Amara followed her out of the carriage and up the steps to the palace. Her fellow court members looked like a field of spring flowers. Dresses and dandies in pale yellow, pink, lavender, and green moving like artificial blossoms dancing in a gentle breeze.
The official announcer presented her, “Amaryllis of Dervonnae, Lady of Dreams and Shadows.”
The crowd hushed as hundreds of polished faces turned toward her. She may not have magic that people envied, but they definitely respected her power. Or they wanted to note what she was wearing so they could make sure to avoid her like the plague. Seeing their darkest fears? Oh yes. She was someone to be noticed, if not befriended.
“Hello again, Amara,” Calahan greeted when he appeared in front of her a few minutes later. He was wearing a bright periwinkle jacket and matching pants. They complemented the cheerful lemon yellow of his shoes and waistcoat. “You look beautiful this evening.”
Her eyes widened as she found her gloved hand being raised to his lips. She didn’t know if she should take it as a compliment, considering his own taste. However, she couldn’t be too critical as he was the only person in the room to greet her with any degree of affection. Yes, a few people had tried chatting with her, mostly in a misguided attempt to curry favor with her parents or to deliver hidden insults and then later congratulate themselves on their wit. But none of them stood close enough to actually touch her. Ever.
They wouldn’t take the risk that she would see their most terrible pains and foul deeds.
Her lips lifted into a small grin and her shoulders relaxed. Here Calahan stood, publicly holding her hand at the most attended ball in millenia, candlelight bringing out the reds in his thick, mahogany hair. For other Fae, it was an action so common that it didn’t warrant a single thought. But it was so much more for Amara.
It was a literal once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.
In that moment, she forgot her desperate vision of the future. She forgot everything...her sister, Tiernan’s warning, and her half-hearted intention to leave Calahan alone. She forgot everything except the tiny flame of connection and hope sparked into life by the smile in his green-gold eyes.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked with a bow. It was the accompanying wink that snapped her out of her daze.
“Why yes,” she replied, the fire back in her eyes, “I’d love to.”
She rested her gloved hand in his as he led her into the crowd. Her breath quickened as they twirled around the room, the lights reflecting like copper fire on his thick mahogany locks. The dance was one of those where each partner joined a line of other dancers, and everyone glided in a pattern of circles, bows, and curtsies, touching only each other’s hands. Still, a lot could be communicated with a glance. For the length of the song, Calahan’s bright green eyes didn’t look anywhere but at her.
Her cheeks flushed as he led her off the dance floor. Her heart beat faster and her hands clenched, cynicism warring against hope. Should she say something? Her lips parted to take a quick breath, hoping to think of something to say.
“I ran into your brother in town earlier.” Asking about family was usually a safe way to open a conversation. “Is he enjoying the evening?”
“Tiernan? I doubt he’s even here,” Calahan scoffed. “He probably made his greetings to the princes and then left. He’s not one to enjoy something as frivolous as a dance with a beautiful woman.” The look in his eyes revealed that he thought Amara was such a woman.
They stopped at the edge of the room. A green mist shimmered and a deep red rose grew on his outstretched hand. “This is turning out to be quite a special evening,” he remarked as he offered her the rose.
“I was just thinking the same thing.” She accepted the gift and lifted it to enjoy it’s sutlry scent. Their eyes caught and she felt her smile grow bigger as she watched him grin.
“Hopefully, you’re also thinking about how nice it would be to share another dance later this evening,” he said.
“I suppose I might be,” she replied coyly.
“Thinking the same? Or wanting to share another dance?” he quipped.
“Hmmm…” she pretended to consider his questions, “Definitely, both.”
“Then I shall see you later, my lady.” He bowed. Amara couldn’t help but admire his physique as he walked away, eyes drawn to his broad shoulders and firm ass. So what if he looked a bit like a pastel peacock? It was the fashion; not everyone wanted to be a rebel. His boldness showed in his actions, such as kissing her hand and leading her in a dance.
Amara wandered onto a balcony, content to get some air and collect her thoughts for the moment. Now that she was away from the crowd, Quillan started bird-like muttering in her ear.
“So, you’re not a fan of Calahan, I take it?” she teased the small bird. She felt a sharp nip on the rim of her ear. “Oh, you naughty little beast. You bit me!” she grumbled.
She didn’t take his bite seriously, though. As best friends, they’d been known to aggravate each other as much as love on one another. “Well, you can just settle down. I’m not blinded by his charm. For goddess’ sake, I barely know him. But he’s making this evening a little more bearable and I’m going to enjoy it.”
The terrible vision and dread from earlier in the day were melting away. How could something so dark and evil possibly come to happen? Surely the actions of the day were rearranging future events. She, better than anyone, knew how one small choice, the simplest of actions, could produce an entirely different future. She ignored the knowledge that her visions often showed the most likely outcome. She had found a bit of light, and she was content to savor it for a while.
