Let Me Fly Free (12 page)

I scowl. Is she really
trying to blame
me
for what happened to Cyim? Is she really saying that
everything I did was pointless? “
I
am the reason you were able to defeat the
thlakeen!
I
kept
it distracted while you and the others conjured your spell,
and
I
weakened
it—enough to turn it into a still target for you! And I only knew
how to do that because I ventured outside and commanded a human to
tell me. So don’t you dare lecture me when everything I’ve done has
led to the monster’s defeat.”

Amdyth shakes her
head.
You are ruthless, Elaia.

I lift my chin. “You say that like it’s a
fault.” A piece of my heart knows that, on some level, I acted
recklessly and perhaps wrongly, but another part overwhelms that,
and says all that really matters is that what I did resulted in
success. “If we are moving into a dangerous time, then perhaps a
little more ruthlessness will be needed—if we’re to survive.”

I brace myself for a reprimand, but Amdyth
simply gazes at me in silence. Though she doesn’t speak a word, I
sense her disappointment rippling all around me. She wants me to be
something other than what I am. She wants me to be like Kiri—always
kind and sweet and docile.

Lovely, but weak.

Such fragility would do me no good should
another threat strike Kristakai, and I refuse to be some decorative
little flower. The unicorns want us all to depend on them for
protection, but such faith would be misplaced. They failed to keep
the thlakeen from entering here in the first place, after all.

I feel the ground shift beneath me and look
down to see a pair of deep blue vines burst from the dirt by my
feet. Narrow and limber, they wrap around my ankles like a pair of
snakes. I yelp in surprise and instinctively try to kick them off,
but they hold me tight. So I change instead, blasting them with my
flames as my legs turn to fire.

Yet that makes no difference; I am still
trapped. Meanwhile, additional vines spring up in a circle around
me. Kiri jumps back with a shriek as one nearly knocks into
her.

Calm
down
. Amdyth’s cool voice slips into my
head.
They will cause you no
harm.

“
What are they?” Despite
her words, I toss a fireball at one of the vines, but the blaze
simply dissolves against its winding form.

I am the one creating
them,
she replies.

I want to ask why, but I’m too busy trying
to get out. The vines around my legs anchor me to the ground even
though I am in my ethereal form, and those that surround me weave
into a wide cage, closing me in. As the final threads stitch
together, my lower body abruptly returns to its solid form—without
my command. When I try to change back to fire, I find myself unable
to. Neither can I muster another fireball; the spark of magic
within me is gone.

Without my powers, I’m missing a piece of
myself, and I feel like I’m suffocating inside this cursed
cage.

Your powers will not work
in here.
Amdyth’s smooth voice would be
calming if she weren’t the cause of this.

I stop struggling, realizing that my magic
is useless against that of a unicorn. Glaring, I ask, “Why are you
doing this?”

You broke the law.
Her stare is harsh.
Your
confinement here is your punishment.

I start to protest, but Kiri speaks first.
“That’s not fair!” she exclaims, marching up to her Terrene Mother.
“Elaia was only trying to help!”

Her unwavering loyalty makes me regret all
the uncharitable thoughts I’ve had about her lately, and I’m glad I
never let them slip onto my tongue.

Rules must be
enforced.
Amdyth glances at Kiri, then
back at me.
How long you remain in here
will be up to you.
She lowers her head and
sticks the tip of her horn through the organic cage’s twisting
bars. It emits a blinding flash, and when the light clears I find
two books sitting on the ground beside my bound ankles. One has an
old, beaten leather cover with flecks of gilt lettering embedded
across its center. Many of the letters have been worn down, but
enough remain for me to make out a title:
A Brief History of Nymphs from the Age of Unicorns.
The second book is hardly a book at all, for it
lacks a cover and appears to be a stack of paper bound together
along one edge with a simple piece of twine. A yellow feather pen,
its tip black with ink, sits in its center.

As I lean down to examine them, the vines
around my legs retreat back into the ground. Though I’m glad to no
longer be anchored, the release is little comfort when a prison
still surrounds me. “What is this?”

The contents of the first
book should be obvious from its title
,
Amdyth replies.
It details encounters
between nymphs and humans—and contains accounts of all the damage
your kind caused before they retreated into the unicorn domains.
You seem to have forgotten that for there to be peace in the
Terrestrial Realm, the enchanted must remain as separate from
humankind as possible. This volume will serve as a reminder, and
you are to copy its words into the second book, which is blank.
Once you complete this task, the vines will retreat, and you will
once again be free.

