Now they had all the ingredients needed to create Ben’s spell except for the words spoken during the original binding ceremony. For that, they needed Dahlia.
Though Dahlia had warmed to Vika enough for a conversation, she hadn’t agreed to help with the spell. They were running out of time. So, Vika and Ben headed to the orchard to look for her.
This time, the orchard was roped off, closed to tourists. It was blissfully quiet with no Orchard Bride selfies or people trampling everywhere. Whether it was the lack of tourists or something else, the orchard felt like it was holding its breath.
Millie sniffed around the trunk of the split boundary marker tree, head down, tail wagging.
“Is it wider?” Vika asked.
The tree hadn’t collapsed, but the two halves had pulled farther apart, the exposed wood bright against the worn, twisted bark.
Ben nodded as he crouched beside it. “Yes, it’s progressing.”
As if to prove his point, the air shifted. The crack of a falling branch rang through the orchard. Vika turned. For split second, all she saw was fire.
Millie barked.
“It’s not real,” she said more to herself than Millie.
“We need to get this stable,” Ben said, looking between the trees, where shadows and the echos of flames made unnatural shadows that suggested figures moving between them. For a moment, Vika thought she saw the ghost of a lantern.
“Witch.” The word came from all around them.
Then, the orchard snapped back to normal as if nothing happened.
Ben came to stand beside her, reaching down to soothe Millie.
“The land is replaying what happened here,” he said. “And it’s getting stronger every time it does.”
“We need Dahlia,” Vika added.
Ben nodded.
At the sound of her name, the air shimmered. Dahlia appeared at the edge of the trees, peeking at them through the branches. Still wary, she looked wrung out as though the orchard had been feeding on her as much as she’d been tending to it. She had dark hollows under her eyes and her hands clasped in front of her nervously.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Dahlia said, her voice was steady.
“That makes two of us,” Vika replied gently.
“Is she?” Ben asked.
Vika nodded and gestured to where Dahlia was hovering by the trees.
“Dahlia,” Ben said. “We need the words of your binding spell.”
“No.” She shook her head, backing a step. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.”
Vika relayed the message.
“The boundary is failing,” Ben said. “Whatever you bound is breaking loose. If we don’t heal it, properly this time, it won’t just be this orchard. The violence could spill over into the town.”
A flicker of fear mixed with guilt crossed Dahlia’s face.
“I already fixed it,” she said. “I closed it.”
“You tied it closed,” Vika said, stepping closer. “That’s not the same thing.”
Dahlia’s hands curled into fists. “It worked.”
“For a while,” Vika said. “But it needs to be healed. You deserve to rest, to be with your sister.”
As if in agreement, a low creak groaned through the orchard. The split tree shuddered, the gap widening another fraction.
Dahlia flinched.
“I can’t go with my sister, not after what I’ve done,” she said, quieter now. “I won’t.”
Millie whined softly, pressing against Vika’s leg, wedging herself between Vika and the knot.
“Dahlia,” Vika said, her voice quieter now, steadier. “You’ve done so much to protect the orchard you love, but staying here won’t fix it. You know that. The knot is… unraveling. You can’t stop it alone. We can help.”
The scent of smoke curled through the trees, faint but unmistakable.
Dahlia squeezed her eyes shut.
“I hear them,” she admitted. “All the time.”
“Because the wound is still open,” Vika said. “Help us heal it and go be at peace with Misha.”
“If I go back…” Dahlia swallowed. “I won’t be with Misha. The Furies will take me. To atone for what I did.”
Vika stepped closer until she was within arm’s reach. “I won’t let them,” she said, though she didn’t know how she would stop them. The Furies punished the guilty, and Dahlia was guilty of using black magic to kill that Cunningham man. The crime fell clearly within their purview, and they were unlikely to listen to pleas of mercy from a failed Kere.
Still, Dahlia acted as she did to protect her sister and the orchard she loved, and she’d protected it all this time. If Vika had to guess, Dahlia’s intervention was the likely reason the Cunninghams hadn’t developed the land.
The town retaliated by burning part of the orchard and killing her, then rewrote the story to hide its own violence. That had to account for something. In Vika’s opinion, Dahlia had atoned for her crime. She just had to convince the Furies of that.
Dahlia let out a hollow laugh. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I will take you myself and we will face them together.”
Silence grew between them as Dahlia considered what Vika had said.
Vika continued. “You gave something the first time, a part of yourself to seal the binding. We need to heal the knot and you can help us. If you want to protect the orchard, help us.”
Dahlia looked between them, uncertainty flickering.
“How?” she asked.
Vika held her gaze. “By telling the truth.”
Dahlia stilled.
“Look at what’s happening. The past is seeping through. The knot isn’t just failing. It’s trying to release the truth. Let’s put the Orchard Bride to bed by showing what really happened here. For that, we need to know how you did the binding spell, the words you used.”
“Kill the Orchard Bride,” Dahlia said, a smile spreading across her face.
Vika grinned. “Yes. It’s time people knew the truth of your sacrifice and of what happened here. Will you help us?”
Dahlia’s breath came unevenly. She ran her hands over the rough bark on the split tree, trailing her finger over the fresh wood in the gap.
“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.
Vika reached out, hesitated only a moment, then took Dahlia’s hand. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
For a long moment, Dahlia didn’t move. Then, slowly, her fingers curled around Vika’s. “All right.”
Chapter 11