The Secret World of Briar Rose(32)
“Don’t touch, dear. We’ll dispose of it.”
“Why?” Amelia’s voice was barely a whisper.
Clover bent down and let her fingers roam through the broken furniture inside the dollhouse. Wooden blocks representing books, clocks, and tiny bells painted in detail now had white cracks in their coating, spoiling the fantasy. She plucked a spinning wheel so small it fit into the base of her palm. The spindle looked like a toothpick in comparison to her fingers.
“The servants found this while cleaning your room. Imagine the horror if this had crossed your path!”
“I couldn’t have pricked my finger on that,” Amelia said. “It’s made of plastic.”
A deep voice emerged from behind her. “It’s not about the spindle, Amelia. It’s about what it represents.”
She turned around to her father’s shadow. Under moonlight, the grays of his hair became more apparent. He nodded to the godmothers, who gestured to the broken dollhouse with glowing palms. The plastic furniture, cracked windows, and broken sunflowers shone under the light before turning to ash. A whisper of wind fluttered through the crack of Amelia’s bedroom window as the debris dissolved.
“Malicine chose a spinning wheel to be your downfall for a reason,” her father said. “She knows you are naive. That you are the type of girl who will let yourself be swept up in whimsical fancies and then carelessly prick your finger on a spindle.”
He lowered himself to meet Amelia’s gaze, clasping his hands on her shoulders in a firm grip. She wanted to avoid the icy blue of his eyes. They held the weight of judgment that made her feel unworthy and weak, like she was the dollhouse that had been torn open, every impractical decoration under scrutiny. The frills and lace, the pink wallpaper, all so feminine and trivial.
“In a few days’ time, you will turn seventeen. That’s too old to indulge in childish whimsies.” His hands on her shoulders felt like lead, tying her down to the real world. “Do not forget your promise. You are to marry Gyldan’s future king and continue our legacy. There’s no time for anything else.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as her breaths came out trembling. Her godmothers surrounded her, placing small hands on her back and rubbing in circles. Their soft murmurs reassured her that a prince would find her soon and save her from the curse. The two of them would spend the rest of their lives together in a real fairy tale, living in a castle even bigger than the cottage Amelia had, and wouldn’t that be so much more wonderful?
Amelia nodded, ignoring the ache in her chest. Before the godmothers left, they asked if she was all right.
“I’m fine,” she answered. “Everything is fine.”
CHAPTER 15
“ITOLD YOU I’M fine,” Corin snapped.
“Sure, that’s why you’re still scowling.”
Elly had given up on her silent treatment, curiosity overtaking her instead. She wanted to know what Corin had seen in the ice caves. The snow had dissolved behind their footsteps after they left the caverns, and the scenery had shifted into a new season, a few months condensed to mere minutes. Icy rivers melted into liquid light as tulips sprouted along the edge. Color filled the land in the form of blooming flowers and lengthening grass. The cuts on Corin’s knuckles healed under the warmer atmosphere, as if she’d never smashed the ice at all.
She wanted to continue the land’s pattern of forgetfulness, and so she ignored Elly’s interrogations, instead rubbing her itching nose at the change in atmosphere. They followed Malicine through alpine meadows, mirroring the rows of caterpillars that crawled down the moss. With each step, buttercups sprung from soil, unfurling their petals to greet the spring air. Fuchsia colors sprouted from low rolling peaks of mountains, a sea of flowers and blossoms that burned Corin’s eyes from its brightness.
Still, Elly didn’t relent. “You’re hiding something.”
Corin’s skin prickled at the familiar words. The memory came back to her like a trickle of light intruding upon the dark veil she’d insisted on wrapping around her mind. The light grew wider, and she remembered it had been moonlight specifically, spilling through the open flap of a tent as a shadow stood before her. On the night Harlow had caught her rifling through their commune’s tents, Corin had tucked the satchel behind her back. Still, Harlow always had sharp eyes.
“You’re hiding something.”
Corin had reared back as Harlow charged forward. Her satchel spilled open in their scuffle. Cans of vegetables cracked on the floor, the sticky preservatives staining their shoes and crumpled bills she’d swiped from their friends’ coat pockets. Shame had flooded her cheeks, even though she’d already told Harlow she planned on leaving, that her years at the commune were only temporary until she found an actual home for Elly and her. She’d refused to tell anyone how she signed the lease, where the building was, and what she sacrificed to get it. She also couldn’t bear the humiliation of returning to the commune and asking them for supplies after she and Elly moved in and discovered their new home was nothing but a broken-down hovel with four walls.
Harlow had stared in silence at the pile of perishables Corin tried to steal. The look of disappointment had made Corin cringe. She was glad that she’d waited until Elly fell asleep in their new home before sneaking to the commune to swipe essentials. She wouldn’t have wanted Elly to witness this, or find out whose side her sister would have taken.