Fourteen Years Ago
Nymiria wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong. All she knew was that her mother was upset. And when Inasha was not happy, no one was.
It was a lot of pressure to put on a child.
She’d barely learned that she had powers, but Inasha expected for her to perform.
She did everything that her instructors taught her to do—she took each step carefully and created something beautiful.
But instead of a proud smile or any sort of praise, Inasha just scowled down at her daughter while the rest of the room clapped.
She’d forgotten something, probably.
No, no… she was certain that she did exactly what was asked of her. A bouquet of roses—
Red roses.
Nymiria looked up at the large bouquet, her insides churning when she saw the brilliant pink roses sparkling in front of her. Her hands tightened into fists, her smile wavering as she turned and bowed to her people.
She could not show fear. She could not show sadness or anger or anything other than pride. But pride was not something she had at the moment. Nor could she recall a single moment when she’d truly felt proud of herself. It was all fear. Every moment of every day, it was fear.
Her mother’s voice was a hum in her ears when she began speaking. Nymiria stood terribly still, being sure to keep her chin lifted and her brows arched. Being sure to keep a firm hold on her shaking hands.
Inasha approached her with careful and deliberate steps, the brushing of her arm as it looped through her own was far too gentle.
Fake.
Fake. Fake. Fake.
Nymiria wondered if anyone in the audience saw her mother’s act for what it truly was, but it was highly unlikely.
Inasha was known and revered for her power and her beauty, there was hardly a creature in Nym that didn’t rise at the chance to deliver her praises.
She wondered what it must have been like to have such blind faith in someone.
Nymiria oftentimes wished that she had just as much faith in her mother as their people did.
But fear and faith were two sides to the same coin.
Nymiria’s fear of her mother was driven by promise—having learned that if she did not perform to her mother’s standards, there would be consequences.
The subjects of Nym must have been terrified, as well, but they’d deluded themselves enough to believe that their terror was devotion. Loyalty.
There would come a day when Nymiria took that throne.
But she did not hope for their devotion.
She hoped that they were brave enough to speak for themselves—that they would not blindly follow her to whatever end she led them to.
Nymiria did not want them to fear her. She did not wish to be perceived at all, let alone by them.
She did not want the scrutiny. She did not want them.
She just wanted to go home.
And home, to her, was not in the palace she was raised in.
Home was a small cabin on the edge of Nym.
It was Thorn’s mother, her Nan, baking her sweet treats for her birthday.
It was Thorn cradling her in front of a fire, reading her and Ilona scary stories and both of them laughing when Nan would slap his shoulder, urging him to stop so they wouldn’t be too scared for bed.
Nymiria allowed her mother to parade her around the ballroom, pretending to be thankful as people handed her various sorts of gifts that Inasha would take from her as soon as the crowd dispersed.
She greeted her people kindly, kissing hands and the foreheads of babies before being ushered out of the room and up the stairs.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Nymiria was being jerked towards the washroom.
“You are an embarrassment.” Inasha hissed.
“I specifically asked you for red flowers. Red, as in our family colors. Was it truly so hard for you to do or did you do it on purpose?” It was a rhetorical question.
Answering anything her mother asked at this point would only make things worse.
Inasha scoffed in the silence, already plucking at the strings of Nymiria’s dress.
“Lovenia will be in shortly to deliver punishment. Bend.”
Back revealed to the forces, Nymiria got to her knees and leaned across the footstool.
She waited, barely able to swallow with how nervous she was.
Lovenia, her tutor, was known for her cruelty.
She took her job seriously and absolutely did not want to make Inasha angry.
It felt worse than torture to wait for pain.
Nymiria wished that Inasha would simply take matters into her own hands rather than be forced to wait.
She watched her mother’s foot move up and down against the tile, tapping anxiously before she turned and began to pace. “Where in the three hells has she gone?”
Mere minutes later, Nymiria’s back went taut. The unmistakable clacking of Lovenia’s heels echoing through the rooms.
“Did you see what she did?” Inasha hissed.
“Pink roses. Pink roses. I haven’t seen a presentation of pink roses in this palace since my grandmother held the throne.
We are not a pink family, Lovenia. We are red.
