Bailey Baz's Arc

Chapter 23 of 44

They cleared the courtyard and pushed into the weeds beyond the palace wall. Bailey's legs gave halfway across. The world tilted. He fell against Tyrek, and the broken locket slid from his coat into the mud. "Something's wrong," Bailey said. His hands shook. His chest burned, but not like a wound. It felt full, like a river forced through a narrow gate. He had broken the locket. He had let the stolen lifetimes rush out. Now they poured back through the swamp, through the air, and somehow through him. Tyrek dragged him under a huge cypress with a hollow trunk. The dark hole in its side was tall enough to shelter them both. Tyrek shoved Bailey inside and crouched at the opening, watching for guards. "Rest," he said. "You can't fight like this." Bailey pressed his back to the smooth inner wood. He shut his eyes and tried to understand what breaking the seal had done to him. He had freed a hundred years from his own body once. He knew that feeling. This was the reverse. The lifetimes the King stole did not vanish when the seal broke. They scattered. And Bailey had spoken the freeing words. His voice was the last thing they touched. Some part of that flood had caught on him and now dragged him down. "Talk to me," Tyrek said. "Stay awake." "The years," Bailey said. "I let them loose. But loose years look for a mouth that named them." He opened his eyes. The dizziness thinned, slow as mud settling. His hands stopped shaking. He flexed his fingers and felt them obey. "I think it's passing." Tyrek frowned. "Passing into what?" Bailey didn't answer at first. He pressed his palm flat to his chest and waited. The burning cooled. His heart beat steady and plain. Not frozen. Not stolen. Just his. He had eaten the green mushroom. He had chosen a mortal life. The rushing years found no empty seal in him to fill. They passed through and left him weak but whole. "Nothing," he said. "They passed through me. I'm still only a boy who ages." He almost laughed. The panic that had gripped him let go. He crawled to the hollow's mouth and picked up the muddy locket. Empty. Split. Harmless now. He tucked it away. His strength came back in careful pieces. He stood, one hand on the ancient bark, and did not fall. "The King felt those years leave," Bailey said. "He'll be weaker than I am. Older by the hour." He looked toward the palace where horns still called. "I stopped because I was afraid the locket had broken me too. It didn't. I'm mortal, and that's the one thing he can't take." He stepped out from the tree. "Now I finish it. Take me to the throne."