And there Calahan was, carrying on, releasing the plant from the cloth like it was nothing. He couldn’t know. There’s no way he could know how starved she’d felt. How for years her skin had itched like a suit that wouldn’t fit right until someone ran their hands over it.
“I’ve got a bit of viridi magic that should help it grow,” he said as he dug a hole with his hands. “This is a good spot for it.” He flicked a lock of his mahogany hair out of his face and looked up at her with a smile.
“Thank you,” she whispered as he finished patting the soil and stood up, leaving a pale green glow around the plant.
“Well, I’d better go get ready for the ball tonight.” Calahan dipped his head and looked at her through his eyelashes. “You’re coming, aren’t you?”
Thoughts of the ball brought her out of her daze and snapped her back into her normal, sassy self. “I’ll be there, not that it matters.” She wanted to roll her eyes, but she still carried a tiny seed of longing to be seen that wouldn’t let her cynicism take over. “Not that anyone actually wants to see me, much less dance with me.” Instead of the intended sarcasm, her voice sounded scratchy and raw.
“I do,” he replied.
This time, instead of glancing, Amaryllis looked into his eyes, searching for the truth. It was like looking into an emerald with the Faerie sun reflecting glistening gold on the surface. A shiver of warmth passed through her. He saw it and smiled.
“I want to dance with you, Amaryllis,” his statement like a glove dropped on the floor. A challenge and an invitation.
She accepted. “You can call me Amara.”
“Until then.” He offered a bow and walked away.
She stood for a few minutes in the clearing after Calahan had left. Quillan sat on her shoulder, shifting and silent. He had a condemning tilt to his head. If a raven could huff, she was sure he’d be doing so.
“Aren’t you grumpy all of a sudden?” She ran her finger down his beak, teasing him. She didn’t feel grumpy. She felt relieved. She was glad to have something to focus on after the darkness of her vision and the sadness of the day. Maybe something joyful for herself in this potentially dark future. Something... or someone… handsome, with eyes that sparkled like jewels.
Amaryllis took a deep breath and turned to the tree, careful to step over the newly planted flower. “Be together always, dear sister,” she said, placing a kiss on the bark. “I love you.” As she walked away, a misty darkness fell over the flower, but Amaryllis missed it because she had already started down a different path.
Chapter Two
"Is that all for you today?” the shop owner asked as he placed the enchanted ribbon in a small bag and set it on the counter instead of in her hand. His words were polite, but his stiff posture and tone lacked warmth.
Nevertheless, Amaryllis wasn’t going to let his curled lip and deliberate distance affect her mood today. “Yes, thank you. Please charge it to my family’s account.” She picked up the bag and left the shop. She lived by herself and rarely took advantage of her family’s status and wealth, but today, she’d been in the mood to get a little something special for the celebration. A last minute bauble was exactly the sort of thing her mother would be happy to subsidize.
She was almost home, and glad for it. The cobblestone roads were just turning into the dirt paths that led into the woods outside of town. Her eyes searched the tops of the golden crowns of the trees for Quillan, who'd had no interest in shopping, as she wondered what the night would hold.
As she stepped into the shadows of the wood, Amaryllis abruptly found her back against a large trunk and her shoulders held in a tight grip.
“Stay away from Calahan,” a deep voice growled in her ear.
“Hey! What do you think you’re… Let me go!” Amara could feel her skin heating as she struggled in vain to get free. The hands on her shoulders tightened. They were connected to broad shoulders that filled out the dark tunic her attacker wore. She breathed deeply, twisting her body and flexing her not insignificant muscles, but couldn’t budge. She wasn’t a lightweight, but this stranger was half a foot taller than her,had the element of surprise, and smelled distractingly like dark chocolate and cinnamon. Typically she never would have been caught off guard. But it had been an odd day and seemed to be continuing along that same vein.
“Tell me you’ll stay away from Calahan,” he repeated. Clearly he had a one track mind, and she wouldn’t be getting free until she at least acknowledged his request.
She ceased her struggles and looked up at the man who held her. The shadows blurred his face, but she could see a strong jaw, dark hair, and dark eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she retorted. “And anyway, it’s none of your business who I befriend.”
“It’s my business when he’s my little brother. Especially when he’s associating with people like you,” he sneered. “I know your kind. I see your darkness. It permeates everything you touch, and Calahan doesn’t need any part of it. Leave him alone.”
Amaryllis almost rolled her eyes, except she was pissed that he somehow knew about her chat with Calahan and immediately determined that she was the aggressor. She’d never even talked to Calahan before today. It was just an innocent conversation. She was tired of people assuming she was evil and that her mere presence represented a danger to others.
She knew who she was and who she wasn’t. Warnings like this were old news. She’d dealt with these kinds of interactions dozens of times, and most of the time she hadn’t done anything wrong. It was just small-minded people making asshole assumptions about who she was. Normally, she would grit her teeth and try to politely excuse herself from the situation, but this time he’d ruined her good mood.
