I liked to rant about our situation at least once every four days. Ranting helped me stay angry, and my anger felt like it was the only part of me that was still alive. The only thing keeping me from sinking into despondence, from forgetting that I'd ever been a person.
       It bothered me that no one else seemed as angry as I was. Or angry at all, really.
       "Seriously," I started, levering myself upright and wobbling back and forth on my handle, "What kind of creep curses an entire palace full of people because a kid respects the idea of stranger danger and doesn't allow some shady old woman inside? Also, why was the young master even answering the door? We had people for that." I paced from one side of the kitchen table to the other, moving forward by force of awkward wiggling and stubbornness.
       "It could be worse," Amaud said, his voice rumbling through the wooden surface beneath me. "At least there's a chance that the spell will be broken."
       "Sure, after I spend my best years as a spoon."
       "Do you ever wonder how the magic picked our shapes? Why I'm a table and you're a spoon?" Amaud liked to try to derail my rants with rhetorical questions.
       "That stupid witch and her stupid magic don't know me," I snapped.
       "No? What do you think you should be instead?"
       "A sword."
       "Hmm," Amaud said.
       "Fine. A knife. Or at least a fork."
       "I think a table is a pretty good fit for me," he said.
       I rolled my eyes, grateful that the spell had at least left us with faces. Limbs, I guess, would have been too much to ask for.
       "How long has it been, do you think?" I asked. "That we've been stuck like this?"
       The wood beneath me rippled as Amaud shrugged. "The curse is permanent after ten years. It's been less than that. I'd guess we're at three years or so?"
       I sighed. We didn't get hungry or thirsty or need to sleep anymore, and I never had any reason to go outside, which made time very hard to track. "If the curse does get broken, you know it's going to be at the last possible minute."
       Amaud shrugged again. "Probably."
       "Do you think we're aging?"
       He sighed. "I don't know, Oriel."
       "I'm thinking about leaving," I said. This was not a new thought, but it was the first time I'd said it out loud.
       "What are you talking about? That's insane. You're a spoon, Oriel. What will you do if you leave?"
       I couldn't even shrug. "Something other than stare at the same walls every day. I've been practicing walking on my handle. And I can jump. A little."
       "And there's that inchworm thing you do, too."
       The magic had left my metal body flexible, so I could bend in the middle and move around like a worm. It was not a dignified method of locomotion, but it was my fastest option. I sighed. "Yeah, I suppose there's that, too."
       "But just being able to get around doesn't really answer the question of what you plan to do with yourself."
       "I'd like to go on an adventure."
       "You're a spoon."
       "All the better! I don't get hungry or thirsty, and I'm made of metal, so I assume I'm pretty tough."
       "You don't have thumbs."
       "Shut up, Amaud."
       "I just don't think you've thought this through," he said. "What if the spell breaks while you're gone, but the magic doesn't reach you, and you're a spoon forever?"
       "What if the spell has a limited radius of effect, and when I get far enough away, I just turn back into a woman?"
       "I guess that's possible. It's not like we've tested it."
       "Exactly."
       "I'll miss you if you go."
       "You don't want to come?" I asked, trying not to sound disappointed.
       "I'm a table, Oriel. I'm not even unhappy as a table. I'm staying here."
       "Well, I'm going," I said. The decision felt sudden but inevitable.
       "When?"
       "There's no time like the present, I guess. It's not like I can pack anything."
       "Maybe you should sleep on it," he said.
       "We don't sleep."
       "We don't need to sleep. We can. You seem to be the only one who never wants to."
       So many of the others did nothing but sleep, and it scared me.
       "Well, I certainly don't want to sleep now. Scoot over to the window. I think I can get out through that broken bit at the top."
       Amaud grumbled, but moved toward the wall.
       It took me three tries, but I managed to curl myself over the broken edge of the windowpane. I hesitated, hanging on the precipice. "Do you think any of the others will notice that I'm gone?"
       Amaud sighed. "Most of them don't notice much anymore."
       That was enough to spur me back into action. "Don't lose yourself," I said. "Don't just drift off into being a table."
