Her voice cracked, and a second blanket drifted over to wrap around her shoulders. Domenic cursed under his breath—now he’d lost all ability to laugh too. What a tragedy it was to love him.
He groaned and lowered his forehead against his kneecaps. “Sorry.”
She hugged him. “It’s all right. This isn’t a choice to rush into, nor is it one you need to. There’s no reason to think the cataclysm is imminent, and Summer is only one week away. Maybe once we’re all breathing easier, we’ll have the perspective to find the true answer to the prophecy.”
“Fine.”
“And you do need to sleep. You need to take care of yourself.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And… if you can’t find something worth fighting for, then you should at least consider the cost of what it is you’re dying for.”
Domenic let those words haunt him for several more hours.
He stalked his most hated streets of Gallamere under a cloakingenchantment, watching the city slowly awaken from its slumber. He scowled invisibly at an elderly couple strolling arm-in-arm. He silently cursed at a wailing toddler in a stroller. He considered shouting at the dog yapping in his owner’s arms, outrageously small, wearing a handknit sweater. He almost did. He sort of grumbled a bit.
He hated all of them.
He did.
He did.
He stormed his way to Gallamere Gardens. He lay in the snow as the pale Winter sun kissed his cheek, and he thought about how much he hated the city, how much he hated the cold, hated the way the Gardens looked in the cold, hated that he still missed the woods at home, that he somehow missed things he’d never gotten just as much as he missed things he’d never have.
Until he couldn’t take it anymore, and he cast the Gardens into bloom.
He cast an entire menagerie of enchantments on the Gold Line. He made mailboxes belch and mirrors play dress-up and cobblestones squirm. He (quite artfully) landscaped around the academy’s student center. He made Professor Clark’s textbook swear so crudely that entire lecture halls of second years would faint. He immortalized himself in a Council-wing restroom. He restored the Hook Up Halls to all their original glory.
He waited two hours, lurking, all to watch triumphantly as a single weary traveler emerged from the subway and marveled at the bespelled lampposts brightening their route home.
There. Even if Domenic had made the hero’s choice, the awful choice, it was truly their City of Magic now.
XXXVIELLERY
WINTER
The first day of Summer was Alderland’s most joyous holiday. From the moment dawn broke, snow melted, and the entire country bloomed in instantaneous awakening. Fresh leaves budded on barren trees. Flower petals drifted through the countryside like confetti, perfuming the breeze. And in the Gallamere Gardens, an enormous picnic heralded a weeklong jubilee.
But this year, tension permeated the crowd. Although the band onstage doggedly played the national anthem, no one clapped or sang along. Vendors fruitlessly hawked balloons and hot dogs. People shivered in the dim glow of the lampposts.
Gallamere’s leaders sat on risers behind the band, Summer frocks readied beneath their thick coats. Ellery sat among them, trapped in an outfit that didn’t suit her in a color she didn’t like. She tugged anxiously at her necklace.
Ellery glanced at Glynn amidst the rest of the Council across the stage. When she, Domenic, and Hanna had returned from Nordmere, they’d told the Councilors about Winter territory and its magicians, omitting Ellery’s theft of the winterghast hearts. Only Glynn knew otherwise.
You’re on the precipice of a breakthrough, Ellery,Glynn had promised her.But the rest of the Council will be more amenable to the notion of Winter wands after Summer comes. Just be patient for one more week. Everything will feel better then.
As much as she wanted to trust Glynn, he’d lied to her about the deaths of every previous Chosen One. And so had the rest of the Council. She hadn’t told any of them she knew; she didn’t wantplatitudes and excuses. Especially when their scrutiny had only grown after the failed mission North. Even now, they glanced at her as though she might spontaneously morph into a winterghast in heels and a designer dress.
They willneverchange their minds,Ellery repeated.The Order will use me, because they need me. But they’ll hate me all the same.
No.Not all of them.
Domenic sat beside her, the heat of his magic a distracting press against her neck. He wore the garb of Summer’s Chosen: a crisp collared shirt with a jaunty green vest. He fiddled with a clump of dandelions, mangling their stems. He did not look at her.
What I’m really fighting for—what I’vealwaysbeen fighting for—is this,he’d told her.You and me.
Such a future had always been impossible. Even if they saved Alderland together, they were still doomed to die. But it would be an even worse fate to betray him, and despite all her doubts, she could never do so without proof. Maybe once Summer came, with the winterghasts gone and the country safe for another year, they could finally find the traitor. Maybe the next piece of the prophecy would put their paranoia to rest.
