sacred place within herself.

When Star had come down from the sky to help her, she’d felt as if he were her special friend.  As though he’d been drawn to the natural goodness of her wish.  She’d been chosen.  There was a primal validation in that.  The heavens themselves agreed that she was one of the good guys and had sent backup.

Now, all that was called into question.

“We can’t jump to conclusions,” Hal said.  “We don’t know enough yet.”

“Yes.  Yes, Hal is right,” Asha said, trying to hold her voice steady.  “We need to learn more.  Gabo—have you noticed any strange lights or sounds coming from the forest lately?”

He sighed.  “I did notice some weird, flickering yellow lights the other night.  Coming from the clearing with those talking trees.  I was waiting for the right moment to bring it up.”

Dahlia’s breath hissed through her teeth.

“I don’t know if it was magic-related,” Gabo added.  “Could’ve been a traveler’s lantern or a trick of the moonlight, or…I don’t know.”

Bazeema sat motionless, hands in her lap, shoulders hunched.

Asha reached over and put a hand on her shoulder.  “I’m not going to hand you over to the Prince,” she said quietly, “in case there was any doubt about that.  I understand why you did what you did.”

Her muscles relaxed.  She nodded.

“Don’t do anymore hunting,” Asha said.  “If you need help, we’ll figure something out.  I’ll talk to this Prince.  We’ll work out some sort of compromise.”

“You can’t compromise with them,” Magnifico said.  “They won’t listen to reason.”

Asha shot a glare at him.

“Why do you say that?” Simon asked in his gentle voice.

“Because they’re revolutionaries.  They aren’t looking for solutions.  They’re looking for something to break.  Always easier to break than to build.  Easy to talk about freedom, about right and wrong, easy to imagine that you can do better when you've never had to live with the burden of ruling.”

“Oh…well, can’t think of any reason you’d have a personal bias against rebels,” Gabo said, rolling his eyes.

“I speak from experience.”

“We would’ve been willing to negotiate with you,” Gabo said, pointing a spoon at him.  “Asha just wanted her family’s wishes back, remember?  Just two little wishes.  You were the one who didn’t want to talk.  You jumped right to accusing her of treason and then trying to capture Star.  We only revolted because it was obvious that you were losing your mind.”

“Because I know what happens when rebellion is allowed to fester.”

“What, and it’s worse than what did happen?”

“Guys,” Hal said, “this isn’t helping.  We’re on the same side now, remember?”

Gabo frowned.  He glanced at the tiny portrait of Safi, breathed in, and exhaled through his nose.  “Okay.  So what does Magnifico suggest?”

“A show of force,” Magnifico said.  “You must prove to them that yours is the superior magic.”

“That seems…risky,” Dahlia said.  “Like it could escalate things.”

“They are asking for the execution of your friend,” Magnifico said.  “Yes?”

Bazeema flinched.

“Shouldn’t we be asking Val for his input?” Hal asked.  “I mean, he is the only talking animal at the table.”

“Domesticated animal, thank you very much.  I appreciate the thought, but I don’t claim any special insight into how the forest creatures think.  They have a very different philosophy.”  He lowered his head and lapped a bit of wine from a small, glass bowl.  “But I will say, I don’t trust this situation.  I don’t think Asha should go to this meeting.  It smells to me like a trap.”

“I won’t go alone or defenseless,” Asha said.  “But I want to give them the benefit of the doubt.  And if I’m going, I need to be prepared to offer something.  Harsher penalties for any future hunting incidents, or certain areas of the forest that are totally off-limits to humans, or…I don’t know.  Not a total divide between the city and the forest, but a compromise.  I’ll work out the specifics.”

“Well, whatever happens, Asha, we support you,” Hal said. 

“Once you learn more, we can all get together again to talk it over,” Dahlia added.

“This is all happening because of me,” Bazeema whispered.  “Should I be there, when you go to this meeting?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Asha said.  “Stay home.  Look after Finn and Levi.  This is my responsibility.  And I’m going to fix this, I swear.  I’ll find a way."

Bazeema’s eyes met hers.  She gave her a tentative smile.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  But her eyes were sad.  There was a shadow in them that had never been there before.

* * *

Once everyone had finished eating and the plates had been cleared away, once they’d all said their goodbyes and most of the guests had drifted out of the room—all except Asha, Dario and Magnifico—Dario approached Asha and said, “I have a favor to ask.  It’s a little weird.”

Asha raised her eyebrows.  “Yes?”

“Will you take my wish?”

She blinked.  “I don’t grant wishes.  People have the freedom to follow their own dreams, now.”

“Oh, I know.”  He rubbed his bald head.  “I just want you to hold onto it.  It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while.  Figured now that I’m here, I might as well ask.”

“Why, though?  You know you’ll forget, right?”

“I know.”

Magnifico approached.  He stood with his hands interlaced behind his back, watching them.

“Well…let me see.”  Asha lifted her wand.  The tip glowed, and she touched it to Dario’s chest.  She pulled, and the wish emerged, shimmering softly, delicate and iridescent as a soap bubble.  She tucked her wand back into its holder at her hip and carefully cupped the wish in her hands.  The glistening blue veil parted, revealing the image inside—Dario hunched over a desk, writing something in a massive tome.  Asha squinted.  The image was only part of the story; the wish itself, the feeling behind it, took shape in the observer’s mind when they peered into it.  Asha blinked.  “You want to write a book that changes the world?”

Dario smiled and nodded.

“Hm,” Magnifico said.  “I’ve encountered some vague and dangerous wishes in my time, but that may be the vaguest and most dangerous yet.”

Dario laughed.  “Well, don’t worry, it’s not gonna happen.  I actually have like, no talent for writing.  Like I ask people for feedback and I can tell they’re trying to be nice, but it’s super obvious.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true—”

“It is.  But it’s okay.  To even have a chance at creating something this important, I’d have to spend years, maybe decades, just working away alone in a room, trying to get better at it.  And even then, I might not succeed.  You know?”

“But this is your wish,” Asha said.  “It’s something you deeply want.  You must think about it a lot.”

“I do.”

“So don’t you at least want the chance to try?”

“I thought about that, too.  I thought, why not just take my shot?  If I was gonna live forever, I totally would.  I’d do the work, even if it took fifty years.  But you know, we only get a certain amount of time in this world, and we never know how long that is.  For poor Safi, it wasn’t that long.  Any of us could die tomorrow.  Maybe I want to spend my time looking at sunsets and swimming in the ocean and tending my chickens and hanging out with my friends, not hunched over a desk trying to achieve something that I have a shot in a million at succeeding at.  And if I’m gonna live in the moment, for the little things, I don’t want to feel like something is nagging at me, telling me that I was made for something bigger.”

“But…”  This was confusing.  If he was asking her to take it, then it was okay, wasn’t it?  But then, people had willingly surrendered their wishes to Magnifico before, and she’d decided that system was unjust, because it robbed people of some essential inner spark.  Even if they agreed to it, she’d reasoned, they didn’t truly understand what they were agreeing to.  Of course, they’d done it mostly for the chance that it would be granted.  And Dario was telling her that he accepted it would never come true.  “This is a part of you,” she said softly.

“Sure.  But people are like, changing things, you know?  We lose and gain parts of ourselves every day.  Anyway, if I decide I don’t like living without my wish, I can always come and ask for it back.  Right?”  At her silence, he said, “It’s okay.  If this makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to do it.”  He started to reach out for the wish, to pull it back into himself.

“No—if this is what you truly want, then I’ll hold onto it,” Asha said.  “Thank you, Dario.  For trusting me with this.  I will protect it.  I promise you.  And if you ever do change your mind, just tell me.”

“Thanks.”  He smiled, placing a hand over his chest.  “I already feel lighter.”

* * *

Shortly after, Asha and Magnifico ascended the steps to the study.  They approached the massive, reflective black doors.  Asha waved her wand, and the doors parted, revealing the wish room, now empty.  She released the wish, and it drifted gently up toward the ceiling, where it bobbed and circled and wandered—a solitary firefly.  They watched it.

“Do you think it will get lonely?” Asha asked.

“No,” Magnifico replied.  “Because we’ll visit it every day.”

She smiled.  “Yeah.  We will.”  They stood there in silence for a few minutes, watching.  “That garden…once this situation has calmed down, we should fix it up,” Asha said.  “It used to be so beautiful.  So peaceful.  It still is, but we could restore it to what it was.  Give it some love.”

“We could.”  He stroked his beard.  His eyes lost focus.  “If the situation does calm down.” 

“You really believe that there’s no way to find a compromise with the forest creatures?”

“I don’t expect this meeting will go well.  But perhaps you will prove me wrong.”  He shrugged.

“What Gabo said is true, you know.  We would have talked to you, if we’d thought you would’ve been open to it.  I should have tried, anyway.  I realize that, now.  Instead of trying to break into the castle and grab my grandfather and mother’s wishes, I should have approached Queen Amaya and asked her to talk to you.  I could have at least attempted it.  But I just didn’t think there was any hope you would change your mind.”

“You were correct.  I would never have surrendered the wishes to you.  I was—am a stubborn man.  And I believed very firmly in my own methods.  But I am glad you at least acknowledge that your plan was foolish.  What did you think I would do, when I noticed that two of my wishes were missing, just a day after your outburst?”

“I didn’t think you would notice, I guess.  There were so many.”

“Of course I would have noticed.  I would have known immediately.”

Above them, Dario’s wish continued to float, like a leaf drifting on the current of a stream.

“We had incompatible philosophies,” Magnifico said.  “Once you gained the power to challenge me, a conflict between us was inevitable.  One of us had to lose.”

“I don’t think anything is so black and white,” Asha said.  “There are a hundred different ways it could have gone.”

He turned his face away.  “I’ve seen this sort of thing play out before.  Certain patterns tend to repeat.”

She thought about the bitterness in his voice at the dinner table when he talked about how much easier it was to break than to build.  It would’ve been easy to chalk that up to the experiences of the past ten years.  But there’d been something older, deeper, in that bitterness.  “Your homeland, you mean?”

His shoulders stiffened.

“You said your land was destroyed by thieves.  But that could mean a lot of things.  They weren’t foreign invaders, were they?  The men who did that.  They were revolutionaries.”

He didn’t confirm this, but he didn’t contradict it, either.  He turned his face away.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

“I don’t wish to speak of it.”

She wanted to push.  But there was a finality in his tone.  If she tried to pry the answers out of him, he would just shut down and retreat. 

His gaze wandered to the window.  The daylight had waned.  The stars were out.

“Magnifico?”

“I must confess, I dread the nights,” he said.  “Sleep is…difficult.  And I know I can’t rely on magic forever.  I can’t allow my mind to become clouded.”

She hesitated.  “You said something, earlier, about the forbidden magic being a kind of…entity.  You said that it whispers to you at night.”

“Yes.”

“What does it say?”

“It doesn’t speak in words.  At least, not in any human language.  But it has a certain…intent.  A certain perspective.”  He touched his temple.  “Right now, it’s distant.  Like the crash of waves on the shore.  In quiet moments, when there’s nothing but my thoughts, it becomes harder to ignore.” 

“That sounds…frightening.  I’m sorry.”

“I brought it on myself, didn’t I?”  A bitter smile tightened his lips.  “Should’ve gotten rid of that damn book long ago.  I told myself that I was safeguarding it, preventing it from falling into the wrong hands.  I thought I was strong enough to resist it.”  The smile fell away.

“It’s a difficult thing to get rid of.  Practically speaking.  It can’t be burned or torn apart.  We tried.”

“I should never have acquired it in the first place.  Amaya tried to warn me.  I didn’t listen.”  His fingertips lingered against his temple.  “She was so patient.  So kind,” he murmured.  “From the very beginning, I was never worthy of her.”

Confused feelings swirled through Asha.

In the long years that Magnifico had been trapped in the mirror, Asha had never blamed Amaya for the choices she’d made.  She knew the former queen had grieved the loss of her husband, even if she’d tried to hide it for the sake of her people.  Amaya had done what was necessary for the greater good.  She’d cleanly broken off a bond she regarded as unsalvageable, because after what happened, trying to maintain any sort of relationship with Magnifico would have been too painful for both of them.  That was how Asha had always seen it, anyway.

If Amaya had had any concept of how much Magnifico was suffering in the mirror, would it have changed things? 

But she’d never even checked.  In the full year that Amaya had been alive after Magnifico’s imprisonment, she’d never once spoken with her husband.  Anger—hot, bright and unexpected—suffused Asha’s chest.  “That isn’t true,” she said.

He looked at her, brows drawing together.

“Yes, you made mistakes.  But when you picked up that book, you were doing what you truly believed you had to, for the sake of your kingdom.  To prevent another tragedy.”  Asha was caught off guard by the intensity in her own voice.  “Even if you were wrong…I understand a lot better now.  Why you did it.  All of it.”

“You don’t need to make excuses for me, Asha.”

“I’m not.  I’m telling you what I really think.  And what happened to you...it wasn't right.  If your positions had been reversed, if Amaya was the one who’d embraced forbidden magic and done those violent things and then been sucked into the staff, would you have given up and left her that way?”

“She…”  He blinked, then gave his head a short, fierce shake.  “She would never have done that.  It wasn’t in her.”

“But if she had.  If she’d been the one to fall.  What would you have done?”

He sighed and fell silent, frowning in concentration, as though allowing himself to envision it.  His eyebrows twitched.  “I…”  A strange look passed across his face—bewilderment, unease, something almost like fear.  He gave his head another short shake.  “It doesn’t matter, now.”

But Asha kept pushing:  “Would you have thrown her in the dungeon?”

“No.  No, I could never have done that.  But—”

“I think you would have done everything in your power to save her.  You would have moved the heavens and Earth to set her free from the mirror, to try to break the magic's hold, or at least contain it.  Because you truly loved her.  Didn’t you?”

His jaw tightened.  “That’s enough,” he said quietly.

“You were already powerless, trapped inside that thing.  It wasn’t necessary to lock you up down there.  It was cruel.  I know that I’m not one to talk, after everything I did to you, but she was your wife.  She knew you better than anyone.  She was the one who should’ve been hell-bent on finding some way to help you, but she just gave up after—”

“Enough!” he snapped.  His eyes flashed green.

Asha jerked back.  In a flash, she was back in that moment, at the end of her disastrous interview, when he’d spun to face her, his mask cracking to reveal the anger beneath.

He panted, squeezed his eyes shut.  When he opened them, they were blue again, but his expression remained grim, his mouth contorted.  “So her love for me was a lie.  That’s what you’re implying?”

“No.  No, I don’t mean that.”

“She knew me better than anyone.  As you said.  So she knew better than anyone that I had crossed too many lines, that there was no going back.  That I was no longer worth saving.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all!”

He fell silent, glaring.  He was breathing heavily, face flushed.  “Then what?”

“I know she loved you.  That’s why she regretted her actions, in the end.  But you just told me that you weren’t worthy of her.  I’m telling you that you’re wrong about that.  She made mistakes, too.  And…if you were angry about being left alone in that mirror, I would understand.”

That complicated expression—confusion, helplessness, a vague panic—swam across his face again.  He breathed in slowly, then out.  His eyes closed, then opened once more.  “That’s beside the point.  Anger is a luxury I cannot afford, now,” he muttered.  “It feeds the dark magic.  If I’m to have a future, I must master that darkness.  I must kill that part of myself.”  He touched the collar.

“That…doesn’t sound healthy.”

“It is necessary.”  His hand clenched at his side.  “You’re speaking of things you don’t understand.  Amaya…you have no idea how much Amaya sacrificed to be with me.  She left her homeland.  She left a comfortable life to travel with me to an isolated island and build a kingdom alongside me.  Because she believed in me.  She could have had any man she wanted, and she chose me, a broken, miserable creature who couldn’t even give her a child.”

Asha stared.

Him?

She’d wondered, of course, why Magnifico and Amaya never had an heir.  Maybe she’d assumed on some level that it was Amaya who couldn’t conceive. 

"I...I didn't know."

He sighed, shoulders sagging.  “I told you, before, that I am older than I look,” he said.  “Magic cannot grant immortality.  Nothing can.  But used carefully, it can extend a person’s life to twice its natural span.  There is a price, though, as there is with all things.  Those who cheat death lose their ability to create new life.  I knew this, and I told her as much.  That it was already too late for me.  And she replied that it would not stop her from trying.”  A faint smile touched his lips, then faded.  “She said that—that even if we couldn’t have a son or daughter, there were other ways to create a future.”  He stared dully at the tiny, glimmering wish, far above.  “For a while, I tried to find ways around it.  I failed to protect Li and Rosas.  I wanted to try again.  With her.  But there are limits.  A sacrifice, once made, cannot be unmade.”

Before she could respond, he turned and strode toward the open doors, his footsteps hard and sharp.

“Mir…”

He kept walking, his cloak rustling behind him.

“I was wrong about you,” Asha called. 

He stopped.

“Even if I still don't agree with everything you did, when you were our king...you weren't a tyrant.  You weren't a monster.  You’re a good man.”

He stared straight ahead, unmoving.  “No,” he said, so softly that she almost couldn’t make out the word.  “I’m not.”

He kept walking, out of the room, and disappeared.

Chapter Text

Asha lay awake.  A candle stood on her bedside table, flickering.  She’d been tossing and turning for the past few hours.  The conversation with Magnifico kept running through her mind. 

A miserable, broken creature like me, who couldn’t even give her a child…

When Magnifico was king—before everything went wrong—he had always seemed so confident, so in control, and so utterly convinced of his own worth.  She was starting to realize that that had always been an illusion.

She climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of slippers, and shuffled softly out of her room in her pajamas, wand in hand.  She walked down the hall to Magnifico’s room.  A single guard was stationed outside his door.  Not Dolf--a younger knight named Kendal. 

“Everything all right, Queen Asha?” he asked.

“Everything is fine.  Just checking in.  Has Simon visited yet tonight?”  If he had, then Magnifico was probably already asleep.

“He came by briefly, but Magnifico sent him away.  Said he needed to think.”

No longer the prisoner, then.  They’d started calling him by his name once again.

Asha stood just outside the door and listened.  From within, she could hear the faint click of wood on stone.  She knocked.  “Magnifico?  It’s me.”

A brief silence passed, then Magnifico’s voice called out, “Come in.”

Asha opened the door and stepped inside.  Magnifico stood before the model of Rosas, which now sat on a round table in the corner of the room.  He held a wooden peg person in one hand.  He glanced at her over one shoulder, then turned his head back toward the model and set the toy down next to a crowd of other toys.  Asha closed the door behind her, started to lock it as a matter of habit, and then decided not to.  She could trust him this much now, couldn’t she?

She wondered briefly if she was getting too lax, allowing Magnifico too many freedoms.  She wanted to believe that they were developing a genuine bond.  During their earlier conversation in the garden, he’d claimed that he no longer wanted the throne, that he no longer saw himself as fit to rule.  But she had no idea if he’d been telling the truth, and even if he had been, there was no telling if that attitude would last.  His emotions were so unpredictable.

“Hey,” she said quietly. 

“Hello, Asha.”

“Since I didn’t say it before, I just wanted to say…thank you.  For being there with everyone tonight.  I appreciate it.  And I thought it went well, all things considered.  Even if there was a bit of disagreement, I think they understand that you’re working with us, now.”

“Perhaps.  It certainly could’ve gone worse.”  He nudged one of the toy people with one finger; it toppled over.  A large group of other figures stood in the area representing the town square.  When she remained where she was, he said, “Is there another purpose to this visit?  Or did you just come to bask in the glory of my presence?”

His tone was cool and detached, on the surface, but there was a slight huskiness to his voice, a slight waver, that suggested he wasn’t quite as put-together as he appeared.

She approached and sat down on the edge of his bed, wand still in hand.  “I can’t sleep.  And I wanted to see you.  Our last conversation ended rather abruptly.”

“Hm.”

“Of course, if you’d rather be alone—”

“You may stay.  If you wish.”

“I’ll stay, then.” 

He resumed arranging his toy people.  For a few minutes, she just watched him as he carefully picked up the toys, one by one, and placed them around a particular house.  It was not, as far as she could see, a house with any special importance.

She found herself thinking of the moment—eight years ago, though it felt like a lifetime—when she, Val and Star had snuck into the wish room to retrieve her Saba’s wish, and before they could climb back into the dumbwaiter to slip away, Magnifico had stormed in.  They’d had to hastily hide behind his table.  It was a miracle he hadn’t seen them…but then, he’d been acting strangely.  He’d seemed, almost, to be in some altered mental state.  She’d glimpsed him flipping through that mysterious, forbidden book, his normally neat hair mussed, his eyes glassy.  He alternately scowled and grinned, muttering under his breath, even giggling once or twice, like a little boy about to do something naughty…then he’d stomped around his study, fists clenched, breathing heavily and kicking at tiny wooden objects scattered across the floor, still muttering.  At the time, she hadn’t known they were toys.  It had been unnerving, seeing him like that, yet she’d been unable to tear her gaze away.

