He looked at her blankly.
“The hardest dessert to make in the world?” she said, eyebrows raised, waiting for recognition to dawn. “Never mind,” she said, sighing.
“You’re weird,” he said knocking his shoulder gently into hers. “But look, this can’t mean what you think it means. Gigi would never to tell you to off yourself, okay? I’d rather die than let that happen, so don’t do anything stupid. Got it?”
She nodded numbly.
“I’m going to make some tea while you read through everything else,” she said, heading to the kitchen on legs that felt too heavy to walk. Sage was there, eating a bowl of sugary cereal at the table, with Bambi asleep at the floor by her feet. As Sadie tried to boil water, the bubbles wouldn’t come, and she set the mug down, running a hand across her forehead, pressing her palm hard into her skin. She wanted to scream but wouldn’t scare Sage like that. The child was tender and caught every look and sidelong glance, calculating them, weighing the words that weren’t said. No matter what she felt for her mother, Sage had walked right into Sadie’s heart and settled there.
“I can help you,” Sage said, her voice soft as merengue clouds, her spoon poised halfway to her mouth.
“Please do,” Sadie groaned. Out of the mouth of any other child she’d doubt such a claim, but something about Sage invited trust and calming. The girl walked over to Sadie and laid her hand on her sister’s arm.
“What—” Sadie started to ask, but then she felt it. The coil inside of her started to unwind. Peace threaded through her veins like liquid silver. Anger and frustration melted away. Even her sorrow felt diminished. “How …？” she asked, but before she could finish, the water boiled.
“I can make people feel certain things,” Sage explained, her clear, sweet voice a balm to Sadie’s bruised spirits. “I got it from my mom. But I’m better at it than her.” Her smile was sly as she said it. “Don’t tell her I said that, though.”
“Clary Sage,” Sadie smiled.
“What does that mean?” the little girl asked, her eyebrows furrowing, unsure whether it was a compliment or insult.
“Clary sage is used for clarity, for emotional stability. And it can spark creativity and imagination. It calms the mind and spirit,” Sadie said, pulling Sage in to hug her. “I’ve never known a name more fitting for someone. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Sage smiled again, the furrow disappearing. “It’ll only last for a little while. But I can do it again when you need me to. Mom says I shouldn’t, usually, because people need to work through things on their own. But …” She shrugged.
As Sadie got down a cannister for tea, the black cherry tin caught her eye and reminded her of the poisonous Jerusalem cherry. When she was younger she’d been obsessed with Hamlet and gotten the idea in her head to become a great playwright. In one of her many failed attempts, her heroine had used Jerusalem cherry tea to poison her lover’s disapproving father, so they could finally be together.
But if you sacrifice yourself, Seth will be safe.
Sacrifice myself, she thought. Could it be that easy? That hard? Her death would nullify the curse. But it didn’t make sense. Seth was right: Gigi would never tell her to kill herself, would she?
“What are you making?” Sage asked around a mouthful of cereal.
“It’s called Athena’s tea,” she said, shaking herself from the morbid thoughts. “She was the goddess of wisdom, and that’s what apples symbolize,” she said, measuring out two spoonsful of dried apples and a measure of white tea in a mug. “This is Rooibos,” she added as Sage’s eyes tracked her movements. “And then you add a cinnamon stick and vanilla pod. It’s used to connect your head and heart.”
“Sounds yummy,” Sage said.
“Let’s just hope it works.”
Thirteen days.
The thought of her sacrifice was a scratched record grating on every thought. She wasn’t sure which was scarier, the idea of actually doing it or the fact that if she knew it would work and there was no other solution, she’d sacrifice herself in a heartbeat. No matter that he’d left or that he’d hidden his relationship with Raquel. Because for every hundred annoyances and fights and tears there were a thousand more reasons to love him.
He had everything. His magic to learn, their mother returned, Raquel’s love and their future together. And what did she have? A handful of nothing. Broken dreams and empty promises and one more heartbreak.