Theron moves toward a small drawer near the nest. I watch as he picks something up.
“What is it?” I ask.
“A book,” he says, turning toward me. “I found it the last time I was here, but I haven’t opened it. I think it belonged to your mother.”
It’s small, old, and weathered, the kind of thing that has seen many years and journeys. As I move closer, the delicate embroidery on the cover catches the light from the window—a blue rose, just like the one on Mother’s handkerchief.
Theron hands me the book, and it’s heavy in my hands. “It feels wrong to open it,” I murmur, my fingers tracing the worn leather. I glance up at him.
“It felt wrong for me because it is your mother’s. But it feels right that you are the one to see.”
I swallow, nodding.If I was not meant to see this, Mother, I am sorry.
With a deep breath, I open the book.
Year 701, MY BIRTHDAY I AM 8!
Today, I read many chapters of a book with my mother! She says books hold all the world’s secrets. One day, I’ll read them all.
Mother says I’m special because of the blue-rose blood. She says it means I’m meant to do great things. I don’t know what that means yet, but I want to learn everything.
Father showed me how to carve the symbol of the rose into wood today. He says it’s the mark of our family, and I must always protect it.
“Theron,” I whisper.
“What is it?”
It’s a struggle to force out my next words. “It’s not a book. It’s my mother’s diary.”
37
THE LEADER WHO NEVER WAS
“You say I’ll understand when I’m older, but every time I ask, you close the door like I’m a child. I’m not a child. If I’m meant to carry something heavy, then stop keeping me in the dark and start telling me what it is.”
— Noël Ársa, age fifteen
Eyleen
Year 707
The blue roses bloomed again today, just like Mother said they would. She says they’re special because of me. I don’t know if I believe her, but when I cried last week, blue roses appeared right where my tears fell. It was... strange. Beautiful, but strange.
Mother says I’m destined to save the world, but I don’t know what that means. Save it from what? The roses are beautiful flowers, but that’s all they are, right?
Father looked worried when he saw the new blooms. He doesn’t like to talk about them, but I saw him pick one and press it in his journal.
Mother says we’re going to a feast in honor of the tsar. She’s been fussing with my hair all morning, trying to make it pretty. She says I must look my best because we’ll be in the presence of royalty.
I don’t want to go. I’d rather stay in the garden and read, but Mother says we must pay our respects. Father says it’s our duty as nobles.
The tsar looked at me today. He didn’t speak, but his eyes were cold. I didn’t like it. He smiled at Father and said something to him I couldn’t hear, but it made Father’s face go pale.
Mother told me it’s an honor to be noticed by the tsar. That my debut will be grand if everything goes well. But if it’s an honor, why do I feel so strange? Why did Father seem so afraid?
I asked Mother about the prophecy today. She always says I’m destined to save the world, but she never explains how. She just says I’ll understand in time. But I don’t want to wait. I want to know now.
Father says I mustn’t speak of the roses outside our family. He says people wouldn’t understand. But why wouldn’t they? Aren’t they beautiful?