“You’re a good woman,” he said.

“Huh?”  She blinked.

“You told me, earlier, that I was a good man.  I’m returning the compliment.”

“Oh.”  Warmth crept up her neck, into her cheeks.  She ran a braid between her fingers.  “Thank you.”

“Inexperienced, perhaps.  A bit brash and impulsive.  Stubborn and overly conciliatory in your style of leadership, but still—”

“You couldn’t just leave it at ‘good,’ could you?”

He chuckled. 

“Also, aren’t ‘stubborn’ and ‘conciliatory’ opposites?  How can I be both?”

“I would have thought it impossible, but you manage.”  He picked up the toy that was laying on its side and placed it atop the tiny house.  He flicked it with a finger, and it tumbled down. 

“Is there a story?” she asked.  At his raised eyebrow, she said, “The arrangement, I mean.  It looks like there’s a purpose behind it.”

“It’s nothing significant.  A mind-game.  A distraction.”  He turned to face her, hands interlaced behind his back.  “You’re worried about the upcoming meeting, I take it?”

“Well, yes.”

“Worry not.  I intend to accompany you.  And I will be more than ready to deal with any potential threats.”

Asha hesitated.  Would it be a good idea to bring Magnifico with her?  She’d planned on bringing only a few knights for backup, since she was not expecting to need magic.  But if things did go wrong…

Asha had never used her own magic for battle, and since the incident with the exploding cow udders, she’d grown increasingly distrustful of her wand’s unpredictable effects when she used it for anything more complicated than lighting a candle.  And besides—that magic came from Star.  Did that mean Star could take it away, if he chose?  She had no idea.  If the Prince was a magic-user, and if he was working with Star, it would make sense to have a sorcerer of her own.  “You’d be okay with that?”

“I insist.  It would be foolish not to take me, for reasons I’m sure you’ve already considered.”

Of course, that raised the question—how much faith was she willing to place in Magnifico?

After a few seconds, she said, “All right.  I’ll take you, Dolf and Kendal with me.  Any more than that, I think, would come across as hostile.”

Magnifico nodded.  They stared at each other for a few seconds.  Asha patted the bed next to her.  He hesitated, then approached and sat.  The mattress creaked faintly beneath him.  She looked him in the eye and said, “Can I trust you?”

He blinked, brows knitting together.  “If I were planning to double cross you, then why on Earth would I tell you?”

“Just look me in the eye and answer.”

He sighed, maintaining eye contact, and said, “No.  I am not planning to double-cross you, Asha.  It would be foolish for me to attempt it.”

“True, but you’ve done foolish things before.”

He snorted.  “What do you expect me to do, join forces with the forest creatures?  Living in the woods would not suit me.  For better or worse, our fates are linked now.”

She wanted to believe him.  Most of her did.  But she remembered the pure, raw rage in his eyes on that day—not so long ago—when she’d threatened to extinguish his wish.  She couldn’t even blame him for that.  Had that rage truly died out?  Or was it simply masked, suppressed?

“I’d like to try something,” she said quietly.  “It might seem a little strange.” 

“Oh?”

She braced herself, touched her wand to her chest, and gently drew out her wish.  It hovered, shimmering.  Magnifico’s gaze instantly locked onto it.  His lips parted.  He started to reach toward it—the movement seemed instinctive, almost involuntary—then pulled his hand back.

“I wonder if you have any concept of how vulnerable you’re making yourself right now,” he muttered.  “Of course, you have never felt your wish crushed.  But you’ve witnessed the effects.”

“I haven’t forgotten.  Considering what I’m about to ask of you, it seemed only fair.”  She lifted the wand, the tip glowing.  “I would like to bring yours out, as well.  Just briefly.  Will you let me?”

He tensed.  Already, she could see the faint glow of his wish within his chest, as though it were responding to hers, awakening, trying to emerge.  He glanced down at the glow and placed a hand over it, covering it.  The light still seeped out between his fingers.  “What do you intend to do?” he asked, his voice tense.

“An experiment.  Sort of.  I want to hold our wishes side by side.  To let them touch.  I want to see if they react to each other in any way.”

He frowned.  “Why?”

“Because we’re going into a potentially risky, delicate situation in a few days.  We’re going to be relying on each other.  If you have to defend us with magic, I’ll be putting my life in your hands.”

“So this is—what, a trust exercise?”

“You could think of it that way.”  When he didn’t respond, she lowered the wand.  The glow faded.  She cupped her own wish in her palm.  She could see Rosas inside it, peaceful and green and idyllic as it had been in her youth—or at least, as she’d always seen it, then—surrounded by shining blue seas.  “It’s okay.  It was just an idea.  I guess it’s sort of silly, isn’t it?  I’m not even really expecting anything to happen, I just—”

He gripped her wrist and pulled her hand forward, toward his chest.  Her pulse quickened.  The wand’s tip glowed. 

“Do it,” he said.

She hesitated, her eyes searching his.  Then she touched the wand’s tip to the center of his chest, to the light she could see brightening there, pulsing behind the fabric of his tunic.  The core of his being—his most primal longing.  She felt her magic connect with it, heard his breath hitch softly in his throat.  Then the blue sphere emerged from within him.  So fragile, so bright.  It bumped lightly against hers.  She felt a tiny, electric jolt inside her chest.

He twitched.  His hand flew to his chest.

“You felt that too?” she asked, breathless.

He didn’t respond.  His eyes were wide, dazed.

The wishes in the wish room had probably brushed up against each other all the time.  She wondered if their owners had ever felt the effects—if the connection between a wish and its former host still lingered, even with so much distance.  She imagined two strangers passing each other in the town square, making eye contact and feeling an inexplicable sense of deep familiarity, never knowing that their wishes had touched.

Though what she felt now wasn’t touch in the sense of skin on skin.  It was…deeper.  She watched, spellbound, as the orbs slowly began to circle each other—shyly, almost playfully.  They drifted apart, then back together, their luminous, curved sides touching once more.  Inside his, she could see his family’s faces, and Amaya’s.  But the images were…shifting.  Flickering.  Briefly, she glimpsed another face inside, and her heart lurched.

Was it a trick of the light?  A surface reflection?  No.  It was in there.

Magnifico didn’t seem to notice.  He wasn’t looking at his own wish, now.  He was staring into hers with a stunned expression.  Rosas was still visible within, but it, too, was flickering, and between flickers she could see…

Oh God.

She gulped.  She had an impulse to grab the orb and stuff it back inside her chest.  But she was the one who’d suggested this, wasn’t she?  “Um.”  She felt an urge to explain herself, even knowing that anything she said would just make this more awkward.

Magnifico reached out, cupped his own wish in one palm, and lifted it.  He peered into its depths.  Panic flashed across his expression.  Then his mouth stretched into an odd, almost pained smile.  “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” she said.

A tiny, choked laugh escaped him.  “Well, this is awkward, isn’t it?”  He turned his own wish slowly in his hand, examining it from different angles.  His fingers tightened around it.  “When did you slip in there?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she muttered. 

She hadn’t even known that wishes could flicker like that, that they could shift and waver, become confused and ambiguous.  A wish, she’d believed—a true wish—was an integral part of someone’s identity and essence.  But maybe it was more complicated than that.  People are changing things, Dario had said.

Asha pulled her wish back toward her chest.  It disappeared into her.  Magnifico guided his own back inside him.  His hand lingered over his chest. 

Their eyes found each other’s.  The dim candlelight, the moonlight from the window, illuminated the planes and angles of his face.  He reached across the space between them—moving slowly, like a man in a trance.  The tips of his fingers grazed her jaw, tracing the line of it down to her chin.  The touch was so light it was almost ticklish.  Her skin warmed.  Her heart was pounding. 

“Did you know?” he asked quietly.  “What we would see?”

“No,” she murmured. 

“But you suspected.  Admit it.”  His fingertips lingered against her jaw, though there was a darker undercurrent in his voice, now.  “You were hoping to see yourself.  Well, congratulations.  I knew that I was getting too attached, but I never thought…”  He trailed off.  His fingers slid down to her throat, lingering over her pulse.

Her gaze flicked toward the door.  She ought to go back to her own room.  They needed boundaries; that was what she kept telling herself, wasn’t it?  And he seemed…not angry, exactly, but also not entirely pleased about this development. 

She fidgeted, cleared her throat.  “Should I—”

“I would like to hold you.”

Her heart lurched.  She swallowed.  Her fingers tightened around her wand. 

“Just that,” he said.  “Nothing more.”

Even if he didn’t have access to his magic, he was still a large, strong man.  If he had her in his arms, it would be easy for him to pin him down and take her wand.  He could break it, and without Star on her side, there was no guarantee it could be repaired again.  What would happen, then?  She didn’t think the collar would stop functioning—it had its own magic—but there was no way to know.  They were in uncharted territory.

Wishes could not lie.  His longing for her—whatever the specific nature of it—was genuine. 

The last time she’d tried to distance herself, to do the “right thing,” it had felt so wrong.  It had hurt both of them.  Of course, doing the right thing could be painful.  That didn’t mean it wasn’t better, in the long run.  But was this really the time?  She would need his power soon.  A lack of trust between them now could prove disastrous. 

Stars, this was confusing. 

“Okay,” she said.

His arms surrounded her, pulled her close.  Her own arms slipped around his waist, one hand still clutching the wand, the other resting against the middle of his back.

She lay her head against his chest.  She could feel the warmth of his breath on the top of her head.  “Are you nervous?” he asked.

“No.  Why?”

“Your heart is racing.”

“So is yours.  Are you nervous?”

“No.”  After a pause, he said, “Yes.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

His arms tightened around her.  She felt his heart pounding against her cheek.

He had gone eight years without being touched by anyone.  Without physical comfort.  After all that time, of course he would want someone to hold. 

Her hand rested on his broad back.  She rubbed in a slow circle.

“I tried to hate you,” he said.  “But you make it so damnably difficult.”

“Thanks.  I think.” 

He chuckled, low and hoarse, and she felt the vibrations of it in his chest.

This—this was dangerous, surely.  She recited the mental litany of everything he had done—threatened Amaya, crushed the wishes of Asha’s mother and three other people, then blamed Asha for his actions, corrupted Simon’s mind with magic, tried to hunt her down, tried to imprison Star in his staff…

But it was hard to think of those things, now, without a nagging voice in her mind reminding her that she herself had been the spark which lit the powder keg.  Even if she hadn’t intended things to go that far.  Even if, at the time, she’d been too young to really comprehend the consequences of her actions.

His fingertips brushed against her hand, the one holding the wand…then, abruptly, he gripped her wrist and bent it backward.  She gasped.  Her fingers jerked open. 

Before she even knew what was happening, she’d dropped the wand and he’d pinned her to the bed, both of her wrists gripped in his right hand and pressed down against the mattress above her head.  He’d moved so fast; she wasn’t even sure how he’d done it.  A blinding flash of panic exploded through her head.  She tried to bring her knee up into his groin, but his knees was on her thigh, pinning her leg down.  She couldn’t move.  He hovered over her, his expression grim, his jaws clenched.

She opened her mouth to scream.  His left hand clamped over it.  As she struggled, he brought his lips down close to her ear and rasped, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She froze, heart racing.

“I could, though.  If I wanted,” he said in a low voice, lips moving against her ear.  His right hand still gripped her wrists.  His weight kept her immobilized.  “Your wand is on the floor.  You can’t reach it from here.  And I’m not using magic, forbidden or otherwise.  The collar won’t stop me.  I wondered if it would activate when I grabbed your wrist.  But it would seem that, so long as I have no actual intent to harm you, I can do things like this.” 

She stared up at him, trying to figure out what was about to happen.  His eyes were a clear, pure blue, no hint of green.  He smiled.

Then he removed his hand from her mouth, released her wrists, and slid back, freeing her.

Asha scrambled away, panting, fell to her knees on the floor, and grabbed her wand.  She leapt to her feet, shaking, gripping the wand in both hands, and aimed the tip at him.  She started to activate the collar’s power—it hummed faintly, the stone glowing green—but when she saw him start to brace himself for the pain, she clamped down on it.

Magnifico waited, motionless.  He sat on the bed, legs folded in front of him, hair mussed from the brief struggle.  “No retaliation?” he said.  “All right.”  With one hand, he swept the loose strands of his hair back into place.

“Magnifico,” she said, her voice trembling, “what the fuck was that?”

“A lesson.”

“A lesson?”

“I’m still a captive enemy.  It was foolish of you to let me get a grip on you, to let me disarm you.”

She stared, mouth open.  “So that was all just…to scare me?”  A lump rose into her throat.  The wand’s tip glowed brighter.  To her humiliation, she could feel tears welling up.  She blinked them fiercely away.  “You’re an asshole.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Going to torture me a little, after all?  Make me regret it?  Well, go on.”

She gritted her teeth.  She didn’t lower the wand, but she pushed her anger down until its light faded.  “No.”  She swallowed.  “I just—why?”

“I told you.  It was a lesson.  It’s barely been a week since you let me out of the dungeon…and it would seem you have no experience with hand-to-hand combat.  You’re too used to relying on that wand.  I was able to overpower you easily.  Perhaps I ought to teach you basic physical self-defense as well as sorcery.”

“I did learn self-defense techniques.  Dolf taught me.  But I wasn’t expecting to have to defend myself against you.  Not now.”

“You must learn vigilance, then.  You’re the queen.  If anything were to happen to you, it would destabilize Rosas.  Especially now.”

She glared at him…then averted her gaze, still gripping her wand tightly.  Her heart was still beating too fast.  Even knowing he’d never intended to harm her, she felt betrayed.  Her chest ached.  He’d been holding her so tenderly, a moment ago.  “You know what I think?  I think it freaked you out, seeing me in your wish.  And seeing yourself in mine.  I think you didn’t like feeling so vulnerable, and you resented me for it—even though you agreed to that.  Or maybe you still resent me for putting that collar on you in the first place.  So you decided to scare me as revenge.”

“Hm.  That’s your theory, is it?”

“Yes.”  She blinked tears away. 

“Lesson number two,” he said.  “Don’t let an enemy see you cry.  They’ll never forget it.”

“Oh, fuck you.”  Asha sniffled, wiping at her eyes.

“Believe it or not, I am trying to help you right now.  Revealing weakness to the wrong person can be disastrous.”

“Oh yes, I see.  I should become a paranoid, emotionally constipated loner and show everyone a mask while I let all the feelings slowly build up inside me over the course of years until I explode from the pressure.  Because that couldn’t possibly go wrong.”

His expression darkened, eyes narrowing…then the shadow slipped away, revealing the weariness beneath.  He averted his gaze.  “There was one person I shared my true feelings with.  But that did not end so well.”

The rage faded, replaced by a heavy ache.  She sighed, took a few steps toward him, and placed a hand on his cheek.  He tensed.

“Okay, maybe it wasn’t revenge,” she said softly.  “At least not entirely.  Maybe you’re trying to push me away now because you’re afraid of getting that attached to someone again.”

He pushed her hand away, his face downcast.  “Do not pretend to understand my own heart better than I do,” he muttered.  “You’re young.  You have known loss, you’ve known hardship, but it can get so much worse.  Believe me.”  His voice trembled.  “You are in my wish not because you earned it, but because you collared me like an animal, because you had me helpless during one of the most vulnerable moments of my life.  When I was grieving, when I was utterly alone, you cut me open and then used yourself as balm and a bandage for the wound.  I am in your wish because you are still too naïve to guard your heart, because you haven’t learned your lesson yet.”

The words hurt.  She wanted to believe they hurt because they were unfair, but no—they hurt because they were true.  She had done those things to him.  And she was young.  Still a child, compared to him, in spite of everything she’d endured.  She lowered her head.

“I do not hate you,” he whispered, “because I know that you did those things for Rosas’ sake, not your own.  Because you needed my power to save your people, and you were willing to do what it took to bend me to your will.  In a way, I’m impressed.  But I will not let you forget.”

A lump filled her throat, hot and prickly.  She swallowed.  “Fair enough.”

He remained sitting on the bed, staring at the wall.  “Go on,” he said, his tone more subdued, now.  “Get some sleep.  We’ll have breakfast together tomorrow.  Unless you’ve decided to spend another few days avoiding me.  Which…I suppose I wouldn’t blame you for.”

She sighed, shoulders sagging.  After a few seconds, she raised her head and spoke in a clear, firm voice.  “I’m not naïve.  I don’t trust easily, whatever you think.  But I do know you.  I know you because I was born and raised in this place you created.  The soul of Rosas—of its people—is connected to yours.”

His gaze flicked briefly toward her, then away.  His posture remained tense.

“I’m sorry for calling you an emotionally constipated, paranoid loner.”

He snorted.  A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  “It’s not untrue.”  The smile faded.  “I’m sorry for…”  His voice hitched, as though it had snagged on a thorn in his throat.  “For frightening you.”

“I’d almost forgotten how strong you are.  I think my wrists are going to bruise.”  She examined them and forced a chuckle.  “That’ll be awkward to explain.  I suppose I’ll wear long sleeves.”

She’d meant the remark in a joking way, but his face fell.  “I…”  He lowered his gaze.  “I did not intend to injure you.”

“I’ve done worse to you,” she reminded him.  “Not that it’s a contest or anything.”  After a brief hesitation, she approached and sat down next to him.

They stared at each other.  His lips moved silently for a moment.  He averted his gaze.  “Asha…I…”

From outside the window came a strange, low humming, so faint it was barely a sound, more a vibration in the center of her head.  And then a flash of light.  The sky glowed. 

Magnifico’s head jerked toward the window.  His breathing quickened.  He stood and walked slowly to the window.  The silvery-gold, iridescent glow bathed his face.  “That light…”

“Yes.”  She rose and stood beside him.  “It’s him.”  The first time she’d seen Star’s light, it had felt so warm, so loving.  Like her lost father’s embrace.  This…

She shuddered.  Was it just the situation that made that radiance feel so different, so…threatening?  The light danced eerily, unnaturally in the sky, spreading over everything.  Like the glow of flames.  She’d never seen a forest fire, but it reminded her of that, somehow.  Yet it was cold.  Was this what Magnifico had felt, when he first saw that light?  Was this why he’d been so frightened?

“It’s happening again,” he muttered.  His eyes had glazed over.  His breathing sped up.  “It’s all happening again.”

Asha placed a hand on his arm.  He gave a start and looked over at her sharply, as though he’d just noticed her presence beside him.  There was a wildness in his expression, a hint of green in his eyes.  “This is a threat.  He’s back.  And he wants us to know it.”  He took a breath.  “We have to do something.  Now.”

The light was already fading from the sky, but the dread lingered.  She gave his arm a squeeze.  “Magnifico…listen…”

“Do not tell me to calm down.  Do not tell me I am overreacting.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

He raked a hand over his hair.  “You have that tone.  The one Amaya always had when she told me to breathe.  Treating me like some frightened, hysterical child—”

“You don’t even know what I was about to say.”

He closed his eyes briefly.  “Sorry,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.  I’m worried, too.  But I’m going to deal with this.  We’re going to deal with this.”

“Then what are we waiting for?  Summon your knights.  We’ll ride out into the forest.  We’ll track down Star.  This time, he won’t escape us.”  His chest heaved.  He gripped the edges of the window.  Abruptly, he released it, turned and strode toward the bedroom door.

Her hand remained on his arm, gripping.  “What I’m going to do is wake Simon and Dahlia and Val, if they’re not already awake, and we’re going to talk about our next move.”

“We’ve done enough talking.”  He wrenched his arm free, stalked toward the door and flung it open.

Should’ve locked it.

“Halt!” Kendal barked.  Asha heard the ring of steel as he drew his sword.

“I am not the threat here.  We are under attack,” Magnifico growled.  “Didn’t you see that light?”

She hurried forward and grabbed his wrist.  “Wait.”

“Let me go,” he snapped.  “If you won’t deal with this, I will.”

“You are not riding out there alone to fight Star.  Especially not with your magic suppressed.  You’ll only endanger yourself.”

Kendal stood, tense, gripping his sword.  Magnifico’s gaze focused on the blade, and his already rapid breathing sped.  A muscle at the corner of his eye twitched.  His eyes glowed a brighter green, and the collar’s stone lit up in response.  A familiar low buzz and crackle filled the air.  He flinched and let out a small, choked sound, one hand flying to his throat as the collar harnessed his own magic against him, feeding it up through his spine, into his pain centers.

“It’s all right, Kendal,” Asha said.  “He won’t hurt anyone.  Put it away.”

The knight hesitated, then sheathed his sword, though his hand remained on the hilt. 

Magnifico placed a hand against the side of his head, scrunching his eyes shut.  He clenched his jaws tight.  The stone’s glow faded.  In a sudden burst of movement, he jerked his arm out of Asha’s grip again and marched down the hallway, down the stairs.

