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“It is the true eternal rose,” the auctioneer promised. “But my employer anticipated your need for assurance and has suggested that each of you take a turn touching the rose.”
“Touching it?” Ymaritis questioned.
“What will that do?” Bellediuex iterated.
The auctioneer smiled. “See for yourself.” Still holding the rose, he stepped down from the dais and passed through the wards.
Manny’s eyes shot to Elyse, a silent question in his gaze. “Now?” his wide eyes wondered.
Elyse gave a tiny shake of her head. They would need to wait until after the rose was authenticated. Based on the power she felt rippling through the room, though, she was certain it was the real thing.
“Mr. Royce, why don’t you go first?” the auctioneer suggested.
The offer seemed to stroke Royce’s ego. He sauntered toward the rose, shoulders back and chin held high. With a cavalier smirk, he stopped before the auctioneer and placed one hand on the rose.
All pomp and circumstance came to a halt as Royce let out a sharp gasp, his eyes going wide. He stared directly ahead, mouth slightly ajar, captivated by something that no one else could see. Envy shook Elyse like nothing she’d felt before. She watched Royce closely, his awestruck expression only stoking her curiosity.
Manny looked to Elyse, his gaze seeking answers, but she gave him a shrug. She had no idea what was happening.
Royce’s hand stayed planted atop the stem of the rose for a moment longer before the auctioneer pulled away, breaking contact. As soon as he did, Royce began panting heavily. He blinked several times, looking utterly stupefied.
“What was it?” Belledieux asked. “What happened?”
Royce shook his head, his white hair coming loose from its slick hold. “It’s… ineffable,” was all he could manage to say.
“Perhaps the lady next?” the auctioneer suggested, raising his eyebrows at Elyse.
She wanted very much to know what Royce had just experienced, and yet the thought of everyone seeing her like that, vulnerable and rattled, made her stomach churn. Still, it was not an opportunity she was going to pass up.
She swallowed down her qualms as she pulled away from Manny’s arm and stepped toward the auctioneer. As she neared, she could see just how velvety smooth the rose petals were, and the sharp point of each thorn.
“Go on,” the auctioneer coaxed.
Slowly, Elyse lifted her hand and lay it atop the soft petals.
The room disappeared, throwing her into what could only be described as a sunset. Oranges, pinks, and yellows surrounded her, their wispy shades interlacing and melting together. She was floating and yet grounded, weightless yet firm-footed. She saw her mother, Killian, Sera, Jaime, Manny. She saw everyone she had ever known, even in passing. She saw herself bathed in power, her future clear and bright and pure. Everything came in flashes, one image after another, yet somehow all at the same time. It felt so tangible, even as it existed only in her mind.
And then it was gone. She was back in the Diamond Room, its dull colors dimmed in shadow and dust. Power still thrummed in her veins, begging her for more, more, more. Yet she had never felt weaker than in the absence of the rose.
Her heart pounding, she turned to face Manny. Beneath his bushy brows, his eyes were wide with both intrigue and concern. She nodded to him, an affirmation that she was all right, then beckoned him forward. “Come, try,” she gently urged him.
Manny hurried to join her, skepticism battling excitement in his expression. He placed his hand on the rose, and just as Royce had been, he became transfixed. Elyse could almost see his true self shining through beneath his disguise, that whimsy flowing from his body like it was his own form of magic.
When he returned to them, his face was bright, his grin wide. “I’ve never…” he began, though he couldn’t seem to form the rest of the sentence.
One by one, the remaining guests took their turns with the rose, each of them just as hypnotized as the others. Elyse watched them all eagerly, as if reliving her own fantasy through them.
Finally, the auctioneer returned to the dais and set the rose on the pedestal. He clapped his hands, excitedly announcing, “The bidding will begin at fifty million gold coins.”
It was time.
Elyse spared one glance over her shoulder at Jaime, who gave her an encouraging nod, before she threw her magic at the wards. She moved her fingers in tiny, nearly imperceptible movements, manipulating the spellwork. It was like forging a key—feeling the wards for invisible ridges and dips that made up the lock, then manifesting a spell that would fit precisely into place.
Someone raised their hand, and the auctioneer bellowed, “Fifty million, do I have fifty-five?”
Elyse tried to keep her face relaxed, but her brows naturally wanted to furrow with concentration.
“That’s fifty-five million, can I get sixty?”