“Ah! Here you are! Are you ready for another dance?” Calahan stood in the entrance to the ballroom with his hand extended. He was framed perfectly in the arched doorway, wisteria casting shadows over his handsome face. Quillan pecked the top of her ear again, as if to say, What is actually going on here? But Amara ignored him. She knew he was suspicious and protective, and usually she agreed with him. But for now she just wanted one night. Even if--just for one celebration--she felt special. If he ignored her from tomorrow until forever, it was no matter. She would have this one evening to cherish and remember. She deserved that much, at least.
She placed her hand in Calahan’s and let him lead her into the center of the dance floor, right in front of the royal dais. Dozens of couples in glittering suits and dresses surrounded them. Faerie certainly knew how to throw a celebration, and this was one of the biggest. And for the first time ever, she felt like she was a part of it.
This was her first formal ball, and it was absolutely magical. The Faerie lights floated in the air just a few feet above the dancers and changed colors with the music, twinkling from pink to white to gold, and back again. The air felt soft and buoyant, as if she floated with each step. And when the music stopped, Calahan stood just a few inches from her, his hand almost touching her cheek.
This had been an evening of firsts. Would she get her first kiss tonight, too? Her eyes slowly drifted closed. Her breath quickened. It felt like every inch of skin was swollen with anticipation. A few moments passed. Just as she was about to open her eyes again, she felt him wrap his arm and hand around her bare shoulders.
“Your majesties,” Calahan’s smooth voice carried throughout the room, “I have something very important to tell you…”
Amaryllis didn’t hear any more as her magic sucked her into a vision, pulling the dark memories and intent from the man standing beside her, foolishly touching her skin.
He paces his bedroom, knuckles white as he clenches his fists in fury. “My damn brother. So perfect. So admirable. So absolutely boring.” His face twists, lips sneering like he’d tasted a poison that he wants to spit into Tiernan’s face. He needs to do something to prove he’s better than his brother, better than anyone...
After weeks of scheming, he has a plan.
He’ll woo the lonely Amaryllis. She might be miserable and desperate, but she can
still be a useful tool. If he has access to her secrets, he could be the most powerful man at court. He won’t be royalty; those bastards think they’re so smart, when really, they’re just figureheads with a lot of money. He hates the way they look down on him. He deserves the glory of Faerie as much as anyone. What did they do to earn their position? Nothing! He’s the one who should be revered. He’s the one people should bow to.
But what is a title when he can have real power? The power to control the future of Faerie by guiding and manipulating the people in charge. All he has to do is threaten to expose their darkest secrets, and they’ll inevitably concede to his demands.
A few days later, he hides behind a tree, listening to Amaryllis desperately share her darkest vision with her dead twin sister. He adjusts his plan in an instant. The opportunity is too good to pass up. He immediately dismisses the plan to woo her for information about others at court. Why work behind the scenes when he can be the biggest hero of his generation? Now his plan is to…
Amara came out of the vision just in time to hear the end of Calahan’s speech.
“...and in her vision, she is the source of the rot. She is responsible for the destruction of Faerie. The palace will crumble. The flora will wither and die. The fauna will starve until their skeletons are all that grace the landscape. The darkness inside her will permeate every leaf and every flower. Her evil will touch every person and child until each and every one of us is tainted.”
Calahan’s voice rose and fell dramatically. His arms spread as he addressed not just the royals, but everyone in attendance. “You know who she is. You know the darkness she carries. Is this the future you want for yourself and your family? Is this what you want for the people of Faerie?”
His words were like a slap in the face. Her chest ached with the pain of betrayal. She had never deliberately tried to hurt anyone. Why would she, when with a touch she would have to live through their pain as if it were her own? And now this greedy, selfish dandy was exposing her private thoughts on the anniversary of her sister’s death. Using her pain to get the attention of the court. Twisting her vision to reach his own ends.
With each word he spoke, Amaryllis felt that tiny, golden flicker of hope transform into an inferno of rage and destruction. There was no point in speaking against him. Who would ever believe her? He was a golden boy with green magic and she was nothing but a dark stain. And he was telling the truth, at least about her vision. But he was an asshole for painting her in the worst possible light. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to tear his head off. She knew everyone was looking at them, could feel their condemning stares.
She was always the villain. Always the scapegoat. The rotten weed in a garden of lovely flowers.
Her eyes darted around the room, looking for her parents, hoping they would step forward and support her. They knew she wasn’t evil. They must have enough honor to step forward and defend her. She couldn’t believe they would stand by silently while their daughter was accused of heinous crimes. Her breath stuttered and her heart beat so loud that all she could hear was it’s thudding. When she saw them standing in a circle of their peers, Amara’s eyes started burning with tears or fury, she couldn’t say. They’d been socializing with some prominent court members when Calahan had started his pronouncement. Now, they stood unmoving. She could see the calculation in their eyes, unlike the shock in everyone else’s. They weren’t going to do anything that might threaten their own position.