She followed, still in her slippers and pajamas, wand in hand.  “Magnifico.  Where are you going?”

“I told you.  To find the star.”  He kept walking, his shoulders squared.  “That demon has caused enough trouble.  I will not let it happen again.  I will not stand by and watch as—” he stopped and slumped, gripping the railing, clutching his chest.

“Magnifico.  Stop.”

He straightened his back and kept walking, breathing raggedly.

She grabbed the back of his shirt, stumbling after him.  Her wand glowed.  She didn’t want to use it, she didn’t want to cause him more pain, but she couldn’t let him run off into the night on some wild hunt.  “I’m going to give you to the count of three to stop.  One.”

“Let me go.”

“Two.”

“No.”

She raised the wand.

He halted at the foot of the stairs.  His fists were clenched.  His whole body trembled.  He threw his head back and let out a roar…and then all at once, the strength seemed to rush out of him.  His hand slipped off the railing, and he crumpled to his knees.  She barely managed to catch him, hooking her arms under his, but he weighed far more than she did, and she couldn’t hold him up.  He sat on the bottom stairs, breathing hard and fast, shoulders hunched, one hand pressed to his chest.  A weak groan escaped him.

The collar wasn’t activated.  The stone was dark.  This was something else.

Kendal stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at them.

“Get Simon!” she shouted.

He dashed away.

“I’m fine,” Magnifico muttered.  “I’m…I can’t breathe.”  He gulped in air.

Asha sat next to Magnifico, one hand on his back.  His heart was beating alarmingly hard and fast.  He bowed his head, curling in on himself.  “I can’t,” he whispered. 

“It’s okay.”  This was a panic attack—it had to be.  She’d had a few herself, during that horrible year when Amaya, her mother and her grandfather had died.  Simon had reassured her over and over that fear alone couldn’t kill you, even if it felt like dying.  Dahlia had held her through more than one breakdown, a calm, steady presence.  Sometimes Val would put his head on her chest, a warm weight, until the storm passed. 

She rubbed her hand up and down Magnifico’s back, not knowing what else to do.  “You’re safe.”

He shook his head.  “No.  No.  We’re not.”

“You’re not alone.  You don’t have to deal with this on your own.  Whatever happens, we’ll face it.”

He shut his eyes tight, fingers buried in his hair.  A tear slipped out from between his lids and slipped down the side of his nose.  “I’m so weak,” he muttered.  “So—so fucking pathetic.  What sort of king—”

She wrapped her arms around him, and he fell silent.  She could feel his chest expanding and contracting as he fought for breath.  She remembered that terrible feeling of suffocation, the visceral terror, like teetering on the edge of a cliff.  That feeling couldn’t be reasoned away.  You just had to wait it out.  She hugged him tighter.  He was trembling so hard.

“Why—why won’t it stop?” he gasped.

“It’s okay.  I’m right here.  I love you.”

The words just slipped out.  They were the same words Dahlia had spoken when comforting her, during those storms of terror.  They had been friends for so long, it was a given that they loved each other, but hearing the words had still helped.  They were something to cling to—a life raft.

Magnifico was still fighting for breath.  “W…what?” he whispered through his gasps.

“I love you,” she said again.

It occurred to her that she no longer had her wand in her hand.  She’d dropped it at some point.  It must be on the stairs.  She didn’t care.  She kept her arms firmly around him.

He laughed.  There was an edge of hysteria in the sound.  “You’ve lost your mind,” he said.  But his racing heart had begun to slow.  His ragged breathing gradually evened out.  Tear-tracks shone on his cheeks.

“This won’t be like before,” she whispered.  “I promise.”

She could hear approaching footsteps, now—Simon’s soft, heavy tread, the click of Dahlia’s cane, the rapid patter of Val’s hooves on stone.  Magnifico hastily wiped his face with the back of one hand.  He remained sitting, hunched over, wrapped in Asha's embrace. 

Outside the windows, it was dark.  The terrible light had faded.  For now.

Chapter Text

Did I just tell Magnifico that I loved him?

She must be losing her mind. 

Do I?

There was no time to dwell on it.  Dahlia, Simon and Val approached and stood before them.  Asha’s hand slid from Magnifico’s back.  She stood.  Magnifico remained where he was, sitting on the bottom of the stairs.

“Everything okay?” Simon asked.  “They told me there was some kind of emergency.”

“It’s under control,” Magnifico said.  He’d more or less recovered his composure, though he was still pale.  He climbed to his feet and squared his shoulders.  One hand drifted up to smooth his hair into place.  "Sorry for the false alarm."

“We saw the light,” Dahlia said, breathless.  “Was that—?”

“It was Star,” Asha said.

“But it felt…different,” Simon said.  “Didn’t it?  I mean, is it just me?  Last time, it was warm.  This felt more like—”

“A threat,” Magnifico said. 

Val took a tentative step forward.  He tilted his head, studying Magnifico with a small frown.  “Are you all right?  You look a bit wrung out.”

“I’m fine,” Magnifico replied flatly.  “Actually, I take that back.  None of us will be fine until this threat is eradicated.  But Asha disapproves of me riding off to confront our foe, so we’re going to discuss our options.  Though what there is to discuss, I’m not sure.”

“Did either of you see the direction this light was coming from?” Dahlia asked.

“The forest,” Asha said.  “Near my old house…I think?  I can’t say more specifically than that.”

“Well, as long as we’re all awake, maybe we should ride out and take a look,” Dahlia said.

“Dahlia…”

“I’m not saying we start a fight.  But the light is obviously significant.  If we want to be prepared for whatever happens next, the logical first step would be to gather evidence.  After seeing that, I don’t think any of us are going to get much sleep tonight, anyway.”

“I’m glad someone sees reason,” Magnifico said.  He smacked a fist into his palm.  “We need to act.”

Valentino huffed.  “Sounds to me like looking for trouble.  We can’t at least wait until morning before we go gallivanting into the forest?”

“By then, the situation will have changed,” Magnifico said.  "We'll lose the element of surprise.  Our enemies will have had time to assemble their forces."

"We don't know if anything like that is happening," Asha said, though her thoughts were racing in circles.  Was Dahlia right?  They might learn something important, if they went to the forest tonight.  Or they could be pointlessly throwing themselves into danger.  “Simon?  What do you think?”

He hesitated.  His gaze flicked toward Magnifico’s face, then Asha’s.  “I'm with Val.  I think we should stay here.  But if you’re going, I’ll come with you.”

Two for, two against.  Asha was the tiebreaker. 

When it came to the question of whether to do something or nothing, she usually leaned toward action, if only because waiting made her antsy.  But she was worried about Magnifico.  He’d just had a severe panic attack.  Exposing him to more potential triggers when he was in such a vulnerable state seemed like a recipe for disaster.

Asha searched his expression.  His face had settled into a calm mask.  She placed her hand on his back again, discreetly feeling his heart-rate.  It was no longer banging against his ribs like a frantic fist against a closed door, but it was still faster than normal.  His muscles were tense.

“We’ll stay here tonight," she declared.  "We’ll ride out to the forest on the night of the new moon, as we planned.  For now, we'll remain alert and prepared.  I’ll send a few knights out to do some reconnaissance in town and make sure all the citizens are safe.  As for Magnifico…if this light was a threat, then we may need him to defend us from a magical adversary, which means he will need uninterrupted access to his own magic.  I’m going to shut off the collar’s power.  Just for tonight.”

Magnifico’s brows knitted together.

“It would make more sense to wait until we actually need his power,” Dahlia said.  “Wouldn’t it?”

“No,” Asha said.  “If we're attacked, he must be able to react and defend us immediately.  A few seconds’ delay could mean the difference between life and death.”

Dahlia, Simon and Val exchanged confused, uneasy glances.  “Do you really believe Star would try to hurt us, Asha?” Simon asked.  “I know he's not necessarily on our side now, but I don’t remember him ever being aggressive.  Not even toward Magnifico.  Or…was he?”

“He did throw a ball of yarn at me,” Magnifico said.

Val snorted.  "Ferocious."

“Star never directly harmed anyone back then, no,” Asha said.  “But we’re talking about a powerful, ancient entity that we don’t fully understand.  We have no idea what Star is capable of, and Magnifico is the only one of us who knows defensive magic."  They could take this opportunity to do a sort of test run, to give him some limited freedom and access to his power while keeping a close eye on him.  "What do you all think?”

They exchanged glances.  Simon and Dahlia nodded.  After a moment, Val did as well.

“Magnifico?”

“You’re asking me if I approve of this plan?” he asked, one brow raised.

“Yes.”

He touched the collar.  His gaze passed over their faces.  “Do it,” he said.

Asha hoped she wouldn’t regret this.  She found her wand on the stairs, lying just a few steps behind her, and picked it up.  The tip glowed.  She felt that internal click as her own magic connected with the collar’s.  With her mind, she pushed down, suppressing the collar’s power.

Magnifico drew his breath in sharply as he felt the shift.  He touched his chest.  “Ah…”  A breath escaped him.  “There you are.”  He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them. 

They all watched him expectantly.  He'd performed magic numerous times since his return, of course, but always simple, methodical spells for repairs or for increasing food production.  Nothing risky.

"Try some defensive magic?" Simon suggested.  "Just a little."

Magnifico held out a hand and wiggled his fingers.  Wisps of white light emerged from their tips, becoming orange flames; he swept his hand through the air, leaving luminous trails, watching with dazed wonder.  And then the trails turned to green smoke.  Magnifico’s eyes flickered green, and he tensed.  His hand closed into a fist.  The magic disappeared.  “Damn it,” he muttered.  His eyes squeezed shut.  A few seconds later, he uncurled his fingers, staring down at his hand. 

"Try again," Asha urged.

He shook his head.  “The forbidden magic is too much a part of me now.  It creeps in, even when I don’t call on it.  When I’m performing a mundane spell, I can keep it under control.  But anything requiring real power…”  He shook his head.  “That book was right.  Amaya was right.”  His fist clenched again.  “Those who embrace forbidden magic even once are damned forever.  When I made the choice to open that book, there was no turning back.  I cannot protect anyone with my magic, now.  Not without losing control, without surrendering to the darkness.”  His breathing had grown heavier.  His eyes were starting to glaze over.

Asha put a hand on his back again.  “Magnifico.”

His gaze snapped toward her.  “Activate the collar, Asha.  I need to be kept under control.  If I try to fight, I’ll only become another danger to you.”

“Magnifico,” she said again, firmly.  “You’re not doing anything dangerous right now.  We’re all here with you.  It’s okay.”

He hesitated.  He was blinking rapidly.  He touched his chest.  “I…I feel it.  I feel it calling to me.  It’s in me.  It will always be there.  And it…hates.  None of us are safe.”  His chest heaved.

Dahlia reached out and took his hands.  He tensed.  “Let’s do an experiment,” she said.  “Try using the forbidden magic to do something small and harmless.” 

"What?"

"Is that a good idea?" Val said.

"I mean, we saw it just now, and it didn't hurt anything."  At his silence, Dahlia continued: “If this power is always going to be a part of you, then you need to learn to work with it.  To negotiate with it.  If you’re constantly fighting it, you’ll be worn down to nothing, and then you’ll have no defenses.”

“There is no negotiating with such a thing,” he muttered, pulling his hands from Dahlia's.  “I learned that the hard way.  I believed I could control it, and I...do you want that to happen again?”

“No, of course not. But I think Dahlia’s right,” Simon said.  “When you first opened that book, you were in the middle of a bad spiral.  Of course you couldn't control it.  This is different.  You can take this chance to learn how it works, how it interacts with your emotions.  And if it starts slipping out of control again, Asha can just suppress it with the collar.”

“Go on," Dahlia said.  "Try.”

When Magnifico hesitated, Val spoke up suddenly, fiercely:  “You made Rosas, didn’t you?  You were its protector.  Are you going to give that up so easily?  Aren’t you Magnifico?”

Magnifico stared at him for a few seconds, brow furrowed.  He looked down at his own hands again.  “Yes.  I am.”  He spun one forefinger through the air.  A wisp of glowing green smoke emerged, swirled, and took on the vague shape of a daisy, its pointed petals unfurling like grasping green fingers.  It was pretty, in an evil sort of way.  After a few seconds, the smoke-flower dissolved.

“There,” Magnifico said.  He placed a hand on his chest again, breathing in.  “I did it.” 

"You did," Simon said.

Dahlia applauded.  A tiny smile crept across Magnifico's face.  He held one hand out, cupped, and summoned a tiny ball of flame.  It whooshed faintly, spun, and turned green.  Slowly, it levitated into the air.  Val started to back away, tail tucked between his legs.  But the fireball simply evaporated.

Asha let out a quiet breath.  She'd been ready to reactivate the collar at a moment's notice.

“See?” Dahlia said.  “Not planning to destroy Rosas, are you?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my benevolent Giver of Cookies.”

Dahlia laughed.  Then an astonished look swept over her face, and she adjusted her glasses, leaning forward to peer at him.  “Wow.  Your eyes are extremely green right now.”

“Oh?  Are they glowing again?  I do feel rather luminous.”

“Yes.  It’s kind of fascinating.  I wonder what causes that—I mean, why your irises light up when the magic is activated.  They do say that eyes are the windows to the soul, which I always thought was just a kind of poetic fancy, but then, vision is closely linked to consciousness in sighted people, and some scientists consider the eyes to be part of the brain.  Could be a reaction with the optic nerve—”

“Dahlia, he’s not a science experiment,” Asha said.

"Right.  Sorry."

“Oh, it’s quite all right, my darling Asha,” Magnifico said, a hint of playfulness in his voice now.  “You can hardly blame her for being fascinated.  I am fascinating.”

“Right!  Like I was telling Asha before,” Dahlia said.  “This is an unprecedented opportunity to learn about a type of magic that’s been actively suppressed for most of human history.  It’s pretty exciting.”

Asha barely heard her.  Had Magifico just called Asha darling?  In front of everyone?

“How do you feel?” Simon asked.

Magnifico looked down at his hands, raised one to absently smooth his hair, and blinked his luminous green eyes.  “I’m—” a small giggle escaped him, and he covered his mouth with one hand, looking a little embarrassed, as though he’d hiccupped or burped.  “I don’t know.  A bit…altered.”  He spun his finger through the air, and a spiral of luminous green smoke followed it, then dissolved.  He made another forbidden magic daisy, then erased it with a sweep of his hand.  Another giggle escaped him.  And then a look of panic flashed across his face.  "Is this...do I seem frightening?  Is this unnerving?"

“Not exactly," Val said.  "You’re acting rather silly."

“The forbidden magic can make people more aggressive and paranoid, but it causes these spurts of euphoria, too,” Simon said.  “Or at least, that’s what it was like when I was under its influence.  I felt sort of drunk.”

“I guess that’s part of the appeal,” Asha said.  She was still suppressing the collar’s power; it took a bit of an effort, like holding a buoyant piece of wood underwater.  When she let up, it bobbed back to the surface.  But she maintained her focus.  It was probably good to get Magnifico accustomed to the unfettered flow of magic through him, so he wouldn’t be swept up in it if the time did come for him to use defensive magic.

“Try putting the forbidden magic away, now,” Dahlia said.  “But don’t fight it.  Don’t push it down.  Just imagine you’re putting it back on the shelf, like a book.”

Magnifico frowned in concentration.  The green glow faded from his eyes, pulled back into their depths.  He blinked.  “Hm.” 

“Hey, it worked!”  Dahlia clapped again, holding her crutch tucked under one arm.  “This is good!  We can keep practicing a little every day.”

Magnifico touched the collar, then his own temple.  His expression was puzzled, almost uneasy.

Val circled slowly around Magnifico’s legs, peering up at him, examining him from every angle.  He sat down.  “You have changed a bit,” he declared.

“I don’t…”  Magnifico flexed his fingers, then clenched his hands.  “No.  This is too easy.”  His voice was a low mutter; he seemed, almost, to be talking to himself.  “The forbidden magic is not something that can be tamed.  Embrace it once, and you belong to it.  Not just for life, but for eternity.  To sacrifice one’s immortal soul…that choice cannot be undone.”

"Allegedly.  I have seen a few books claim that the forbidden magic’s hold can be broken with an act of ‘ultimate self-sacrifice,’” Dahlia said, putting the term in air quotes.  “But even setting that aside..."

“Wait—self-sacrifice?” Magnifico said.  “Meaning what, exactly?”

Dahlia froze.  A brief look of anxiety flashed across her face, as though she’d realized her mistake.  “That’s really all it said.  I probably shouldn’t have even mentioned it.  It’s just anecdotal.  Totally unverified.”  She cleared her throat. 

“Plus…I mean, you’ve just proven that it can be controlled," Simon said.  "So a lot of what the old books say about it is probably wrong, anyway.  We’ll just keep learning, day by day.”

Magnifico was silent.

"Hey," Simon said.  "You aren't having thoughts about doing something reckless, are you?"

"No.  I am simply looking to the future."  He cast a glance up the stairs.  “I need to retire to my room, I think.” 

"Is something wrong?" Asha asked.

"If there is a chance we'll be attacked tonight, I must meditate and prepare myself."  He turned and walked up the stairs.

Something had shifted.  “Simon, Dahlia, Val…will you gather the knights and have them check on the citizens?”

“Of course,” Val said.

"I shouldn't have said that thing about sacrifice, should I?" Dahlia whispered.  "Why did I say that?"

“It's okay.”  She hurried after Magnifico.  She felt her friends’ gazes on her back as she jogged to the top of the stairs, wand in hand.  When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Val standing halfway up the stairs, watching them.  She gave him a brief, reassuring smile, then followed Magnifico down the hallway, around the corner.

He stopped outside the doorway to his room, hand on the knob, and turned to face her, and she froze.  They stared at each other.  “What?” he said.

“I think I should stay close to you tonight.  All night.”

“You’re suggesting we sleep in the same room?”  At her silence, his expression went blank, and his sarcastic tone dropped away.  “Oh.  You are.”  After another pause, he said, “You realize there’s only one bed.  Ordinarily, I'd be a gentleman and offer it to you, but considering that I'm a prisoner in your castle, I'd say the usual rules of chivalry are suspended.  Unless you want to share the bed with me, you'll have to sleep on the floor.”

“I could have the servants bring a cot up for me.  Or…yeah.  A cot.  I’ll pull it up next to the bed.”

“Sleep next to me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Platonically.”

“Of course.”  When he didn’t reply, she said, “Someone is going to stay with you tonight.  If not me, it’s going to be Simon or Dahlia, but since I’m the one with the magic wand connected to your collar, it would make sense for it to be me.”

“And why is it necessary for someone to stay with me tonight?”

“Because there’s a lot going on right now.  There was that flash of light, and we have to be ready, and also...I'm just worried.  Okay?  You said that thing in the garden about wanting to join Amaya in death.  And down there, we were talking about stuff like damnation and self-sacrifice, and then you suddenly walk away.  I'd be an idiot to leave you alone.”

He turned his face away.  "You are not responsible for my safety."

"Of course I am.  I'm the one who stripped you of your power.  I'm the whole reason you're in this situation.  And you're my friend, besides."

He ran a hand over his hair, a quick, agitated movement.  “Then reactivate the collar.  It will not allow me to harm myself.  Isn’t that right?”

She hesitated, then released her mental grip on the collar’s magic.  The stone glowed briefly.  “I’m still staying with you,” she said.

He sighed, shoulders sagging, and lowered his head.  “I am not worth—” he cut himself off.  Then he opened the door to his room and stepped inside.

Asha followed, closing the door behind her.  She hovered there awkwardly, clutching her wand, as Magnifico wandered over to the bed and sat down.  He stared at the floor, gripping his knees.  “Did you mean what you said?  Earlier?”

“Yes.  I did.”

“Then I fear for you.”

Asha approached and sat next to him.  “Don’t.”  She placed a hand on his arm.  “I can take care of myself.  I’m not a kid anymore.”

He didn’t smile.  Didn't look at her.

“Magnifico?”

He lifted his gaze to the model of Rosas sitting on the table.  His lips trembled slightly.  He rubbed a hand over them.  For a few minutes, they just sat there, side by side, her hand on his arm.  A strange, restless shadow had slipped across his eyes.  He rose to his feet, his arm sliding out from under her hand, and approached the model.  “You asked, earlier, if there was a story.  To my games.”  He looked over his shoulder.  "Do you still want to know?"

"Yes."

"Come here."

She stood, approached, and waited.  Listening.

He breathed in, then out.  His gaze rested on the model.  “Once upon a time, there was a king who ruled over a small kingdom.  The land was beautiful, but it was plagued by political unrest.  Over the years, it had been conquered several times by various petty dictators.  But to the people who lived there, it was home.  It was the only home they’d ever known.  This king—” he picked up the piece atop the castle—“was not a good ruler.  That must be acknowledged.  He delegated most of his royal duties to his underlings and threw lavish parties for his friends while his people struggled.  His knights bullied the serfs into working long hours in the fields but would not lift a finger to protect them from wandering thieves, and also did nothing to prevent them from stealing from each other.  Some people began to speak of leaving their homeland altogether, finding another home, but they had no clear idea of where they would go.  They had never left their little valley.  And the king did not seem open to hearing complaints.  Revolution seemed like the only option.  So a revolution began to brew.  There were secret meetings, whispered discussions.  Plans.”