       "I'll try," he said, but I didn't really believe him. "Be careful on your adventure."
       I laughed and pushed myself out of the mansion. The ground was wet and cold, and my handle sank into the mud when I tried to stand.
       Undignified as it was, I resigned myself to inch-worming my way along. It also meant that my face was pressed into the dirt, but it wasn't like I needed to breathe.
       I crawled down a garden path, then slipped out between the metal bars on the main gate. I paused and looked back.
       The place was a mess. Overgrown and rundown and utterly depressing.
       It had been beautiful. And not a bad place to work. Rage simmered under my silver skin. After a long moment, I turned away.
       I didn't change back when I left the estate, and I told myself not to be disappointed. I was an adventurer now, and adventurers didn't have time to blubber over being trapped as spoons.

       It took three days to reach the town, moving at my spoon-pace. I definitely needed to get a ride. Inch-worming to adventure would take more time than I had.
       The town hadn't changed much in the years since we'd been cursed. Still small. Still picturesque. Still filled with idiots.
       I didn't look toward the house where my family lived. It had been years. If they remembered me at all--if the curse hadn't completely removed me from their minds and hearts--then they probably thought I was dead and had mourned already. I didn't want to dig up that pain, and if I wasn't staying at the mansion, I wasn't staying here.
       I made my way to the tavern and waited for someone to open the door. No one noticed or paid any attention to me.
       I figured that was for the best. I didn't want to have to explain my situation over and over again.
       After 10 minutes, a man with a neck the size of a tree trunk strode out of the tavern. I scurried inside while the door was open.
       Once inside, I was glad that being a spoon meant that I no longer had a sense of smell. The place was dark. The windows were shuttered, and only a few bits of early evening sun squeezed through the cracks, and the torches on the walls hadn't yet been lit. The low ceiling was stained with smoke, and the floor was covered with straw and sawdust in various stages of mildew. A fire sputtered in the crumbling fireplace at the far end of the room, and there were only a few patrons, most nursing mugs of foamy liquid.
       I made my way to a lone man at a table near the fire. He was young, but not too young, somewhere around my own age. I wondered again if I was aging, then pushed the thought away. He had short brown hair and delicate, almost girlish features. Not bad-looking, definitely my type. Not that I really had a type anymore, being a fricking spoon.
       He sat with a pack leaned against his leg, and his clothing was travel-stained. One cheek was pressed to the table, and he stared blankly at the fire. I hoped he'd wiped the table off before he put his face on it.
       I hopped up next to him. I was practiced enough climbing up onto tables that this was no challenge at all. "Hello."
       He grunted in response, not bothering to look up.
       "Are you a traveler?" I asked.
       Another grunt, this one in assent.
       "Heading out of town soon?"
       "First thing in the morning," he said, still not lifting his head.
       I was pleased to find that he could, in fact, form words. It would make our time together much more bearable. I hid myself in his bag and allowed the heat from the fire to lull me into the drifty state that Amaud insisted on calling sleep.

       I was jostled to wakefulness in the morning when the traveler swung his pack over his shoulder and set out toward the sunrise. It wasn't directly away from the castle, but it would do. I waited an hour or so, enjoying how quickly his human legs put distance between us and the town.
       He stopped to fill his canteen at a burbling spring, and I decided to announce myself.
       "Hello."
       He spun around, hands held up in a defensive position. I was still in his bag, attached to his back.
       "Who's there?" he demanded.
       "My name is Oriel."
       Since my voice was still behind him, he turned again. "Where are you?"
       "I'm in your bag."
       He instantly dropped the bag to the ground. I was momentarily thankful that I no longer felt pain, because the impact was jarring.
       "Well, I hope you don't own anything breakable," I said. I was sticking out of the top of the bag, my face turned toward him.
       "You're a spoon," he said.
       "I'm aware."
       "A spoon with a face." He sat down, his mouth gaping open. "Did they drug me last night?" He pinched himself. "Is this some kind of fever dream?"
       "You're not dreaming. I'm under a curse. My master was unkind to a witch, and she cursed the whole estate. Though honestly, I think unkind is a bit of a stretch; he was really more just unfriendly, and he was a child, and the whole thing is really quite absurd."
