Wind Flowers, page 3
I needed a little of that healing today, the anxiety from the conversation with my mother still lingering in my gut like a stomach bug.
I plopped onto my favorite stool, more comfortable now that I’d changed out of the corset and put my wispy day dress on. The soft yellow fabric flowed with my curves, not in spite of them, ending just below my knees, making it easy for me to cross my legs and slump forward on the chair. I leaned my elbows against the wooden countertop without crushing my stomach like the corseted contraption would’ve.
Mrs. Tasha turned just as I painted on my loveliest smile, batting my eyelashes at her. “Do you have any more of those lemon cookies?”
Tasha’s chuckle shook her round form as she tucked her hands into her stained apron, raising a thick brow at me. “Will your mother have my head if I give them to you?”
“Probably.”
“Fine. I can’t say no to you,” she conceded with a grin, reaching into the top cupboard and bringing down the familiar, secret tin. Swift, able hands popped open the top, and the tangy-sweetness of lemon sugar instantly hit me. “But don’t let them spoil your dinner.”
I snagged one and bit into it, relishing the tartness on my tongue, wishing it could erase the sour pang sticking to my soul like dried syrup. “That’s all I’m good for. Spoiling things.”
At that, Tasha stopped her fussing, abandoning the cookies to cross her arms and level me with one of her famous, skin-peeling stares. “What on earth has gotten into your knickers and twisted them?”
I wiped the excess sugar from my lip. Tasha’s kitchen had always been a safe place, somewhere to fill my belly and empty out the stress of my day, but this truth was harder to part with. Like saying it out loud would make it more real.
I swallowed my fear, spitting out the words I hated. “My mother wants me to marry Prince Drakkar of Nehir.”
Tasha nodded, absorbing the words like a cleaning cloth disappearing a spill. “And what’s his deal? Old? Ugly? Both?”
“No, he’s around my age, and apparently handsome enough to garner my mother’s praise….”
Tasha grabbed a cookie from the tin, biting into it with a smirk. “Then what’s the risk of giving him a shot?”
I fisted my skirt, trying to find words to explain my dread, but Tasha had a point. What was so bad about following another one of Mother’s rules? Especially if it came with a handsome, young prince and an easy future?
“It’s just…” I stopped, and started again, tongue tying over thoughts I’d never imagined myself admitting out loud. “Nikolaj was supposed to be king. Supposed to rule. And I would’ve been there beside him, to help him…but I would’ve also married for love. Maybe one day.”
Daydreams of a long-forgotten face floated to the surface of my mind, the reedy lullaby of violins and the gentle pass of a summer wind through dark hair…
“You’ve been reading too many romance books.” Tasha broke my trance, her voice stern, but not unkind. A sad smile lifted her wrinkles. “Love is a privilege, girl. There are thousands of people in the town below and the farming fields beyond that would die for a chance to marry a handsome, well-off prince from Nehir. Girls who have truly difficult lives, who might one day dream of rising from the mud and muck long enough to come be servants at this very palace… but never anything more.”
She placed a work-worn hand over mine, evidence of the hard life she’d lived—and the empathy she still managed to stoke like a gentle hearth fire.
“You’re getting married for them. For your subjects. Stay strong.”
I thought of my people—girls in light, soft dresses that got to taste the sun as they tended their gardens, girls who could sneak away with handsome farmers and tumble with them in haystacks, girls who could laugh and sing together and let their hands create and love and teach…
Wildflowers with roots instead of glass vases. With places to grow instead of shelves to decorate.
But someone had to play that part, too, so the kingdoms could go on living and loving. So peace could spread like seeds on the back of a summer breeze, could find nourishing soil in every part of the kingdom.
So the Blight could stop stealing brothers and breaking hearts.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” I breathed out, wishing reality alone was enough to clear the selfish, stubborn weeds from my heart. I pushed back from the stool, the kitchen’s warmth suddenly claustrophobic. “I’m headed to bed.”
