They did not have time to debate because their sparks had grown so large, bright, and loud that the King and Queen had seen them from miles away. Soon, they were surrounded by the King’s Guard, demanding answers. The Prince was overwhelmed by the fate that confronted him: Risk his heart—and ostracism by his family—and tell the truth, or betray the Knight. Either way, his heart is at stake.

“This Knight is my prisoner. I have captured him and the sparks he carries,” the Prince lied.

The King’s Guard seized the Knight and both sparks, locking them away deep under the castle. In the morning, the Knight would be put to death, and the sparks snuffed out.

“You cannot do this!” the Knight wailed. “Tell them who I am to you. Tell them of my character, Prince.”

With all eyes on him, the Prince could do no such thing.

As the Knight wept behind bars and the Prince sat in his ivory tower overlooking the dark, dreary domain, both of them considered the ease with which they would cut out their own hearts if it meant it would quell the pain.

That night, the Witch appeared to the Prince with a sharp blade and a riddle: “If saving the Knight is what you desire, pure of heart, then you know what you must offer, as it was forecast in the past. But take it, I cannot; it must be given of yours, willingly, without future forecast.”

Chapter 22

22

The first week without Jack doesn’t feel real.

Here’s the thing with all the Disney films and various romcoms Rae and I grew up watching in her parents’ basement: They didn’t prepare me for the hollowness that comes with a broken heart. I always imagined that if I was ever in love, my heart would literally break open if it ended. But that doesn’t happen. The deep hurt I feel is not something that can be mended with bandages or surgery. I can’t see the wound, but I feel every square inch of it as it rips across my body. I want to cry, and I do, but the tears spill out unpredictably—never when I’m in my dorm, alone, and almost always when I’m walking across campus or standing in line at the vending machine for Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. One second, I forget Jack exists, but then I remember him and everything that happened between us—from our first meeting at the river to our final showdown at the dining hall and all the lightning-striking moments in between—inundates me, and I can’t even think.

I float from class to class.

I replay my last twenty-four hours with Jack, dissecting every scene, looking for things I did wrong, that he did wrong, reasons that would mend me.