       He reached out a trembling hand and pulled me out of his bag.
       It was strange being held in a human hand. In all the time I'd spent as a spoon, I hadn't actually been handled. He turned me one way, then another, so my silvery surface caught the morning sunlight. I felt extreme heat from his touch like the time I threw myself into the fireplace to prove a point to Amaud.
       "Are you hoping to find a cure for your curse?" he asked.
       "No. The only cure is my master finding true love. Which also seems unreasonable, if you ask me, because he's a beast trapped in a mansion that no one can find. And he's still a child, and the stupid witch only gave him ten years, and demanding that anyone find love before their eighteenth birthday just sounds like a recipe for disaster down the line."
       "He was only eight when the witch cursed him?"
       "Yes, well done, you can do simple subtraction."
       "My sister is cursed, too. I wonder if it was placed on her by the same witch."
       "Is it idiotic and unreasonable?"
       "Yes. An old woman came by selling apples and demanded that my sister buy one. But we have our own apple tree, so she politely refused. Then the witch offered her one of her apples for free so she could see how delicious it was. But when my sister tried the apple, she fell into an enchanted sleep, and the witch cackled and shouted that only her true love's kiss would wake her before she wandered off."
       "She poisoned your sister just because she didn't want to buy her stupid apples?"
       "As far as I know? There might be more to it, I suppose, but it's not like we can ask my sister about it."
       "I bet it is the same witch. She's unhinged."
       He nodded.
       "Are you travelling to break your sister's curse?"
       "No. How can I find her true love? She's unconscious; it's not like she can chat up some guy and consent to him kissing her."
       "So, what are you travelling for?"
       He shrugged. "I couldn't stay home, couldn't bear to see her every day. They built her a glass coffin; isn't that just the creepiest thing?"
       "It really is."
       "I hated feeling so powerless and angry, so I left. Now I'm just wandering, going wherever the road takes me."
       Powerless and angry. That was exactly how I'd felt every day since the curse. I wished I had arms so I could hug him. "I felt the same. I couldn't bear to spend one more day in the castle. Everyone's forgetting what it was like to be human, to have hopes and dreams. I want to live, even if I have to do it as a spoon. So, is it okay if I come with you?"
       "You probably should have asked before you climbed into my bag."
       "You didn't seem up for much conversation last night."
       He sighed. "Well, you're not wrong. Okay, you can come along. It's not like you weigh much."
       "Excellent! I have one last question."
       "What's that?"
       "What's your name?"
       "Oh. It's Gabin."
       "It's very nice to meet you, Gabin."
       He tucked me back into his pack and swung it carefully onto his shoulder. "Do you need to eat or drink or anything?" he asked.
       "Nope. I don't even need to breathe."
       It was strange talking to someone who wasn't part of the curse. To see an actual human face. To hear him breathing a bit faster as he walked up a steep hill.
       "Do you ever think about revenge? On the witch, for her stupid curses?" Gabin asked.
       "Oh, all the time. I wish I was a sword so someone could stab me through her wretched heart. But I'm just a spoon, and she wields vast magic power."
       Gabin's hands curled into fists. "Well, I'm not a spoon. I don't know how, but I am going to kill her someday."
       "Good. She deserves it, and I'll help however I can." It was nice not to be alone in my anger. I leaned forward, so I rested against the back of his neck and enjoyed the almost-painful heat that washed through me.

       Gabin, it turned out, had been a decent farm worker, and I had no complaints about his ability to walk from place to place, but he did not have any of the skills required to be an adventurer. He couldn't fight, couldn't sneak, couldn't even talk his way out of things.
       He stood, facing off against a group of bandits. The leader, a rakishly handsome man in a velvet coat and feathered cap, stood on the road in front of us, grinning, hands on his hips. A group of men stood all around, pointing arrows straight at Gabin's heart.
       "This is your lucky day!" the bandit declared. "I, Luc, the Rebel Prince, am here to ease you of your burdens!"
       "My burdens?"
       "Indeed! Hand over the bag, my good man."
