Tulya
The snow dripped from the sky, softly pinging the great room’s bay window. It was so quiet as I sat on my knees, watching the white flakes settling on the ground, forming piles of marshmallow fluff, beckoning me to dive in… But as much as they invited me to come outside, I continued to sit behind the foggy glass, longingly staring at the dusky purple sky, sort of wishing I lived among fewer rules. Earlier, I’d begged Mama to let me go play, but I was already wearing my tulle party dress and tights, and she looked at me withthe look, and I didn’t even wait for her to say no. I’d sulked away to the study.
As legend had it, the island of Rubia was formed by a gorgeous goddess who cried lava, creating barriers between those who hurt her and the heart pounding in her chest. Always seemed strange that she’d crafted this place here and not in a more temperate climate. Most of the time, I didn’t believe the legend. At school, we learned every Rubian was special in their ownunique way and their powers were meant to be used within Rubia only. These capabilities were gifts, intended to help maintain order and allow our magical island to prosper. If we used them for the good of our people, we were granted more. Why would the goddess hold the ability to only help herself and her own heart? That seemed silly.
Sulking, I flipped around on the love seat, plopping down on my butt, taking in the room and eyeing the ten-foot Christmas tree in the corner. Glory, our housekeeper, and I had picked it out at the Holiday Market, and it sparkled and twinkled against the dimly lit room. I smiled at that at least, remembering how happy I’d been making the branches shine.
My perfectly decorated tree waited to greet others as a fire burned and a tray full of cookies from Boulangerie Bakery sat perched on the coffee table. Too bad they weren’t for me. None of this was. Occasionally, if Mama was tied up with her brother, the powerful Minister, Glory snuck me out on errands and we would stop for a croissant on The Avenue, where all the fancy boutiques and cafés were located. It was a dreamy place, Boulangerie, and I wondered if they had something like it in the real world…
To an outsider, our house was an idyllic scene, brimming with holiday magic. To me, it was torture; I wanted to run free and fancy. After all, I didn’t have any purpose or powers yet and only wished I could eat desserts and go play in the snow.
I looked at the tray in ravenous hunger and pondered which cookie I wanted to steal the most. After all, I was only a kid in an adult’s world.
“Ezza! Ezza! Where are you?”A screeching, raised voice carried through the house, calling for my mother.
Shoving my hands in my lap, I pretended to be busy singing carols to myself and not looking at the treats in front of me. I’dbeen asked to rehearse for the first-grade holiday pageant, so I did my best to pretend I’d been doing so.
“Ezza!”My brother’s fiancée, Shelby, skidded into the room, looking disheveled in a sleeveless cranberry-colored dress, her hair wild and appearing as if she’d been yanking on it. I’d never heard her call Mama by her nickname, but now she was yelling it with reckless abandon.“Ezza!”
“Hi, Shelby,” I said, trying not to startle her.
“Oh, hi, umm, I’m sorry, but do you know where your mother is?” She looked at me, wild-eyed, and I could tell she’d been crying.
My heart and brain did that weird flip-flop thing—pinging or pulsing in some sort of way I didn’t quite understand. I knew it wasn’t commonplace, and was something unique to me, but I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone yet. I had fairly decent reasons.
“Tuvy! Do you know where your mother is?” Shelby snapped at me, and I shook my head. Sniffing back fresh tears, she ran a pale wrist over her nose. She didn’t wait for an answer, only turned toward the vestibule and started to yell “Ezza” once again, as my heart and head pumped furiously, a small sheen of sweat forming on the back of my neck.
I ran my slight fingers under my long red waves and fingered the moisture building there, willing it to back off. At six years old, I already knew this was a sign of something greater than me. I wanted powers, but also I didn’t.
“Ezza!” Even the tree flickered in disgust at Shelby’s nonstop screaming.
“Shelby, quiet down.” My mother finally appeared in the alcove, looking formidable, other than the bunch of mistletoe hanging above her stoic face making me want to laugh. “What are you hollering about, Shelby? Tuvy is sitting right there, and you’re making a spectacle of yourself, young lady.”
She meant Shelby, not me. I was nothing more than an innocent girl, and far from a lady.
“I-I—” Shelby stuttered, standing ramrod straight in front of Mama.
“What are you wearing? That is not what we decided on…together. The guests will arrive shortly.” Mama stood, unaffected by Shelby’s crying, staring her straight in the eyes.
I imagined Shelby taking in my mother, Esmeralda Falcone, her hair pulled back tight in a bun, red lip perfect as always, and not a sequin out of place on her sparkly black sheath dress.
“This dinner is for you, Shelby,” Mama went on to say through gritted teeth.
“Bruno called it off, Esmeralda.” She practically spit out my mother’s full name, and even I knew that wouldn’t be well received. “He said my family doesn’t have enough magic in their bloodlines, and he should have known it with my common name,Shelby, and my lackluster capability to move objects without touching them. It’s so commonplace, was what he said, with disgust. Looking right at me, as if it were an evil word.” She barely could get out the last part, and I really wished I was playing in the snow. This was the type of drama my sister Caro and I ran away from when it came to Bruno, our older brother by over a decade and some.
From where I sat, I watched Shelby’s back heave up and down and I could tell she was breathing hard. My body started to burn, and I wondered if I was getting sick. Despite the small smirk lifting Mama’s mouth at Bruno’s decision, I rose off the love seat, my feet carrying me next to Shelby.
“It’s probably for the best,” Mama said, not missing a beat. “But you’ll have to gather yourself and make an announcement to the guests this evening, who are coming to celebrate your engagement. Throw some water on your face and comb your hair back. And for heaven’s sake, put on the dress we selected.”
“No,” Shelby shrieked, falling to her knees. “You wanted this, I know it. Bruno said it—”
“You should have thought of this when you set your sights on Bruno.”
Mama didn’t waver in her words, but she did slip me a side-eye as I continued to stand next to Shelby, who was on her knees weeping.
Her mood had swung from being frantic and mad to devastated. “You were never going to bless us, and I love him… I’ll never love again,” Shelby began to shriek.
At the same time as her voice rose, my fingers shook and my palm lifted to Shelby’s shoulder. Mama watched with one eye, following my movement as I also fell to my knees, Shelby’s aches traveling my own spine as my fingertips met with her bare shoulder. My body swiveled to face my brother’s ex-fiancée; I had no clue what was happening or what was driving me to do so, my torso seemingly having a mind of its own. My palm came to rest over Shelby’s heart and something fizzed and shocked between us, Shelby’s eyes opening wider than earlier. Heat raced up my legs, traveling my spine and back down again.
