AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What’s so bad about him and the harvest moon anyway? Don’t give me that impulsive stuff.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Halima look so unsure. She hesitates before answering.
“The Unseelie are…more in tune with the celestial movements than the Seelie.” She points out the nearest window where the moon hangs, huge and blue, in the sky. “It brings out that side of him.”
Once again, I remember Fiona’s words about the Unseelie being beastly and monstrous.
“You’re worried he’ll hurt me?” I ask.
“No!” She looks genuinely taken aback at the very idea. “He’s got more control than that. But he won’t be himself.”
“Oh good,” I say with a sweet smile. “His usual self is insufferable.”
I go to step around her, but she easily turns to block me again.
“Eleanor, don’t. I can’t make you go to the ball—in fact, I don’t see the point of the whole thing. But I don’t recommend this as an alternative.”
I sigh and hold the necklace up.
“See this? Ruskin gave it to me so I could find him any time, any place. Unless he gave you explicit orders to keep me away from him tonight, I think this decree trumps your feelings, yes?”
I can see the muscles in her jaw tighten as she clenches her teeth.
“Yes, all right,” she says, and finally lets me pass. “But I’ll be here when you come running, regretting ever going in there,” she calls to my retreating back. “I’m still responsible for you tonight.”
I reach a fork with several hallways and rooms running off them. It gives me a feeling that I could wander most of the night and still not see all this wing has to offer. Instead, I pick up the petal again and will it to guide me. It flutters, then pulls taut, leading me towards…
A blank stone wall.
I run my hands over it, but if there’s a door here, I can’t see it. Then I examine the petal, wondering if gilding it somehow made its magic malfunction.
A plucking sensation starts up in my stomach, trying to get my attention. It tells me to press the petal to the wall. It’s an odd notion, but my alchemy has taught me to listen to such instincts so, feeling a little foolish, I stand up on tiptoe so I can press the pendant flat against the stone.
The wall seems to melt away, revealing a sweeping arch of roses, the stems curving overhead to form what is unmistakably an entrance. I step through into the most stunning garden I’ve ever seen.
The place is festooned with roses, clusters of them bathed in moonlight just bright enough that I can pick out the subtle variations in their hues. This place must be a riot of color in the daylight, I think, but at this hour they’re all transformed to deep shades of purple and black.
I tread softly, my dress sweeping across the grass as I move towards the figure I see at one end of the garden. It’s Ruskin—I would recognize the curve of his shoulders, the quiet confidence of his stance, almost anywhere. As I grow closer, my steps slow. I’m worried about what state I’ll find him in, given Halima’s words of warning.
He doesn’t turn, though I’m sure he hears me, his head bowed over a statue. It’s beautiful, shining pale in the moonlight, a sculpture of a woman in repose, her angelic face wearing an expression of pure peace. She’s lying on a bed of roses, the petals coming up to hold her in their soft embrace.
It’s only when I’m a few yards away that I see the folds of fabric in her dress that could never be rendered in stone or marble and the individual strands of her dark hair, pooling around her shoulders.
She’s real.
Clouds drift over the moon, throwing her alabaster skin into shadow. I dare to break the silence in the perfect garden.
“Is she…?”
“My mother, High Queen Evanthe,” Ruskin replies. His voice is soft and low, the alluring silkiness I’ve learned to expect in his calmer moments.
I’d guessed who she was, of course. But her appearance is what threw me. From the way people spoke of her, I imagine a frail woman, ailing in her sickbed, not this pristine beauty frozen in time.
“She’s so still,” I say.
“Asleep, for centuries now. When she was attacked it was her magic that saved her, sending her into a slumber she won’t wake from until she’s healed.”
He waves a hand and the roses rise up around the Queen, rapidly growing over her and twisting until they form a shroud of flowers that hide her completely.