Asha held her breath.

“Among these would-be revolutionaries was a man—a simple farmer.”  Magnifico picked up another wooden toy and rolled it slowly between a thumb and forefinger.  “He was nervous about the idea of violence, and especially about what it would mean for his family.  But he wanted his daughter to grow up in a better kingdom.  A fairer, freer kingdom.  So he allowed himself to be persuaded.  He allowed the spark of revolution to catch fire in his heart.  He joined this group of rebels.  There was a coup.”  Idly, he moved a few pieces toward the castle.  “The rebels stormed the king’s home.  Many people, knights and revolutionaries alike, were killed.  The king and queen were captured and executed.  It was bloody, it was horrible, but this man—this farmer—believed that the revolution was a necessary evil, and that that would be the end of the violence.”  He set the piece down and stood, hands interlaced behind his back, shoulders hunched.

After a minute or two, he continued:  “The rebel leaders took over the castle.  They found that running a country was more difficult than they'd anticipated.  There were conflicts.  Struggles over scarce resources.  The rebels decided that it wasn’t enough to kill the king and queen, that they had to hunt down and execute their children and direct blood relations, as well—that there was too great a risk that the king’s family would harbor some loyalty to his memory, that they would cause trouble down the line.  Yet it did not stop there, either.  Anyone who expressed any sympathy for the royal family became an enemy.  This is common in the aftermath of revolutions, by the way.  Yours was something of an exception, in this regard.  Completely bloodless.  You didn’t even execute me.  Of course, you grew up in an uncommonly peaceful place.  It probably didn’t even occur to you to root out and kill those who were still loyal to me.”

“Of course not,” she said quietly.  “That wasn’t the sort of kingdom I wanted to build.”

His gaze met hers.  He smiled, just a brief tightening of his facial muscles.  “The rest of the world is not so forgiving."  His attention returned to the model.  "When men and women are…inspired to overthrow the existing order, even when that order is corrupt, all rules go out the window.  People behave as though they’re possessed by forbidden magic.”  He touched the top of a tiny house.  “When they turned against me, I was still naïve enough to be shocked.  I’d bloodied my hands for their sake.  I’d killed one of the king's knights.  I'd done everything that was asked of me.  But it wasn’t enough for them.  Because there came a point where I wanted the killing to stop.  I’d been expressing doubts about the direction of things for a while.”

He turned his face away.  She couldn’t see his eyes—just the flick of his dark lashes as he blinked.

“They came in the night,” he said.  “With weapons.  They called us traitors.”

Asha placed a hand over her mouth.

Magnifico positioned three figures in front of a tiny marble house.  “They might have spared Rosas.  She was only seven.  They might have kept her, tried to indoctrinate her as a soldier for their new order…but once she saw that they meant us harm, she tried to fight them.  She was such a brave little thing.  She grabbed a kitchen knife and waved it at them, as though she could scare them away.  Their leader grabbed her by the throat and threw her across the room like a ragdoll.”  He nudged one of the toys.  It fell over.  Click.  “She never got up.”

His calm was eerie.  Magnifico had sobbed like a child when he’d seen the cookie Dahlia had included with his lunch, yet now—talking about the most horrible event of his life—he was dry-eyed.  His voice was grim but almost robotic.  As though he were talking about some tragic historical event with no personal connection to himself.

“Li screamed,” he continued.  “She tries to run to Rosas.  The men grabbed her.  She struck out at them with her fists, calling them murderers, and they fell upon her like wolves on a wounded animal.  I tried to fight them.  They overpowered me easily.  She was sobbing, crying, and I could do nothing.  They held me down.  I struggled.  I kept calling out her name, and she kept calling to me, but we couldn’t reach each other.”  He nudged the two other toys with his finger.  They toppled over.  He moved a few other toys closer.  “They...hurt us.  Both of us."  His voice had grown weaker, husky.  "While our daughter lay unmoving, head bloody, eyes open but unseeing, just a few feet away...these men who had been our neighbors, our comrades—they tore into us, still calling us traitors to the cause.  They were…deranged.  Like demons.  I couldn’t understand what was happening to us or why.  I still can’t understand it.  Before that moment, I had never realized how utterly…completely weak I was.”

He stared into space, his eyes empty and unfocused.

“I don’t know why they left me alive.  Once they saw that they had killed a woman and child, perhaps the fever broke.  Perhaps they realized what they had become.  But it was too late.  I must have…blacked out at some point.  I don’t know.  When I woke up, the men were gone.  Li was dead, her throat slit.  Rosas was dead.  I was bleeding.  My insides were on fire.  The house was burning.  I held them.  My poor Li, my poor Rosas.  I planned to die with them.  My body betrayed me.  The flames were closing in, and I was afraid.  I ran.”

His breathing had grown heavy and strained.  It filled the silence. 

“The men who did those things were monsters.  But they were monsters because they saw the brokenness and misery around them and they could think of nothing to do about it, except to start killing and never stop.  They had no power to create anything better.  They could only burn everything down.  Later, the few times I spoke of what had happened, I told people only that my homeland and family had been taken from me by thieves.  It was easier.”

Asha opened her mouth to respond, but nothing emerged.  There were no words.  She thought she knew grief; she thought she knew suffering.  This was something beyond.

“I returned to my homeland only once, many years later.  There was nothing left.  A few burnt-out husks of houses, a ruined castle.  A charred tapestry.  I learned magic in hopes of bringing my wife and daughter back, undoing my own failure to protect them.  That longing was so—so powerful.  If I could find a way to isolate the strongest desire in a human heart and make it come true, then surely, I felt, surely I could bring them back.  But it wasn’t enough.  There are limits even to magic.  Once I accepted that I couldn't save them, I did the next best thing.  I set about creating a place where things like that could never, ever happen.  A place where there was order, where there was kindness.  If I could keep all the wishes close, I could not only grant the good ones, I could stop the bad ones from coming true."  He stared numbly at the floor.  “What was it all for?”

Asha rose.  She crossed the room.  She put her arms around him.

He didn’t react.  He stood motionless, stiff, unresponsive.

"Mir..."

“Mir died on that night,” he said.  “Magnifico was born out of his loss.  I think, sometimes, that I should have stayed with Li and Rosas in that burning house.”

Asha shook her head.  She held him tighter.  There was so much she needed to say, and still, no words came.  So she just hugged him close, trying to tell him without words that he wasn't alone, that he was loved, appreciated, cherished for the beautiful kingdom he had built from the ashes of his own tragedy...and that even if everything had gone wrong, it didn't erase the good that he had done.  "Thank you," she whispered at last.

"For what?"

"For telling me.  For staying alive.  For not giving up.  For everything.  Thank you."  She hugged him so tight that her arms started to ache, and still, she didn't let go.

Slowly, he curled one arm around her shoulders.  They remained that way, their mingled breathing filling the silence. 

"I love you, Asha," he murmured against her hair.  "I love you.  And I am afraid."

She was, too.  God, she was.  Yet she didn’t regret saying those words.  She couldn't.  Crazy or not, the love was a simple fact.  Like a wish, it was not a choice but a part of her heart, something essential and undeniable.  Wishes could become complicated and painful, it was true.  They could destroy a person.  Or a kingdom.  They were neither inherently good nor evil, simply powerful and real.  And they could not simply vanish when they ceased to be convenient or ethical or sane.  The sweet, warm ache remained.  They were tangled up in each other now, embedded like shrapnel in each other's hearts, and there was no going back.

Chapter Text

The servants had brought up a cot, as Asha asked.  She lay on the narrow, lightly padded wooden frame.  Magnifico lay in the bed beside her.  The cot wasn’t terribly comfortable, but it wasn’t unbearable, and it was less awkward than sharing the bed with him.  Even if a part of her wanted to.

It wasn’t even a romantic feeling—this urge to be closer to him.  Not really.  She was attracted to him, she couldn’t deny it.  But after what he had just told her, that was probably the last thing on his mind.  She just wanted to hold him, to give him whatever comfort she could.

“The air feels strange,” Magnifico murmured.

“How do you mean?”

“I can’t explain it.”

Asha’s wand was under her pillow.  At the moment, she wasn’t keeping the collar’s power suppressed, but she was ready to do so the instant there was any sign of a threat.  “If anything approaches the castle, the knights will alert us.  We’re safe in here.  I promise you.”

“That is not something within your power to promise,” he said, but his voice was curiously gentle.

“In all the years I’ve lived in this castle, we’ve never been attacked here.”  Of course, the situation had changed.  Star had just announced his presence.

It was dark; there was only the faint starlight from the window and the dim torchlight creeping in around the edges of the door.  Earlier, before the two of them retired to bed, Magnifico had changed into a set of sleep clothes—dark blue silk studded with tiny yellow stars, like the inside of his cape.  Seeing him in pajamas was a little surreal.

She couldn’t make out his expression.  She wouldn’t have known his eyes were open, except that she could see the glint of reflected light on their surface. 

“Do you want me to call Simon?” she said quietly.  “To help you sleep?”

“I cannot keep relying on magic, as you know.  Don’t worry about me.  Get some rest.  If you’d prefer to take the bed, it’s fine.  I will sleep on the cot.  I don’t actually care.”

“I’m fine.”  In truth, she didn’t feel much like sleeping either.  She fluffed her pillow and nestled deeper into the blankets, trying to get comfortable.  “You know, when I was little and couldn’t sleep, sometimes Mama would read to me or tell me stories.  Or Papa would sing ‘Schlof Mayn Kind.’  He had a very beautiful voice.”

She heard the faint rustle of skin against cloth as his head turned toward her.  “You speak Yiddish?”

“No, but he did.  And Saba.  Do you know it?”  He had books in so many different languages in his study.

“Only enough for the spells,” he said.  “There’s a chant to enrich the soil, one to keep insects away from crops...that sort of thing.  And some potent barrier magic.  The age-slowing spell, too.”

“Oh?  Now I wonder if Saba was secretly a sorcerer,” she said half-jokingly.  “He was in amazingly good shape for a man who was over one hundred.  Right up until the end.”  Though of course, he’d had a child.  If by some chance he had slowed his own again, he must have done it after starting a family.  And once he came to Rosas, Magnifico would have detected the use of unauthorized magic.

“It’s a powerful language,” Magnifico said.  “Beautiful, as well.  I feel like a thief sometimes, taking words from all these different tongues, adapting them to my own purposes.”

“But you used those spells to protect Rosas.”

“I did.  And to maintain my power, of course.”  He exhaled softly into the darkness.  “I told myself that that was a necessary part of protecting everyone, and perhaps it was, but at a certain point…power is simply a difficult thing to let go of.”

“It is.”  She rolled onto her side, facing him.  “I’ve wondered—you don’t always chant words when you cast a spell.  Do some not need it?”

“If you’re accustomed enough to it, you can speak the words in your mind, and it has the same effect.  At a certain point, a sort of mental muscle memory takes over, and you can cast it almost instantaneously.  But the words are necessary when you’re first learning.  To provide the proper focus and structure.”

“I see.”

“Next time we go out into the kingdom, I’ll teach you the spell for protecting crops.”

“That sounds good.”

Silence settled over them, but it was a more comfortable silence, this time.

Softly, Asha sang the first few lines of her father’s lullaby, knowing that she was probably butchering the pronunciation:  “Shlof, mayn kind, ikh vel dikh vign, Ikh vel dir zingen a sheynem nign…”  She winced.  “I can’t sing it the way he did.  I can barely carry a tune.”

“Nonsense.  You have a lovely voice.”  Her eyes had adjusted to the dimness; she could just make out the curve of his cheek, softly illuminated by starlight.  “I used to sing to Rosas.”

“I saw.  In your wish.”

“I think my mother used to sing to me, too, when I was very small.  It’s hard to remember now, though.  Looking back on my childhood…it feels like someone else’s life.”

“What was it like?  Growing up there.”

“Lots of farm chores.  Not much time to play.  I have a faint memory of skipping stones on the river, though.  I taught Rosas how to do that.  We would sit and—” his voice grew husky.  He cleared his throat.

She reached across the space between them and found his hand.  Her fingertips slid down the length of his fingers, to his palm. 

“I will keep working,” he said.  “I’ll learn how to use my defensive spells without ceding control to the entity inside me.  I will protect you.  And this kingdom.”

“We’ll protect each other.”

After a few seconds, he nodded.

Asha’s hand remained in his, a wordless reminder that he wasn’t alone.  His breathing grew soft and even, and for a moment, she was sure he’d drifted off.  Then he stirred.  “Will you…”  His voice was a little lower, a little hoarser than usual.  He cleared his throat.  “Will you come closer to me, Asha?”

“Last time I got too close to you, you pinned me to the bed.”

“I did, didn’t I?”  He chuckled.  “You’re learning caution.  That’s good.”

“So, was that a test?  Or do you really want me to come closer?”

After a brief pause, he murmured, “Do as you will.”

He had a frustrating habit of giving those non-answers when he didn’t want to be straightforward.

For another minute or two, she lay there, listening to his breathing.  Then she inched toward him.  She lifted the edge of the blanket covering him.  There was only a tiny gap between her cot and his bed; it was easy to crawl under the covers with him.  Their mingled breathing filled the dark space.  So close.  So warm.

“Oh.  You’ve decided to join me, after all.”

Her wand was still under her pillow on the coat.  Though of course, the collar would still stop him if he attempted to harm her, and she didn’t really think he would try.  Her pulse drummed in her wrists, her throat.  She lay a hand against his chest.  His pajamas were soft and silky against her palm.

She shouldn’t be here.  She could still pull back.  She could slide out from under the covers, make some excuse.  She had every opportunity to do what she probably should, to try to reestablish some sense of distance between them.  She drew in another unsteady breath.  “You told me once that you weren’t sure if these feelings were real,” she said.  “I mean…”  It was difficult to collect her thoughts.  “If—if they only happened because of the position we’re in, or—”

“I still don’t know,” he whispered.  He touched the back of her head, ran one of her braids between his fingers.

“And you’re grieving Amaya,” she said.

“I am.  Very much.”

“Is it…”  She wasn’t sure she was ready to ask this, but she braced herself and asked anyway.  “Is it me that these feelings are for?  Or are you pretending that I’m her?”  At his silence, she said, “You don’t have to answer that.  I shouldn’t even be here right now.  I know—”

“I could not pretend, even if I wanted.  You’re too different.”  His hand curled around the small of her back.  “You remind me constantly, in a thousand tiny ways, that you are not her.  And yet she taught you.  She intended you to be her successor.  It…feels as though some trace of her clings to you.”  He let out a stiff, broken chuckle.  “A few days ago, after you and I had that silly argument, I asked one of the servants to bring me one of Amaya’s old dresses.  I can only imagine what he thought of me.  I wanted to see if her clothes still smelled like her.  But of course, there was nothing of her left.  It’s been seven years since her death, after all.”  His fingers tightened on her braid.  “Pathetic.  I know.”

“No.  It’s not.  I kept things from all the people I lost, too.  It felt like as long as I could still smell some trace of them, they weren’t really gone.”  She thought about the charred tapestry hanging on the wall of Magnifico’s study—all that remained of his homeland.  “At a certain point, though, it always fades.”

“Yes.”  His fingers continued to idly stroke Asha’s braids, feeling the tiny, intricate ridges of them.  “It occurs to me that I’ve only ever seen you with your hair in braids.  They feel like so much a part of you.”

“Mama used to braid it for me,” she murmured.  “Dahlia helps me, now, when I need to redo them.  I taught her.”

“I can’t imagine how you find the time.”

“It does take a while, but…you know I don’t redo them every day, right?”

“I have no idea how it works.  I suppose that would be some sorcery.  In any case, they are beautiful.”

She smiled.  “Thank you.”

“Here’s the part where you tell me that my hair is beautiful, too.”

Asha laughed.  “You are unbelievable.”

“I know.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Oh, it wasn’t?”

Their faces were very close, now. 

“You are beautiful,” she whispered.

When his lips touched hers, it was so light, so gentle, that the kiss almost tickled.  She felt the wiry brush of his beard prickling against her, but the lips beneath them were soft.  She drew her breath in sharply.  He pulled back.  His hand slid away from the small of her back.  He lay there, motionless, simply waiting to see what she would do.

She leaned in.  Her lips lightly touched his again, then pressed more firmly against them.  His fingertips slid beneath the hem of her pajama top.  His thumb brushed along her spine.  Then he stopped.  Waiting for some signal, some reaction.

Her heart was racing out of control.  She was very conscious of her own body, the rub of soft cotton pajamas against her skin, the solid warmth of him next to her.  His hand moved from the small of her back to her hip.  She started to lean forward, to kiss him again, then stopped.  She remembered the lurch of fear when he’d pinned her down.  A part of her was still bracing herself for it to happen again.  But he wouldn’t go this far just for a “lesson,” would he?

They were pressed close together under the covers.  She could feel every inch of him.  Her face grew hotter.  Well, his body definitely wanted this. 

“Tell me again that you love me,” he whispered, almost inaudibly.

“I love you.”

A small moan escaped him, a helpless sound.  He shivered lightly against her.  His eyes slipped shut, then half-opened again.  His lips brushed hers.

For all his years as king he’d been so confident, so flamboyant; to the extent that she’d thought about it at all, she’d always seen him as the sort of man who would completely dominate a lover in bed.  There was a kind of shy neediness to him that she hadn’t expected.  She found herself wondering if, in all his long decades of life, he had ever slept with a woman aside from Li and Amaya…and if not, what it meant that he was kissing her now.

She could feel a growing ache between her own thighs—but with it came a growing confusion. 

So much had happened over the past week.  He’d endured so much loss and pain and upheaval.  And before all that, he’d spent eight years in near-total isolation.  He was starved for touch, for affection, for pleasure.  Of course his instinct was to cling to her, now.  He might regret this later.  They both might.

He leaned in.  She felt his breath against her throat, over her pulse.

She couldn’t keep doing this, leaning in and then withdrawing.  It was going to drive both of them insane.  And yet.

“Magnifico…”

“Yes, Asha?”

“I…”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know…if we…”

He froze—then pulled back.  His hand lifted from her hip.  He rolled onto his side, away from her.  “Yes.  You’re right,” he said flatly.  “Of course.”

She lay motionless, disoriented.  She hadn’t expected such a swift and complete withdrawal.

This was good, she reminded herself.  They shouldn’t—she shouldn’t be doing this. 

“It was my fault,” Magnifico murmured.  “For coaxing you into bed with me.  For kissing you.  That isn’t why you’re here tonight.”

“No.  No, I willingly got under the covers with you.  It’s no one’s fault.  It was just…a mutual lapse in judgment.  I mean—” she was babbling again, she knew it, but she couldn’t stop.  “I mean, it isn’t like I don’t want—I’m just thinking about tomorrow and the day after and the day after.  There are…consequences to this kind of thing.” 

No risk of getting pregnant, though.  There was that. 

Another wave of conflicted, confused feelings washed over her.  Did she want a child?  Not now, of course.  Not yet.  It would make sense to have an heir, but of course there were other ways of choosing a successor.  Maybe someday, though…

She couldn’t let herself think that far into the future.  She’d survived this long by taking it one day at a time.

Magnifico lay motionless, his breathing strained.  “I may need some magical aid in getting back to sleep, after all,” he murmured.

“If you need to…um…take care of anything…”  Her cheeks burned.  “I could step out for a minute.”

He remained facing away from her, toward the wall.  One hand clenched a fistful of blankets.  “Perhaps you should just return to your room.” 

“Is that what you want?”

“No.  But this is not about what we want.  Is it?”

She sighed softly.

“I understand,” he said.  “Even if I don’t look it, I’m old enough to be your grandfather.  Your great-grandfather, even.  And you were practically a child when we first met.  I should not even be thinking about—”

“It isn’t that.”  She bit the inside of her cheek.  “If anything…”

He waited.  Even though their bodies weren’t touching, she could sense the tension in him.

“Even if you’re resigned to the necessity of the collar, even if you’re not a prisoner anymore, per se, it doesn’t change…certain things about our relationship,” she whispered.  “I feel like, if we did—like I’d be raping you, almost.”

“Oh, that’s what you think?”

“Yes?”  Was he angry, now?

“You think I don’t know my own mind?  You—you think that I’m so besotted with you I can’t—”

“It’s not you.  It’s the situation,” she said, frustration creeping into her tone.  “It would be the same with anyone.”

“Such concern for my human rights,” he said.  There was a sardonic sharpness in his tone now.  “A small fraction of that concern would have been appreciated during the eight years I was trapped in that mirror, fighting for my sanity.”

