Page 8 of Night of Death and Flowers

Slowly, they emerge from the inky sea, drops sliding down their shadowy bodies as they shift into the same creatures that serve me in the Darklands—the Phovi.

Under my hard stare, the humanoid-appearing shifters bow into submission.

“I, Azkiel, God of Death, bring you back to find the prophesied one. She will be amongst those whose names are volunteered. You must guard the church where the ceremony will take place and keep watch on all who enter and leave.” The command leaves my lips in a hiss. “Find her.”

THREE

Calista

As we slide through the back entrance, we walk into our mother, holding a cup of steaming lavender tea.

Ari gasps, shuffling back, and I scoot over in time so that she doesn’t fall into me. “Mama.”

Mother’s long fingernails tap against the tea bowl as she drags her assessing stare over Arabella, then hovers over the coin purse attached to my sister’s leather belt. “Get to bed,” she orders with a shake of her head, then runs one hand down her long, blonde braid. “We will talk about this in the morning.”

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I wanted to see the market,” Ari says, her voice lightening into submission.

I clear my throat. “That’s not true. It was—”

“Bed,” she shouts, and Ari glances over her shoulder at me, apology infused in her gaze before she turns and hurries past Mama, disappearing into the corridor. Once she’s out of sight, Mother places her cup down on the half-moon table, then presses her hands against her hips, wrinkling the silk of her nightdress.

“Should I go, too?” I ask as she frowns, the wrinkles on her forehead more pronounced despite the powder she uses to attempt to hide them.

“Are you trying to ruin our reputation?” she asks, her voice as frigid as the draft leaking in from the door behind me. “Have you not done enough?”

“Nothing bad happened.” I press my lips tight, to prevent the spill of poison from my tongue as I caress my argument in my mind.

“You best hope no one of importance saw you,” she spits through her teeth. “Your sister will provide a strong union with another family. I am sure you’re aware the other elders and their families are in town.”

All I know is Ari can’t be blamed for tonight. She may be the favorite, but that doesn’t mean Mother won’t punish her still. Not that forcing Ari to meet with suitors twice her age isn’t punishment enough. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry I took her out,” I say, my tone strained, then hug the cloak tighter around me, my heart pounding as I edge closer to the door.

Please let this end quickly. I don’t need another lecture, and Drake is waiting for me.

She lifts her fingers to her temple, the tattoo on her hand, emblazoned with Essentria’s sigil, shimmering in gold under the candlelight flicking from the wall. The back entrance falls silent, save for the occasional clanking from the kitchen in the next room. My mother leans forward, the smell of lead and lavender choking the air around us. With a low whisper, she says, “The sooner I can rid your sisters of your influence, the better.”

I laugh, having heard this a hundred times in private. She’d never dare say it in front of our sisters or my father. I lift my chin, my teeth grinding in my ears. “I know you don’t care about me, but must you always be so obvious about it?”

“Do not be dramatic, Calista.” She shakes her head, sighing. “You were always so emotional, even as a child.”

I take a deep breath, then briefly close my eyes, feeling her baiting me in like she does with every argument. I can’t bite. I won’t. Not this time. I clear my throat, then look at her. “Don’t worry, I plan on being out of this house soon.”

“Yes, and your father’s position will ensure it. A good marriage is all there is left. Without his name, what worthy suitor will overlook your deficiencies?” She proceeds to list off the numerous flaws I apparently possess, ones I have already memorized by now from her constant repetition. “You are twenty-four years of age and unmarried through your perseverance. Then there’s your lack of manners and social graces, your reckless reputation and, of course, your magic—” she pauses, then closes her lips over her venomous tongue briefly. I know what she was going to say. My lack of power. Like the rest of the town, she believes I don’t have any magic. That I was one of the rare few born without magic, deemed unworthy by the gods. If only she knew the truth. She’d hate me even more.

She sighs, dragging my focus back to her. “If you choose to destroy your reputation piece by piece, the least you can do is not to drag your sisters down with you. You took Arabella out tonight, alone! Anything could have happened. She could have been spotted.”

I roll my eyes up. “Even if we were spotted, Ari wasn’t alone. I was with her, and so was Drake.”

She huffs a breath through her nose, then steps back, placing a few feet between us. “The farmer’s son with dream magic?” Her hand slaps against her forehead, her eyes closing for a moment. “You should pray no one saw her with him. He is a nobody.”

“He is not,” I reply, my tone raising an octave. “Drake’s a good man, and we have been friends for years. I care about him and won’t have you say a bad word against him.”

Suspicion crowns her eyes. “So this is what your defiance is truly about. I hope you do not plan on marrying him. He has no status. Unless he’s lucky enough not only to be chosen for the Harvest, but win it and become an elder, there is no world that you two can be together.”

Something inside of me snaps. I close the distance between us, my finger pointed, but a faint voice in my mind reminds me she is still my mother. As much as I wish she wasn’t. “He would not be lucky to be chosen! No one is,” I say breathily.

“It is an honor,” she enunciates.

My brows knit together as I tilt my head. “If it’s such an extraordinary honor to be selected, why is Father keeping us from participating in The Choosing, then? What power does an elder have to prevent a fate determined by the God of Death himself?”

---