       Gabin sighed. "Oh, so when you say my burdens, you mean it literally. You mean my things. That I'm carrying."
       "Well sussed, my good man. Now, the bag?"
       "I don't have anything worth stealing," Gabin said, holding his hands out. "I'm just a poor traveler."
       Prince Luc arched a well-shaped eyebrow. I wondered if he practiced that in a mirror. He definitely spent time tweezing his eyebrows. In fact, all of the bandits were impeccably groomed.
       "Now, now. I'm sure you have something. I see a flash of silver there in your bag."
       "Oh, that's just Oriel."
       "Just Oriel?" I said, "What do you mean just?"
       "Well, you're not a thing worth stealing, are you?"
       The bandits seemed quite confused by this exchange.
       "Did that spoon just talk?" Prince Luc asked.
       "Oh, yes. She's not really a spoon. She's a person; she's just cursed."
       Luc gasped and drew back. "A cursed object?"
       I was struck by sudden inspiration. "Yes, this man is a wizard, and he cursed me! I'm now trapped forever as a spoon, and if you don't want to join me as cutlery, you should run! Save yourselves!"
       The bandits exchanged worried looks.
       Gabin, in his own moment of inspiration, started waving his hands around and chanting.
       The bandits broke and ran. The prince scowled at us, then vanished into a bush. Gabin stood pointing after him for a moment before he dropped his hands.
       "I can't believe that worked," he said.
       Then the bush by the road caught fire, and Luc stumbled out of it, yelping and franticly batting at the sparks that had landed on his clothes.
       Gabin wavered on his feet. "Oriel, I think I lit that bush on fire."
       "Well, I certainly didn't do it," Luc snapped.
       "Did I just do magic?" Gabin asked.
       "It certainly seems that way," I said since there was no other explanation. Though the mechanics of the whole thing were incredibly confusing. Had Gabin managed to discover an actual spell? Or did the power come from within him, and the words not matter? I had so, so many questions.
       He pulled me from his bag and spun me around. His touch felt even hotter now. "Do you know what this means?" he cried. He continued before I could reply that I most emphatically did not. "It means that I can learn magic and undo all of the curses, and we can kill that stupid witch!" He swayed. "Right after I take a nap."
       Gabin fainted, and the singed prince and I regarded each other. "He really doesn't have anything worth stealing," I said.
       "A fledgling wizard is something worth stealing," he said, looking down at Gabin's unconscious face. "But he also might just be worth keeping around." He whistled, and a moment later, a horse appeared. He heaved Gabin over the horse's withers. He stood for a moment, staring down at me. "You're incredibly creepy, you know that?"
       "Rude! I didn't ask to be a spoon!"
       "You're a cursed item. My father says that cursed items can steal your power if you touch them."
       "What does that even mean?"
       He shrugged. "It's just something he says. He says a lot of things." His gaze went unfocused, and then he shuddered, clearly remembering something his father had said. "He'd absolutely order you destroyed." He picked up Gabin's bag, being very careful not to touch me directly. "You're both dangerous. But I guess I'll take both of you back to our camp."

       The bandits bowed as we rode into camp, but I didn't think they looked like they cared very much about their prince.
       I actually wasn't sure if I'd call it a camp. I imagined a camp to be tents, impermanent and rough. These bandits lived in treehouses nestled in the branches of some truly huge trees.
       Luc tied Gabin's hands and feet and threw us into an empty treehouse. The walls were birch bark, and the roof thatch. I imagined it would smell nice and woodsy if I could smell things. The whole place creaked when the wind blew.
       It was unsettling.
       I'd never wished so hard to be a knife. I tried sawing at the ropes around Gabin's wrists, but they remained stubbornly whole. But it was something to do, so I kept at it. I wondered if it would be possible to sharpen my edges. Maybe add some serrations.
       Gabin stirred. "Oh, I'm tied up."
       I stopped my pointless attempt to free his feet. "The bandits took us prisoner. Apparently, being able to do magic makes you valuable. Oh, and I'm a cursed object and that means that I can apparently ‘steal power,' whatever that means." I'd never wished for limbs more than at that moment so I could do finger quotes, but I was confident my tone got my point across.
