Magic and Gold

9: The Hair of the Devil

Perspective of Tristain

It was foggy that morning. It was cold, too, so I wore a thick wool sweater. I had spent a while that morning standing in front of the mirror, trying to look my best. If this was the last time I was going to see him, I wanted to give him something to remember. At the last moment, I had added a scarf so deeply red it almost looked purple.

Finally walking out into the brisk air, I stuck my hands in my pockets to keep them warm. I strolled down the usual path, the one I had walked with him many a time. For years now, we had had Our Spot. When I got there, I still sat on the edge of the mossy fountain despite the chill in the air. I snapped my fingers and felt heat return to my face. In a second, my body was toasty warm, thanks to the magic I always carried in my bones.

I dipped my fingers into the cold water and barely felt it. I was alone for now, so I plucked a flower from a nearby stalk. It was a weed, but that did not degrade the beauty of the small pink bud. Usually the gardeners used magic to prevent the growth of any weeds, but so rarely did people come back here that it was more overgrown than the rest of the garden.

Years ago, Peter and I found an abandoned section of the gardens. In the very corner of a maze of hedges, trees, and bushes was a small fountain surrounded by weedy stalks and overturned dirt. The first time we came here, I cleaned the fountain of moss using magic and it had stayed clean enough ever since that I could see my reflection. I was fixing my hair when Peter walked into the square. He had a small bittersweet smile on his face. "Hey, Pretty Boy," he said.

"Sit," I said, patting the space next to me. He sat and I intertwined our fingers, both of us content in the peaceful silence. Neither of us wanted to break it with the inevitable conversation that needed to be had. He leaned his head on my shoulder, and I stroked my other hand through his hair. I would remember all the moments like these for years to come. This was when I was at my happiest, and never again would I get to experience it.

Eventually, I shattered the stillness by letting words flow from my mouth unstopped. "I bet you heard. I'm really sorry, Peter. You know it's not my choice. I would do anything. I want to be with you. But we both knew that can't happen. I—"

"Shhh." He cut me off, putting a finger over my lips. "Do you hear that?"

I strained to hear something, but there was nothing except the wind making the leaves up in the tree whistle. "No?"

"That's right. I didn't say anything. I understand." He placed a kiss on the back of my hand so gently I wanted to cry.

"You should be mad at me," I blustered. "If you hated me, that would make it easier. But you're the most understanding, caring person ever. It's so hard, leaving you. I wish I could fix it all, marry you instead. I would."

He chuckled lightly. "I wouldn't let you leave it all for me. As king, you can make the world a better place. You're amazing. You can fix it all."

"I'd rather be with you than have any crown." I pressed my lips together in an attempt to keep my composure.

"And we both know what your father would do if you stayed with me." I didn't want to think about him. This last moment was about us.

"I don't care about that," I promised. "If you asked me to go with you, right now, I would."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't go. And I wouldn't ask you to. You have a kingdom here, a girl waiting for you back in that castle. You have a life."