“That hardly feels important,” I scoffed.
The warm weather in Olathana made clothes mostly unnecessary, even for those whose bodies didn’t turn fabrics to glass. I didn’t suffer from my nakedness. And why would anyone else object to it? The curse had only slightly altered my appearance, not harming my good looks at all.
“Doesn’t it?” Odine tilted her head. “Just think about it, Kye. A layer of fabric between you and the rest of the world would allow you the many conveniences you don’t currently have. A pair of pajamas would make it possible for you to sleep in a real bed again. A pair of socks made from the magic silk would let you walk anywhere you want without fear or reservation. And a pair of gloves would allow you to touch.”
I inhaled deeply, imagining what it would be like to touch and feel again, even if through a layer of silk. Touch was an ability that everyone had and often took for granted. I certainly had never fully appreciated it until I lost it.
“Where would I get silk like that?” I asked quickly.
“Directly from the Sky Kingdom, of course.” Odine pointed at the cloudless sky above.
I knew one couldn’t see the Sky Kingdom from here. It was impossible to spot even on the clearest of days, despite it always being above us. Yet I followed Odine’s gesture anyway, tipping my head back to stare straight up.
Olathana didn’t trade with the Sky Kingdom anymore. Not after its King Aigle betrayed my great-grandmother by luring her to the Peak of Kings, then murdering her in front of the rulers of the Lorsan Wetlands and the Dakath Mountains.
“We don’t trade with the Sky Kingdom,” I said. “And even if we did, I can’t fly up there. I can’t get off this reef. I don’t even leave the palace anymore.”
“Then send someone to get it for you and deliver it to me right away,” Odine suggested. “For the next decade or so, I’ll bestaying in the monastery of the Moon Goddess on the shores of Sarnala. It’s peaceful there, except for the full-moon nights, of course.”
“But whom can I send if not a siren?” I pondered out loud.
Where was I supposed to find another fae willing to do my bidding if even my own people steered clear of me?
“You are the great, powerful King Kye of Olathana. I trust you will find a way, Your Majesty.” Odine bowed, switching from the warm tone of the woman who’d known me since birth to the politely detached voice of a courtier.
She walked away, iridescent mists seeping through her cloak and rolling in a shimmer down her frail, hunched shoulders.
I stared after her for as long as I could see her figure through the thick, multi-faceted glass walls of my palace.
Her visit brought new hope. Only I wasn’t sure if hope was welcome here anymore. During the past hundred years, I’d tried every “cure,” every spell, and every potion in many fruitless attempts to break or reverse the curse. All I had to show for it were the numerous glass statues of everyone who’d attempted to fool me now resting on the bottom of the ocean.
Did I have it in me to try one more time? Could I deal with yet another crushing disappointment if it failed?
Except that Odine didn’t claim she knew how to break the spell. She only promised to make my life a little easier, a little more bearable... A little less lonely perhaps?
In which case, was it even worth trying at all?
Lost to my inner debate, I didn’t notice the butterfly land on my hand until it was too late.
Its wings stiffened and turned translucent, losing all their vibrant colors at once. Its delicate legs immediately broke, with glass being so much more brittle than living tissue. The poor thing tipped sideways, falling off my hand.
“Oh, no...” I reached for it.
But too thin and delicate to exist as a glass figurine, the doomed butterfly hit the glass sand under my feet and shattered on impact, pulverized into tiny shards that were immediately lost in the sand.
Well, fuck...
I failed to save it after all.
Just as I had never saved a single person among the many people I’d killed.
Chapter 2
Maren
“You don’t understand. Please, it’s very important. It’simperativethat I make it to LA this afternoon,” I insisted, holding my phone with the itinerary open in front of the airline agent at the check-in counter.
“Well, as I said, ma’am, all morning flights to LA have been cancelled. Believe it or not, we do not control the weather, Ms. ...” The agent squinted at the name on my itinerary, then added with a sardonic smirk, “Karen.”
