It has been less than a day, and yet it feels like it’s been days since I last heard her laugh.
She can navigate this. We will find our way back to each other. We always have. We always will. Still, the thought of her facing these challenges on her own haunts me.
Holly seems … less aggravated than before; the blades have been sharpened and the soldiers have their orders. She stares up at the portrait of us as children. The cold eyes of our father stare back. Oak must finish the modernized version of our family portrait soon. Having just been surrounded by Ruby and Pepper’s children only hours ago casts a chill across my skin.
I was a child, just like those sweet faeries, undoubtably with the same toothy grin and laughter. But, as I stare up at that old painting, the small boy I once was stares back at me. How could anyone—much less a father, have raised his claws to someone so …small?
When the ghosts from my past become too loud, Heather banishes them with a simple touch of her hand, and when that is not enough, she is quick to hand me a pen, encouraging me to work out my feelings through fiction. But the portrait is not the only thing that disturbs me. It is that the humans seem to be the only ones as distressed as I.
“It’s a shame. I grew to really enjoy Heather,” Holly murmurs as she calmly takes a seat next to Clara.
I straighten. Why is she speaking in past-tense?
“She’s not … dead.” Clara straightens. “Wait, right?”
“No, she is notdead,” I hiss. “Why are you speaking so strangely, as if you did not declare we would see her safely only hours ago?”
“I was just thinking…” Holly trails off, her eyes still on the painting. “You have been absent from our world for decades and may not remember that this is how a great many of our love stories start. Father whisked away Mother after only sharing one dance.” She taps her feet for a moment, as if unsure whether to stay or go. “I say this with the utmost respect, but it is possible that this will change things. Such a grand gesture will surely not go unappreciated by even the most devoted. Right, Mother?”
My heart drops.
If she thinks that isromance, we have more to worry about than her murderous streak.
My little sister knows how Father stole our mother away like a thief in the night. She has heard songs detailing their romance and tragedy—a sweeping love story indeed.But clearly, she has not been privy to the other details.
Mother pales, her limbs shake like a leaf rattled by a storm. With unwavering elegance, she sweeps her hand in the air, dismissing her attendants.
“Everyone, please.” Pepper bows formally to me before addressing the rest of the group. “The royal family requests privacy as we navigate this difficult situation.” And with the grace of a lead advisor, they lead everyone away from the room, whispering reassuring words to our human friends.
“Come, I’m sure the children would love to meet a pair of humans,” they say with laughter to their voice. And just like that, the humans are ushered away, and we are alone.
Mother paces the length of the room, wringing her hands. It is unusual to see her looking fazed, much less nervous. But her eyes are far away and her forehead furrows as she walks and walks. Finally, she faces us.
“There is a part of the story I neglected to tell you children.” Her voice is strong despite the way her hands shake. Mother eyes me before giving a small nod. “Though I expect Moth already knows. I don’t imagine Heather is the type to keep a secret from you.”
I wonder if she is about to confess father’s murder to us. It is information I have obtained only because, as Mother suspected, Heather told me the first moment she could.
Mother touches the line of her fabric-covered wings, always draped in silk and lace, giving them the illusion of being larger than their true size. The color and shape is a mystery to me;even as a child she never showed them to me. She fiddles with something on the back of her dress.
“What part is that, Mother?” Holly asks, her eyes widening.
Ribbons rustle, and with a thud, her wings fall at her feet. I gasp. Such an integral part of her appearance now lies like discarded laundry on the floor.
“The part where I tried to escape.”She turns to reveal two long scars peeking out of the bottom of her low-backed gown, and the air in my lungs rushes out.
My flame. What horrors could you be enduring while we are apart?
9.
Heather
This is torture.Literal torture! I shut my eyes tight; the world pulses red around me until I take a deep breath.
“You have got this all wrong!” I shout, flicking away countless photos of Magnus from the camera app. Who knew setting up a dating profile for a king from another realm would be this difficult?
“I beg your pardon?”Magnus stiffens beside me, snatching the phone from my hands. He swipes through all of the photos I’ve taken.
As pretty as he is, he photographs with the vulnerability of a stone. Each photo is the same, save for a subtle movement of his chin. And there’s something else too—Magnus is too perfect. He is the definition of uncanny valley, everything is too symmetrical, with teeth too straight and gleaming, and skin free of pores and any sign of aging. It’s like he has three beauty filters layered on top of each other, and the end result is a face so perfect it’s … unsettling.
