CHAPTER NINETEEN
Cold, hard metal bit into my legs and shoulder blades, a sharp chill seeping into the back of my vest and pants like hoarfrost.
No—that wasn’t right. Leathery black material no longer covered me. Padded armor and metal scales were replaced with smooth, frilly white ribbons. And the dark burgundy skirts covering my legs were heavily layered, yet moved like water as I sat upright.
I rubbed a single ribbon between my thumb and forefinger, its silkiness bringing a deep sense of comfort to a part of my mind that had long since been locked behind a door with several deadbolts snapped across the surface.
A door whose key was supposed to be lost forever.
This is my favorite dress, I realized, breathing in the sweet aroma wafting from rose bushes scattered close by.
I was sitting on a steel bench—the one Mother had set in her gardens for me, to lay on during clear nights like these.
A better alternative to finding me covered in dirt with another dress ruined.
Clean air. No dust or humidity from enclosed corridors that—
A dizzying throb pounded against my right temple, halting the thought. Three slow breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, had it subsiding.
I remembered now. I’d been told to wait here, while Mother tended to wilted flowers nearby.
Fickle thing, flowers. Beautiful, yet always dying. Barely living before turning grey under the gentlest of hands.
Still, that never bothered her.
Don’t you see, my little flower, she’d once told me, my small hands cradling a tulip I’d picked from a dying cluster in feeble attempts to save it. Don’t you see there is just as much beauty in life as there is in death?
She’d wiped at my tears, smearing dirt across my cheeks. Then, together, we’d uprooted the cluster of tulips and planted new seeds. The flowers that grew in their place were as vibrant as the lights in the sky. Like the previous roots had paved way for something even more extraordinary.
“Are you alright, darling?”
The breath that rasped through my lungs cut through the air like an arrow.
“Mother?” My voice sounded so small, so young.
Nothing could prepare me for the warmth of her palm as it slid over my brow to cup my cheek, her honey eyes boring into mine while she kneeled before me. Her hair, as gold as Diana’s, remained unbound, falling over her shoulders.
Though they had same shade, Mother always left hers down unless absolutely necessary, whereas Diana’s was always pinned up. They’d always been two sides of the same coin. One perfectly rigid, and the other melodiously chaotic. Perhaps it was why Mother was so adamant on wearing it differently.
I greedily leaned into it, savoring her touch even though it couldn’t possibly be real.
“Have you fallen asleep again?”
Alive. Alive. Alive—
That dizzying throb returned again, muddling my thoughts into thick syrup. When I tried to grasp at least one of them, it slid right through my fingers.
“I thought I asked your father to cover this,” she tutted, shooting a disapproving glance at the exposed metal whose chill still bit at the skin of my legs despite the warmth in the air. “He knows you don’t sleep well in the cold.”
“It’s fine the way that it is,” I argued weakly.
But she was right. The cold did like to sink its claws into my subconscious.
Shaking her head lightly, she stood while gently coaxing me into her arms. “You’ve had another bad dream, my sweet. But everything is alright now.”
I sank into her embrace, relishing it. “I’ve missed you.” My throat burned with the extent of it. “So much.” She smelled like daffodils and earth and chamomile. She smelled like her.
She laughed, and even the small birds flitting about halted their song. Acknowledging hers. I’d almost forgotten what it sounded like.
“I was only tending to the chrysanthemums over there, just like I promised.” She loosened her hold on me to point towards a mound of dirt ahead of us, the stone path lining it coated in discarded petals and stems. “You know how temperamental they can be,” she teased.
My hold on her only tightened. An odd sense of panic slowly crept up my chest.
“Where is Father?”
She pulled back, examining me at arm’s length.
“Your father is waiting for us in the night markets, Eloise. I’m surprised you’ve forgotten, since he promised to buy you one of those trinkets you’re so fond of.
” Tucking a stray hair behind my ear, she added a tad grimly, “We’ll have to find that tea him and I have been discussing.
The woman who sells it wears a necklace with a black star.
You’ll remember to look for her, won’t you? ”
“I won’t forget.” Of course. He’d left only an hour ago. “Can we go now?”
She spared a glance at her unfinished work. The upturned soil still scattered around the path ahead. “I suppose the flowers can wait.”
Excitement swelled in my chest, instantly clearing away the strange doubt and confusion. I didn’t hesitate to take off, feet flying over the dirt-coated path. Mother knew I’d never go too far ahead.
Her garden sat in a secluded corner of one of the castle’s courtyards, near its base. It wasn’t the only garden to pepper the clean-cut grasses surrounding the diamond-infused behemoth, but it was the loveliest. Tended with only the greatest care.
I almost tripped as I caught my reflection in one of the castle’s windows.
Slowly, I brought my fingers up to touch the lining of my lips. The curve of my cheekbones. They were mine, yet it felt like I was looking at a painting of a muse long since coated in layers of dust.
Wrong. Wrong, wrong.
The throbbing returned tenfold, hitting both temples this time. It sent sparks flashing across my vision, persisting even when I scrunched my eyes closed.