Amaryllis looked away in disgust. She was done. Done with her family. Done with court. Done with expecting her family to care. Her skin grew tighter and her eyes glowed brighter with anger and suppressed magic.
Turning to the royal dais, Amaryllis squared her shoulders, preparing herself as best she could for the princes’ reaction. What would they say? Would she be locked up? She didn’t know what happened in between now and her dark vision of Faerie, but she knew her intentions were not evil, but would anyone believe her? One thing she knew for sure, she wasn’t going to pander anymore. She wasn’t going to try to prove herself worthy to people who never even looked beyond their surface assumptions. And she absolutely was not going to be locked away in a cage when all she’d ever wanted was the freedom to be herself.
One of the princes spoke up, “If that’s all, Lord Calahan. I’m not sure this was the appropriate venue to notify us of your concerns. However they do bear more study. I believe we should take Amaryllis into custody so we can conduct further inquiries into Lord Calahan’s claims.”
Amara’s peripheral vision grew fuzzy, but she still saw the other princes nod in agreement. She went to step away from Calahan, perhaps to run or maybe just to distance herself, but he roughly grabbed her to keep her in place by his side. Like a jailer holding a convict.
“You’re not going anywhere, crazy bitch,” he hissed.
The contrast between her earlier expectations and this infuriating reality suddenly overwhelmed her. She freed one of her hands and slapped him, raking her fingers across his face, ripping open the skin.
“You stupid bastard.” She could barely speak through her clenched teeth.
His head rocked back with the force of her hit. That first slap broke the seal of her temper and suddenly, her dagger was at his throat. Enough was enough. She’d never threatened anyone in her life, but if he was going to portray her that way then maybe she’d own it, just for a moment.
“If my vision comes true, I hope the rot takes you first. Then at least your outsides will match your insides,” she threatened, the knife pricking his neck
“Restrain her!” one of the princes shouted in alarm.
Amara heard the clanging of armor as the guards moved to surround her. She stepped away from Calahan again, this time getting few feet away. She held her hands out in front of her in an attempt to look less dangerous.
“Quillan, now,” she whispered as she ripped a ring from her finger and threw it on the ground. It smashed into a thick, smoky cloud of deep purple.
The guards were still trying to get through the crowd of dancers, the royals were up on the dais, and Calahan hadn’t moved except to put his hand to his bloody face. Nobody could see Quillan change size, only this time he took on his largest form which was absolutely massive--at least ten feet long from beak to tail. He crouched down next to her, his black feathers slick like black satin.
Amara leaped onto his back so that her legs hung just in front of his wings on each side. “Let’s get out of here.” She couldn’t tell if she was whispering or screaming. Her mind was scrambled and she just wanted to get out. Quillan immediately launched them into the air, wings straining to gain height. She leaned over his head as they’d done hundreds of times when they’d flown in the enchanted forest. The ribbons and silk lashed through the air over Quillan’s gleaming tail, like a whip kissing the Faerie court goodbye.
Within seconds, they were soaring outside the palace. For a breath she worried that people would notice them, but everyone was celebrating. No one was looking for a woman escaping into the midnight mist on an impossibly giant raven.
Chapter Four
Amara stormed into her home, her entire body trembling with the desire to destroy something, anything. Her eyes flashed with dark fire. She ripped the ribbon out of her hair, suddenly furious that she’d put the effort into taming her hair when she really preferred to wear it wild and free. How dare he manipulate her! Even worse, how dare she let him! She screamed unintelligibly as she grabbed a mug from the table and threw it at the wall.
That little bit of destruction cleared just enough space in her mind for another thought to enter. What would she do now? It was bad enough before, but now they wanted to lock her up. She was already alone. Now they wanted to take her freedom too? Her eyes burned and her muscles clenched, despair and fury growing like a fire in her gut. The heat exploded and she hurled dish after dish at the wall.
As the fire burned inside her, she started formulating a plan, and when the last plate
broke, she raced over the debris to her bookshelf and pulled out a large, leather-bound tome. She flipped through the handwoven pages, hands trembling as she looked for a particular spell.
“There it is,” she whispered. Her finger ran down the page, eyes skimming the steps and ingredients. It was a powerful spell, and one that needed to be handled delicately. One wrong intent could shift the balance of the realm. This spell required a precise intent based on how many people it affected, but she’d already accounted for that. She had formulated the spell for her and Quillan and was confident she was protecting herself and the realm. She’d been studying this spell on and off over the years when she’d been halfway planning her escape from court. There was one good thing about having no social life--plenty of time to practice her sorcery.
She read through the spell again. She had everything she needed except for the pollen of heimarmene flower. “Calahan, you stupid bastard,” she murmured. His own manipulations were the key to her salvation. She set the book down on her table and dug through her laundry basket until she found the gloves she’d been wearing earlier that day. Sprinkles of peach glitter dusted the fingertips.
Dreams of Darkness Page 21
