Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
The flutter of wings buzzes next to my ear. A tiny, plump body flies beneath my chin to turn my head back to the mirror. “You are gorgeous, love. We just need to show him.”
I look at Ms. Posh in our reflection. She gives me a warm smile. Her motherly love causes a pang in my heart. She’s the only mother figure I’ve truly known. Yet my father used to yell at her for cuddling me.
“Do your job and manage the estate, Ms. Posh. My daughter’s happiness is none of your concern,” he would say when she tried to get him to let me play with others and behave more like a normal child.
Anger fills me and the flames around my face ignite. Ms. Posh flies out of the way just in time. The fact that her little wing is smoking from getting singed makes my fury grow more.
“I’m a beast. How can he see anything past all of this?” I snarl and slap my tail against the floor to punctuate how hideous I am.
“No, Blaise. You are not a beast. You have a temper. A temper which has gotten you in a bit of a pickle,” Ms. Posh says.
“A pickle? A pickle? Being turned into this”—I wave my hands over my face and body—“being banished here, having my power bound to this castle and that garden, and having everyone who was close to me turned into fairies is not just some little pickle.
“We all could remain this way forever. The petals are falling, turning to ashes with every decade, year, day, and hour that passes. We’re running out of time. We’ll all be damned to remain like this….” My words trail off, smoke coming out of my nostrils.
“Mom is right, you know? You can’t give up,” Hiasha says as she waves the smoke from her mother’s wing.
I sigh. “Come, let me heal you.”
Ms. Posh smiles and flies closer. I hold a hand over her little wing and begin to repair it. Magic flows from my fingertips and the wing begins to re-form. She stares up at me lovingly.
“Listen to me, Blaise. He has magic. He’s not a human. He has to be the one. The curse sent you here to this realm to make this harder. He has found you here,” she says.
I snort and smoke puffs from my lips. “His thieving father found me.”
“He wanted a rose for the big guy’s betrothed. Should we be worried about that?” Dinesh speaks up. Soila elbows him. “Ow.”
“He didn’t sound too enamored with whoever she is to me.”
“Okay, fine, but why did the father want the rose? Do you think he knows its power? If so…”
“We’re not going to concern ourselves with that,” Ms. Posh says to Bach, who, up until now, has been sitting in the corner of a shoe cubby in contemplative silence.
“Do you think they are from our world? The chariots returned brighter. Could they have gone home to return his father?” Hiasha says in almost a whisper.
“We don’t know, love. None of us can remember home. Just as they wouldn’t remember us if they were from home.”
I scoff. “I can remember frivolous things, but with each day, who I am and where I’m from fades. I’m even starting to forget Father.”
Dinesh flies closer. His eyes soften as he looks at me. “It’s happening to us all. If I didn’t sing daily, I would’ve forgotten that I know how or that I was once your music instructor.”
“What if I forget how to play?” I say as I stumble over to the chaise in the center of the fitting area of the closet.
“Oh, Blaise, that would never happen. You play for the ears of the gods. They would never allow your music to be silenced.”
“Yet, they’ve allowed this,” I bite out, flopping down onto the lounger.
Dinesh puffs out his chest. “I do remember this much. Our gods like to test the strong. It is their way.”
“Their way for what?”
“To reveal to you who you are.”
“Yes, he’s right. This will make you stronger, Blaise. That wicked one will not prevail. You will see. Now, come, let’s go meet our guest.”
Chapter 5
Be Our Guest
Argon
“Hey, big guy.” A gruff male voice echoes through my cell. I look around, not seeing anyone.
Suddenly, a small light appears at the lock and the door swings open. The light fades slightly, revealing two male pixies. Both with brown skin, one younger with a lighter tone and silky jet-black hair combed away from his face.
The other is noticeably older, with dark-brown skin and salt-and-pepper hair cut close to his scalp. Again, I’m reminded of the coloring of the oracles and elders back home.
The two fly inside and stop before me. I tilt my head at the men. There’s something oddly familiar about their presence. I shake the feeling away as the older, plumper one flies closer to my face.