The Secret World of Briar Rose(81)
Then a petal disintegrated between her fingers, and as Amelia stared at the crumbly bits in her palm, she remembered that if Ezran’s plan had worked, she would never see Lilith again. The queen would never witness the flowers she gifted become alive after Amelia’s birthday.
Amelia wasn’t even supposed to live after her birthday.
The realization hit her like a stab in the gut now that her curse had been revoked. She had never pictured a future for herself beyond eighteen. Without the curse, her life expanded in decades. How could life be a miracle if it sounded so terrifying? The thought made her knees buckle, and the godmothers rushed to her side to catch her.
“What’s wrong?” Clover cried.
Her breaths shortened as quickly as her mouth dried. She felt like she was choking, but it was her pounding heart, reaching up her throat, demanding to be spat out. Bumps raised against her skin like needles. They didn’t stop forming, even though her godmothers’ hands were so warm they burned against her shivers.
“I don’t want to do this,” she whispered.
“But this is your party,” Iris said, “and you’re having a wonderful time!”
Amelia shook her head but couldn’t get the words out. She couldn’t explain how it wasn’t the party she was talking about. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to live.
Because this was what life was: waking up and enduring. Sleeping and escaping. Waking up and enduring all over again. She was so tired of feeling this way whenever she was conscious, exhausted from pretending she could be happy. Perhaps for another girl, these parties would be enough to fill the emptiness. But nothing would be enough for Amelia. She’d always keep wishing for another world, another life, another way to fill the void.
The corners of the ballroom spun as the godmothers tried holding her up. They wanted to piece her back together, but she was born broken. It had never been the curse that created the cracks within her. That had been all her doing. More empty platitudes scraped her ears, and she wondered how it was possible that a room could be filled with so many people, while she felt utterly alone.
She had barely steadied herself by the time the doors opened. Murmurs died to a quiet hush. The sea of people parted ways as a familiar face emerged from the crowd. It should have comforted her, seeing her family again. Her father had returned to Gyldan from his trip. Yet, even standing in his own castle, he felt like a stranger.
“I’m glad you’re back, Amelia.” King Victor spoke as if they were the only two in the ballroom. The crowd fell silent in his presence. “We have a lot to catch up on.”
CHAPTER 35
WHILE THE REAL world burned, they dreamed.
Corin learned that this was what dreaming meant: Basking in the softness of grass without worrying about running when dusk came. Letting go of the heaviness of holding everything up. Never having to be resilient again.
She spent her days with Elly making snowballs in winter, picking flowers in spring, tasting new fruits in summer. An excess of activities she once deemed too frivolous to endure the passage of time, now given to her as a second chance. The sun saw them collect wildflower bouquets while meandering along streams, and the moon watched them huddle around crackling fire and wrap themselves in thick, soft blankets.
Corin brushed her fingers through Elly’s hair, which had grown long and thick, curling past her shoulders and tied with daisy stems. The girl looked just like their mother. For so long, Corin had been afraid of their similarities, a paralyzing fear that fate would take Elly away the same way it did their mother. But they were surrounded by parsley-green fields instead of concrete and grime, sunflowers and bees instead of shadows and leering eyes. She helped press flower petals into Elly’s hair, watching the buds painted on her sister’s nails bloom. For all the wasted moments they lost, Corin could make up for them now.
Yet a darkness loomed in the back of her mind, manifesting into an island she watched whenever she stared past the ocean. A lingering fear told her that, if Malicine didn’t return, it would be Corin’s fault. She had been the reason they chased her into Autumnland and lost their amulet, endangering everyone if intruders came into the world.
She wanted to enjoy this second chance, but couldn’t forget the real person she left in peril.
“This doesn’t feel right.”
Her words came out as harsh as the clatter of teacup on porcelain. They had gathered on the porch with Briar, Penny, and Dime, sitting around a circular table set with pastries and tea pots. The attempt at normalcy seemed ridiculous in front of Briar’s collapsed cottage. Broken pieces of wood scattered the grass, while some of the stones had stacked together into a smaller house fit for animals. A lace parasol replaced the collapsed roof, trickling small rays of light for Dime to sunbathe. Without Malicine’s amulet, they couldn’t restore parts of the dreamscape back to pristine condition.
Elly’s brows pinched together. “You still aren’t used to me here. Pretending I’m alive.”
“No! That’s not—” Corin stopped. It was true that Elly’s presence didn’t feel whole yet. Every time Corin wrapped her sister in her arms and felt a beating heart against hers, the gesture seemed incomplete. The sense of peace remained foreign, yet still, she wanted to become familiar with it.
“I need you here, El.” Her hand wrapped around Elly’s fingers and squeezed them, as if her sister were a mirage that could disappear if Corin didn’t hold tightly enough. “But I keep wondering when Malicine will return. Sometimes it feels like they’ve been gone for weeks. Then it’s as if they only left a few hours ago. Time warps itself here.”