Tasha pushed the tin closer, that same tragic smile still hanging on her sweet face. “Take the cookies with you.”
I lidded the tin and tucked it under my arm, grateful for the indulgent comfort, before fixing on a fake smile of my own. Tasha had always given me a place to unravel and repair, and now it would be my duty to lead people like her into fairer skies. “When will our guests arrive? Did the head butler tell you when to prep?”
“Few days. They’re stopped in Hiku City now, but the day after they’re headed to us, and they’ll want a whole feast, so I’ll be busy as all hell tomorrow.”
I perked up, another daydream floating into my mind at the mention of Hiku City. The Capitol of Sora, a buzzing metropolis filled with art and music and laughter…
Or at least, it had been once. It’d been years since I had a glimpse.
Perhaps it was my chance for another.
I shoved traitorous thoughts down before their thorns could snag me and waved goodnight to Tasha. “Well, good luck. Thanks for the treat.”
* * *
Nikolaj once had a knack for trouble that used to boil my mother’s already-hot blood and turn my father’s hair gray. His pranks had been legendary, all of the staff on guard should they ever fall prey to one of his mischiefs.
I’d never shared the same delight in disarray, the rules much easier to heed than facing my mother’s wrath. But, whenever Nikolaj asked me to be involved, I’d shoved any lingering fear away and followed, desperate for my big brother’s attention. To be loved by at least him, if not my parents.
I was ten and he was thirteen when he first showed me how to use fae-dust.
If our parents knew he had it all, they’d have truly brought the hammer down; that magic had been outlawed in all four kingdoms ever since the peace treaties were signed decades ago, when the unification of Babylon was first ordered. The substance was too powerful for any one kingdom to wield, evidenced by the little information we had about the long-lost, volatile fae era, where it had been used to conjure portals and stage grand attacks between warring fae tribes.
While leftover relics from that ancient history were fairly common, where Nik had found such a rare, elicit material, I dared not ask; I’d been too enthralled by the idea of an easy escape. That first night, he took me to the Opera house in Hiku City to hear the music. We’d dressed in plain cloaks and stood at the back of the theater with the other peasants, bodies pressed tightly together and kept far from the nobility sitting up front. But it didn’t matter that I couldn’t see the stage.
I still heard it. It was the most glorious night of my life. The heady buzz of violins, the deep moan of the cellos, the bird-song of the sopranos, the warm velvet of the baritones…all echoing beneath the starlight of the open amphitheater in a glorious chorus.
I’d made a deal with my brother that I’d never tell my parents about his secret as long as he promised to bring me every year. And he did, three times, each one more spectacular than the last. Of course, that was before the start of the revolution, before the Jaltans attacked and burned the place down…
Before Nikolaj died.
I’d never used the fae-dust on my own, but if I was to be married off to Drakkar of Nehir, I had to learn how to do things for myself. Had to try.
Had to escape, even if it was just for a night. Had to hear the city’s music, even if it wasn’t the same, just to feel something.
I inhaled deeply as I grabbed the small velvet bag from its hiding spot in my chambers, beneath the floorboard under my tall dresser, so obscure not even my maids would find it. And just as my brother had instructed all those nights ago, I dipped my finger inside, letting the luminescent green dust coat my fingertip, dappling my skin in tiny stars. A buzz worked its way through my veins, a silent song calling to me just as it had so many years ago in that packed Opera House.
One last adventure.
Scrunching my eyes closed, I wished.
Hiku City.
I waited, holding my breath, bracing myself—
The sensation of being turned inside out hit first, my stomach climbing to my throat, and then—
Noise, everywhere, all at once. Hooves over cobblestone, dozens of footsteps shuffling about, vendors peddling their wares, loud laughter from a nearby gathering.
My eyes snapped open, the shadows of an alleyway greeting me, hanging paper lanterns beckoning from the street ahead.
Mother Earth, it worked. I’d done it.