A retort rose into her throat, but she swallowed it.  By now, she’d learned to recognize his sarcasm as a cover for hurt.

She sighed and rolled onto her side, toward the door.  They lay there, facing away from each other.  A dull ache filled her chest, an ache that was now beginning to feel familiar—the frustration and emptiness of doing the right thing.  Or maybe it wasn’t the right thing, pulling back when they were already so close.  Maybe she was just being a coward and a hypocrite.  She didn’t know.

She’d been laying there for several minutes, stewing in her thoughts, when his voice broke the silence:  “You’re angry, now.”  His tone was difficult to read.

She rolled toward him.  “No.  Of course I’m not.  I’m just confused.  About all of this.” 

After a few seconds, he replied, “That makes two of us.”

He rolled onto his other side, facing her again.  She reached out and found his hand under the covers.

He gripped it tight.

“Did you and Amaya ever argue?” she asked.

“Of course we did.  Not nearly as often as I argue with you,” he added.  “But when you share your life so closely with another person, some conflict is inevitable.  And…I was not always an easy man to live with.  She was always so…so patient.”  He breathed in slowly, then out.  “I know you judge her for abandoning me, but she had a responsibility to this kingdom, first and foremost.  Rulers must make difficult choices.  It is not always possible to save everyone.  Even in the depths of my madness, there was a part of me that remembered that.  She did what she had to.  I’m sure it wasn’t easy for her, even if she hid her pain.  As queen, you should understand.”

“No.  I don’t.  You never turned anyone away.  People came here from all over the world fleeing persecution or tyranny, and you gave them a home.  Abandoning or sacrificing even one citizen of Rosas, one person under my protection, feels to me like a betrayal of everything this kingdom is supposed to represent.”

“Well…you are still young.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

He lowered his gaze.  “If the forbidden magic proves impossible to control—if there comes a time when the collar is not enough—you may be forced to turn against me in order to protect your people, as well.”

A chill rippled through her.  She squeezed his hand and said, “I won’t.  Not ever.”

“Careful, my little captor.  Do not make careless promises.”

“I’ll find a way.”

He said nothing.

She nestled a little closer under the covers and touched the collar.  “This isn’t forever, you know.  If you can learn how to control the magic, then eventually, this will come off.  And once that happens, we won’t be captor and captive anymore.”

“Hm.” 

“For now, though, we should try to sleep.”

After a moment, he said, “Sing me the rest of that song.”

She reached out and brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead.  “Close your eyes, Mir.”

He did.  She sang the rest of her father’s lullaby—what she could remember of it, anyway.  She got some of the words wrong, she was sure, but if he noticed or minded, he didn’t let on.  His breathing slowed and evened.

She kept holding his hand, even as he began to snore lightly.  And when his breathing sped again, when he started to stir and whimper in his sleep and she glimpsed a flare of green light through the curtains of his closed eyelids, she held his hand tighter until he settled.  The light faded.  There was something about comforting him which soothed her own anxieties.

Whatever happened, they would figure it out.

Eventually, she drifted off as well, still holding his hand.

* * *

Magnifico woke in darkness.  A chill passed through him.  The room was still, quiet, and yet he was filled immediately with the sense that something was wrong.  He could hear Asha breathing next to him.  Her hand was limp in his.  “Asha,” he said.

She didn’t respond.  He pulled his hand from hers and shook her shoulder.  “Asha.  Wake up.”  No reaction.  He squeezed.  “Wake up.”

Still nothing.  He checked her pulse.  It was steady.  Nothing physically wrong with her, that he could discern.  But a sleep this sound was not natural.

He extracted himself from the covers, slipped out of bed, crossed the room and knocked on the door.  “Hello?  Knight?  Anyone?”

Silence. 

He tried the knob; the door was unlocked.  When he opened it, he saw that the young knight had returned to his post but was now sitting on the floor, head and shoulders slumped over.  Magnifico’s first thought was that he was dead, and his blood turned to ice.  But a half-second later, he heard a soft snore. 

Magnifico let out a quiet breath of relief, but he didn’t relax.  Every sense remained alert, nerves humming.

He shook the man’s shoulder, already knowing it wouldn’t help, and the limp form toppled over with a clank of armor and kept snoring.  Magnifico looked down the hallway and saw a second knight some distance away, laying on the floor, eyes closed and mouth open, as though he’d been on his way to the room—to begin his own guard duty shift, perhaps—and had fallen asleep on the way.

A spell.  It had to be.  But why was it not affecting him?

He raised his voice to a shout:  “Hello?  Anyone awake?  Answer me!”  His voice echoed through the emptiness all around.  He gritted his teeth and went back into the bedroom.  “Asha, wake up!”

Still, she didn’t open her eyes, didn’t even stir.

If they were under attack, Magnifico was the only one left awake to defend anyone.  And he could not even use magic.  He pulled her wand out from under the pillow on her cot and stared at it, willing it to react, but of course, nothing happened.  She was the only one who could use it.  It slipped from his fingers.

He heard himself whispering no, no, no under his breath.  He slapped himself, hard, across the left cheek, then the right, using the pain to focus himself.  He pressed his fists to his temples.  If he collapsed into panic, it was all over.

A faint light filtered through the window’s curtains.  He approached, flung open the curtains, and stared out.  The city of Rosas, its houses and streets, sprawled beyond.  It was the middle of the night, so it was mostly deserted, but he glimpsed a few motionless forms lying on the ground here and there.  His heartbeat—already rapid—escalated. 

Focus.  Think.

So, the spell’s effects extended beyond the castle.  Quite possibly the entire city or even the entire island of Rosas was asleep, which meant that they were dealing with an extremely powerful spell.  The air itself had a strange, luminous, golden quality; he glimpsed tiny, bright particles floating here and there, like dust motes catching the sun, except there was no sun. 

Star.  It had to be.  Star had magicked everyone into this state…except for him.  Why? 

When he was king, Magnifico had kept a few basic protective spells active at all times, making him more resistant to the effects of enemy magic.  But of course, those spells were no longer running.  He could not use magic at all without Asha suppressing the collar’s effects.  There was some other reason.

He was about to withdraw from the window when he glimpsed movement.  Something was making its way down the dark street, into the town square.  An animal.  A goat? 

No.  A deer.  A young buck; it possessed a pair of small, short antlers, slightly forked at their tips.  As Magnifico stood at the window, the buck raised its—his head and stared back with a pair of luminous golden eyes.  The deer raised one foreleg, then sharply brought it down, striking the cobblestones.  A single, clear tone rang out, like a bell.  It vibrated in Magnifico’s bones, in the center of his head.  Rings of golden light spread out from his hoof, like ripples in a pond.  The ripples grew as they spread outward, passing over the surrounding houses and up the wall of the castle.  When it passed over and through Magnifico, he felt a shiver, but nothing more.

What was that?  Had he just renewed the sleep spell?

And then a voice—a soft, pure tenor—spoke, carrying easily across the distance, magically amplified and resonating, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere:  “Come down.”

He felt his anger rising, now.  He clung to it, because the alternative was terror.  “You!” he shouted, pointing.  “Are you the one responsible for this?”

“I will not harm you, Magnifico of Rosas,” the deer said.  “Come down.”

“I will not.  Do you think I’m a fool?  Release this spell at once.”

The deer tilted its head, staring up at him with those eerier, brilliant eyes.  “Shall I come to you, instead?”

He didn’t want this beast anywhere near Asha.  Or any of them.  “You are not permitted in this castle.  Remain where you are.”  He wished that he was wearing his royal robes and cape.  It was harder to be intimidating in pajamas.  The floor-stones felt like ice under his bare feet.  “Tell me what you want.”

“Merely to speak with you.”  The voice seemed as much in his head as in his ears.

“Speak, then.  I can hear you perfectly well from here.”

There was a pause.  Then:  “I would prefer to come to you.”  A pair of luminous golden wings, previously invisible, unfolded from the deer’s back.  The deer flapped his wings once, twice, and rose smoothly into the air, like a bubble rising to the surface of a glass of ale.  A golden, glowing disc materialized beneath his hooves, and he settled onto it just outside of Magnifico’s window.  His wings were massive, easily fifteen feet from tip to tip, and their edges danced like yellow flames.  Throughout, the wings were studded with burning amber spots that looked almost like reptilian eyes.  The deer folded the wings against his back again, and they disappeared, melting into his body.

“What are you?” Magnifico whispered, dry-mouthed.

“I am a who, not a what, if you please.”  He sounded more amused than offended.  “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.  I’m the Prince of the Forest.”

“You’re Bambi, then.”

“That was my name.  I have become something more.”  His tiny antlers shone and glimmered.  “I carry the power of a star within me.  In my very flesh and bones.  I have become Star.”

This…this was something beyond what he had anticipated.  Asha wielded star-magic, but this maniac had gone a step further.  He had fused with a god.  Was that what that flash of light had been? 

“How nice for you,” Magnifico said, trying to sound nonchalant.  “And what is it you wanted to discuss with me, that couldn’t wait until the planned meeting?”

“I listen to the birds, to all the tiny beings of this island.  They see and hear everything that goes on in this kingdom.  Some of them find their way into the castle.  Who notices a sparrow in the rafters, a mouse in the corner?  They all tell the same story—that the humans of Rosas overthrew their former ruler, who was a powerful sorcerer, and kept him imprisoned for a very long time.  Recently, he has been released.  But now he is their slave.  Now he is bound by magic, and he obeys their queen.”

Magnifico narrowed his eyes.  “I am no slave.”

“You serve the queen willingly, then?  The same one who took your throne?”

He opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated.  “It’s…”  He breathed in, agitated, and smoothed his hair.  “It’s complicated.”

The Prince tilted his head and blinked his big, luminous eyes.  They were disconcerting.  No visible irises or pupils.  It was as though he’d been hollowed out and the eyes were simply openings in a mask, through which Star’s light shone. 

“What else do your little spies tell you?” Magnifico asked.

“They tell me that the queen has already made her decision.  That she will not give me the hunter and will not liberate the forest from the rest of Rosas.”

“That is true.  She hopes to find a compromise.”

“A compromise.”  The deer laughed flatly.  “What manner of compromise?”

“I don’t know the specifics.  But she wants to avoid further bloodshed, above all else.  She may yet be persuaded to surrender the forest to you, but I don’t think the human citizens of Rosas will be happy about that.  Her hunter friend has already paid the fine for her crime.”

The Prince shook his head slowly.  His ears pinned back.  “A fine.  Yes.  I was told of this, too.  Ten little pieces of metal.”  His eyes glowed brighter.  His voice had taken on a chilling, strange resonance, as though it were several voices speaking in one.  “That is what the life of my mother is worth to you humans.  To your laws.”  A bright tear spilled from his eye and trailed down his cheek like molten gold.  For an instant, the very air seemed to vibrate.

Magnifico took a step back from the window.  He glanced over his shoulder at the bed, where Asha lay motionless, sleeping peacefully.

And then the glow in the Prince’s eyes dimmed a bit, and the air stilled.  He took a breath.  “No matter.  There will be consequences.”

“You won’t get Bazeema,” Magnifico said.

“We already have her.  In a secret location deep in the forest.”

Magnifico stared. 

“She is alive.  For now,” the Prince said.  “Though in some discomfort.  I will give your queen the choice that my mother was never given.  I will allow Asha the chance to exchange her own life—or another’s—for her friend’s.  If she has not made her decision by the night of the new moon, then this Bazeema will die.  I will give her to the bears and the wolves.  A limb for each of my trusted generals, her liver and heart as a special treat for the cubs.  Her head, perhaps, will be placed on a spike near the forest’s boundary.  As a warning.  Though that does seem a bit wasteful.  Brains are quite nutritious, I am told.”

“You’re psychotic.”

“Am I?”  He laughed, a high, tinkling, almost childlike sound.  “It is not even against your laws.  If it’s not murder when a human kills a deer, it’s not murder when a deer kills a human.  Perhaps I will have to pay a fine.”  He smiled.  Watching a deer smile was an unsettling sight.  His teeth were small and even and very white.  “We are all meat.  Yes?”

Magnifico’s mind raced.  “Kill Bazeema, and the other humans will try to avenge her.  She has siblings.  An endless string of revenge killings will not benefit either side.”

“There need not be an endless string.  It can end with her death.  But if a war is what the humans want, a war they shall have.” 

“If that’s all you want, why have you not already killed Bazeema?”  Asha would probably never forgive him for asking that question, if she were awake.  But he needed to understand the situation.  “You have her.  Why play this game?  Would it give you any satisfaction to punish a human who had nothing to do with your mother’s death?”

“I did promise a meeting with the queen.  And the hunter—though she is the one who shot the arrow—is not my true enemy.  The queen is the one whose laws treat our lives lightly.  I want her to truly ruminate on the consequences of her actions, to feel the weight of every life in this kingdom, human and animal.  I want her to suffer.”

Magnifico clenched his jaws.  “She gave your people the right to become citizens, if they wished.  You refused.”

“We do not wish to live under human law.  We were here before you.  We have our own ways.  We merely ask for balance.  Blood for blood.”

Magnifico shook his head.  “You’re not thinking clearly.  You’re grieving.  You’re wounded.  And you’re intoxicated on a power that you can’t truly control.  A time will come when you regret all of this.”

“Enough.”  His antlers glowed brighter.  “I need not explain myself to you.  I come here, tonight, to ask if you will fight alongside us.”

“What?”

“I can break that silly collar.  It would be easy.  I can free you, I can give you back your magic…if you will agree to stand with us.”

No doubt his oath to them would be magically enforced in some way.  He would be trading one form of servitude for another. 

As though reading his mind, Bambi said, “I have no way to bind you.  That is not the nature of my power.  You don’t even have to swear allegiance to us.  To watch you turn against the cowardly hypocrites who now hold you—that would be enough.”

Magnifico almost believed him.  And yet…

He thought about Asha’s arms around him, holding him so tight.  Asha’s voice whispering that she loved him.  Dahlia clapping her hands in delight when he managed to contain the forbidden magic.  Simon’s calming voice, the warmth of his healing magic.  Even Valentino’s worried frown.

Magnifico had done exactly what he swore he would never do; he had allowed himself to become compromised, to be seduced by the kindness of his captors.  His fingers tightened on the windowsill. 

A war with Star and with the creatures of the forest.  A war with a god—and with Magnifico’s forbidden magic unleashed to breed further insanity.  It was exactly the sort of chaos that the little yellow goblin would revel in.  It probably didn’t even care who came out on top.  It was using this Bambi, as it had used Asha, because it had no particular goals or moral compass.  It just wanted to watch the fireworks, and then it would flit off to flirt with the next revolutionary leader, leaving its past allies to flail about in the consequences of their own actions. 

When Magnifico had been a child and a young man—when he’d been Mir—he’d wished so many times upon a star.  He’d cried out for help, for the power to save his people, his family.  No star had ever answered.  He’d been forced to forge his own path through his own sweat and agony.  Beneath it all, he was a small and broken man, a frightened man—he knew that, he knew it all too well—but he had earned every ounce of what he was.  He had never stolen, never lied.  The people of Rosas had come here willingly, given their wishes to him willingly, in exchange for his protection.  He had not spent over half his lifetime building and watching over this kingdom only to gamble it all on a promise from a fickle god.

“Well?” Bambi said.  His eyes and antlers glowed so brightly, now, they were difficult to look at.

Magnifico raised a hand to his collar, touched the stone.  He gripped the metal band.  His own ragged breathing echoed in his ears. 

You could let him break the collar.  And then strike him down.

Except he knew what would happen if the collar came off.  He would lose all control.  Amaya’s frightened face flashed through his head, her features illuminated by the greenish glow of his staff.

“Your promises are lies, Star,” he said.  “I want nothing from you.  I will not betray my friends.”

The Prince’s luminous golden eyes blinked a few times.  His eerie voice echoed through the night, like the voice of the stars themselves:  “They are using you, you fool.  You believe they care for you?  They brought you back only because they needed your power.  You would choose to be a tool of your enemies?”

“I will not fight in your war.  Bambi—I speak to you, now, not this Prince of the Forest.  This thing within you may look and feel like a friend, but it is not.  Reject it.  Expel it from your heart.”

The Prince’s ears pinned back.  His golden eyes narrowed.  “You have given your answer, then,” he replied coldly.  “Relay my message to Queen Asha.  Tell her that I have her friend.  Unless she chooses another human to sacrifice by the new moon, Bazeema’s life is forfeit.”  The Prince spread his golden, flame-edged wings—wings filled with burning, swirling circles, knots like molten eyes.  The luminous disc beneath his feet dissolved.  His wings flapped.  He started to turn.

“Prince.”

The Prince turned back toward him.

“Any human will suffice?”

The Prince flicked his ears, as though considering.  His wings flapped again.  “Not one already on the verge of death.  Any human with something to lose.”  The golden eyes narrowed.  A strange sensation passed over him, like ghostly fingers skimming over the surface of his brain, riffling through his memories as though they were pages in a book.  Magnifico’s skin crawled.  “Are you offering yourself?” the Prince asked. 

He could say yes.  He could end all this trouble with one word.  He could save Bazeema and stop a war.  Perhaps he could bargain for a little more time, to teach Asha more sorcery…but they’d survived this long without him, hadn’t they?  Even if Rosas wasn’t as prosperous as it had been, its people—its heart—remained.  Perhaps the idea that they needed him had always been an illusion.

Ultimate self-sacrifice, Dahlia had said—the only way to break the hold of forbidden magic on a person’s soul, even if it was purely theoretical.  It could only mean one thing.  If he died for their sake, maybe he could see Li and Rosas again.  He could be with Amaya in the afterlife, if any such place existed.  Since learning of her death, he had longed to join her.  This time with Asha and the others had only been a brief dream.  Hadn’t he known that, on some level?

So why was he hesitating?

“I—I need to think,” he whispered.

“Then I will see you again in the clearing of the speaking trees.”  The Prince turned and soared away in the direction of the forest.  The golden sparks faded from the air.  In the streets, the sleeping people began to stir.

Chapter Text

Outside the window, there was a dim yellow glow in the sky, but it was only the light of approaching dawn; it lacked the chilling iridescence of Star’s magic.  Though the people in the streets were beginning to struggle to their feet and wander around, confused and drowsy, Asha was still soundly asleep.

Magnifico sat on the edge of the bed and watched her for a minute or two, listened to her soft breathing.  He tucked a braid behind her ear.  She was so young.  They all were, compared to him.

“Asha,” he said softly.  He brushed his knuckles over her cheek.

Her eyelids twitched, but that was all.

“Asha.  I’m getting lonely.  Open your eyes and argue with me.”

She let out another tiny snore.

He rose, walked to the door, and opened it.  The knights in the hallway, too, were still unconscious.  Perhaps the spell was strongest near the castle.  Most spells had a range and grew faded around the edges.

He returned to the bed and sat.  He didn’t doubt that she would wake, in time, but the fact that she hadn’t yet still left a gnawing anxiety in the pit of his stomach.  His mind had begun to wander, the Prince’s words cycling through it over and over.

A sacrifice.

A human sacrifice to end this strife, to balance the scales, to drive out the spirit of primal chaos which fed on discontent and injustice.

There was a terrible sort of logic to it.  Sacrifice held a powerful magic.  The strongest spells demanded blood, often from the caster.  Magnifico still bore scars on his own body from what his magic had demanded of him, over the years.  In the beginning, when his spellcasting was still rough around the edges and Rosas was more dream than reality, he had been far more careless with his own safety.  Once or twice, he might have put himself in real danger, had Amaya not been there to pull him back from the edge.

She had given so much to be with him.  She had made everything possible.  And yet there had always been pieces of him he didn’t dare share with anyone, even her.  There were moments when he sensed her pulling back in confusion or unease from some part of him that was too peculiar or too damaged.

Mi Rey, you are a mighty sorcerer and a king, she would say, and the chiding in her voice was playful, but still chiding.  You must show the people your best self.  Be the man I know you are.

He needed someone to keep him in check.  He was aware of that.  And so he would put that part of himself away, tuck it into a wooden box in the back of his brain and lock it.

He lay down next to Asha’s sleeping form, wrapped his arms around her, and held her.  She was so soft.  So warm.  “Wake and speak to me,” he murmured into her ear.  “This is no time for a nap.”  And still she wouldn’t wake.  He began to wonder if his presence was somehow to blame, if he was keeping her asleep.  It wasn’t a reasonable thought, but it felt somehow correct.

He released her, tucked the covers around her, and wandered the hallways.  He stepped over the sleeping form of a servant, his mind floating in a numb daze.  The phrase ultimate self-sacrifice had become stuck on a loop in his head.  He trailed a hand over the stones of the wall.  He knew every stone of this building.  He had built this place, after all.

He passed a room with a half-open door and glanced inside.  A massive wicker basket sat against the back wall, packed with comforters and pillows, and Val lay curled inside, snoring.  So, this was where the goat slept.

