‘But – I don’t understand—’
‘Of course you don’t. Your parents will not understand, either. I told them I would take you before your eighteenth birthday; I expect they thought you were safe.’ Gwydion laughed again. ‘But I lied.’
Jack strained against the bonds around his wrists, ignoring the pain as the rope cut into him. If only he could get his hands free –
The wizard shook his head.
‘There is no escape, boy. You are too important for me to risk losing you.’
‘What – what do you want of me?’
‘Much. Oh, but my plans have grown in these eighteen years. You are to collect hearts for me, Jack – the still beating hearts of people foolish enough to believe they are in love – and from them I will gain power to create my dark servants, an army that will take away your mother’s kingdom. And at the end, when she has nothing left, I will make her watch as I destroy that mewling Irishman she married. I think I’ll cool his ardour by turning his blood to ice in his veins.’ He smiled and glanced down at the ring on his left hand. ‘I’ve done it before.’
‘No! I will kill you before I let that happen. I’ll—’
‘Enough.’ Gwydion waved his free hand in the air. Jack saw orange shapes that hung in front of his eyes for a moment before fading. He tried to cry out, but his whole body was stiff and fixed; he could only watch.
The wizard walked away. But within a few minutes he returned, carrying a small bowl.
‘Now, Jack, you will feel better once I have completed your initiation. Or to tell the truth, a lot of the time you will feel nothing.’ Gwydion spooned something out of the bowl and brought it to Jack’s lips. ‘Open wide.’
Though every other part of his body remained immobile Jack’s mouth opened and Gwydion tipped the contents of the spoon over his tongue. ‘And chew.’
Jack’s jaw and tongue started working. Whatever it was tasted foul: salty and metallic. But Jack could not stop himself eating and swallowing, even though he thought at any moment he was going to be sick, or pass out. The wizard fed him the whole bowlful. Then he dipped his finger in the juices at the bottom of the bowl and traced something on Jack’s forehead. ‘That girl in your village, Winifred. You loved her, did you not? You may answer.’
‘Yes,’ Jack croaked.
‘And you wanted her to love you? You wanted her heart?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, now you have it.’ Gwydion held up his hands: they were covered in blood.
No. It’s not possible. He can’t have killed her. And I cannot have just – I can’t have –
The wizard smiled.
‘I’m sorry, Jack. But the curse is already taking hold, flowing through your veins, seeping into your bones. You will never be king at Helmswick. Instead, you will become my servant, and the King of Hearts …’
‘Please—’ Merry closed her eyes, trying to shut out the images Gran’s voice was conjuring in her head, ‘—please, just stop.’
She felt Leo nudge her. ‘You OK?’
‘No. I feel sick.’ She clutched her stomach as it wrung out another surge of nausea. ‘It’s disgusting.’
Part of her brain was in denial.
It’s just a story. It’s not real. It can’t be real.
Over and over.
But why would her grandmother make something like this up? She heard a sigh and the clatter of crockery as Gran started stacking up the mugs and plates.
‘You’re right, Merry,’ Gran said. ‘It is disgusting. But, unfortunately, it’s the truth. The story I’ve just told you is part of your inheritance, just as much as the shape of your eyes, or the colour of your hair. And you are the one who has to give the story its ending.’ She paused. ‘It’s up to you to … to kill Gwydion.’
Merry opened her eyes and stared down at the kitchen table, the plain pine surface marked with dents and scratches and water rings. She pressed her hands flat against it. The everyday solidity of the table was comforting: something real and believable in this nightmare of princes and wizards she’d somehow stumbled into.
‘Gran,’ Leo asked, ‘I still don’t understand why Merry has to be involved. Surely a properly-trained witch would have more chance of defeating this guy?’
Gran shook her head.
‘The details that have been handed down are very specific. The braid that’s in the trinket box will allow one witch to enter Gwydion’s realm safely. When the first-born daughter of each generation comes of age in her fourteenth year the potential ability to defeat Gwydion will pass to her. We believe that ability grows with each generation.’ Gran ran some water into the sink and started scrubbing the plates, as though she could wash away the family history at the same time as the cake crumbs. ‘Your magic could be something very special, Merry; extraordinary, even. But now the wizard has awakened, the burden of confronting him passes to you, and to you alone. I’m so sorry darling, but this is the way it has to be.’
Merry couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘Why, Gran? Why didn’t you or Mum tell me before now? I mean, you could at least have tried to warn me.’
Gran flushed.
‘Because I hoped – I thought – why scare you, for something that almost certainly wasn’t going to happen? And with you not being trained, and your mother—’
‘I’m sixteen years old.’ Merry slammed her hands down on the table top. ‘I don’t want to be special, Gran, not like this. And I don’t want to die. But that’s what’s going to happen, isn’t it?’
‘Merry …’ Leo put a hand on her shoulder, but Merry shrugged it off.
‘Nobody’s going to die!’ Gran closed her eyes for a moment, frowning. ‘It’s going to be dangerous. But you – we – have to trust that the dangers have been planned for. That the three sisters, and those who have come after, knew what they were doing.’
‘Three sisters?’ Leo asked. ‘What three sisters?’
Gran gave an exasperated sigh.
‘Anwen’s three daughters. I’ll tell you the rest of what I know later. But I think first …’ She peered at Merry. ‘I think some fresh mint tea would make us all feel better. Merry, dear, there’s some in the greenhouse at the bottom of the garden, if you wouldn’t mind fetching a little.’
‘Mint?’ Merry frowned. Really? At a time like this?
‘Yes, dear; you know what it looks like. And the fresh air will do you good.’
Fine, Merry thought. Right now, I’d rather be anywhere else on the entire planet than in this kitchen. She scowled at Gran, snatched the scissors Gran was holding out to her and slammed out through the back door.
Gran’s garden was narrow but long. By the time Merry had walked past the neat flower beds down to the