       Gabin sighed. "Well, that figures. We just can't catch a break, can we?" He tugged at the ropes. "I'm not even sure what I can do or how any of it works. I just chanted some random nonsense syllables."
       That didn't really answer any of my questions. "Maybe try a few more?"
       Gabin took a deep breath, then muttered some gibberish at his wrists.
       For a long moment, nothing happened.
       Then, the rope burst into flames.
       "Shit!"
       I threw myself at the rope, hoping the flames would weaken it enough that I could do some good.
       A few frantic moments later, the charred ropes parted under my dull edge, and Gabin's hands were free. The cuffs of his coat were singed, but his skin was unmarked.
       We exchanged a long look. "You're not part dragon or anything, are you?" I asked.
       Gabin took a break from gaping at his un-burned wrists to shrug. "I've got no idea."
       "Do you think you can do anything but fire?"
       Gabin shrugged and muttered some different gibberish. The smoldering ropes sputtered back into full flames.
       "Shit," Gabin said.
       So, I figured, Gabin's powers were apparently restricted to fire.
       Luc swept into the room, carrying a heavy earthenware bowl and matching cup. He saw the flaming rope, let out an undignified shriek, and dumped the contents of the cup onto it.
       Gabin and I blinked at him.
       He actually blushed. "Fire safety is very important when you live in a tree house."
       "You should let us go, then," I said. "Gabin here apparently is pretty good at starting fires."
       Luc ignored me and smiled at Gabin. "I should have gagged you," he said, his tone jarringly warm. "Here." Luc handed Gabin the bowl. It was some kind of brown, lumpy liquid. Probably stew. "I guess I don't need to spoon-feed you since your hands are free."
       Gabin looked down at the stew, then back up to Luc. He did not look impressed. "Thanks. But I still need a spoon."
       Luc's eyes flicked toward me. "You have a spoon, don't you?"
       Gabin and I gave him twin looks of horror.
       He laughed. "It's smart to avoid touching the cursed object. She could pull whatever fire powers you have right out of you."
       "And do what with them?" I asked.
       He shrugged.
       Gabin glared at him. "Oriel might be trapped in the form of a spoon, but she's still a person. And my friend."
       Feeling my metal face heat was an odd sensation. I hadn't known till that moment that I could still blush. No one had ever stood up for me before. "Thanks, Gabin," I whispered to him, and he just smiled at me.
       "Ugh, stop flirting with the cursed object," Luc said with a shudder. "Let's put this morning behind us. You can apparently light things on fire. I happen to have something I'd very much like to burn down. Help me out, and I'll set you free. I'll throw in some coin to sweeten the pot. I'll even offer you a place by my side after I regain my rightful place on the throne. Refuse, and I'll sell you to the highest bidder."
       Gabin took a deep breath. "What exactly do you want to burn down?"
       "My father's castle."
       "Absolutely, I'm in," Gabin said instantly.
       "That easy?" Luc said, looking somewhat stunned.
       Gabin shrugged. "I don't want to be sold off to the highest bidder. Also, screw the nobility; they're all terrible."
       Luc looked affronted. "I did mention that it's my father's castle. Which does make me nobility, too."
       "You kidnapped me and threatened to sell me. And before that, you were trying to rob me. I'm not seeing any reason in there for me to think well of you."
       Luc didn't have an answer for that and looked distinctly uncomfortable.
       "What is this castle made of?" I asked, trying to get us back onto a practical topic. "I'm imagining a big stone building, not exactly an easy thing to burn down."
       Luc stood up. "Come on, I'll just show you."

       It was, as I suspected, a big stone building. Considerably taller than the mansion where all my friends lived as furniture and cutlery, and in far better shape. But the mansion, even cursed and rundown as it was, had something warm and friendly about it. This palace didn't have that. It was very pointy. And dark.
       Gabin, Luc, and I were hidden in a copse of trees not terribly far from the outer wall. We were a bit uphill from the castle, so I could see down into the impressive moat. There was definitely something stirring in the water. Something large.
