He snatched her up by her arm. "You are mine, and I will never share you. Make yourself ready for our wedding."
"No."
He slapped her across the face. "You do not argue with me, woman. You obey." He let go of her so fast that she fell back across Buffalo's body, where she wept until she had no more tears.
She was still there when the maids came and dressed her for Coyote.
At sundown, he returned for her. But before they could begin the ceremony that would join them together, the Keeper appeared in the middle of the meadow. His dark eyes radiated fury.
"I am here to claim the life of the one responsible for killing two Guardians."
Coyote gasped in terror. His mind whirled as he tried to think of some trick that could save his life. And while his brother's magic was powerful, it wasn't enough.
The Keeper crossed the room in a determined stride that promised retribution. From his belt, he drew the Dagger of Justice and without hesitating, plunged it straight into the heart of the one who'd caused such turmoil and misery.
Butterfly staggered back as blood saturated her dress and ran across her braids. Instead of showing pain, she sighed in relief. Blood ran from her lips as she turned to Coyote. "I will be with my love now. Forever in his arms." She sank to the ground, where she died with the most blissful of looks on her face.
Coyote sputtered. "I don't understand."
The Keeper shrugged. "You were the tool. Butterfly was the cause. Had she not been born, you wouldn't have acted."
"No, no, no, no. This isn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to end." Raking his hands through his hair, he went to his one true love and cradled her in his arms one last time. She was so tiny and light. Her blood stained his wedding clothes, and he wept at the loss of her.
And it was his loss.
She wouldn't be waiting for him on the other side. Not now. The pain of that knowledge tore him apart. She would greet Buffalo.
Throwing his head back, he screamed in outrage. No, it wouldn't end like this. He'd been a good man. Decent. And one by one, all of them had killed that. His brother, Buffalo and Butterfly.
They'd ruined his life. There was no way he would let them live a happy eternity. Not after the way they'd tortured him. He reached into his pouch and summoned the strongest elements there.
"I curse you, Buffalo. You will live a thousand lives and never be happy in any of them. You will walk this earth, betrayed by all who look upon you. There will be no one place you call home. Not in any human lifetime. And you will never have my Butterfly." He blew his magic from his palm into the air so that it could be carried to the spirits who would make it so.
Then he looked down at the serene beauty of the Butterfly. So gentle. So sweet. The thought of cursing her stung him deep.
But she had scorned him.
"Because of what you did to me, you will never marry the one you love. He will always die on his way to unite with you, and you will spend your life mourning him over and over again. No peace. Not until you accept me. And if you do marry another, he will never trust you. You will never be happy in any marriage. Not so long as you have human blood within you." He reached into his pouch and drew the last of his magic, then sent it into the wind.
"Do you know what you've done?"
Coyote looked up at Choo Co La Tah's approach. "I settled the score."
Choo Co La Tah laughed. "Such magic always comes back on the one who wields it."
"How so?"
He gestured toward the sky and the trees. "You know the law. Do no harm, and yet you have done much harm here today."
"They hurt me first."
Choo Co La Tah sighed. "And you have sown the seeds of your ultimate demise. When you curse two people together, you bind them. With that combined strength, they will have the ability to break their curse and kill you."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Arrogance. The number one cause of death among both peasant and king. Beware its sharp blade. More times than not, it injures the one who wields it most of all."
Coyote dismissed the Guardian's words. He had no interest in them. He would never suffer.