"Odette!”
Simon shouted her name as he ran, feet pounding on the stone bridge. He stuttered to a halt in the very center, breathing hard. The tie around his neck was practically choking him. He ripped it off and clumsily unbuttoned the collar. Where was she? He spun around, scanning the sections of the lake on either side. It was difficult to see much of anything; the light spring rain from earlier was now a veritable torrent. The lake’s surface was rough, roiling in the fierce wind. Willow branches whipped through the air. The beds of pink tulips sprawled beneath the weight of the heavy rain.
At last he spotted something floating toward him from the far end of the lake. One of the iconic Swan Boats had somehow escaped from the boathouse. It drifted in the wind, tilting wildly from side to side as the waves rocked it. Simon squinted a little. Was he imagining that something was on it? No, there is definitely something on that boat. A white something, but too large to be a swan… oh no.
Some instinct told him Odette was on that boat. What was he going to do? He looked around and caught sight of the boathouse and dock. I’ll get another boat and steer it over—he stopped abruptly again at the sight of a looming figure standing near the end of the bridge, looking out at the boat on the lake. The figure turned, and Simon felt a thrill of horror as he recognized the face of Rasmus Bartholomew. He wore a normal business suit, but over the shoulders he had draped a cloak of deep red. In his hand he carried an elaborately carved walking stick.
“I am surprised,” he said in a low voice. “I did not expect to see you here. You deserve more credit than I thought.”
“What have you done to Odette?” Simon demanded. There’s no time for banter! I need to get on that boat!
Bartholomew shrugged. “I have not done anything to her, Simon. You have done all of this yourself.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything to her! In case you didn’t notice, I never made my declaration. I didn’t fall for your decoy.”
“Did you not? What do you call the last several hours, then? Have you not been making promises, speaking things to another that you ought to have reserved only for one? You did not realize you had been decoyed until it was already too late.”
Simon balled his hands into tight fists. “I don’t have time for this.” He took two steps, but Bartholomew was ahead of him. Striding forward, he snapped his fingers. A sudden heat exploded from behind the magician, and Simon raised his hand, stopping mid-step at the intensity of it. The end of the bridge was engulfed in flames, a wall of black tinged with blue at the edges, a fire unlike anything Simon had ever seen. He turned to run back the way he had come, but a second wall of flame had already sprung up there, trapping him in the center of the bridge.
“You think you can challenge me?” Bartholomew scoffed as he closed the distance between them. “You are practically a child. I have kept her prisoner for five centuries, and my power is greater than it has ever been.”
“Odette!” Simon shouted again, ignoring Bartholomew’s advance to look at the lake again. The white object on the boat seemed to stir a little. Simon’s heart leapt as he watched the unwieldy craft lean dangerously to one side. The waves were getting bigger, and the wind was stronger than ever.
“It won’t do you any good,” Bartholomew said, still coming closer. “She is weakened by your betrayal.” He chuckled. “A pity that your fear is greater than your love. You might have been able to do something for her.”
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