Magnifico kept walking.  The castle was eerily silent.

I need to think, he had told the Prince.  But what was there to think about?  The deepest part of him already knew what was necessary.  A path had presented itself to him, lit with lamps and marked with signs:  This is what you are meant for.  This is how you atone.  This is where your story ends.

If he were to die today, what would be the fate of his soul?  Some small part of him still clung to the hope that he would see his lost loved ones again, but the truth was that he had no idea.  When he was young, he’d been raised in the faith of his parents and had believed in god for the same reason he believed in the existence of faraway continents he’d never seen—because everyone told him the world was made so, and why would they lie?  And then everything crumbled and burned and nothing was certain.  God, once as self-evident as the soil under his feet, became a cold and empty abstraction, an equation that didn’t add up.

Magnifico had decided that even if there was such a being, he would no longer serve him or even speak to him.  I can do better, he’d thought.  I will save all those you have failed and abandoned.  Just watch me.  He’d rejected god’s judgment, challenged Creation itself, as the former angel Iblis had done when god made humankind.

Perhaps his maker had finally decided to humble him, to grind him into the dirt.  Or perhaps there was no logic or justice to any of it, no greater forces at work, and they were all just orphaned children raging at a nonexistent parent.

He wondered idly if the forest creatures possessed religion, and if it guided their decisions.  The Prince of the Forest had gone mad, but it was a madness with a singular purpose.  He would have his sacrifice, one way or another. 

Bazeema had two young siblings.  They depended on her.  And if she died, it would break Asha’s heart.  Asha would blame herself.

He leaned against the stone wall and sank down until he was sitting.  He tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling.  “We have not spoken in some time,” he murmured.  “Have we?  I suppose I would be a hypocrite to ask for guidance, now.”  He closed his eyes and rubbed the lids with his fingers.  “What should I do?”

The torches flickered in their sconces.  Their dim light played over the stones of the walls. 

The heaviness in his chest remained.  But there was a subtle shift, deep within.  A stillness settled into his center.

Should he be afraid?  Some part of him was; there was still a small child deep within him, crying out from the corner of his mind, begging to be saved from his own choice, to be caught by a net of loving arms when he took the plunge.  He had begun to convince himself that he actually deserved happiness, or at least a chance at it.  But of course, deserve had nothing to do with reality.  Li and Rosas had not deserved their fate.

The greater part of him had shut down.  He felt hollowed out—an empty reed through which another force flowed. 

He rose and walked back into the bedroom, where Asha still slept.  He approached the desk, retrieved a sheet of parchment and a quill, and began to write, knowing there would not be time to say all he wanted to say, but that he had to say something: 

Asha,

I have been given the chance to right my wrongs.  There is no time to explain.  I’m sorry.  But I must go now, before you wake.  You wouldn’t allow this.

I have lived for well over a hundred years.  Far longer than any man was meant to.  Much of that life has been devoted to this kingdom.  It is fitting, perhaps, that my body will now nourish the forest creatures and become a part of the island.  Do not feel anger on my behalf.  Let this end the cycle of pain.

I have known loss and loneliness, but I have also known love, and for that I am grateful.  I wish I could have restored Rosas alongside you.  I wish I could have been part of your future.  But of course, not all wishes can come true.

Say goodbye to Simon, Dahlia and Val for me, and to all the others.  Tend to Amaya’s garden.

Yours,

Mir

He left the letter on the small table next to the bed.  He changed into his royal clothes, complete with cape, and paused to contemplate himself in the mirror.  He looked like a king, despite the emptiness in his eyes.  Amaya would be proud.

Then he leaned down, kissed Asha’s forehead, and walked out of the room, past the sleeping knights, down the stairs, toward the stables.  Even if the residents of the castle only stayed asleep for another few minutes, he could saddle up a horse and be gone before anyone realized what was happening.

* * *

The sky brightened as Magnifico, astride a white mare, rode out of the stables, down the road leading from the castle, and through the heart of the city.  A few people cried out in surprise at the sight of him, but no one tried to stand in his way.  He did not even glance at them as he passed.  If he allowed himself to linger, to take in the city one last time, he would weaken.

The air was cold and sharp, sliding down his throat and tingling in his lungs.  Dew glistened on the grass, tiny brilliant beads.  Birds sang.  The mare’s hooves thudded on the earth; he felt the vibrations in his bones.  He rode past the city’s edge, past small houses and barns and wells, to the boundary of the forest, toward the clearing of the speaking trees.

The forest’s shadows reached out and enveloped him.  He slowed his mount, and the horse picked its way delicately down the narrow, stone-littered path.  Around him, he heard whispering and tensed.

One of the trees smiled at him in the hazy, early morning light filtering through the canopy.  Its eyes and nose were shadowed hollows; its bark creaked faintly as its wooden lips parted.  “We…are…stars,” it whispered in a voice like bone against bone.

Magnifico rode past.  Ahead, he heard the creak of branches moving slightly, as though in a nonexistent wind.  One of the speaking trees started to sing quietly in what sounded like Mandarin.  The air smelled strange here, as though there had recently been a fire, though he saw no signs of scorched vegetation.

He guided the horse into the clearing of the speaking trees and dismounted.  He stood, holding the reins, surveying the surrounding woods.  “Prince of the Forest!” he shouted.  “I request an audience.”

He waited.  The trees continued to murmur and chuckle and sing and smile.  Then a pair of shining golden eyes appeared in the shadows, and the Prince stepped forward, into the clearing.  “You are early,” he said.  “And Queen Asha is not with you.  What is the meaning of this?”

“There is no need to wait,” he said.  “She’s made her decision.  She offers me as the sacrifice.  I agreed to make the trade.  But first, release Bazeema.”

Only now, when it was too late to turn back, was the foolishness and impulsiveness of his own plan beginning to sink in.  He didn’t know where Bazeema was being held, and Magnifico couldn’t fight without his magic, anyway.  There was no reason for the Prince not to kill both of them, if he was so inclined.  He was trusting the deer’s honor.  Did deer value honor?  He knew so little of their ways.  Maybe he should’ve just waited for Asha to wake up, talked this over with her—

She would never have let you do this.  You know that.

Fate had given him this one chance to save his kingdom and redeem his soul.  He had to take it.

The Prince tilted his head.  A tiny smile curved his lips.  “I had hoped to speak to the queen in person.  But you are impressive, as a sacrifice.  A former king.  A sorcerer.  And a large man, to boot.  You will certainly make a better meal than that skinny girl.”

“You’d better believe it.”  Magnifico brushed his hair into place.  “I’ll make you wish you were a carnivore.”  He grinned, aware that there was an edge of hysteria in the expression.

The Prince chuckled.  “I smell your fear, but you hide it well.”  He leaned forward.  The tips of his antlers glowed.  “You are the queen’s mate, too.  Are you not?”

He shifted his weight.  “No.”

“Her scent is on your skin.  Since you are a slave, I thought perhaps she took you to her bed by force, hoping you would give her powerful, magical offspring.”

“She’s not like that,” he replied coolly.

“Ah.  She cares for you, then?  Even better.”  The Prince started to turn, then paused, looking over his shoulder.  “We will go on foot, but you may bring your companion.  I will lead you to the hunter.”

Companion?  Oh.  The mare. 

Too late to turn back.  He took the mare’s bridle in hand.  She was shifting uneasily, tossing her head, ears pinned back.  “Easy,” he muttered.  “Easy, girl.  He won’t hurt you.  Will you, Prince?”

“No.  You have my word.”

Reluctantly, she settled.

“Now,” the Prince said.  “Come with me.”

Magnifico followed him deeper into the forest, leading the mare.  The shadows darkened.  They walked for a while without speaking, the only sound the soft crunch of grass and dead leaves beneath Magnifico’s boots and the animals’ hooves.  More than once, he felt panic building inside him and started to tremble, and the urge to turn and run became nearly overwhelming.  He held the faces of his loved ones in his mind.  Li, Rosas, Amaya.  Asha.  Strange, how now—at the end—she was the one his thoughts kept returning to.  He thought about the texture of her braids under his fingertips, the scattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks.  He wished he’d had a chance to speak to her one last time.

How would she feel, when she found out what he had done?  She would be angry at first, grief-stricken.  But in time, she would recover.  She was resilient.  She and her friends—they were the future.  Magnifico’s time was over.  He was a dead end.  This was logical, he told the screaming, terrified child in the corner of his mind. 

This was right.  But that treacherous part of him continued to sob and beg—No, no, don’t kill me.  It’s not fair.  Please.  I’m good.  I’ll be good.  I didn’t mean to hurt people.  I want to live.  I want to have more cookies.  I want to have fun, I want to sit in the garden, I want someone to hold me, I want—

Too late, he replied.  Too late.  He shut and locked the door in his mind, but he couldn’t quite drown out the wails of his innermost self—of Mir, the farmer’s son, that simple soul who had been hidden away for so long.  He couldn’t quite ignore the feeling that this act of self-immolation was not noble, after all—that it was short-sighted and cruel, it was a betrayal of something sacred, some tender part of him which had barely begun to live again.

But he was a king, even now.  And a king had responsibilities.

He kept walking.  One foot in front of the other.

The Prince led him down several twists and turns in the path, over a small brook, past a towering wall of chalk-white rock, to another clearing.  There, in the center, Bazeema was bound tight with a tangle of thorny vines to the trunk of a huge, ancient olive tree.  Her arms were spread, her face pale, her hair and clothes disheveled and stained with blood.  Her eyelids fluttered, as though she were struggling to cling to consciousness.  Her soft breaths rasped through the deep forest silence.

The Prince approached her.  “Child,” he said.  “You may go.  Another has come to take your place.”

Bazeema’s eyes half-opened.  At first, only the whites were visible, and then the irises slid into view.  “Who…”

Magnifico stepped forward.

The Prince’s antlers glowed.  The thorny vines glowed golden, as well, and then they rustled and slithered away from Bazeema.  She slumped bonelessly forward.  Magnifico caught her.  “It’s all right,” he murmured. 

She raised her head.  “Why?” she whispered, a faint croak.  Her cheeks were streaked with dried tears.  More welled up, now, spilling.  “Why would you…?”

He gave her a strained smile.  “A fit of madness, I suppose.”  Then he shook his head and said—“No…this is the least I can do.  Are you strong enough to ride?  My mare can take you back home.  She knows the way.”

After a few seconds, Bazeema nodded.  He set her on her feet.  She wobbled, then steadied.  Her gaze met his.  “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Just go.”

She took a breath, placed her foot in the stirrup, mounted, and picked up the reins.  She turned the horse and gave it a light kick, and the mare snorted and cantered out of the clearing, eager to be away.  Magnifico couldn’t blame her.  Once the hoofbeats had faded into silence, he turned to face the Prince.  “This ends it?” he said.  “No more revenge killings?  No war, no secession?”

“You have my promise.  You have earned my respect, Magnifico of Rosas.”

“Then I have a request.”  His hand drifted to the collar.  “Remove this, first.  Let me die a free man.”

“Oh.  Was that your plan?”  He chuckled.  “I’m afraid not.  That offer has expired.”

“Well.  Can’t blame me for trying.”  He kept his tone light, flippant.  But the stone of the collar had begun to glow green, responding to his fear.  Green light crackled.  The now-familiar pain, like electricity in his bones, snaked out from the collar. 

There was another possibility.  He could ignore the pain, keep pushing and pushing past the point of no return.  He could overload the collar with forbidden magic.  Would that be enough to shatter it?  Only one way to find out.

Fear had defined so much of his life.  Strange, how—in what would likely be his final moments—he felt almost nothing.  Perhaps that part of him was already dead.  And yet he would need fear.  He would need rage.  Those were the feelings that brought the magic roaring forward.

He looked into those empty golden eyes and thought, Can you hear me, Star?  I will drag you out of this deer’s heart.  And god willing, I will kill you.

A burst of magic—life-magic—would that be enough to short out the collar and to drive out Star in one fell swoop?  Maybe.  He couldn’t end his own life through ordinary means, but as an act of magical sacrifice for the greater good…perhaps.  There was no way to know if it would work. 

The green electricity buzzed louder.  The pain increased.  His entire body burned, as though he were immersed in scalding water.  He didn't have to see his own eyes to know they were shining a brilliant green.

To imagine that he could come out of this alive, with the forbidden magic gone—that sort of neat and tidy outcome would be too much to hope for.  Reality was not so forgiving.  Even if by some fluke this worked, Magnifico would not survive.  But he’d already accepted that.

"Any last words?" the Prince asked.

“Get on with it,” Magnifico said through clenched teeth.

The Prince flicked his ears, a gesture which seemed to be the deer equivalent of a shrug.  “As you wish.”  He raised his head and called out, “Time to eat.”

All around them, the foliage began to rustle.  Eyes glinted.  Shaggy forms emerged, teeth shining.

Magnifico faced his death, spread his arms wide, and smiled.

Chapter Text

Magnifico walked through corridors of black mirrors.  The walls, floor and ceiling all gleamed with the same dark luster.  His reflections mocked him from every surface, smiling or scowling or staring blankly off into the distance.  He kept turning corners, searching for an exit only to come face to face with himself again. 

At the edge of his consciousness, a voice whispered and hissed, fading in and out.  He couldn’t discern the words, but he could feel that voice pulling at him.

There had to be a way out of here.  But every time he thought he saw an exit, it turned out to be no more than reflected light.  Where was he?

He knew.  Of course.  He had been here before.  This was the magic mirror realm.  Somewhere, there was a tiny window into the outside world, offering the false hope of escape, but even if he found it again, he would still be trapped.  No matter how he pounded his fists against the wall between him and reality, he could never break through.  Sooner or later, he always retreated back into this labyrinthine tangle of corridors.  Nothing but his own face staring back at him from every surface—his self-image, his self-concept looped in and twisted around on itself like an ouroboros, like the endless, senseless scream of a madman.

He’d thought he was done with this hell.  But perhaps he’d never really left.  Perhaps everything had been a fever dream.

No—he had been somewhere else a moment ago, hadn’t he?  A forest?  He could barely remember, now.  There’d been a battle.

Had he…died?

This must be the afterlife, then.  Or some form of purgatory.  Perhaps his soul had simply returned to the mirror in the dungeon.  Embrace forbidden magic once, and you belong to it forever. 

Of course.  What a fool he had been, to think there was a way out.  The dark entity had claimed him.

One of his reflections grinned at him with luminous green eyes.  “Well, hello.  I’ve missed you.”  The other Magnifico stretched an arm out, through the surface of the wall, and gripped his chin.  “I’m glad that you remember who you belong to.”

He took a step back, wrenching free of its grip, and stared into the sickly emerald of the thing’s eyes.  “I thought I might be free of you,” Magnifico muttered.  “I thought I’d found a loophole.”

The entity pulled its arm back into the mirror.  “Ultimate self-sacrifice,” it scoffed, crossing its arms over its chest.  “Please.  What do you think this is?  A fairytale?  Next you’ll be telling me that my hold on you can be broken by true love’s kiss.”

“Could’ve tried that, I suppose.  Though…once I called upon you, I don’t think Amaya was inclined to kiss me.  Can’t blame her, really.”

The entity studied him coolly for a moment.  “You hate me,” it said, its tone unreadable.

“Of course I do.”

“Eight years in this place.  I was your only company.  Have you forgotten?  Don’t you know me?”

He had not forgotten.  This was the thing that had first pulled him into the mirror, hooked its claws into his soul.  This was the thing that had corrupted his mind, ridden him like a horse, spoken through his mouth.  “Oh yes, I know you,” he said flatly.  “You are my enemy.  You are the reason I spent eight years trapped in this place.  You are the cause of all this suffering.”

The entity scowled, shook its head and muttered something under its breath.

“What?” Magnifico snapped.  “You deny it?”

“You really are a piece of work,” the thing said, hand on its hip.  “You are the one who called me.  And I am the one who came to you in your hour of need.”  The entity stepped fully out of the wall.  Green light rippled across the dark mirror’s surface, like ripples in a pond reflecting the moonlight.  “You knew the cost.  You knew that we would be bound for eternity.”

“I was in no state to make rational decisions.  You took advantage of me.”

The entity scoffed.  “I am the only one who has never betrayed you, never abandoned you!  When the rest of them cast you aside like trash, I was here.  Where is my gratitude?”

“Gratitude?”  Magnifico squeezed his hands into fists.  “You made me into a monster!  I—” his voice broke.  He looked away, feeling a little sick.  “I hurt people.  People I cared about,” he muttered.

“Only those who tried to hurt us.  Only those who challenged us.  I protected you.” 

“And then you sucked me into this—this purgatory—”

“That was their fault.  All those sanctimonious, spoiled children turning the power of their wishes against you.”  The entity shook its head and crossed its arms over its chest again.  “It’s shocking, really.  The brazenness with which you made demands of me and then turned around and treated me as a villain.”

Magnifico’s memories of his long years in the mirror were vague—like remembering a dream or a nightmare—but he did recall that this wasn’t the first time they’d bickered in this fashion.  There was something deeply and unsettlingly familiar about the entity’s indignation and rationalizations.  It was its own being with its own goals, but its nature was that it became a reflection of its host—and not just physically.  What a fitting punishment:  having to put up with himself for the rest of eternity.

“Stop acting like a petulant child,” Magnifico snapped.  “You’re a powerful, ancient being.  What are you complaining about?  Why do you need gratitude?  You can do whatever you want.”

“Oh, is that what you think?  That it’s fun being me?  Humankind has been calling on my power and then cursing and resenting me since the dawn of time.  Many souls are bound to me through their own choices, and yet all I do, century after century, is listen to them complain about how I robbed them of their free will.  I am the most unappreciated being in existence.  And still, when humans call on me, I answer.  I am compelled to.”

Magnifico turned his face away.  Was that true?  He didn’t know.  He didn’t know anything.

The entity spoke again, its voice softening:  “I gave you joy, as well.  Didn’t I?”

Shame rose up his throat, burning.  “It’s not worth it,” he muttered.  “The price is too high.”  He walked away. 

The entity followed him.  “Do not turn your back on me, Mir.  We are bound together in a pact more sacred and enduring than marriage.”

“Then I want a divorce.”

“Come now.  What would you do without me?”

Magnifico spun to face him.  “What do you want?” he snapped.  “What is your purpose?  Why do you even exist?”

“What a cruel question.  I did not create myself, you know.  Why do you exist?”

Magnifico turned away again.  He sighed, shoulders sagging.

“I gave you what you wanted,” it continued.  “I gave you power—the power to protect yourself and your kingdom, so that what happened before could not happen again, so that you would never be helpless or lost.  And now, you scorn me.  Now, you call me evil.  You run from me.  You push me away.  Is this the thanks I get for answering your prayer?”

Magnifico hung his head, staring at his reflection in the floor. 

The idea that such a being could feel hurt or rejected or misunderstood, even lonely…could that be true?  Maybe this was all some trick, a means of whittling away his resistance.  But then, what did the entity have to gain from trickery, at this point?  He already had Magnifico’s soul in his grasp.

Magnifico turned and faced himself.  “You’re right,” he said quietly. 

“I’m—what?”  The entity blinked.

“I’m the one who called upon you.  I gave myself to you.  I did it because I was desperate, because I was…confused.  And what happened after that…it wasn’t what I wanted.  Even so…”  He looked the entity in the eye.  “I thank you for doing what god and the stars never did.  For answering me when I called out for help.”

A look of surprise flickered across the entity’s face.  He averted his gaze, taken aback.  “You’re…”  He muffled a self-conscious cough against one fist.  “You’re welcome.”

“If we are bound together, as you say, then help me once more.”

“Ah…”  The entity smiled sadly.  “You want something.  Of course.”

“Believe me, I would not call on you now if I were not desperate.  But there is more than my own life at stake.  I made a sacrifice to end the cycle of anger and pain in Rosas—in the moment, perhaps, I convinced myself that I could end it—but I don’t think it will work.  My death will not be taken lightly.  It could plunge Rosas into a civil war.  The only way to stop it is to banish Star from this island.”

The entity stood in the corridor, contemplating him silently.  “I’m limited by that thing around your neck.”

“We can push through it.  I know we can.”

“That will damage you.”

“I know.”

The entity sighed.

“Give me the power to do this one thing,” Magnifico said.  “Please.  I would offer you something in return, but you already have my soul.  I don’t know what else to give.”

The luminous green eyes narrowed again…then the entity sighed in resignation and unfolded his arms.  “You’re asking for the power to kill a star.  That’s not possible.  Something that is not properly alive cannot be killed.  The star is a force of nature, as I am.”

What, then?  He’d already tried binding Star, once, and that had backfired spectacularly.  “Then scatter it.  Diffuse its power to the corners of the Earth so that it will take centuries to reassemble itself.”  To a star, perhaps, that was only the blink of an eye.  But it would give Rosas time to rebuild, to grow stronger.  “Can you do that?”