Hiku City.
Everything I didn’t have. Everything I craved.
I ran toward the street, drawn by the smell of something sweet and floral, grateful that I’d changed into comfortable trousers and a green cloak. It was an easy disguise, one no one would suspect a princess to wear.
As I stepped out of the alley, a woman knocked into me, dropping a handful of bright crimson flowers into a puddle on the ground. She shot a dark glare at me as she bent to collect them, the wind nearly blowing my cloak from my shoulders as she snarled, “Watch where you’re going, girl.”
“S-sorry, my mistake.” I backed up, then fled as fast as my feet could carry me, deeper into the pulsing body of the crowded street. As much as I hated the impolite departure, I would not waste my limited time on pleasantries tonight.
The stream of bodies carried me naturally through the winding, stall-crowded streets, the warm red-and-orange glow of lanterns like strings of fireflies leading me to magic. My eyes could not drink it all in fast enough; the silken tents and scarves that flapped in the warm evening wind, the savory wisps of smoke that curled around us as a vendor handed out dripping skewers of charred deliciousness. The little kids huddled in a corner, their giggles shrill as they played a game of dice, the women humming merry tunes as they rearranged the sparkling trinkets on stands to draw in customers.
But my feet stopped when the wheezing drone of an accordion caught my ear. People bumped my shoulders as I wiggled my way out of the mass, until I was standing in front of a slim man in a bright green cap. A few others gathered around him, his dirt-caked face carved in a welcoming smile as he played his merry tune, a song I’d never heard but the other onlookers knew well, all of them humming along or murmuring lyrics beneath their breath.
My heart swelled, and though the accordion was not my favorite instrument, I still let it sway me, my hips dipping in time with the upbeat rhythm.
This was why I came, what I needed–the forbidden, wild merriment of Hiku City playing at my most hidden heartstrings.
Strings that snapped when I noticed the small girl sticking her hand into one of the other onlooker’s pockets–snagging his coin purse.
My hands flew to my own pockets, relief flooding my veins when I found my fae-dust still housed within. But disappointment soured the music, the merry melody suddenly a dirge as I caught the man-in-the-cap’s wink at the little girl.
This was a trap, a pretty spider luring bugs to its web. And while I knew even spiders and accordion players needed to eat, I couldn’t help it as the back of my throat itched, tears on the near horizon.
I kept my mouth shut–calling them out would only bring trouble and too many eyes my way. But I turned and walked back into the crowd before I could become the girl’s next mark.
Perhaps the adventure was still salvageable, the winding streets carrying me onward, that tug in my chest drawing taut as the buzz of life pulled me in again.
The streets widened–no longer crowded alleys with tightly packed stalls, but open roads with storefronts, the lights from within warming the shadowed cobblestone streets to gold. Multicolored roofs glimmered like a trove of gemstones, crimson and emerald and sapphire tiles sparkling under the starlit sky. I read the signs as I passed, committing them all to memory, knowing I’d need them to sustain me for quite some time.
Ms. Kusi’s Fortunes, The Cherry Blossom Inn, Fox & Crow’s Antiques and Curiosities…
“Lost, girl?” A voice startled me from behind, an old woman in a plain brown frock stepping in front of me so fast I nearly tripped.
“No, just wandering.” My mouth formed a tight line, unease creeping beneath my skin as the woman’s endlessly dark eyes stared at me. Wrinkles wove a crown of wisdom across her brow, her hair so white it practically glowed in the moonlight.
“Your hair is beautiful. Sell me a lock, and I’ll tell you a fortune?” Her voice twinkled like wind chimes as she peered at me.
I swallowed hard, my tongue too lame to form a response. The fae thankfully no longer lived in our world, but Nikolaj used to tell me stories about them; the way the magic coated their very bones, the way they could see things beyond the natural eye.
I knew it was senseless, but a part of me recognized this woman as other, her gaze piercing my very soul.
