Page 2 of What Blooms from Death

Soon enough, the job was finished, the dirt smooth, the air crisp and clear.

I gathered up another handful of fallen blossoms. Most would have admitted defeat by this point, I guess, but I was stubborn—determined to follow through with my original goal, however silly it seemed after so many failures.

I glanced over my shoulder, making certain I was alone save for my dog. I took a deep breath.

And, this time, I allowed the shadowy markings along my neck and arms to lift from my skin as I focused on the flowers’ decayed energy.

My shadows were very adept at grabbing hold of dead things. But they also made me feel like I was unraveling whenever they lifted away from my body—which was why I hadn’t called on them at the start.

Thankfully, it was a quick spell. The auras of the flowers were small, weak, easy enough to manipulate and pull out with my shadows. My hands were soon filled with blooms that glowed at the edges—the subtle shine of organisms drained of their morbid energy.

Faint as it was, the glow seemed bright against the deepening night. It cast a thin light over the cracked gravestones, drawing my eyes to their weathered, unreadable names once more.

I tossed the now luminescent blooms over the freshly-smoothed dirt, one after the other. “Whoever you are,” I said softly, “I’m sorry you’ve been forgotten here.”

This was far from the only dilapidated and disregarded area of my family’s estate. We had not lived among the sweeping grounds and ornate buildings of Rose Point for very long, and prior to my parents’ arrival, the place had sat empty for more than half a century. The king and queen had done a great deal to restore the central palace itself, along with the main grounds, but there were still plenty of overgrown corners and dust-coated corridors to explore. Plenty of buried secrets to dig up; a wealth of treasure and trouble to find…which was one of the things I loved most about my home.

One of the many things I would miss after tonight.

Because after tonight, everything would change.

I tossed the remaining flowers down with a slow, reverent sort of precision—save for a single, stubborn blossom that stuck to my palm.

I moved to show off its illuminated loveliness to Phantom—who had, by this point, fallen asleep in a pile of damp and rotting leaves—but before I could rouse him, the dog suddenly lifted his head of his own accord. His pointed ears twitched as he sniffed the air.

A smooth voice parted the quiet a moment later: “Lady Bellanova?”

Just Nova, I corrected—or at least, I did so in my head.

I couldn’t get my mouth to form words, however.I’d frozen in place, newly aware of the dirt staining my dress and hands, and of the shadows still circling lazily around my body. I clamped my hands over those shadows. Pressed them back to my skin, bit by bit, where they settled like swirls of ink tattooed upon it.

Slowly, with as much dignity and poise as I could muster, I turned to meet the man approaching me.

Like the magicked flowers, he stood out with a subtle yet certain brightness against the darkening twilight. His hair fell in short, thick waves around his face, framing his sharp jawline.The strands were a peculiar shade of silvery white, a color that seemed to have been absorbed from the cloud-covered moon itself. The sight would have been ethereal enough on its own, but combined with the shade of his eyes…

Let’s just say, he was difficult to look away from.

The first time I’d met his gaze, many years ago, I’d been sure the light was playing tricks on me. I’d never come across anyone with eyes of such deep, arresting gold—eyes the color of a sun-kissed wheat field. I’d soon learned the hue was common among his regal family, but at the time, he’d just been a young boy lost in the same courtyard where I’d been attempting to hide from my lessons; I hadn’t recognized him as royalty.

I recognized him well enough, now, though: Aleksander Caldor, Crown Prince of Elarith. The soon-to-be-ruler of that neighboring kingdom.

And it was a wonder the light in his eyes had not gone out; in the year since we’d last seen one another, his mother had passed away, the result of a gruesome riding accident. Her husband had followed after months of self-imposed solitude and suffering—taken by his own hand, if rumors were to be believed. Aleksander was an only child—and now the sole remaining ruler of Elarith.

The Elarithian throne had been stewarded over the past months by the Keepers of Light, a council largely made up of the descendants of powerful magic-users who had first settled Aleksander’s kingdom. That council was eager to place their young prince on the throne and return their mourning lands to order and stability. Which was partly why he was here tonight—to shore up their relationship with Eldris before he began his rule.

We should be honored they looked to us first, my mother had reminded me, countless times, over the past days.We need this alliance. Ourkingdomneeds this alliance.

Phantom got to his feet and trotted over to my side, nuzzling his sharp nose against my leg and letting out a whine. I gave him a reassuring scratch between his ears, just above the burst of white on his forehead—the only splotch of color in his otherwise jet-black fur.

My eyes never left the soon-to-be-crowned-king.

“A little dark for gardening, isn’t it?” Aleksander did a poor job of hiding his amusement as he looked my dirty self over from head-to-toe. His suppressed smile accented his dimples, the only hints of softness in his otherwise sharp features.

I did my best to appear completely unaffected by those dimples. “Some things bloom brighter in the dark,” I countered, holding up the blossom still clinging so stubbornly to my palm, “so that’s when I tend to them.”

He considered the words, studying the flower with an intensity that made my heart beat faster.

The flower was already fading. Withering at the edges. Not surprising—the glow rarely lasted long. Even though I could sense and occasionally manipulate death’s hold over things, I couldn’t truly, permanently remove its grip.

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