Then again, maybe it wasn’t such a surprise she sent a note this time after all.
Gage had laughed himself hoarse when Elysia had told him about it the next morning. Elysia’s lips almost gave into a smile at the thought. The man didn’t laugh enough. Not that she could blame him.
She twisted the locks into her dingy flat, as Lynd had so lovingly called it, and heaved a sigh of relief. Behind this door, these walls—there was no one to hide from but herself.
She set her goods on the table and dropped her cloak onto a chair. Within minutes, the fire was blazing and every stitch of uncomfortable clothing was tossed to the winds.
Better, much better already.
Between her buttery soft deep blue pajamas and the woolen socks covering her feet, Elysia soon felt the damp Kavian chill dissipate. Walking around, she lit enough lamps to brighten the small living room.
Her flat was a luxurious, eclectic mix of old steals from within the castle walls. It had been no small feat to lug the plush, velveteen poufs and worn, stuffed leather couch to her flat in the dead of night, but Elysia had paid off Gage’s men handsomely to carry her forbidden cargo.
Gage called it an abuse of power and threatened to smoke out her new furnishings.
She called it absolutely necessary and had handed him an ancient Kavian blade she’d found beneath the castle that swiftly melded his lips into a shit-eating grin.
The thick rug she sat upon had been tossed from the royal sitting room ages ago only to collect dust in a closet. Elysia had been more than happy to rescue it from decay. She ran her fingers over the smooth cream fibers, feeling herself relax evenfurther as she settled in for the night. In truth, her flat was not dingy at all. It was filled with the treasures of a queen.
She laid out a small sheet and held the edges down with two old books. She’d really hate to accidentally grind dirt into the rug. Then she placed a few pots and various dead flowers out in front of her.
The live ones, they were her secret joy. Few knew how much she enjoyed her time spent knuckle deep in the soil trying to cajole seedlings to life and whispering encouragement to the rare bloom.
Kava had no sun. It had no flowers.
But she had seen a picture book of them as a child and became obsessed with finding a way to harvest them even here in Relaclave. They had moss and mold aplenty, but not the blooms she dreamed of holding.
Rollie, tiny scientist that he was, had pushed his glasses up, and set to work at crafting her the sun. No small feat for a boy of eight years. She imagined that was why he had succeeded, though. No adult would be brave enough to think they could capture the sun.
Rollie had.
He’d dug through books on other lands that still met the sun without Kava’s constant filter of soot and haze, and created what he called a flower house. It was child sized and easily carried, only able to grow a few plants at a time. Elysia still did not understand the mechanics of the reflective devices Rollie had installed on the top panes of the little house, but light was collected and magnified, and it created the perfect womb from which her seedlings could grow.
She sat contently in front of the fire with dirt under her nails and a jug of stolen wine off to her side. Wine was an expensive indulgence. Gin remained the drink of choice for most Kavians given the abundance of their forests. And yet a good deep redwas still her favorite. She’d swiped this latest bottle on her way out of the castle. Brain still buzzing with thoughts of Topp, proposals, and her looming execution, it’d seemed necessary. Bringing the bottle to her lips, she took a swig. A dark drop clung to her mouth. She absently wiped it away, debating internally which flowers to plant next.
Carefully pressing dirt on top of the new seeds until each little pot felt just right, she then placed them in the flower house. After a quick mumbled prayer to the gods-knew-who, she returned the flower house to its home on the windowsill.
Elysia scrubbed her fingers clean of dirt the best she could and then sat back down in front of the fire.Time to earn this month’s rent.She took another swig of wine and rubbed her hands together, the image already filling her mind’s eye. Delicate glass in different shapes and sizes lay before her, waiting for her to begin.
She held a single bloom out, inspecting it as if it was a gem. It was one of the few flowers that had held on for her this month. Knees folded beneath her, she lowered her arm to rest against her thighs with her eyes still hooked on the flower as if mesmerized. Her gaze softened, the beauty of the flower working its own subtle magic. Tension drained down and out of her. Her whole body relaxed in an airless exhale. Small white diamond specks that looked like stars against the velvet blue-black of the petals coaxed out a hidden sense of wonder within her. The flower’s delicate, faded scent lulled her even further.
It was with regret that she placed the pressed flower upon a thin sheet of glass.
She glanced out the window, a sense of forlornness rooting in her chest. She would never know what Kava had once been. She would never know wildflowers instead of decay. Her blooms all had an expiration. At their peak, they were snipped. A life cut short. Stuck flat between the pages of a book. Flattened, butstill vibrant, she crafted them into art. At least this way, more people had a chance to experience their beauty, she supposed. Everything died eventually, after all.
She studied her small collection, picking out accents.Yes, those.Her hands moved almost of their own accord. Peppering sprigs of greenery around the bloom. Adjusting the design until her heart quietly glowed at the sight. She gave a satisfied hum and decided it would do.
She had just unstoppered a small pot of paste when a series of loud knocks with no rhythm shook the door on its hinges. One would think a drunk ex-lover had come to visit rather than a young woman.
Elysia frowned at her unfinished work, but got to her feet, and peered out the looking hole. There was Beatriz, alright. As tall as most men with a silver mane that hung like a sheet of deathly sharp metal.
Her foot tapped against the black-and-white tiled floor. “I know you’re standing there,” she drawled, arms crossed.
Elysia didn’t respond, just picked at her fingernails.Damn dirt. Impossible to get out.Provoking her sister was one of her greatest joys in life. Unfortunately, Beatriz felt the same. Her drawl became an annoyed growl and her fist slammed against the door.
“Elysia.”
Elysia grinned and slowly started to count to ten. She only made it to five before her sister was banging against the door like she could break through it with her fists alone.