She grinned wide. “No? Too bad. I see many paths that could unfold from your choices tonight alone.”
She stepped closer, sniffing me, and I stumbled backward. I’d never been hunted before, but I supposed this is what it felt like, my heart stammering a furious beat to run in my chest.
My back hit a wall, and I looked up, a hanging wooden sign teetering over me.
The Crescent Inn & Brewery.
“Uh, I–um, have to go.” I grinned and dipped inside without looking back, losing myself to the crowd within.
The worry in my chest only unknotted after a full minute when I realized she did not follow me inside. I exhaled, turning to scan the room I’d entered.
The small space was packed to the brim with bodies, all wearing fine clothes as they laughed and drank together. Many of them must have been travelers for the Masque. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, keeping my head down. I doubted they’d recognize me like this, without my mother’s dresses and sparkling jewels, but still, it would probably be smart to keep a low profile.
I made my way to the bar, a heady high swirling in my mind. If this was my last night of true freedom, I was going to have my fill of it. First, a stiff drink, something stronger than the wine Mother let me sip at parties. Perhaps that would also let me forget the fear I’d felt in the strange old woman’s presence, or my distaste for the accordion player’s ruse. And then, maybe I’d find a kind stranger to help me find some better live music…
Maybe one to even dance with me.
I smiled widely at the barkeep, an old man with a gray beard on just his chin and a bald head. “One shot of whiskey, please.”
With a grunt, he poured a knuckle’s worth into a glass, the amber liquid sloshing as he pushed it toward me. “That’ll be five coppers.”
“Oh, I—” I stuttered, my cheeks flaming with sudden heat. What kind of idiot was I, not bringing any money? Of course, when I went out with my retinue, that was handled separately, but it’s not like I was unaware. Instead, I plucked the ring off my left hand, an awful gold piece Mother had asked me to wear. “I’m so sorry, I forgot my purse—”
The old man turned his back, ignoring the ring and me entirely. “No money, no drink.”
My jaw dropped as I decided which pieces of my mind I was about to give him, but the opportunity was lost in a flurry of movement.
“Get me more ice, you idiot.” A man barked as he pushed his way closer to the bar, knocking me sideways. “Bastard broke my nose. My mother is going to have his head.”
“Yes sir.” The barkeep flitted away with a speed I’d not expected from someone his age, ready to follow this man’s orders.
I swiveled on him, annoyance prickling along my spine. This was my night, and it was not going to plan. But I was not about to let some bossy brute stand in my way of a good time. “Hey, I was here—”
Blond hair sprawled across his head in indiscriminate directions, like he’d been hung upside down, a match for the dirt that sullied his finely made blue threads—
A uniform for Nehir nobility.
Mother Earth, this was a problem.
I lowered my head, panic surging to the surface. If I was caught, I’d be the one hung from my ankles as Mama flogged me with insults for hours.
“Sorry, milady, didn’t mean to jump the line.” The man pressed closer, his hand resting on my shoulder. Crap. He reached for the shot of whiskey the barkeep had left behind, ignoring that I hadn’t paid for it. “Here, this is yours, yes? Don’t mind the blood.”
My gaze snagged on the crimson caking his fingers, and then upward, to his demolished, bloodied nose and swollen eyes.
Relief and pity twined together in my chest. He likely couldn’t see very well with those injuries—Mother Earth’s first blessing toward my escapades tonight—but it seemed like his evening had been even more disrupted than mine.
“Oh my word, are you all right?” I turned to him fully, examining the crooked line of his nose. He was likely handsome, but it was hard to tell with all the swelling. Poor thing would be permanently marked if a talented medemental didn’t set it correctly. “I can–”
No, I couldn’t say I’d heal it. My Easinir would attract too much attention, too much fear. I’d never forget the way they all looked at me all those years ago, eyes wide with terror and mouths set in disgusted frowns… even for an Easinir, I was other. I cleared my throat, catching myself. “I can fetch you some water, if you’d like.”
