You are the sickness.
It hollowed out Luci and made the world spin in a blur of greens and reds.
“Of course, she should. Luci, why are you being so stubborn?”
There was no condemnation in the words; they were light and airy. Easy, simple. Like they didn’t matter in the least.
“Are you impressed?” Prince Ira leaned in, his breath sending a shiver down Luci’s spine.
Oh no. Nausea rolled in her stomach, battling against the sinking dread, swallowing her whole. Brielle’s smile faltered at whatever she saw in Luci’s face, and Lord Treveon’s words rang in her ears.
You aren’t the cure.
“Luci?” Brielle asked, coming towards her.
Her blond hair blew in the breeze that ran across her like a lover's caress. She was ethereal. In just a few days at court, she appeared healthier than in all the years before. All because of the man standing next to Luci. He’d been the cure.
“I’m fine. Just terrible at croquet. I think I might take a break.” Luci said.
Next to her, Ira’s grin faded, and he scanned her, searching her.
“I was only teasing, Lucinda, you don’t have to–”
Luci waved a hand and stepped towards Brielle, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“Luci–,” all humor was gone, and wasn’t that just what Lord Treveon was trying to say?
All that joy was eradicated because Luci felt like the world was erupting around her. Selfish.
“I’m fine, don’t stop having fun on my account. I’ll see you later tonight.” Turning to face the royals, Luci bowed her head. “Thank you all for including me. I’m honored.”
Every footfall was a monumental effort to keep pace. All she wanted to do was run. Run to wherever would stop this cracking in her chest. Brielle was happy and fulfilled. It was everything Luci ever dreamed of for the woman who owned her heart and soul.
So why did it feel like Luci was drowning?
The walk back to the castle was an eternity long, servants nodding to Luci every few steps. Not quite deference, but not quite the acknowledgement of an equal. They were just as confused as Luci about her place in the world. All because Brielle willed her to be more than she was. She presented Luci as an equal, and the world took note.
Without half a thought more, she stood in front of the library door, staring at the ornate trail of gold over white. She’d meant to go to the infirmary. To lose herself in herbs and healing. Yet, all she could see in her mind's eye was the vision she endured within the glass hall. Brielle was standing among those flowers in the field of Blythe. Her cheeks full, her body bigger, healthy.
There really wasn’t a choice. She may have been sick once, but she wouldn’t stay that way.
So it was that Luci opened the door and stepped through, finding Max at his desk with papers strewn about. Quill in hand, writing furiously with his brow pulled tight together.
“Are you Brielle or Lucinda today?” he asked without looking up.
If Luci were going to believe in magic, it would be because of the little prince in front of her. She swallowed hard, pushing down the despair of minutes ago and summoning the courage that lived somewhere inside her. Deep, deep, down.
“I think it was a map,” Luci said.
Nausea blanketed her, but she knew what she needed to do. For days, she’d hidden from it, but the truth was always buried under her own selfishness. Her need to keep Brielle close and, worst of all, her need to be needed.
“Obviously, it was a map.” Max sighed, but never looked up from his work.
Instead, he shuffled through the papers and handed a sheet to her. The moment she took it from him, she knew everything was about to change.
It was a crudely drawn map with exes and vague shapes such as lakes and mountains. Exactly what she would expect a seven-year-old to draw.
“I combed through every map we have, and while there were two possibilities of mountains, I found this,” Max reached down and pulled out a navy leather-bound book with gold foil. “The Ruby Shoes. Are you aware-”