The Secret World of Briar Rose(39)
“This place is empty, just like you,” Corin continued evenly. “You think you can dress something up in flowers and tea parties and pretend to have some pretty life, but none of it is real. Here’s the truth: Your name is Amelia. You’ve been sleeping for a hundred years. Your body has been wasting away in an empty castle buried beneath the ground. And your real home is nothing but dust and debris and ripped paintings.”
Potted plants spilled soil across the floorboards. Corin’s boots stomped in dirt as she backed Briar against the wall.
“Every family portrait I saw in that castle had their faces slashed out, including yours. But there was one left unscathed. The queen.”
For the first time, Briar’s sun-kissed complexion went pale, and she almost looked like the princess Corin saw in the real world. A vindictive part of Corin delighted in that. To turn the tables and make Briar the one uncomfortable with acknowledging the truth.
“I heard the stories about how your family lineage ended. She killed your father and nearly took your life too. Is that why you’re here? You couldn’t deal with reality crumbling around you, so you retreated into your dreams to hide.”
“We are all running away from something,” Briar replied, her voice steady. “That’s why we’re here. Even you.”
“No, I’m the one trying to return to reality. As horrible as it is, some of us don’t have the freedom to run away whenever something goes wrong. We don’t get caskets full of roses, or faeries to grant us gifts, or better worlds to escape by magic. We’re forced to live with the consequences of wealthy, frivolous people like you. And when we die, nobody will remember us.”
Briar stared at Corin for a long moment. Veiled thoughts passed behind her eyes like shadows, as if she were examining the emotions seething behind Corin’s even tone, turning them over to see every jagged edge. “You’re angry,” she said.
“Of course I am. It must be nice to live in dreams without any worries.”
“I have plenty of worries. And regrets. And sadness,” she replied. “But I bury them so I don’t have to look at it anymore. You can do the same. You and Elly can be happy here.”
Corin sneered. “You don’t know what would make El happy.”
“Do you?” Briar asked. “Do you even know what would make you happy?”
Corin’s breaths turned short, as if air had just been cut from her lungs. She recalled the look on Elly’s face. The way the shards of the clay figurine bit into her palm. The miserable black night when she confessed to her sister what she did.
No—there was no point looking back. They were already making up. They were supposed to be better now. Corin refocused on Briar, studying the daisy petal dripping below her eye like a teardrop. The princess could live in illusions, but she had no right to trick Corin with them, to pick at Corin’s wounds while covering her own. Corin placed a finger on the petal and lifted it from Briar’s cheek. The gesture was slow, almost gentle, but they both felt the sharpness of her action, the weight of her glare.
She drew her face so close that they couldn’t tell their breaths apart from one another. So that, when she said these words next, they would strike Briar directly.
“What did you do to the queen?”
The daisy petal fell from Briar’s cheek, revealing a permanent teardrop mark on her skin. She lifted her chin and looked directly in Corin’s eyes.
“What did you do to your sister?”
I hate you.
Elly’s words echoed between the walls, slipped through the stones, lingered through the water reeds of the roof. The words dissolved into the rumbles of a new sound, like a monster waking up. The shingles above their heads rolled like a thunderstorm. A hard crack struck the air, the windows shattering. The world shook violently in an earthquake, and glass bit into their skin as they lost balance.
Corin hit the ground first. The house’s rapid shaking kept her pinned down. Rotting cake slicked over her limbs, maggots and food residue sticking to her skin. The other furniture clattered across the wood and rolled like tidal waves. Then a sharp jolt broke the roof in half.
When she looked up, the wood above collapsed. She felt a sharp stab in her stomach, a sickly cold that spread in her abdomen and told her that, no matter how solid of a fortress she tried to build, the pain would always slip through.
CHAPTER 18
101 YEARS AGO
AMELIA LIKED HIDING behind flowers, but this time, they could not protect her. Once the godmothers healed her ankle, they expected her to accompany Ezran the next morning in the greenhouse, a glass-walled enclosure situated at the end of the castle’s courtyard. The room was filled with the sharp smell of living plants and fresh soil. Trailing vines ran down the enclosure, and drooping trees hung over granite benches. She liked that some flowers were big enough to cover her face, and even the bushes were tall enough to hide her figure. With Ezran by her side, however, she had to focus on making conversation with Gyldan’s newest guest. Which meant she, unfortunately, needed to stay visible.
He had stayed overnight in the castle’s guest chambers. It was the least the royal family could offer as thanks for rescuing Amelia last night. Her godmothers already adored him, and King Victor approved of him. Hearing Ezran’s easy laughter and steady voice, it made sense. He had a casual way of moving around the world, yet a sturdy presence that commanded others to listen.