       "You grew up there, huh?" I asked.
       "I'm sure you're wondering what happened that drove me out into the forest with my men--"
       "Be quiet, I'm trying to concentrate," Gabin snapped. "I don't know anything about how these powers work; I might be able to do it from here." He closed his eyes and started whispering gibberish.
       I had to admit, I was curious about what happened between Luc and his dad. I was also curious about why Gabin was so adamantly not curious.
       Smoke, then flame, started rising from the castle, and Gabin's knees gave out. "Magic is tiring," he said, then passed out.
       "Shit," Luc said. He grabbed Gabin's bag and me with it, and for a second, I slid along his bare wrist. There was no sense of heat in his touch, no flames, just skin and fine hair.
       He scooped Gabin into his arms. "I didn't think he'd actually manage it," Luc panted, moving as quickly as he could, weighed down as he was.
       "So, why did you want to burn down your dad's castle?"
       "A witch foretold that I'd turn against him and destroy him and his legacy, so he tried to kill me."
       That damn witch again. I was sure it was the same one. She really enjoyed popping in and just ruining people's lives. "Wow, nice self-fulfilling prophesy," I said.
       Luc snorted. "Right? That's exactly what I said. But my father wasn't willing to take the risk. He said he's ruled too long to let me ruin everything."
       "And how does your mother feel about all this?" I asked.
       "She died when I was young," Luc said. "My brothers, too. It's always been just me and my father."
       "My mother died when I was young, too," Gabin piped in, his voice slurred and wobbly at the edges.
       I still didn't want to think about my own family or how they were doing without me. There was no option that wouldn't make me miserable. "Did the witch say why you'd turn against him?" I asked.
       "Something about bringing light and truth to the land," Luc said.
       Gabin snorted. "Seems out of character for you."
       Luc shrugged, but I didn't get the impression that he disagreed. "I wasn't exactly happy with things before, but the witch certainly made everything worse."
       "When I find that witch, I'm going to light her on fire," Gabin said.
       Amaud would have said that was harsh. I know because he said it every time I wished I could stab her. But when I thought about all the harm she'd done, even just what I knew about, lighting her on fire seemed absolutely fair. Even if it didn't wake Gabin's sister or turn me back into a human or repair the rift between Luc and his father, at least she couldn't hurt anyone else.
       "She deserves it," I said. It was so nice not being the only angry one.
       I still wished I was a knife so Gabin could use me to stab her.
       "Your revenge plans are all very nice," Luc said, glancing back at the castle, which was smoking even more now, even though I still couldn't see any flames, "but right now, we need to focus on getting out of here."

       Luc left us in the same treehouse and went to find out how much damage the fire had done.
       "You don't seem to like nobles much," I observed.
       Gabin scowled. "I don't like bullies. And nobles are bullies. Most of the time, they don't even see people like us as human."
       I appreciated that he included me in his "us," even though he'd never seen me as anything but a spoon.
       He rubbed his forehead. "There was a prince who tried to kiss my unconscious sister. Everyone else thought we should just let him."
       "He saw an unconscious woman, and his first impulse was to kiss her? Suspicious."
       "That's what I said."
       "Did you manage to stop him?"
       "At first. But then he came back. With soldiers. Who held me back while he opened up that stupid glass coffin and kissed her. She didn't wake up, of course."
       Luc rushed into our treehouse. "We need to move," he said. "Turns out that while my men are comfortable with robbing peasants, actually making a move against my father and burning down a large portion of his castle was unacceptable. I overheard them plotting against me."
       Gabin swung me onto his back and followed Luc with a long-suffering sigh. Two saddled horses with bulging saddlebags waited for us directly beneath the tree.
       There wasn't any sign of Luc's men, and I wondered if they were mutinying or just leaving. But I decided not to ask.
       After about an hour of hard riding with no sign of pursuit, Gabin stopped his horse. "You can't come with us," he said.
       Luc arched an eyebrow. I was more and more sure that he'd practiced. "Oh, I think you'll be begging me for my assistance," he said.
       Gabin snorted. "Unlikely."
