She would do it, yes, she would. Soon. Then…then Aurelia would see the depths of Sira’s brilliance.
Her gaze shifted to the pedestal against a rock wall. The item upon it emitted the only light in the cavern.
Floating, as if with a gravity of its own, was a red rose. Though red could not truly describe it. For even in the Above, there are no words for a color that gleams with the light of the cosmos. Sira’s lip curled, and she stalked toward it.
“You were supposed to help me,” she said. “You’re as wretched as all these creatures!” With a scream, she grabbed either side of the pedestal and shook it as hard as she could. It smacked against the rock wall. The rose tilted amid its float, the force of the movement knocking it off-center. Then it toppled forward, hurtling toward the ground.
Sira shrieked, this time out of fear, and lurched forward, barely catching it before it hit the stone. Her heart hammered against her rib cage. Unlike when it was attached to the heavenly bush, the rose was now hard, stem and petals like glass. If it broke, who knew what would become of her creations?
Her…children.
The thought sent such a fright through her that when she restored the rose to its proper rest, she took one of the petals between thumb and forefinger andsnappedit off, then tucked it into one of the drawers of the wardrobe for safekeeping. For so long, she’d lived Above and thought things never changed and that was one of the great facts of life. But then she’d learnedshecould change things, and with that realization had come the need to be prepared for the worst.
For the fae Above despised change.
Or at least most change. They didn’t mind at all when Aurelia sat in the Gardens of Ithilias, wearing her dress of gossamer pink, her hair done up in curls, sending clusters of butterflies out of her fingertips, all crafted from blades of grass. Nor did they mind when Aurelia herded great feather-winged horses into the citadel. If Aurelia did it, the fae cooed and adored and groveled like maggots at a carcass.
It wasn’tfair. Why? Why could Aurelia do it? Sira had spent every day at her side; Aurelia was nothing special, not better than the rest. Yes, she was learned and quick-witted. Funny and clever, sure. And yes, it was true. Aureliawasa great beauty. Butwhat made her magic so strong? Why did the Gardens treat her like she was one of their own roses?
Sira had sat there under the petals, trying to absorb their magic. She’d reached up to the stars lining the cosmos and begged for their power. Why? Why did they give it to Aurelia? Why did they ignore her?
She ran a tender finger along the rose’s stem. It was such a little thing. The Gardens werefullof roses. If only she had this power, she could make things like Aurelia. More beautiful than Aurelia! And it was just one little flower…
The light flickering within the petals seemed to shine brighter, mocking her.
For merely taking one little rose, her friends, herfamily, had cast her out. Thrown her off the edge into the dark abyss.
Sira took a ragged breath, hand tightening around the stem, thorns digging into the soft flesh of her palm. Well, what those traitors didn’t understand, too blinded by the light were they, was that thingscansurvive in the dark.
And not just survive but be born anew.
Sira flung herself away from the rose and began pacing. She had a bloom from the Gardens of Ithilias, powerful enough to allow her to not only create but control that which she bore. Yet it was not powerful enough to keep thisrotfrom infecting everything she made.
Striding over to the small area she called a bedroom, she slammed the drawers of her wardrobe, threw the blankets and pillows from her bed.
If only she could create something beautiful! She could bring it to the Above. The fae would fall to their knees in awe. She would bring her divine creations home. She would once again sit in the Gardens of Ithilias and bask in their radiance.
But… Sira peered through the dark. Gargoyles. Goblins. Spiders made of bloody ligaments. Butterflies that screamed,their wings torn full of holes. Trees with black bark that sapped life from the soil. How could the Above look at these and see anything but monstrosities?
Hideous. Pathetic. Repulsive. All of them!
She turned back to her bedroom, gaze catching on the full-length mirror. Skin pale as spiderwebs. Long, black hair. A pointed nose and down-turned mouth.
If everything I create is rotten, what does that mean of me?
Letting out a wail, she shoved the mirror. Glass shattered, pieces erupting across the ground. Sira fell to the stone, hands wrapping around the shards just to feel the bite of pain. Her cries were unstoppable now, tearing through her whole body and echoing through the cavern. The sense of mockery made her cry harder.
Leaning down, she peered into the shards, her image distorted.Monster.
“Lady.”
She turned to see Faustrius standing in the entrance to her cavern.
“Faustrius,” she whimpered, not even bothering to wipe her tears. What did it matter what he thought of her now?
“Lady.” Quickly, he crossed to her, falling to his knees and taking her hands in his, examining the cuts. His long, blond hair cascaded over his shoulder.
Sira tilted her head, a sad smile gracing her lips.Now, this is beauty. Everything from the pointed tips of his ears to the delicate curve of his hands was beautiful. The light of the rose poured over his skin, making him appear all the more radiant.He is a work of art. Starlight given form.
