Marissa Holsteins's Arc

Chapter 10 of 10

Marissa stared at the white-haired woman on the king's arm. She knew that smile. It was Agatha, the thousand-year-old witch who wanted the milk and the throne. Now she stood dressed as a queen, her hand curled tight around Blake. Something was wrong with the king. His eyes had gone flat and glassy. He drank Marissa's milk moments ago, yet he did not look at her. He looked only at Agatha, like a man walking in his sleep. "Blake," Marissa said. "Look at me." He did not turn. Agatha laughed and stroked his cheek. "He can't hear you, cow girl. He hears only me now." A green light flickered in her eyes. Marissa understood. Agatha had put the king under a spell. That was why he took the witch as his wife. He was not choosing. He was bound. Angelica lunged, but two guards caught her arms. "Marissa, do something!" she shouted. Marissa's jar sat empty at the king's feet. She had no milk left to pour. But the milk lived inside her still. It always had. She closed her eyes and reached for that power in her chest. Marissa drank the last drops from her own jar. Warmth flooded her body. Her muscles swelled. Her horns gleamed. She grew until her head nearly brushed the banners, and her strength returned like a flood. Super cowgirl again. Agatha's smile broke. "No," the witch hissed. "You have nothing left!" She raised her hands to cast. Marissa did not give her the chance. Golden milk burst from her, spraying from her mouth, her eyes, from every part of her at once. The stream hit Blake full in the chest. It hit Agatha beside him. The king gasped as the gold washed over him. The glass drained from his eyes. He blinked, awake, staring at the witch on his arm as if seeing her for the first time. Agatha screamed. The milk struck her disguise and cracked it. Her young skin peeled away. Beneath it showed the truth, a thousand years old and withered. "My beauty!" she shrieked. Purple smoke swallowed her. When it cleared, she was gone. Banished from the castle. Blake fell to his knees, wet and shaking. The guards let Angelica go and stepped back. Marissa shrank slowly to her own size as the power faded. Blake wiped his face. He looked at Marissa with clear eyes at last. "You freed me," he said. "That thing had me chained." He rose and crossed the tile floor. "I owe you my crown." Marissa caught her breath. Angelica ran to her side and took her hand. The witch was gone. The king was free. But Blake's gaze had not softened at all. It sharpened, fixed on Marissa with the old hunger. "Now," he said, smiling, "about that marriage."