“Let me tell you something. I’ve never approached your brother, but since you seem to think you know something about me and darkness, let’s just see what you actually know.” These days, she chose when to utilize her powers...mostly. Sometimes her powers demanded she know something, like the vision from earlier, but that wasn’t the case right now. Amaryllis grabbed the forearms that still rested on her shoulders, finding the skin she needed to call upon her magic just below his shirt cuffs. The vision came immediately.
A terrible loneliness. An undeniable guilt. He stands in the corner of a room and watches a healer treat a young Calahan. He clenches his hands together behind his back and stares at a spot on the curtains. The sun shines brightly through the window, but the room feels heavy with pain and worry. Their mother paces the room, but her eyes never leave the boy in the bed.
His father’s words echo in his head, “You must take care of your brother. You’re the oldest child. You are responsible for him.”
He had tried to keep his promise. He had told Calahan not to ride the pegasus. But now, there his little brother lay unconscious, blood leaking into the pillow, everyone wondering if he would survive.
“Will he be alright?” With his father gone, it’s his duty to direct the healer, but even he can hear the tremor in his voice.
The healer turns with stooped shoulders and tired eyes. “I don’t know, Young Tiernan,” he says, returning to the bed, “I’ll do the best I can.”
In that moment, Tiernan makes a vow--that from now until the day he dies, he will always protect Calahan, no matter the cost.
Amaryllis disengaged from the vision, tears in her eyes. She could still see this man, Tiernan, in her mind’s eye, a young man at most. Yet, in the memory she witnessed, he became an adult. She could practically feel the burden on his shoulders as he took responsibility for his mother’s worry, his brother’s very life, and the promises he’d made to his father.
The loneliness and guilt felt familiar too, and her breathing calmed as moisture gathered behind her eyes. Her heartbeat and breathing slowed down, until it was in sync with his. That was one of the dangers of her gift. Sharing a vision of another’s past fostered an unnatural and uneven sense of kinship. He still shouldn’t be literally pushing people around,
but now that she understood his motivations, she couldn’t sustain her anger.
“What did you just do?” he demanded.
“Didn’t you know? I’m not dangerous because of who I am, but because of what I see,” she explained. “I see your darkest, most vulnerable moments. I see the fear and anger and hate.” For a moment her shoulders sank, heavy under the weight of others’ pain.
But then she took a deep breath and straightened as much as she could with Tiernan still gripping her shoulders. “People fear me because with me they know they can’t hide. I see the darkness they don’t want anyone to know about. I’m shunned because they don’t want to acknowledge their own weaknesses. If I’m invisible, they can pretend it doesn’t exist.”
She felt his grip tighten, his hands rough and strong. His amber eyes narrowed, but even as his jaw clenched, he remained silent.
“Don’t like that, do you, Young Tiernan?” she taunted.
He flinched, and she felt a wisp of sympathy. Even though she related to Tiernan--the loneliness and duty and guilt--he would never feel the same. Her heart clenched and she pushed him away.
“Look, your brother has nothing to fear from me,” she said, her throat tight, the words as coarse and gritty as sand. Too much happening, and not enough time to process it. “In fact, he’s the only person to show me any kindness in years. I know how people see me. I wouldn’t want him to be ‘tainted’ at court for being seen with me.”
Amara honestly didn’t want that for Calahan. But that didn’t mean she would turn him away if he wanted to befriend her. It took her a few growing years to figure out she didn’t have control over other people’s choices, but it was an important lesson. Amara could only be responsible for herself. She knew her own strengths and weaknesses, and knew what she could handle. She wasn’t about to turn a decent man away because of his brother’s overprotectiveness.
Tiernan still gripped her shoulders, trying to catch the thoughts behind her eyes. She returned the favor, searching for something she didn’t even know. Acceptance? Understanding? What she found were shadowed amber irises, with a depth of honor and determination as strong and unyielding as a mountain.
“Good,” he said, finally responding. She watched, blinking, as he turned and strode quickly away.
***
Amaryllis sat in a silky purple robe in front of her mirror and put the finishing touches in her hair. Normally, she kept it in a simple braid, as there wasn’t anyone she could even try to impress. Plus, the black curls were not easily managed. But today, for the first time in ages, she wanted to look her best.
She sat back and looked at her reflection. The lamps in her home cast a golden hue over the ribbon that wound through the elegant braided crown on top of her head. With a subtle rouge on her lips, they looked as plump and ripe as fresh peaches. Her eyes like twin dark moons; they should have looked deep and mysterious, but instead they seemed open and exposed.
Or that might just be an indication of how she felt. Her fingers unconsciously traced over the edge of her hand. Twice in one day she’d been touched. First Calahan and then his brute of a brother. Amara knew “brute” wasn’t a fair characterization, but she got contrary when she was unsettled. This morning had been overwhelming. First her vision, then her visit with Larkspur, plus her interactions with Calahan and Tiernan. Not to mention, she still had to attend the Fem Ane Festival Ball.