       Luc grinned. "I know where the witch went. And I'll only tell you if you let me come along."

       Gabin gathered firewood and set it on fire with a stern glare. "You're getting very good at that," I said.
       Gabin just grunted. He seemed to be back in the despondent mood he'd been in when I first encountered him. I was worried and resented how small and powerless I felt, trapped in my absurd spoon body. I wished that I could at least hold his hand.
       I turned to Luc. Someone had to make conversation, and it was about all I was good for. "Why do you want to come with us anyway?"
       "She ruined my life. I want revenge, too."
       "I'm going to be the one to kill her," Gabin snarled. I leaned against his arm, felt that heat wash over me. It wasn't holding his hand, but maybe it helped.
       Luc's smile was as practiced as his eyebrow arching. "I don't feel any need to get my hands dirty. I have no intention of standing in your way or stealing your thunder."
       "Then why not just tell us and let us go on our way?" I asked.
       Luc's smile faltered for an instant, then he shrugged. "I'm not sure I can trust you two on your own."
       "He doesn't have anywhere else to go or anyone else to turn to," Gabin said. "His father disowned him; his men turned on him. He's not a prince anymore."
       "Maybe not," Luc snapped. "But I have enough gold to get by. I could go anywhere, do anything."
       "Then why don't you?"
       "Because you're handsome, and he's lonely," a voice said from beyond our firelight. A moment later, the witch herself appeared.
       I had only glimpsed her, peeking out from behind a potted plant while the young master shouted at her to go away. That had been the last thing I'd seen as a person instead of as a spoon.
       She was an old woman. She looked worn and faded. Tired. She didn't look dangerous or insane. But looks could be deceiving.
       "What are you doing here?" Luc asked. He had gone pale, and his eyes were wide with fear.
       The witch sighed. "I always know when someone is hunting me. It makes my teeth itch. It's not an enjoyable sensation."
       Gabin glared at her for all he was worth. His face was a mirror of all of the hatred and anger I carried in my heart.
       "Give it a rest, boy," she said. "Your feeble powers are no match for mine."
       "Why?" I asked, my voice trembling with rage. "You have so much power; why don't you use it to make the world a better place?"
       She laughed. "How can you be so sure that I'm not?"
       "You have done nothing but leave a trail of pain in your wake," I said. "My young master was a child. He didn't deserve your curse."
       "Neither did my sister," Gabin said.
       "Your young master would have grown up into a true beast without my influence. He will learn empathy, how to see past what's on the surface, and be a much better man for my curse."
       "And what about me?" I asked. "What benefit do I get for spending a decade as a spoon?"
       "And what of my sister?" Gabin demanded.
       The witch had seemed a little disconcerted by my question but regained her poise. "That nobleman would have still wanted your sister when he saw her," the witch said. "She would not have been able to refuse him when she was awake. But by letting her sleep through his momentary infatuation, I spared her a life trapped with a man she didn't love. She'll eventually wake on her own. The true love's kiss thing is just a story."
       "And what about the years of her life that she missed?" I asked.
       Again, the witch looked uncomfortable, but Luc stood before she could answer. "And what about me?"
       The witch gave him a sad smile. "I think you know."
       Luc shook his head.
       "Have you never wondered how your father stays so healthy? How he looks so young? Anyone who met you would think you are brothers. Do you remember your elder brothers? You were quite young when he took them. He'd hoped you would be like him, that finally he'd have a true companion. But you, like your brothers, eventually took after your mother. And so you were nothing but prey to him. Surely, you saw how he looked at you these past few years. Surely, you noticed that things weren't right in your palace."
       Luc's face crumpled. "No," he managed. "No. He's not really a monster. You're a maniac, a madwoman. Look at Oriel! What sane person would do such a thing?"
       The witch shifted uncomfortably and glanced at me. "She should be asleep, like the others. I didn't want the boy to be without anyone to take care of the place after the curse ended." She shuddered, then murmured, "I certainly didn't intend to let loose a plague of cursed objects."