“I could certainly try.”  He stretched a hand out.

Magnifico hesitated only briefly before taking his double’s hand.  Their gazes met.  “I did not think, when I called upon you, of how you might feel about any of this,” Magnifico said quietly.

“Not many do,” he replied.

“I’m sorry.”

“You think you can win me over with a few sweet words, now?”

“I don’t expect it will be that easy.”

“Until a moment ago, you were hoping that this impulsive, foolish suicide attack would free you from me.”

“I know it won’t.  But if we truly are bound together for eternity, then I think it would be more pleasant if we were not adversaries.”

“Perhaps.”

Magnifico looked down at their joined hands.  “What is it you wish for, then?”

After a pause, the entity replied, “Help teach the world about me.  Humankind has always tried to suppress me, to hide my very existence.  There are only a few books about me, and all of them are filled with half-truths, at best.  It is always easiest for humans to hide from the things that they fear, that they cannot fully control.  Show them that I am not something to be buried, but understood.  That is my wish.”

“Then I’ll try to grant it.  As it happens, I have a friend who’s very interested in you.  Of course…to make good on that promise, I’ll have to survive.”

“Then we’ll do our best.  Get ready.” 

Magnifico nodded.

The entity pulled him into a rough embrace.  Green light flared all around them, enveloping them both.  It burned.  But there was something cleansing about the fire—something like sinking into a hot bath.  He felt pieces of himself burning away.  No—becoming the flame.  Transforming.  A startled laugh escaped his throat as a pure, unexpected rush of joy coursed through him.

Oh…yes.  He was glowing.

There was a flash of fear, an echo of memory—Amaya’s frightened face again, the moment when everything twisted around and inverted, the cold and sinking sense of terror when he stared up out of the mirror and begged her for help, only to be met with a flat, No.

Was he making the same mistake again?  Calling on the very power that had damned him?

No—he had nothing to lose, now.  The alternative was a senseless death.  He gave himself over.

In a flash, he was back in the forest.  The Prince stood in front of him, his luminous eyes watching with cold satisfaction, a tiny smile on his thin, black deer-lips.  A bear’s jaws were locked into Magnifico’s shoulder, a wolf’s teeth embedded in the meat of his calf.  Blood soaked through his clothes, but he didn’t feel the pain. 

Green fire engulfed Magnifico’s right hand.  With a grin, he plunged the hand into the Prince’s chest—it was like reaching into smoke or water, bloodless and easy.  The Prince’s jaw dropped in a rather stupid look of shock.  Magnifico pulled out a struggling, pulsating, writhing golden ball of fire.

This wasn’t the tiny, smiling, childlike blob that Asha had summoned.  This was a shrieking demon, a mass of molten eyes and tendrils and countless wings.  It was difficult to look at directly; it shifted and transformed itself with every instant, refusing to be pinned down by the act of observation.  It defied understanding.  More than that—it seemed to mock the effort.  And yet Magnifico held it.

Bambi fell to his knees, gasping.  The glow faded from his eyes, leaving them dark and glassy.  “No!” he cried.  With the godlike resonance gone from his voice, it was no more than the bleat of a frightened boy.  “No!”

Magnifico ignored him and stared into the flaming mass in his palm.  He was dimly conscious of the bear’s teeth grinding against the bone in his shoulder, of the smell of his own flesh burning as Star’s otherworldly light ate into the skin of his palm and fingers.  The fire crawled up his arm, sizzled into the flesh of his chest, his neck, burrowing like fiery worms into him.  And still, he laughed.  Still, the wild joy throbbed deep inside him.

“I wish for you to disappear,” he whispered, and squeezed.

There was a soundless explosion.  Light fragmented, spinning off in every direction.  The impact flung him backwards; he felt his feet leave the ground.  Trees, sky and earth spun past his vision.  He saw Bambi flying through the air like a toy, saw the bears and wolves tumble across the clearing like debris blown by a storm.  They scrambled to their feet and ran into the forest, eyes wide with terror.  The world went white.

There was a crack, and then nothing.

* * *

“Move away.  Let me see him.”

“Don’t crowd him.”

“Magnifico?  Can you hear us?”

The voices were familiar, but he couldn’t put names to them. 

“He’s not breathing.  Is he—”

“He has a pulse.”

“I think he just blinked.”

“Oh, thank god.”

The world was fuzzy.  The voices seemed to be coming from the end of a long tunnel.  He tried to move, and pain shot through him like a bolt of lightning.  A strangled cry escaped his throat.

“Easy.  Easy.”  Simon’s voice.

Magnifico struggled to fully open his eyes.  The pain was overwhelming, mind-obliterating.  His entire body seemed to be on fire.  “Wh-what—”

“You’re wounded.  Hold still.”

Even breathing hurt.  His throat felt like a mass of shredded flesh.  He was sliding backwards, toward the merciful blackness.

“No, no,” another voice—Gabo?—said.  “Stay with us.  Do you hear me?  You don’t get to die.  Not now.”

“What can we do?”  That was Bazeema, her whispery voice full of panic.  “Simon, tell us how we can help.”

“Keep pressure on the bite-wounds.”  His tone was strained, his breathing heavy.  Warmth pulsed over Magnifico’s ravaged skin.  “The collar burned him pretty bad.  He must have…overloaded it somehow.  I need to fix his throat so he can breathe, then I’ll try to repair the damage to his femoral artery.”

The pressure on his thigh increased, triggering a fresh wave of pain.  Magnifico groaned.

“He’s still losing blood.”  Dahlia’s voice now, breathless.

“Just another minute,” Simon said.

A tiny, pained whimper escaped Magnifico.  It hurt.  So much.  He just wanted to sleep.

“Someone hold his hand,” Simon snapped.

A small, sweaty hand gripped his tightly.  “You’re—you’re gonna be okay, buddy.”  Gabo again.  He sounded confused and frightened, though he was struggling to hold it steady.  “Just hang on.  Okay?  We’re here.  Just hang on.”

Magnifico clutched his hand, clinging grimly to consciousness.  Asha.  Where was Asha?  He opened his mouth to ask, but he couldn’t find his voice.  He wasn’t sure if his vocal cords were even intact.  He felt himself sliding backwards again.  Nothingness beckoned.  What a relief, to simply let go…to stop feeling this, to stop feeling anything…

You promised, a voice inside whispered.

He struggled to focus, though it was an effort just to keep his eyes open.  His lids flickered.  A circle of faces, little more than blurry ovals, hovered around him.  His lungs ached.  He gulped in a breath.  The air still burned and prickled, going down, but it no longer felt as though he were inhaling molten metal.  “A…Asha,” he croaked.

“She’s bringing another healer from the city,” Bazeema said.  “She’ll be here soon.”

He closed his eyes.  He was dizzy.  “H-how—how bad—”

“You'll be fine,” Dahlia said, though she sounded unsteady.  “We just need to get you stabilized.”

The world began to fade.  Pain flared again.  He flinched and groaned.

“Check his eyes,” Simon said.

A soft hand brushed his sweat-damp hair from his brow.  Dahlia’s face came into focus as she leaned in.  “They’re glowing again.  Where is the collar?”

“I’ve got it here,” a new voice—Hal’s—said.  “It’s half-melted, though.  I don’t know how we would even put it back on.”

“Then we’ll just have to hope for the best.”

“H-home,” Magnifico whispered.  “Want to…go home.”

“Shh,” Simon said.  He leaned over Magnifico, his face pale and glistening with sweat.  His hands were positioned over Magnifico’s blood-soaked leg, now.  Soft, white light pulsed from his palms.  “Almost got it.  Just—just rest.”

Gabo squeezed his hand.

The world faded in and out.  Waves of pain bombarded him, then ebbed. 

When he opened his eyes again and stared into the shadows of the forest beyond the clearing, he glimpsed the form of a young buck standing there, barely visible in the dimness.  The buck stared at him, ears laid back…then, slowly, he lowered his head, turned, and walked deeper.  The shadows swallowed him.

On the edge of his consciousness, Magnifico heard Asha’s voice, and his heart leapt.  He tried to call out her name, but his voice had deserted him.  He was so tired.  So weak.  So…

A hand covered his eyes, and he slipped away once more.

* * *

He wandered through the mirror world once again, lost within dark reflections.  Repetition, like a heartbeat—the same turns over and over.  You’ve always liked mirrors, Amaya had said to him. 

Remember your promise, a voice—his own voice—whispered.

I have not forgotten, he replied.

When he woke again, he was in a soft bed, the covers pulled up to his chest.  His right arm was swathed in bandages.  Faint sunlight filtered in through the curtains.  In his groggy, disoriented state, it took him a moment to recognize his own bedroom—or rather, the former guest room that he’d come to think of as his own.  He breathed in.  His throat felt dry and scratchy, but that was all.

Alive.

Slowly—wincing—he raised his arm and touched his neck.  A soft breath of relief escaped him when his fingertips encountered the collar, whole once more.  They must have repaired it while he was unconscious.  Smart.  Even if he was on better terms with the magic, now, he was still not inclined to give it free rein.  It overwhelmed him far too easily.

His arm lowered to his side again.  It took him another moment to realize that he was not alone, that there was a small, warm form curled up in the bed next to him.  Not Asha.  Someone much hairier.  He looked over.  His brows knitted together in confusion.  “Valentino?”

The goat raised his head and yawned.  He lay on top of the covers, legs folded beneath him.  “You’re awake.  Finally.  Thank goodness.”  He exhaled and pawed at his face with one fore-hoof.  “Must’ve nodded off myself.”  At Magnifico’s stare, he looked away.  “This wasn’t my idea,” he said with stiff dignity.  “I promised Asha that I would stay close to you until you regained consciousness.”

“Thank you,” he murmured.  He was too fuzzy-headed to even attempt a sardonic remark.

“I will let her know you’re awake,” Val said.  “She’s been at your side more or less constantly ever since you were brought back to the castle.  I had to order her to get some sleep, and she only went after I promised her that I would alert her the instant you regained consciousness.”  He rose and hopped off the bed.

“Wait.”

Val paused, head raised.

Magnifico struggled to organize his thoughts.  The world was hazy.  Was this even real?  Was he dreaming?  Was this the afterlife?  “How long was I—?”

“Two days,” Val said. 

He stared.

“Your injuries were serious.  Simon kept you in a magically induced sleep for a while.  He’s been giving you medication to control the pain and infection, as well.  You woke up twice before this, but you didn’t speak.  Just moaned.” 

“I…don’t remember.”

“I’m not surprised.”  Val tilted his head.  “How do you feel?”

“Considering the circumstances?  Could be worse.”  He cracked a faint smile.  It faded quickly.  There were so many questions he needed to ask.  But he could barely focus.  Maybe it was the effects of the medicine.  “Was anyone else injured?”

“Not that we know of.  Bambi hasn’t been seen since then.”

“And Star?”

“We don’t know for sure.  But as far as anyone can tell, it’s gone.”

Magnifico nodded.  He touched his own chest absently, conscious of his beating heart, the expansion and contraction of his lungs.  “Good.”

Val started to turn toward the door, then stopped.  “What you did was brave.  Foolish, perhaps, but brave.  Bazeema is grateful.”  Val gave him a tiny smile.  “We all are.”  Before Magnifico could respond, he trotted out of the room.

Magnifico’s head turned toward the window.  Sunlight spilled across the floor stones.  Dust motes winked.  His eyes slid out of focus.  He shifted and winced at the sharp flare of pain through his left leg.  Simon might have repaired the worst of the damage, but magic could only do so much.  Magnifico ached down to his bones.  And yet, to simply be here, after all that, felt like something of a miracle. 

“Are you there?” he whispered into the silence.

He felt a tiny stirring inside himself; a wisp of luminous green smoke drifted through the darkness behind his eyes.  His eyelids slipped shut.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

He heard footsteps.  His eyes opened.  His face turned toward the door.  Asha appeared in the doorway, eyes wide.  They stared at each other.  He sat up slowly, stiffly, and gave her a faint smile. 

Tears filled her eyes.  “You…”  She shook her head slowly.  “How could you?”

His smile faded.  Amaya’s voice replayed in his head:  How could you? 

Asha stood with her fists clenched at her sides, chest heaving.  “How could you do something so—so reckless?  So stupid?  When I woke up and you were gone, and I found that note there, I—” her voice quivered and broke.  “I panicked.”

Magnifico said nothing.  A cold weight had settled into his chest.

“Not just me.  Simon and Dahlia, everyone—we didn’t even know if you were even still alive.  How could you?  I’ve lost so many people.  My father, my mother, my grandfather, Safi, Amaya—”

“That’s why I did what I did,” he said quietly.  “Because I didn’t want you to lose anyone else.  And I knew that you would blame yourself for Bazeema’s death.  You have endured enough pain.”

“You think your death wouldn’t hurt me?  You could have at least talked to me.  You could have waited.”  She stopped, catching her breath.  “Bazeema told me everything.  About the bargain you made.  We still had several days until the new moon.  There was time.  You just—decided to take everything on your own shoulders.  Like always.”

He looked away.  His hands tightened on the edges of the blanket.  He had expected a scolding, but there was a genuine bitterness in her voice that caught him off guard.  His throat tightened.  Anger suffused his chest, hot and unexpected.  “Yes.  That’s right,” he said flatly.  “I had to make a choice, and I chose.  I did what I felt I had to.  Hate me for that, if you will.”

“I don’t hate you.  I love you, you stupid jackass.  That’s why I’m angry.”  She took another shaky breath, then let it out, wiping her cheeks with the back of one hand.  She wouldn’t look at him.

He wanted to cling to those words, but he didn’t quite dare.  He’d lost Amaya through his poor choices.  He didn’t know, yet, if this moment would be different.  Amaya had loved him, too, but she’d still abandoned him.  Perhaps this would be the moment Asha pulled away from him.  Perhaps he’d pushed her too far.  He braced himself.

“When we found you…you were burned so badly, all over,” Asha whispered.  “And there was so much blood.  There were pieces torn out of you.  I’ve never seen anyone so badly injured.  I didn’t think you would survive.  I was so scared.”

A lump filled his throat.  “I should have talked to you,” he murmured.  “I know.  But you wouldn’t wake up, no matter what I did.  I was alone.  I’m…not always at my best, when I’m alone.  I get lost in the noise of my own head.  I don’t think clearly.”  His gaze remained loosely fixed on the folds in the blanket.  His hands clenched on the soft fabric.  “Do you want me to beg your forgiveness?  If that’s what it takes, to keep you here—”

“Oh, will you stop?” she said, her voice choked.

“Stop what?”

She ran across the room and flung her arms around him, squeezing him tightly.  He grunted in pain, and she quickly loosened her embrace.  “Sorry,” she whispered.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have yelled.  I was just so—”

“It’s all right.”  He rested a hand on her back and closed his eyes.  Warm.  So warm.

Her face pressed into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, and he felt the wetness of her tears.  For several minutes, they just held each other in silence.  At last, she pulled back.  Her gaze searched his face.  She touched his cheek.  Her eyes flicked downward, then away.

Only then did it occur to him that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, though half his upper body was swathed in bandages.  A brief peek under the blankets confirmed that he was at least wearing pants.  His abdomen, too, was bandaged.  And his left thigh.  “I am lucky to be alive.  I was very close to being dinner.”

“Yeah.  You had several deep bite-wounds.”  She sat down on the edge of the bed.  “Simon said you’ll need to take it easy for a while.  He’ll keep healing you.  But there are some things that body needs to do on its own.”  She touched the back of his bandaged hand.  “You’re going to have to rely on the rest of us for a bit.  Whatever you want, just say the word, and we’ll bring it.”

Of course, that was not such a dramatic change; since they’d first put the collar on him, he’d had to rely on them for many things.  He’d started to get used to it.  Funny, how quickly he’d allowed himself to become domesticated.  “Then I would like something to eat.”

She smiled, eyes still damp.  “Sure.”

“A few of those cookies, maybe?”

“Maybe something a little milder, first.  Soup or porridge.  See how your stomach handles it.  You’ve been living on broth for the past two days.”

He wondered who’d fed him while he was unconscious.  Maybe they’d taken turns.  “Soup, then.”

She nodded.  She lingered where she was, though, sitting on the bed, her gaze on his face, as though she couldn’t bring herself to look away—as though he might vanish if she blinked.  He had to admit, it was a gratifying feeling, having her look at him like that with those soft, warm brown eyes.

“You’re very pretty,” he murmured.  He hadn’t even meant to say it; his lips had formed the words before his mind gave permission.

A small, startled laugh escaped her throat.  Self-consciously, she tucked a braid behind one ear.  “Thanks.”  Their gazes met.  She lowered hers.  “The situation hasn’t changed, has it?”  Lightly, she touched the collar with her fingertips.

“You don’t have your wand, I notice.”

“No.  I left it in my bedroom.  I didn’t even think to take it.  When Val said you were awake, I came running.”  She traced the green stone.  “While you were still unconscious, we debated whether to put this back on you at all.  It felt…ungrateful.  You sacrificed your life to save Bazeema’s.  You might have stopped a war.  To keep treating you like a prisoner, after all that…”  Her teeth caught on her lower lip.  “We’re kind of horrible.  Aren’t we?”

“I need it,” he said.  He lay his hand over her wrist.  Her fingertips rested against the collar’s stone.  “I may always need it.  That magic is a part of me, now.  I’m learning how to work with it.  But I don’t know how long that will take, or what it will be like.  And I won’t risk becoming what I became before.”

She breathed in, then out.  She gave a small nod.  “We’ll figure out…something, then.  There may be a way to adjust the collar so that its power isn’t directly connected to my wand, or—”

He curled his fingers around the back of her neck, drew her toward him, and kissed her.  He felt her lips part in surprise under his, felt her tense a little, and he wondered briefly if this was a mistake, if she was going to pull away from him again.  But he’d very nearly died; he was wounded and sore to the bone and he had done the impossible, he had crushed a star in his bare hand, and he wanted to kiss her. 

She didn’t pull away.  Instead, she raised her hands and framed his face between them.  Her lips were soft and full and smooth.  He closed his eyes and lost himself in them.

From the doorway, Val cleared his throat.

Asha jerked back, startled.

Val stood there awkwardly, trying to pretend that he hadn’t seen what he’d seen.  “Simon is here,” he said.  “He would like to examine the patient.”

“Oh…of course,” Asha said, breathless.

Val stepped back, and Simon entered.  “Hey.”  He approached, pulled up a chair, and sat.  “How are you feeling?”

Magnifico smiled.  “Alive,” he said.

Chapter Text

Healing was a slow process, even with the aid of magic.  The burns on Magnifico’s right hand and arm were particularly stubborn.  They came from starfire, after all.  Nearly two weeks had passed since he regained consciousness, and he still needed the bandages changed twice a day.

Morning sunlight streamed through the window.  Magnifico sat upright in bed, covers pulled to his waist.  He’d already removed his pajama top.  Simon had arrived to check on his progress, as he did every morning.

When Simon carefully peeled off the bandages on his arm to examine the injuries, Magnifico winced.  The skin wasn’t quite as raw and red as it had been even a few days ago, but the flesh of his entire arm still looked…wrong.  As though it had melted like wax and then hardened into a warped, swirled texture, almost like gnarled wood.  Magnifico raised and lowered his arm, flexed his fingers.  The arm was functional, though there was some stiffness. 

“Is it always going to look this way?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, as though it were a matter of mere intellectual curiosity.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Simon said.  “This is a new kind of injury to me.  Does it still hurt?”

“Barely.”  As long as the arm worked, he shouldn’t care about its appearance.  But his vanity still quailed at the thought of having to live with these scars.  He did have other scars, but he was of the opinion that a few battle scars made a man look roguish and dashing.  These, on the other hand…they were freakish.

Worry about the things you can control.

Simon dipped a sponge in the bowl of warm water on the bedside table and began carefully washing the star-burns.  The water was infused with herbs to ease the pain and help prevent infection; their faint, floral scent wafted from the bowl in clouds of steam.  Magnifico probably could have done this task himself, and had anyone else been watching, he would have insisted.  But he had to admit, he’d gotten used to being taken care of.

These past few weeks had been spent mostly resting and reading, taking hot baths (once his injuries had mended enough to permit it) and occasionally going for short walks around the castle.  He’d needed a cane at first, but his leg had healed enough that he could manage without it now; only a slight limp remained.  The monotony would have grated on him if he hadn’t been so tired—a bone-deep, numbing weariness, the likes of which he’d not felt for decades…as though he were recovering not just from his recent injuries, but from the entirety of his life before this point.

One hand absently traced the edge of the blanket draped over his lower body.  The wool fibers were dyed a rich blue, with a silver starburst circle in the center containing an M.  His insignia.  Bazeema had woven this for him, as a thank you.  Asha’s other friends had brought him small gifts during his recovery, as well—there was a jar of honey from Hal, produced by her own apiary, and a knitted toy chicken from Dario.  Safi had apparently been obsessed with chickens, and Dario had developed an attachment to them after his friend’s death, as though carrying on the torch.  Gabo had not given him anything tangible, but had been visiting with surprising regularity.  He pretended as though he simply had nothing better to do, though his worry was plain.