“Perhaps I am unwell,” I whispered hesitantly. But I couldn’t tell Mother. If she knew I was sick, she would insist we stay home.
Forcing my eyes back open, a streak of movement behind my reflection caught my attention.
A dark figure hovered by one of the lavender bushes further away. Although it was distorted through the windowpane, it certainly didn’t look like Mother at all. But when I turned to face it, it was gone. No more than a trick of the twirling lights above.
Mother appeared at my side with an easy smile and looped her arm through mine.
“You’re beginning to look more and more like your father.
” Another laugh. A ray of shimmering starlight, warm and reassuring.
“And here I was hoping that on the crest of your fourteenth birthday, you would finally shed some of him and gain more of me.” She pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Come now, or we’ll keep him waiting.”
My fourteenth birthday. Yet another thing that seemed to have slipped my mind.
We strolled down the familiar cobblestone streets leading up to the night markets, luckily without any comment from those passing by. They ignored us completely, as though we were mere ghosts passing through the night.
Mother and Father could only do so much to protect me against those who wished me harm. Some people didn’t care about how powerful they were—they tried to hurt me anyway, unafraid of the consequences that often followed.
Too many times had I not been allowed to leave the safety of our home following violent threats whispered along darkened streets from even darker hearts.
They did their best. My purpose was to focus on their love for me instead of everyone else’s hatred.
As we approached the man that crafted the blooming flower figures I loved so dearly, I stood just a smidge taller, chin lifting with reserve.
Coming to the night markets was a rare privilege.
If I behaved properly, I would be allowed to come again.
That was the bargain us three had kept since I was little.
I wasn’t about to break it for the sole reason of not feeling quite like myself. That would be silly.
Better than any stuffed toy, his flowers were magically crafted to mimic certain animals. This time, an array of different colored flower-cats sat in neat rows, waiting to be cuddled. Next to them sat tiny periwinkle horses that could fit in the palm of my hand.
One lifted its tiny head to meet my finger when I reached out to touch it, then clomped its even tinier hooves while I brushed a knuckle down its soft mane.
The corners of my lips turned upwards. If only everyone could decide to wield magic this way. The fun way, I thought. If only I could wield it this way.
The only downside of it all was that the figures withered after some time, after the magic keeping them fresh faded. But nothing lasted forever, so I didn’t mind coming back for new ones. And Father didn’t seem to mind constantly buying them for me, either.
Speaking of Father…
“Where’s Father?” I asked the vendor. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
“Haven’t seen him,” he answered, shrugging.
Mother appeared unphased. “The night markets are vast. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. Let’s go look for him,” she suggested.
I begrudgingly parted from the stall to follow her as she led the way through the thralls of people. She moved fast—it was hard to keep up. She continuously disappeared and reappeared sporadically between other people.
“Mother, please, slow down!” I called out to her after she turned the corner of a tall building. Speeding up into a jog, I turned the same corner, relieved to find an alleyway, free of people.
“I think he’s hiding. This way, darling!” she called out from the opposite end of the alley. Without waiting for me, she hurried around another corner.
I hated games. I hated hide-and-seek most of all. Father knew this. Why would he try and hide from us?
I dashed down alley after alley, each one coming up barren.
“Mama?” I shouted. I’d missed her last turn, hadn’t been able to catch the sound of her footsteps, the flare of her skirts. No response. “Which way did you go?”
Turning in a slow circle, I properly took in my surroundings. The buildings lining the alleys had become older along the way, crumbling at the edges and showed no sign of actual human life.
I fought against the knots twisting in my chest. I was lost. I’d taken a wrong turn, and now I was stuck in the only part of Aedreath I wasn’t allowed to loiter in.
Pockets of shadows beckoned, but I stayed put. Shadows were misleading. They could be hiding anything.
A click sounded from behind me, and I whirled, heart hammering, only to find the alley empty still. But a door to one of the abandoned buildings was cracked open a few inches. I’d sworn it was closed when I walked past it.
“Mother, Father, I don’t like this game.” Wincing against the screech of its hinges, I pushed it open wide enough for me to pass through, hoping no one was close enough to hear.
It was darker inside, the shadows having completely taken over.
There were no windows to allow any kind of light, and the air reeked of mold and mildew.
My arms reached out on their own accord, trying to feel for anything that might be able to help navigate through the dark.
After a few steps, the door clicked shut behind me, sealing me inside.
And taking with it the only dregs of light.
A shiver crept down my spine. This wasn’t funny at all.
My voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “I can’t see either of you. Can we please stop playing?”
Above the odor of mold, the tang of metal combined with something rancid tickled my nostrils, sending me into a coughing fit. This building had to have been abandoned for a long time for such smells to permeate the air.
On my next step, my foot caught on something solid. Gasping, I rightened myself before my face could meet the floor.
“If only I could see,” I muttered desperately.
As if answering my plea, several lights flared to life at once. Barely illuminating the room at all, small, fractured sconces fought for dominance against the oppressive darkness. Their flames choked and sputtered, crackling audibly. Where had I seen these before?
Blinking rapidly, I allowed my eyes to adjust before looking down.
A guttural scream tore itself from my throat.