Girl of Flower and Flame

Chapter Twelve

Beside herself and ill with longing, Eulalia paced her room as a spring storm brewed beneath her skin. 

"I don't understand him," she said. "Why does he want me here?"

She rubbed her arms, wiping away the darkness that had settled on her, sheathing her like fog on her woods at home, chilling her from body to the depths of her soul. What was she to him? A pet dog whose only task was to be brushed and fed on his command. She should show him how even nurtured dogs could bite hard. She should show him teeth.

"Heartless beast! I would kill him if I could!" If she had the nerve. Eulalia pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, her head aching so much the pain was almost a welcomed distraction. Almost. She pulled her hair loose, hair pins spilling on the floor.

Faeries were impish creatures. The whole lot of them, taking what they could, no matter who it hurt. She could run, conceal her appearance, and perhaps wouldn't be missed. But helplessness eclipsed her courage after a failed attempt and fragility made her an easy prey for sharp-toothed fae because of the prince and his dastardly sister.

"To hell with them!" She tugged off her shoes and threw them across the room. They struck the wall with a satisfying thump. They'd murdered Rowan. Stole her from her home and kept her pampered like some gilded peacock raised to be devoured by hawks.

She detested them so much.

Tears prickled her eyes. She blinked profusely; hands drawn into fists. She hated that Andris could inflame her emotions, dwindle her down to a puddle of mush. She stomped her foot and whisked away stray tears. "No, I will not cry because of a Bruma." He didn't deserve her tears—they didn't deserve her tears. She was trying her hardest to not shrivel into a ball of despair, but it wasn't working.

Unable to stand much longer in her woeful state, she slouched to the bed and sat, her hands cold in her lap for the fourth time in her life.

I need to get away. No matter what it takes. I want to go home.

In her sadness, the vines that grew from the walls blossomed pink lily flowers that died as they bloomed, their wilted petals falling to the floor like a woman carefully undressing. No matter how she tried to fight it, her future here might end the same, with her own ghastly death. A plump tear hung on for its life to her lashes. She swiped it away.

Someone knocked.

"Go away. I don't want your company." Eulalia buried her face in her hands, wishing she had the power to fade into the walls, like any person who was now a ghost of themselves.

The door opened and Cosima shuffled into the room. She could tell from the way she walked softly on her feet. "I've brought your lunch," Cosima said, striding to the night table where she set down something heavy. "What have you done to your hair?" She tsked but stopped when Eulalia didn't respond. "What's the matter? Aren't you hungry?"

"Didn't you hear me? I want to be alone," Eulalia said, still hidden behind her hands. Cosima sighed, which irked her. She wasn't a child who needed to be babysat. The death of her loved ones had forced her into adulthood. She was a woman now, no matter how meek.

"It isn't my place to say anything," Cosima began.

"Then don't," Eulalia cut in.

Cosima sat beside her, the warmth of her body pressing against Eulalia's, but she couldn't bring herself to move. "You'd be foolish to believe they still aren't capable of hurting you. Trust me, there are worse than Liliana Bruma and Andris... He isn't the worst of the lot either," Cosima said. "Believe me when I say, it'll be best to keep your mouth shut at times. Keep your wits about you but remember there'll always be a new season for change. I think one will be coming quite soon."