“What do you think, Quillan? Should I dance with Calahan at the ball?” she considered, “He’s always been one of the typical court cronies, but maybe he’s matured. Maybe he could be a friend.”
Amaryllis stood and walked to her scarlett reading chair, in the corner of her house that she deemed The Library. It’s where she kept all her academic, magical, and personal journals and scrolls. It was opposite from what she cheesily called the Wall of Weapons, and next to her Corner of Sacred Magic, where she perfected her spells.
Quillan flew over from the axe hanging on the wall and landed in her lap, a shiny trinket hanging from his beak.
She giggled as he did a silly dance on her lap, the trinket swinging like a pendulum, looking as goofy as a lap-dancing raven could look. “I think you’re right. We need to lighten up a little bit.”
For the next little while, she hummed and laughed while dancing around the living room, Quillan chasing her in an attempt to steal back the trinket. She stopped when she had just enough time to finish getting ready for the ball.
“Thank you, my friend,” she breathed and turned her head, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against Quillan’s as he stood on her shoulder. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” Quillan rubbed his beak along her nose, returning her affection. These were the moments that kept her from giving in to the aching loneliness and despair.
She knew most people assumed that because her power was dark, that she was the same. And yes, her life had seen much of darkness. But that’s not all she was.
She was strength, to hold the darkness and live through it.
She was compassion, to understand that everyone held darkness and pain. She was courage, to not let darkness be the only thing that determined herself and her life.
She had laughter and love and joy inside her that deserved to be treasured and protected. That’s why she didn’t open herself to just anyone.
“Well, except to my dear Quillan.” She smiled and gave him one last kiss. Only Quillan, her dearest friend, saw how she trained her body, mind, and magic to be the best Fae she could be, regardless of others’ expectations.
Amaryllis continued getting ready. The sleeveless, backless gown matched the ribbon perfectly and complemented her honey-colored skin; deep, royal purple melting into ebony. She decorated her ears, wrists, and neck with bespelled jewelry. It never hurt to look put together and be ready to take someone apart at the same time.
Lastly, she pulled on the satin gloves. She’d gotten control over her magic years ago, but it still made people uncomfortable to be in close proximity to her bare hands. So she covered her hands and forearms, but left her shoulders and back entirely bare as a statement.
Comfort and safety were always a priority, which was why she wore lace up black boots, and a knife on her thigh that was visible through the slit if she turned just so. She’d seen the darkness in her fellow Fae and she liked to be prepared.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
Quillan shrunk to the size of a kumquat and hid in her hair, his feet tickling her scalp as he got settled. It was one of their secrets, that he could change shape and size. It was another level of protection for herself and her spirit, to have a friend with her wherever she was. She hid a grin.
Maybe tonight, if things went well with Calahan, she’d be able to give Quillan a night off.
Chapter Three
Amara had moved out of her parents’ home years ago, but they were required to be presented at the ball as a family. The Fem Ane Festival only happened once every few millennia, when the Faerie realm was exactly five years from fully reconnecting with the Earth realm. It was a big deal, which was how she found herself in a luxurious carriage pulled by a pair of white unicorns with their manes and tails magicked to a muted rose color. Excessive might as well have been their family motto. The interior and her mother matched, pale rose velvet with white and gold accents.
One would think with such a color scheme, the atmosphere would be warmer.
“Darling, what is that purple thing in your hair? Ribbons are so plebeian. Maybe if you wore something lighter, more people would approach you,” her mother remarked, her manicured fingers flicking delicately in Amara’s direction. “You’ll never be a beauty, obviously, but that doesn’t mean you can’t at least try to fit in.”
“Yes, my dear,” her father interjected, as if using a pet name would camoflauge the disdain in his voice. “You don’t have to be so... dark. Your mother and I were hoping that at least for an occasion of this magnitude, you would wear something more representative of our family.”
The entire carriage ride had been like this; her mother and father taking turns insulting her under the guise of being helpful. It was like they thought the wrong twin died. It had always been like this. Her parents trying to remake her into Larkspur without ever acknowledging that she was gone.
Her fingers clenched into the tufted pink velvet seats in a failing effort to keep the fury off her face. “Really? I thought you would appreciate the effort as you’ve commented so often about how little of it I put into my appearance.” Amaryllis knew she shouldn’t engage, but some tiny, backward part of her still craved their affection, even if she tried to hide it in biting wit.
“I don’t know why you have to be so dark and hostile.” Her mother sighed as if the future of the world rested on her shoulders. “Well, no matter. Nothing we can do about it. We’re here,” she said as the carriage stopped. Her mother’s pursed lips smoothed into a practiced smile, and she straightened her rose-colored gown as a royal footman opened the door to the carriage.
Dreams of Darkness Page 20
