Page 151 of What Blooms from Death

My hair was soon finished, the top half swept back and gathered at the crown, where it was loosely pinned with delicate golden combs, while the bottom half fell in large, loose waves—a perfect blend of elegance and ease.

The bruises caused by my magic were mostly faded. What hadn’t faded had been artfully disguised with subtle swirls of golden paint, complimenting the shimmering powder on my eyelids. The artistic swirls were courtesy of Brynn, who had appeared in hopes of playing with Phantom, and had insteadgotten distracted by the vast array of cosmetics strewn across my vanity. She was a surprisingly talented artist, given her age.

At last, the collaborative effort was finished, and I was allowed to give the dress a proper twirl. It seemed to take on a life of its own as I did so, its layers floating gracefully, its fabric shimmering and gleaming like sunlight caressing water.

“The very picture of elegance and fire,” said Sylvia, Aveline’s niece, clapping her hands together in delight. “You look lovely.”

“Beyond lovely,” said Aeris, the one responsible for my hair.

I thanked them all as I slipped on a comfortable pair of flats, ivory in color with subtly shimmering embroidery on them. They filed out, giggling amongst themselves. Phantom went with them, shifting into a large enough dog that Brynn was able to ride on his back.

“Be careful with her,” I called.

(I’malwayscareful,) he retorted.

No less than five seconds later, the sound of her squeals—half terrified, half delighted—echoed from the hallway.

I sighed but let them be, checking my reflection one last time in the mirror before heading out the door myself. On my way out, I caught sight of the tonic Aveline had left on my nightstand. After a moment of deliberation, I swallowed it in a few gulps. Just in case.

The strange burning sensation the tonic caused in my chest distracted me as I left the room; I nearly ran into Thalia as a result. We shared a moment similar to the one my brother and I had shared when I’d first woken up—an uncomfortable, uncertain moment where I had to remind myself that we were not strangers, even though the space between us felt as if it had widened.

Then she surprised me by blurting out an apology.

“…I’m fine, really,” I insisted, having no desire to repeat the awkward conversation I’d shared with my brother.

“Bastian told me he already apologized,” she pressed, “but you should know that I was the one who was urging him to keep pushing you. So I owe you an apology, as well. Perhaps even more-so than him.”

“There’s no need for it. I agreed to the risks involved with the mission; it isn’t as though either of you physically forced me into it.”

She took a step closer, her expression pinched with concern. Then she surprised me again—this time by wrapping me in a quick hug. She let go of me almost immediately; I might have been offended by the brevity of it if it had been anybody but her.

I gave her a crooked little smile. “That was difficult for you, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t like touching people. Or being touched.” She shrugged, but the motion seemed heavy despite her indifferent tone.

I couldn’t help wondering if she might have felt differently, had her father been around to embrace her when she was growing up. A smaller tragedy in the greater wars surrounding us, maybe, but it still hurt to think of it.

“Let’s create a signal instead, then.” She looked at me like I was babbling nonsense, but I continued: “Next time a situation calls for an embrace, we’ll just do…this, instead.” I placed my hand flat over my heart and patted twice.

Her brows lifted, half skeptical, half amused. “Ifwe find ourselves in another situation where I feel the need to embrace you, then I suppose I can manage that.”

“It’s settled, then.”

We both smiled, something like warmth budding between us. “Be careful in the city,” she said.

“I will,” I said, tapping my hand against my heart.

She rolled her eyes at my liberal use of our new signal, but smiled and returned the gesture before walking away.

I’d sent a messenger to Aleks soon after receiving my brother’s blessing to do so, asking him to escort me into the city when evening rolled around. And as I made my way to our meeting point, a quiet, insecure part of me considered what I would do if he didn’t show up. It seemed silly, given all the other, far more questionable horrors he’d accompanied me to over these past weeks—an evening in the city hardly seemed like an extravagant ask.

But I’d been ignored and overlooked so often in my lifetime, my old insecurities still clung to me despite my best efforts to wield logic against them.

He showed up, though.

Early, in fact—he was already in the palace entryway, waiting for me.

At the top of the stairs overlooking that entry, I remained unnoticed, so I paused to take him in. He sat on a marble bench, reclining with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. The pose made me think of the first time I’d seen him in this world, of all that had happened since that moment, and of how much had changed.

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