about it.
Settling back on my haunches, I take in the beauty of this garden one more time. As I gaze at the roses, the world fades, leaving the same rosebushes, but bathed in the sunlight of high noon. A man describes them to me, his hair dark and his bearing regal. He has such kind blue eyes that I instantly trust him. Indeed, a sense of overwhelming gratitude fills me in this vision.
âI know how much you love roses,â the man says. The sun sparkles off dewdrops that cling to the petals, lending the roses a magical feel. The memory is so vivid that I reach out, but it is gone startlingly quickly.
It is only me, and Ren, and the silent flowers in the moonlight.
It takes me a few moments to get my bearings. Have I been to this garden before? The scene in my mind appeared nearly identical, right down the curling wrought-iron gates. I can believe I loved it, and I would not be surprised if I had befriended a gardener in a past life.
Still, the feeling the man was something more is unshakable. And it troubles me. These visions or memories or whatever they are come upon me so unexpectedly, yet not one of them has included Father. Have I just forgotten my memories of him entirely? That makes me feel even worse. Surely he has noticed when I explain the glimpses my brain gives me that he is not in them.
Perhaps I should not pain him any longer by recounting them. Yet I am now terribly curious to know how I couldhave possibly been in the palace garden.
I run from the palace, heading straight for the prison. Over the last few days the wizard has stationed a pair of guards outside as well as those he has inside the walls. They patrol around the prison every half hour. The wizard knows someone takes his girls.
He must never find out who.
I circle the shadows until I am in the guardsâ blind spot, then fly up to the roof. Between my cloak and the darkness, they have yet to see me. I move a few shingles aside and drop down into the rafters. I have not made the mistake of entering by the wrong room again since that first night, but the guards have caught on. From my perch on a high beam, I can see four guards below, settled in corners of the room.
Do they not realize they are no match for me? Or does being in the wizardâs thrall make them determined to thwart me? Perhaps only the few remaining wish to try.
I pull a vial from my belt and toss it in the midst of them. One guard hovers over a girl, and looks up as I drop down to the floor. He tries to yell, but it only comes out as a strangled whisper. The others slump in their chairs as the mist overtakes their senses.
The nearest girl succumbs to the sleep, coughing as she rolls over. She is a small slip of a thing with an angry rash creeping up her neck, but I like the look of her nonetheless. Tonight, I will save her.
DAY THIRTY
I SWING BY MY GARDEN TO PLUCK A COUPLE OF ROSES SPECKLED WITH gleaming dewdrops. Then I head straight into the tower. I hope the girls like them as much as I do, though they have barely done more than sleep and cower from me. At the very least, the roses will brighten the space. I thrust open the door to the tower room and arrange the flowers in the small vase I have set up on a side table. Light from the windows streams in through the curtains, illuminating the two sleeping figures with blankets tucked up around their ears and an empty bed.
I stop short. Only two girls sleep here. The one from last night is missing. I fly back down the stairs, blood pounding in my ears.
The wizard has found us.
But why would he take only one?
âFather! Father!â I scream. I must be sure he is safe. I must inform him of the missing girl immediately.
He wanders out of the cottage, his face creased with surprise and concern. âWhat is it, Kym? What is wrong?â
I land before him and throw my arms around his neck. âFather, the girl I rescued last night. She is gone!â
He pats my back, just between my wings. âAh, I was
Settling back on my haunches, I take in the beauty of this garden one more time. As I gaze at the roses, the world fades, leaving the same rosebushes, but bathed in the sunlight of high noon. A man describes them to me, his hair dark and his bearing regal. He has such kind blue eyes that I instantly trust him. Indeed, a sense of overwhelming gratitude fills me in this vision.
âI know how much you love roses,â the man says. The sun sparkles off dewdrops that cling to the petals, lending the roses a magical feel. The memory is so vivid that I reach out, but it is gone startlingly quickly.
It is only me, and Ren, and the silent flowers in the moonlight.
It takes me a few moments to get my bearings. Have I been to this garden before? The scene in my mind appeared nearly identical, right down the curling wrought-iron gates. I can believe I loved it, and I would not be surprised if I had befriended a gardener in a past life.
Still, the feeling the man was something more is unshakable. And it troubles me. These visions or memories or whatever they are come upon me so unexpectedly, yet not one of them has included Father. Have I just forgotten my memories of him entirely? That makes me feel even worse. Surely he has noticed when I explain the glimpses my brain gives me that he is not in them.
Perhaps I should not pain him any longer by recounting them. Yet I am now terribly curious to know how I couldhave possibly been in the palace garden.
I run from the palace, heading straight for the prison. Over the last few days the wizard has stationed a pair of guards outside as well as those he has inside the walls. They patrol around the prison every half hour. The wizard knows someone takes his girls.
He must never find out who.
I circle the shadows until I am in the guardsâ blind spot, then fly up to the roof. Between my cloak and the darkness, they have yet to see me. I move a few shingles aside and drop down into the rafters. I have not made the mistake of entering by the wrong room again since that first night, but the guards have caught on. From my perch on a high beam, I can see four guards below, settled in corners of the room.
Do they not realize they are no match for me? Or does being in the wizardâs thrall make them determined to thwart me? Perhaps only the few remaining wish to try.
I pull a vial from my belt and toss it in the midst of them. One guard hovers over a girl, and looks up as I drop down to the floor. He tries to yell, but it only comes out as a strangled whisper. The others slump in their chairs as the mist overtakes their senses.
The nearest girl succumbs to the sleep, coughing as she rolls over. She is a small slip of a thing with an angry rash creeping up her neck, but I like the look of her nonetheless. Tonight, I will save her.
DAY THIRTY
I SWING BY MY GARDEN TO PLUCK A COUPLE OF ROSES SPECKLED WITH gleaming dewdrops. Then I head straight into the tower. I hope the girls like them as much as I do, though they have barely done more than sleep and cower from me. At the very least, the roses will brighten the space. I thrust open the door to the tower room and arrange the flowers in the small vase I have set up on a side table. Light from the windows streams in through the curtains, illuminating the two sleeping figures with blankets tucked up around their ears and an empty bed.
I stop short. Only two girls sleep here. The one from last night is missing. I fly back down the stairs, blood pounding in my ears.
The wizard has found us.
But why would he take only one?
âFather! Father!â I scream. I must be sure he is safe. I must inform him of the missing girl immediately.
He wanders out of the cottage, his face creased with surprise and concern. âWhat is it, Kym? What is wrong?â
I land before him and throw my arms around his neck. âFather, the girl I rescued last night. She is gone!â
He pats my back, just between my wings. âAh, I was
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