Red, like blood—for loyalty, for devotion, for sacrifice.
Does no one in this kingdom understand that? ”
“They were still impressed with the presentation, Inasha. Everyone is still talking about it—the ballroom is buzzing about her talent.” Lovenia was not trying to reason with Inasha on Nymiria’s behalf. She was trying to save herself. As Nymiria’s tutor, she would take some of the blame.
Inasha’s feet scuffled to a halt. Nymiria didn’t dare look up at her mother.
She averted her eyes, keeping them focused on the crimson veins that wove through the quartz flooring.
The smack delivered to Lovenia’s face was enough of an answer as any.
Her mother did not care about the happiness of her people.
She only cared about what she wanted—her own happiness, her own image.
Regardless of what anyone else felt or believed.
“Come next presentation day, I want her to conjure anything I ask. Do you understand?” The queen snapped.
“Yes, your majesty. She will not disappoint you.”
Inasha snorted hatefully. This time, when Nymiria met her mother’s gaze, there was nothing but pure ire behind her eyes. “She was a disappointment at birth, Lovenia. There is nothing much that can be done to save her now.”
Nymiria took her punishment as expected. Held back tears as expected. Cleaned herself up and bathed as expected.
As fearful as Nymiria was of her mother, there was one woman in all of Nym that Inasha Celentas didn’t dare cross, and Nymiria chose not to tuck herself into bed.
Instead, she climbed out of her window and dropped to the lawn.
She stuck to the shadows, allowing them to guide her through the courtyard and into the forest.
She was halfway to Nan’s cottage when a twig snapped behind her. Nymiria’s head jerked towards the sound, her lungs and heart seizing their innate rhythm. A flash of silver hair caught her eye, her curiosity piqued as she walked towards where the being stood.
It was a boy.
Given his height, he could have easily been mistaken for a man. Upon first look, that was what she thought. But when he turned to face her, she saw his boyish features and exhaled a sigh of relief.
“You shouldn’t be in the forest at this hour,” she proclaimed. “There are monsters here, you know.”
The boy stared at her, eyes wide and lips parted around what surely would have been an excuse.
But then his thick, dark brows drew together, his gloved hands sliding into his pockets.
He was dressed like he held station, she noticed.
Perhaps the son of a lord or a duke. Her head tilted to one side. “Who are you?”
He shook his head, silver hair falling into his piercing blue eyes. “I am… not important.”
“Were you attending the party in the palace?” She inquired.
Once again, the boy looked angry. “No. Why I am here should be none of your concern. Now, go.”
Nymiria scoffed. “You can’t order me around. This is my—“ she paused, eyes narrowing as she observed him closer.
He could have been an enemy. He could have been one of those Mystic children that Dorid Yaarborough used as spies.
“Your what?” He prodded.
Glancing around in search of an answer, Nymiria licked her lips. “There are monsters here.”
“Are you a monster?” The boy grinned, eyes dragging over her nightgown.
She folded her arms over her chest, face warming. “Perhaps I am.”
He took a step closer to her, one single step that had every hair on her arms lifting in response.
She fell back a step, sucking in a sharp breath when she saw the point of his ears in the moonlight.
“You don’t look like a monster to me.” He said with a shrug.
“But you do look like power.” Nymiria stumbled back in another attempt at retreating.
Before she could land on the forest floor, a hand shot out and grabbed the front of her nightgown.
The boy jerked her back to her feet, his eyes hard as they roved around the forest. “You should go. Before the real monsters come to claim you.” He said through clenched teeth.
If Nymiria was known for anything, it was her stubbornness.
Someone telling her to do anything only made her more inclined to do the exact opposite.
Still, she knew that the boy was right. She needed to leave.
If anyone caught her in the night with a boy, it would spread across the entire kingdom by morning.
And with her back already welted and aching, the last thing she needed was more punishments.
She looked into his eyes again, heart pounding against her ribs in a way that made her feel breathless.
“Well?” The boy hummed impatiently. “Are you going or not?”
Snapping out of her trance, Nymiria glanced over her shoulder. She could just see the orange glow of Nan’s windows in the distance. “I’m going.” She said quietly.
And then she left.