The Curse of the Blessed

Chapter Thirty-Three

Sharla was standing at the rail when I arrived on the upper deck. Worry lined her face, but when she saw me, it melted into relief. My birds dropped me next to her. She pulled me into a sudden hug.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

She pulled back and looked at me, checking to see if I was all right. "You disappeared, Fyra. You were gone for nearly an hour. Bran and Lark came to me, and I went to Captain Rayan—and she said you weren't on the Calamity at all." Again, she embraced me, and I could feel her hands shaking against my back. "With your curse being the banishment of hope... We thought you'd jumped."

"I did." Sharla's arms tightened around me, and I winced. "My birds caught me, though. I'm fine. I realized... I want to find a way to keep going. I want to keep living. I want to rescue Reed—or at least try. I just need to find a way around the curse."

She released me and smiled. "I might have an idea for that. When we were trying to find you, I kept thinking about all the ways I could have helped you earlier, while we were watching the sunrise."

"And?"

"I think there might be other emotions you can use to motivate yourself. Ones that aren't hope." Her hand reached into her pocket, and she pulled out a rock with words written in it. "I made a list. Do you want to try, or do you absolutely hate the idea? If you do, be honest. I don't want to waste your time."

I shook my head. "No. Go ahead. I'd love to hear your idea."

"Okay," said Sharla. She grinned shakily. "Well, the first idea was revenge. Obviously you probably want to get back at the Magician for what he did to you."

For a moment, I thought about it. "I don't think so. My fear is worse than my want of revenge."

Sharla swiped her finger over where "revenge" was engraved in the stone, erasing it. "Next is duty. You were sent out on this quest to help your village, so maybe you want to complete it to free them from the curse?"

"I don't know..." I looked down at my hands, up at the sky, and back at Sharla's face. "I... don't know. I thought I wanted to do it for them, but as I keep going, I feel less and less like I owe them anything. At this point, I agree with Bran. I don't think they should have sent us here at all."

"Okay," said Sharla, shrugging. "The third one is loyalty. You know, you're probably loyal to Reed, and to Lark, and to Bran—and a little bit to your village, too, although obviously it's not quite the same."

"Loyalty," I mused. A thought struck me. I froze. "Loyalty."

"What?" Sharla asked. "Fyra? What is it?"

As I began to pace, something—not hope, but perhaps a sort of wild joy—began to fill my bones with an ecstatic buzzing. "The Magician said he was originally going to take my loyalty: for my friends, for my village, for the quest we were on." I grinned. "He said he thought losing my hope would break me worse than losing my loyalty would. He said my loyalty was strong. Like it defines me—is a big part of what makes me me."

Sharla tilted her head slightly to one side, obviously unsure where I was going with this.

"He didn't take my loyalty," I explained. "He left it. I still have it. And maybe I can use it—not to beat him, or to rescue Reed, necessarily, but at least to hurt him."

"Revenge and loyalty," said Sharla, "all in one go."

"Exactly."

"Are you ready, then?"

I frowned. "For what?"

"To go back. To make a plan. To rescue your friend."

For a moment, I hesitated, and then I said, "Yes. I'm ready."