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And then we reach a pool with the most wondrous of
flowers. My eyes widen.
Something, isn t it? Jack says.
Yes. Something. I can still feel the sensation of Jack
leaning toward me, our lips about to meet in a kiss. Jack
grasps my hand.
Before me, floating in shallow water, is the most enor-
mous flower I have ever seen. No shy young rosebud, this.
The plant is taller than a child of eight and, although
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closed, it is wider than my shoulders and pursed like an
enormous pink mouth covered in spiny whiskers each as
long as my fingers.
Magnificent! I say.
Victoria water lily, Jack reads. It says here it can get
to be six feet across.
Oh, my.
Nothing like that in Euphrasia, huh?
No. Nothing at all. I glance away, and when I look
back, it is almost as if the thing has moved.
A man standing nearby interrupts. You have to come
in the morning, though. That s when it s open.
Really? I keep my eyes glued upon the lily. Its petals
seem to shake.
Yes. They open in the evening and close at ten each
morning.
Jack laughs. Then I ll never see it, right, Talia? He
nudges me.
But I do not look at him. I gaze only upon the bud
because, despite the man s words, despite the late hour, it
does, indeed, appear to be opening, nay, not merely open-
ing. It appears to be . . . speaking.
Dear Princess, the time has come, the open bloom
says. Its voice is deep, as if coming from the bottom of the
pond.
Who . . . what are you? Although I know.
Oh, Princess. The plant s voice changes. You know
exactly who I am.
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Malvolia!
What do you want of me? Why do you keep . . . ?
I want my spell fulfilled.
It was fulfilled. He loves me. I know it.
You know no such thing. The flower s voice is mock-
ing. I think not. I was cheated. You said yourself that he
does not love you.
I said nothing of the sort.
You thought it. It is the same thing.
Talia? I hear Jack s voice, far off in the distance. I try
to answer but can t.
Now the bloom appears to have grown, rising up
through the murky water.
Talia! Say something!
Come, Princess. Green leaves fill my vision.
What do you want from me?
I want my due. The flower has turned into a vine.
Each spiny whisker has become a curved tentacle, reaching
for me. The green leaves are no longer the green leaves of
Miami but rather the trees in the Euphrasian hills. I am in
Euphrasia.
Come, Princess, come with me.
And then everything goes black.
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Chapter 25:
Jack
j
alia? Talia!
T I try to catch her as she begins to fall. Is she sick?
Freaking out from the heat? Unable to stand the sight of a
giant, sexual-looking water lily?
Talia? I nudge her, at first gently, then harder as I real-
ize her body s limp.
Is she dead? Did her heart just realize it was three hundred
years old and stop beating? No! She can t be dead. No!
Talia? Say something! My whole body is quivering,
but I have to stay calm. I have to help her because she is the
only one who can help me.
Now other people are crowding around, asking if she s
okay, saying they ll call 911, shoving and pushing, grab-
bing and poking, until I can t breathe.
Breathe!
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I feel my heart crashing around in my chest, almost as
though it isn t tethered down.
Anyone know CPR? a woman says.
I shove the gathered spectators away and kneel beside
Talia. What I mean to do is CPR, like I learned in my
junior lifesaving course, but somehow, when I kneel beside
her, when I hold her in my arms, my mouth near her
mouth, the events of the past week Talia in the castle, in
the dungeon, on the airplane, at the party, at dinner, even
Talia gazing at that water lily all swim before me like a
river, a waterfall, and as on that day in the castle, I grab her.
I press my lips against hers.
I kiss her.
I kiss her long and hard and like both our lives depend
on it, which maybe they do.
Don t go, Talia, I murmur.
Go? Don t I mean die?
I kiss her again, harder. But this time, I say, Please,
Talia, I love you.
She stirs.
I pull away, stare at her. She stares back, eyes widening.
Jack?
Are you all right?
Her white hand flutters to her even whiter forehead,
and she says, I was flying.
Flying? I m aware of people around, a woman with a
concerned face, a man who offers a water bottle, which I
take, but I focus on Talia. Where were you flying?
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Not where. She winces at the water I splash on her
face. Not where but when. I was flying back in time, fly-
ing in the airplane back over the ocean, to Europe, then
to Euphrasia, to the tower room where I lay those three
hundred years. I actually saw the three hundred years, Jack.
Euphrasia was invisible to the world, but it was there. I
was there. I saw the seasons change through the window.
And then I saw my birthday eve, and every birthday before
that, every Christmas and state occasion. And finally, I
was a little girl, playing in the Euphrasian hills with Lady
Brooke, and there was a cottage. Jack a stone peasant cot-
tage with a holly bush beside it, a cottage I always saw but
never paid much attention to. She stops to breathe, shak-
ing. And in the eaves of that cottage was a window, and
in that window was a face, the face of the witch Malvolia.
She was calling me, saying I had to come back and do it all
over again. I was back. She took me to her cottage on the
highest hill in Euphrasia, where I used to picnic with Lady
Brooke. I was there.
No. You were here.
I was there. I could hear you saying, Talia, Talia, say
something, but I could not answer, for I was not here. I
have to do it all over again.
Why? This makes no sense.
Because the spell was to be broken by the kiss of true
love I knew that. That is why it is all wrong. You do not
love me, and that is why Malvolia pulls me back to her.
Because I don t love you?
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Talia nods.
But I do love you. Didn t you hear me say that, too?
And as I say it, I realize it is true. I love Talia, not just
because she s hot (even though she is), and not just because
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