The Fairy Garden Book 1: A fight for the throne

Amber

I'm conflicted. I am relieved I'm alive, relieved the garden is safe, but I'm overcome with the most horrible feeling of all... grief. I witnessed the girl I grew up with all my life die right before my eyes. And Anastasia... what would I do with her? Lock her up? Let her run free? I never remembered really what happened after that, because no-one did. The only other thing I remembered from that day was Spring saying she had run back to the orphanage to get someone who possessed the most innocence of anyone.

One Month Later

I sit alone in my throne in the royal chapel near the front. Autumn sits on the bench in front of me, then Shelby, then Kaitlin, then Jeremy, then Kevin, and so on. The priest is talking, but I can't hear a word. The ringing in my ears is too strong.

Finally, he finished his speech, and Autumn clutches my wheelchair and steers me behind the lectern.

"She was my sister. I grew up with her, ate every meal I can remember with her beside me. You all know the story of what happened a month ago. She tried to overthrow me and kill me. You probably assume I am glad of her death for that. But it's not that simple. You can't erase the years of happy memories from the past fifteen years." My eyes linger over the strange figure in the back of the hall, with a large hat, big sunglasses, and a long cloak.

I am moved back down in my seat, unable to say more, the lump in my throat was too strong, but only for a moment, but what seemed like an eternity. We rose again and went outside. A freshly dug grave was right next to my late parents tombstones. Not this again. Not this eternal grief, which never truly left me last time.

The priest reads from a thick blue book as I stare into the empty grave. The tombstone reads:

Queen Marigolde Charlotte

2005-2020

A beloved daughter and sister

Every rose has thorns, but every rose also has petals,

You just need to see the balance in both,

A few teardrops fall down onto my cheek. Every fairy with true royal blood has rainbow tears. I am no different. The tears change from blue to indigo to purple to violet to pink to red and so on until it slides down the wheels of my wheelchair and sinks into the earth. The coffin is lowered into the grave by fireflies. Autumn squeezes my black gloved hands.

We close our eyes, hold hands, bow our heads and stay silent for five minutes. Shelby takes off her straw hat with black roses and clutches it tightly in tribute. Even Jeremy makes no noise. I am wheeled to the grave and lay a bunch of marigolds tied with a red satin ribbon at the tombstone. Marigolde is reunited with herself once more, on this clear, cool night, her favourite kind of weather.