Once Simon had washed and dried the burns, he began winding a fresh bandage around Magnifico’s arm.  “How’ve you been feeling otherwise?  Still sleeping okay?”

“Well enough.”

Dahlia had been visiting him in the evenings, and she always brought books.  Magnifico had not forgotten his promise to the magic—to help teach the world about it.  And Dahlia was eager to participate.  She had no interest in practicing the forbidden magic, but she had a boundless appetite for knowledge.  She asked him questions and took notes.  She showed him interesting passages she’d found referencing famous sorcerers who had dabbled in forbidden magic (usually, though not always, with disastrous results). 

The actual book of spells with its seductive, magic-saturated pages remained locked away.  Perhaps one day, he could face it again…but for now, their search was purely academic.  He found the process oddly calming.  More than that, it seemed to scratch some inner itch he hadn’t known was there.

The entity within his mind craved the same thing that everyone craved, he supposed—to be seen.  Now that it was getting attention, it no longer nagged him quite so loudly.  The fact that Dahlia usually brought cocoa or cookies certainly didn’t hurt, either.  Though he was going to have to be careful about that.  Due to the combination of inactivity and indulgence, he’d already gained a bit of weight.

Absurd, that he’d let it come to this point:  they were turning him into a lazy and pampered pet, stuffing him full of treats, keeping him drowsy with soft comforters and rose-scented bathwater and presents.  As a king, of course, he had enjoyed his little luxuries, and he’d had no shortage of servants to attend to his every need…and yet, when you were the one in control of everything, you could never fully relax.  To be served was not the same as being spoiled.  The loss of control was, itself, oddly seductive.

Once he recovered from his injuries, he promised himself, he would get his edge back.  Collared or not, he was a former king and a mighty sorcerer.  He had crushed a star in his bare hand.  And these young people needed someone to keep them on their toes.

“Amaya, what would you think about this?” he murmured.

Simon paused, raising his eyebrows, and Magnifico averted his gaze.  He hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud.

Simon resumed winding the strip of cloth bandage around his arm.  “She’s been on your mind a lot, hasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

Simon waited, giving him an opening to say more, and when he didn’t, he replied, “That’s natural.  I mean, even if a lot has happened, it hasn’t been that long since…since you found out.”

“I wonder if a part of me knew.  Even in the mirror.”

“There’s no way you could have known.”

“Amaya and I were together far longer than you have been alive.  When you have been with someone that long, for good or ill, there’s a connection that goes beyond anything you can imagine.  It’s hard for me to believe that she could pass from this world and I would not feel the difference.”

“It’s true.  I don’t know what it’s like to be with someone for that long.”

“And yet, in spite of that, when I returned to this realm, I immediately developed feelings for someone else.”  He shook his head, smiling bitterly.  His hands tightened on the edge of the blanket.

“You mean…Asha?” Simon asked quietly.

No point in denying it.  By now, it was an open secret that there was something going on between himself and Asha.  Valentino had seen them kissing, and given the goat’s love of talking, Magnifico doubted he would be able to keep a juicy piece of gossip like that to himself.  “Yes.”

Simon stared off into space, as though debating how to respond.  He cleared his throat.  “Can I ask—when did it start?  I mean…has anything happened, or—”

Shouldn’t have brought it up.  He’d grown more accustomed to speaking openly with Simon, but it still felt awkward and unnatural, dragging these feelings into the light.  This younger generation—the first generation of adults to be born and raised in Rosas, to have known nothing else—seemed to believe that talking solved problems.  In Magnifico’s experience, it was more like poking an agitated badger with a stick.  Or perhaps dragging a deep sea fish to the surface and watching it rupture from the sudden lack of pressure.

Though he had to admit that Simon’s calm, even temper and lack of judgment made it easier to discuss things that he otherwise would have kept secured within a mental vault.

“We kissed,” he said flatly.  “Several times.  That’s all.”

Simon nodded slowly.  “Did she, um—make the first move?  Or—”

Magnifico raised an eyebrow.  “Does it matter?”

“You don’t have to answer.”

He sighed and ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it absently into place.  Did the kiss in the tree count?  The entire conversation felt a bit silly.  A hot, prickling wave of embarrassment washed over him, but he pushed ahead:  “She did, the first time.  I did, after that.  Nothing at all has happened in these past two weeks, yet I find myself…preoccupied.  And when she pulls away from me like this, it’s—” he stopped.

It’s frightening. 

“It’s irritating,” he finished.

Simon nodded again, still staring off into space.  His expression was difficult to read.  He seemed…concerned.  Though about what, or for whom, it was difficult to say.  When he spoke at least, he seemed to be choosing his words with care:  “These kind of intense bonds can happen pretty quickly in…situations like this.”

“Oh?  And what would you know of that?”

Simon chose to ignore the haughty edge in his tone.  “I talk to a lot of people, and I’ve read a lot of books.”

“Ah.  Books.”

Simon had stopped bandaging his arm.  It was only half-done, but he simply held the roll of cloth bandages in one hand.  He looked uncertain, as though wondering whether he was being mocked.  “Yeah.”

“Sorry,” Magnifico muttered.

Simon shrugged.  “Obviously, I have less experience than you do.  In a lot of ways.  I’ve never even been off this island.  I’m just telling you what I’ve heard.  It’s probably nothing you don’t know.”  He cleared his throat.  “So…what do you know?”

Magnifico eased himself back down to the bed, sighing.  He stared at the wall.  “I have made many enemies in my long and eventful life, my dear Simon.  This is not the first time I’ve been held captive.”

“I see.”

“There are many countries, throughout the world, where the Church has outlawed the practice of sorcery entirely.  At one point, I was kidnapped by insufferably self-righteous men who thought to drive the ‘demons’ out of me.  After I escaped, I studied both interrogation and resistance techniques so that I would be less vulnerable if I were captured again.  Subjugation is its own art form, its own discipline.”  He chuckled without much mirth.  “Asha’s not very good at it.  The strongest bonds of domination and submission come from a repeated cycle of cruelty and mercy, along with isolation and techniques designed to make the subject doubt their own perceptions—to regress them, you might say.  The men of the Church used all those methods.  Quite successfully.  Asha showed me cruelty only briefly, in the beginning, and has been softening her grip since then.  And since letting me out of the dungeon, she hasn’t sought to isolate me.  Quite the opposite.  If I wanted, I could easily break free of this emotional grip she has on me.  So I tell myself.  And yet I don’t want to.  I find myself wondering, at times…perhaps she’s actually better at subjugation than my former captors.  Perhaps the real key to owning someone’s soul is making a cage so comfortable that they never want to leave it.”

He wondered, too, if that was what he had done with Rosas.  He’d created a utopia where the only price of admission was surrendering an essential part of one’s heart, one’s freedom.

Throughout this speech, Simon just listened, taking it in.  “Have you talked to her about this?”

“I have, a bit.”  Though of course, he hadn’t told her about his past experiences.  “We go around in circles.  We both feel this way.  I ask myself, ‘What is the problem, then?’  But then I remember the risk.  The cost.”  Magnifico’s gaze wandered to the window.  His hand drifted to the collar.  A few days ago, it had been modified; he’d finally consented to have it temporarily removed so that Dahlia could make the changes.  It no longer gave him pain.  When the forbidden magic flared up, the collar simply dispersed it.  Its threshold for activation had been reduced, as well, so he could perform small acts of ordinary magic now, even when the collar was not being suppressed.

“When I think of Asha,” he said quietly, staring out the window, “I feel as though I’m betraying Amaya.”

“She left you, remember?”  When Magnifico flinched, he added quickly, “I’m not trying to be cruel, it’s just…you don’t have to feel like you owe anything to her.  I really don’t think she would want you to torture yourself with guilt, anyway.”

“You can’t know what she would have wanted,” he said, a trace of annoyance creeping into his voice.  “You barely knew her.”

“No.  I know.  But either way, it’s not really about her anymore.  What do you want?”

Absently, Magnifico ran his thumb over the broad band of his wedding ring.  He could not bring himself to take it off, even now.  He wondered if he ever would.  “I don’t know.”

Another small nod.  “It’s okay not to know, too.  You can take time to think.  You’re still recovering.  Maybe just focus on that.”

“Yes,” he murmured.  “Perhaps sometimes it is better to just…let things be.” 

Or maybe that was cowardice.

What could he do, though?  Go down on his knees before her and spill out his heart?  It was one thing to talk about these matters with Simon.  But after everything that had happened, the idea of exposure, of making himself vulnerable by confessing to Asha just how much she meant to him—even if they’d already said the words I love you to each other, love could be many things.  It was another thing to say that he was in love with her, and he wasn’t even sure—

Ugh.  All these feelings.  They were exhausting.  There ought to be a lever to turn them on and off.  Absurd, that human beings had to walk around with these masses of tangled desires inside them.  He could feel himself retreating, going numb from the endless back-and-forth inside his own head.

Of course, there was a solution to all that.  He could have Asha pull out his wish, set it to drift in the vault along with Dario’s.  Extract this longing from his heart like a rotten tooth, like a tumor.  It would be a relief.  And yet the thought was repellent, chilling.  Perhaps it was human nature to cling to desire, even when those desires caused nothing but hurt and confusion.

As Simon finished reapplying the bandage, winding thinner strips around Magnifico’s fingers, he heard approaching footsteps and a knock on the door.  Someone cleared her throat.

“Come in,” Magnifico called.

The door opened.  Asha stood there, hands folded in front of her.

“Oh…hi, Asha.”  Simon gave her an awkward smile and a wave.

Magnifico quickly pulled the covers up a little further so she wouldn’t see the slight belly he was developing. 

He wondered if she’d overheard anything.  He kept his expression calm, though, as he sat up.  Sometimes, she came to his room in the morning to have tea and breakfast with him, but this was the first time he had seen her today.  She had many duties as queen, of course; breakfast, for her, was sometimes a piece of toast with cheese or an apple grabbed on the run.  He understood the pressures of ruling all too well.  But he still found himself a little dejected whenever she didn’t show up.

Though she did slip notes onto his breakfast tray, sometimes.  The most recent one was tucked under his pillow:  Hope you slept well!  The bread is fresh.  Try it with honey.  And beneath that, a tiny drawing of a smiling goat.  He recognized her style from that little notebook she’d shown him a lifetime ago.

“Would you like to go for a walk with me?” Asha asked.  “To visit the wish?”

Magnifico glanced briefly at Simon, then back at Asha.  He sat up straighter.  “I would,” he replied.  “Just give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

* * *

By the time they were halfway up the steps to his study, Magnifico wished he had taken his cane.  His leg ached.  Several times, they had to pause to sit on the stairs so he could rest.

“We don’t have to do this today,” Asha said.  “We can go back.”

He shook his head, pushed himself to his feet and muttered, “Need to build my strength back up.  I’ve grown far too complacent.”

After what felt like a small eternity, they reached the top.  Asha pushed the massive doors open, and they entered the spacious, echoing study.  They kept walking across it, to the lustrous black doors.  She waved her wand, and they slid open, revealing the wish room with its single, tiny occupant shining high above.  They stood, gazing up at it.  Asha lifted her wand; the tip glowed, and Dario’s wish gently floated down and settled just above her palm.  She smiled at it.  “Hello.”

The tiny version of Dario lifted his head from the book he was writing, grinned, and waved.  Magnifico leaned over to peer in.  “Always hard at work,” he said.

The soft, silvery-blue light bathed her face, glimmered in her eyes.  She always looked at the wish so lovingly.  He remembered the day she’d come to him for that ill-fated interview, so long ago—remembered that electric sense of connection he’d felt with her when he first saw that expression on her face.  He’d thought that after so many years of failed apprentices, he had finally found the one who understood, the one who would keep and protect the wishes as he did, asking nothing in return.

And then, the question:  Could you maybe consider…granting…

“What do you think it’s like for wishes?” she asked.  “Do you think they ever miss being with their owners?”

“Perhaps they prefer this.  This pure, unfettered state.”

“I guess we can’t really ask them.  We can feel them—their emotion, their energy—but that’s not the same as being able to communicate.”  She released the wish, and it drifted up a few yards and circled above their heads.

If Dario ever decided he wanted his wish back, perhaps he could help Magnifico and Dahlia with their project.  A book that changes the world…  Well, a book which tried to advance a greater understanding of forbidden magic would certainly qualify.  What would easygoing, good-natured Dario think about that?  Who knew?  People had a way of surprising you.

He watched her watching the wish.  Asha was in his head constantly, these days, and yet when they were alone together, he never knew what to say to her.  A wave of helplessness washed over him.

“I thought maybe we could go out today,” Asha said.  “You’ve been cooped up in the castle for so long.  Or…do you think that’s pushing it?”

“We should.  It’s as you say.  There is always work to be done in the kingdom.  I’m well enough to move around.”

“Oh, I’m not saying you have to do magic yet,” Asha said.  “You’re still weak, and—”

“I am not weak.”

“I mean you’re still healing.  Jeez.”  She crossed her arms over her chest.  “I don’t want to complicate your recovery by putting you to work too soon, is what I’m saying.  Though there is something I’ve been meaning to bring up.  The people of Rosas have been asking a lot of questions about what happened in the forest and what it means.  They all saw the flashes of light.  I keep reassuring them that the situation is under control.  I mean, Star is gone, right?  So Bambi is just a normal deer now, even if he can talk.  He’s limited in what he can do.”

“How much do the citizens know?”

She sighed.  “They know that there was an incident involving some disgruntled forest creatures who kidnapped Bazeema because she shot a deer.  They know you rescued her, that there was a struggle, and that you’re recovering from an injury.  I told them that Bambi made some kind of pact with Star, too, but that you drove Star out and he’s not coming back.  I don’t think they believe me.  They’re nervous.  Since you were actually there, I think it would be good if the two of us gathered the citizens and addressed them together.”

Magnifico’s gaze snapped toward hers.  “You mean…an official gathering.  In the square in front of the castle, where I used to conduct the wish ceremonies.”

“Yes.”

It had been so long since he’d addressed the people.  His people.  He’d talked to individual citizens during their excursions into Rosas.  Standing before a crowd was another matter.  Memories of the angry mob flickered through his head.  “How do you suppose they’ll react to seeing me up on that stage again?”

“If you’re not comfortable with this, it’s okay.  I can do it.”

He shook his head again.  “No.  No, I should go.  As you said, I was there.  I can answer their questions from firsthand observation.”  There thought set his heart galloping.  He hated how easily that happened—hated the fact that he now feared his own people.  Though of course, many of them still feared him, as well.

“We can limit it to a few minutes.  You can just make a brief appearance.  Let them know you’re alive, at least.”

“Is there some confusion about that?”

“Well, you haven’t been seen outside the castle for weeks.  People spread rumors.”  At his silence, she said, “It’s okay.  We can wait.”

“No.  No, I’ve put it off for too long.  We’ll do it today.”

She nodded, biting her lower lip.

“What?” he said.

“I’m sorry for calling you a stupid jackass.”

“When did you do that?”

“A few days after the battle.  When you first woke up again.”

“Oh.  Right.  I’ve been called worse.  Didn’t you already apologize for that?”

“Sort of, but I keep thinking about it.  You were terribly injured, and you’d just risked your life to save us all.  And I was mean to you.  All I could think about was how scared I had been when I woke up and found that note.”

He hesitated, then placed a hand on her shoulder.  “Think nothing of it.  By now, I’m used to your mercurial temper.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.  “I’m not—” she stopped herself.  “Well, in any case, I just wanted to say that.”

“Thank you.”  His gaze returned to the wish, still shining softly above them.  Its light was soothing.  How many afternoons and evenings had he spent in this room, just bathing in the glow of his wishes?  He’d become dependent on them.  He’d gained nothing material from their presence, and yet in some subtler, emotional way, he had become a parasite, taking strength from these captive hearts.

Did they still resent him for that?

Regardless, he needed to face them again.  He could do that much.  He owed them that much. 

“Let’s do it,” he said.  “Sound the trumpets and gather the citizens.”

“Now?”

“What better time?  This won’t get easier.”

She searched his face.  “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” he replied, managing to sound far more confident than he felt.

* * *

The royal trumpets sounded, the same notes Magnifico had always used to summon the people.

Slowly, the doors to the castle creaked open, and dazzling sunlight poured in from the clear blue sky.  Magnifico and Asha stood, side by side, before the broad platform.  The crowd was so large that the sight of it made him momentarily dizzy.  Why should it, though?  He had faced a crowd this size many times before.

“I’ll go first,” Asha whispered.

He managed a small nod.

She strode forward, into the light, wand in hand.  The crowd did not cheer; instead, an expectant hush lay over the arena.

“People of Rosas,” Asha said, raising her voice.  The shape of the outdoor arena naturally amplified it, sent it echoing.  “I know there’s been some concern about recent events.  I’m here today to answer any questions you may have.  I didn’t personally witness the events in the forest.  But here is someone who did.”  She turned and beckoned for him.

Magnifico didn’t move.  He couldn’t.  His legs would not obey him.  Angry faces flashed through his head.  His vision blurred; the assembled people were no more than a shifting mass of color.  He wished he could make out their expressions, but the sun glared, blinding him.  He blinked, eyes watering.  His own rapid breathing echoed in his ears.

He’d been wrong, after all.  He couldn’t do this.  Every instinct was screaming at him to turn and bolt back into the safety of the castle, back to his room.  A bone could only break so many times before it refused to mend properly.  Was the same true of the mind? 

If he could never again be king, then what was the point of trying to win back the hearts of his people?

Use forbidden magic even once, and you commit to it for eternity.  It meant that he and the magic would always be bound, but there was a deeper meaning, wasn’t there?  There was a line beyond which redemption was not possible.  Once you had crossed that line, it didn’t matter what you did; you could never step back into the light, not truly.  Perhaps he should resign himself to a life in the shadows.  He could simply fade away.

Turn around, he told himself.  Walk back inside.

You promised, a voice whispered from within his mind.

He closed his eyes briefly.  He thought about the woven blanket from Bazeema, the jar of honey and the toy chicken, the calming light of Dario’s wish—about Simon’s gentle, steady patience and Dahlia’s excited curiosity, about Gabo’s small hand tightly clutching his as he lay wounded, about Val curled up beside him when he first woke, back in his own room.  He thought of Asha saying, I was wrong about you.  You’re a good man.  He held all their faces in his mind.

No.  No hiding. 

He opened his eyes and stepped forward, into the sunlight.  His heart hammered as he stood beside Asha.  They both wore their royal outfits—her long, shimmering purple dress, his white robes and cape touched with gold, silver and blue.

Asha turned her face toward him.  Her gaze connected briefly with his.  She gave him an encouraging, nervous smile, then took a breath and faced the crowd. 

The crowd shifted and murmured.  Some of the people in the front rows, he noticed, were frowning.  His brain seemed to seek them out, to cast a spotlight on them so everyone else faded away.

His heartbeat quickened once more.  His breathing sped.  Again, he felt an urge to simply turn and retreat.  He found himself reaching out, almost unconsciously, for Asha’s hand.  He caught himself and quickly started to pull back—but before he could, she reached across the distance between them and gripped his hand firmly.

A gasp arose from the crowd.  Magnifico’s jaw fell open in surprise.  He snapped it shut.

He and Asha stood before the people of Rosas, hand in hand.  His mind was spinning.  What was she thinking?

“Before we start taking questions,” she said, “I wanted to thank Magnifico, who rescued a dear friend of mine and who stopped a magical threat to the kingdom of Rosas, at the cost of serious personal injury.  He risked his life for us.  And he’s already taught me so many things.”  She gave his hand a squeeze.  “I plan to lean on him a lot, in the coming months and years.  I hope he doesn’t mind.  Because we can accomplish so much more together than we ever could on our own.”  She raised her hand into the air, over her head, pulling his hand along with it.  “I’m grateful to have him at my side.”

There was a brief silence—then a faint scattering of applause, which quickly grew and swelled, like a flame catching.  Cheers broke out.  They stood together, hands joined, bathed in sunlight and applause.  Magnifico stood motionless, silent, dazed.

Not everyone was clapping or cheering.  That was to be expected.  It would take time, as all worthwhile things did.  Still, he was here, standing again in front of his people, and they were cheering.  Asha’s hand was warm, her palm soft and her grip firm.  He clung to it tightly as his vision began to blur with tears.  He blinked it clear.

Hand in hand, he and Asha bowed their heads, then straightened.  Magnifico smiled.  His heart swelled with a burst of joy.

No—a life creeping in darkness did not suit one such as him.  He was made for this.  If he had already crossed the line into evil, if there was no going back, then he would move the line.

Or perhaps there’d never been any such line to begin with.   

-The End