       I was glad I didn't need to breathe because my anger would have choked me. She'd made us into things because she saw us as things, as possessions that existed to make the young master's life easier. And everyone else had settled into that role, had drifted off to sleep to wait for someone to break the curse.
       I thought of Amaud. Kind, solid Amaud, who was content to be a table and had probably fallen asleep before I was even off the grounds.
       "And my sister's lost time?" Gabin asked.
       The witch shrugged. "What's a few years asleep to avoid a life of misery?"
       "Why not just warn her?" I asked. "Tell her when the dangerous nobleman was going to show up and warn her to hide in the woods for a day or two?"
       The witch blinked at me, clearly uncomfortable with my presence, with my very existence.
       I wanted to cut her, and I'd do it with words if I couldn't in any other way. "And why not expose Luc's father to everyone? Why set Luc against him and then just leave him to fend for himself? And there has to be a better way to teach empathy than transforming a child into a monster! He was a boy! He'd just lost his parents! He was grieving! If you're not evil or insane, then you're just an idiot! None of your solutions make sense! They're all too complicated and trying too hard to be clever when, instead, you could just step in and help people!"
       The witch sniffed. "If I just help them, how will they ever learn and be able to stand on their own?"
       "People help each other! We don't need to be able to stand on our own! We will always have each other! We're not alone, and we can ask for help! That's what makes us human!"
       "She's right," Gabin said. He picked me up. "We have to help each other. And it seems like you're right, too, witch. I can't seem to light you on fire, no matter how hard I try." Then he tackled the witch and stabbed me into her chest.
       I wasn't sharp, but Gabin was strong. My upper edge cut into the thin flesh above her sternum.
       I felt something, like the heat I felt when Gabin touched me, but a hundred times stronger. Like he was a campfire and she was a hurricane.
       She hissed in pain. "Did you really just try to kill me with a spoon?" she demanded. "I'll turn you into a newt, boy!"
       But Gabin, his hand still wrapped around my handle, just pushed harder.
       I was a cursed object. I could steal power.
       I didn't just make her uncomfortable. I made her afraid.
       I reached for the hurricane, and I pulled.
       Power flooded through me. It was like trying to swallow the wind, and I felt like I was drowning. The metal of my spoon body felt like it would shatter into a million pieces. I hadn't felt pain in a very long time, but it was just as bad as I remembered. An endless ringing sound filled the air, and I screamed and pulled, and Gabin pushed me deeper into the witch's chest, and then everything went black.

       I woke up with my head pillowed in Gabin's lap. I stared up at him, seeing him with my own eyes. I was human again.
       I was wearing the same dress I had been in when I was cursed, which was a relief. I'd worried about the curse being broken and leaving everyone naked, which would have been mortifying for everyone involved.
       "Is she dead?" I asked.
       Gabin nodded. "We did it. We killed her."
       I could feel the witch's power within me. "I stole her magic. How did you know it would work?"
       Gabin shrugged. "I didn't. I just wanted to stab her, and you were the closest thing to a weapon. And I knew you wanted to kill her with me."
       I took his hand and squeezed it. "I did."
       Gabin squeezed back.
       "I wonder if we broke all of the curses. Is everyone at home back to normal? Is your sister awake?"
       "I don't know."
       "Then I guess we should go check," I said, sitting up carefully. It was strange, having a body again. Having limbs. I wiggled my fingers just because I could. "And if the curses aren't broken, I should be able to break them."
       Gabin smiled at me. "That sounds like a plan."
       Luc coughed. "After all that big talk about helping people, maybe you could help me deal with my father on your way?"
       Gabin and I exchanged a look.
       "You don't want your first act with your new powers to be ignoring a kingdom in need, do you?" Luc asked.
       I climbed shakily to my feet. Gabin put a hand on my waist to help with my balance. His touch was still the same. Hot. Sure. Comforting. We'd killed a witch together. We could face anything.
       Luc sighed. "And I'll have to stay behind to take care of the kingdom, so you'd finally be rid of me."
       Gabin arched an eyebrow at me. It wasn't nearly as smooth as Luc's, but it was much more endearing. "It is on the way," he said.
       I took his hand. "Let's go kill an evil king."