Grimacing, I pick up the pen. “What if I run
out of ink?”

You will not. The pen is
enchanted.
A note of irritation colors
Amdyth’s tone. She then vanishes in a burst of light, leaving me
with no way to argue back.

Though I want to fight for escape, I know
I’m well and truly cornered this time. Amdyth already has me snared
without my powers, and the only way to get out is to follow her
instructions. Furthermore, the weariness of this long, long day
seems to have broken past the dam of stubbornness and excitement
I’d erected against it. Every part of me is exhausted, and I have
no will left to fight a useless battle. I’m just a girl in a cage,
forced to complete an inane and pointless task because I dared to
defy the authorities. I suspect that if Cyim were awake, he would
have agreed with Amdyth’s actions. In fact, he probably would have
been the one to imprison me.

I plop down in the grass with a huff.

Kiri, who stands just outside the cage,
kneels down to my level. “I am so, so sorry.” Her expression has
contrition written all over it, with her tilted eyebrows and
downturned lips. “I know I shouldn’t have told them your secret… I
wish I could take it back.”

“
Too late now,” I grumble.
I still want to berate her for cracking so easily under pressure,
but I don’t have the energy. Besides, now that I’m stuck here, I’ll
need her help. Amdyth didn’t seem too concerned about what I would
eat or drink while I’m confined to this tiny scrap of land. I know
she’d never let me starve, but I’d much rather ask Kiri to bring me
things than have to beg from the one who imprisoned me.

“
I’m sure you’ll be out of
here soon.” Kiri smiles, but it looks forced. “In the meantime,
I’ll remain to keep you company. And I’ll bring you anything you
need, I promise.”

“
Thank you.” My tone is
flat; I can’t bring myself to speak with false
brightness.

Her face falls. “You’re still angry with me,
aren’t you?” She reaches one delicate hand through the bars.
“Please, forgive me. I… I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

There won’t be a next
time.
I would never trust her with another
secret. But I need her to trust me, and pushing away my closest
ally will do me no good.

So I accept her hand and move closer, until
I’m pressed up against the vines. Meeting her eyes, I say, “I
forgive you.” I wish I were telling the truth, and I wish I could
forget how her quick betrayal led to the loss of my magic. But I
can’t. Even if this state of powerlessness is temporary, I find it
unbearable, and I know that it boils down to what she said.

She seems to sense my hesitation, because
she says, “Are you sure?”

“
Of course.” To convince
her, I tighten my fingers around hers, then place my other hand on
her cheek, drawing her in. I kiss her hard—harder than I’d
intended. A mix of anger and lust compels me, and I have no reason
to hold back. The way her lips move against my mouth, even as I
crush her, speaks to how desperately she seeks me—and how complete
my grasp on her is.

She is mine. Despite her flaws, despite the
fact that I don’t love her as she loves me, I can’t let her go. I
don’t know why she loves me so, and I don’t care. All that matters
is that she does, and because of it, I can make her do anything I
say.

She is mine, and in this moment, that’s the
only form of power I have.

I must have been convincing, because when I
finally release her, she smiles again—and this time, it’s natural.
So much joy fills her face, I almost want to slap her—to knock some
sense into her. Perhaps she loves me because she only sees the best
parts, viewing me through a hazy mist that blurs out my faults. In
fact, with few exceptions, that seems to be how she perceives every
part of the world.

I, on the other hand, hold no such
illusions. Any I might have had died today—the thlakeen’s final
victims.

Now that I’ve glimpsed what lies outside
Kristakai, I know that many of the anxieties I once held about its
dangers are false. Though leaving my homeland weakened me, it also
showed me how strong I can be. I’ve seen just how much power I can
hold over a human, and I want more of that feeling of total
control. The unicorns never told any of us what that was like, and
I’m sure there’s far more that they’re keeping secret.

I want to go beyond
Kristakai’s bounds—and not just through a brief visit and a single
encounter with a human next time. No, I want to explore. And I will
find a way. Partly for curiosity’s sake, but also because I do
believe that Amdyth is right about the Age of Fire drawing closer.
And if the Fiend rises, I want to be prepared. Whatever happens,
I
will
survive,
no matter what I have to do.

I suspect that the key to that lies in the
vast world forbidden to me.

Spotting a glow in the corner of my eye, I
turn to see the sky brightening above the treetops. A red dawn
approaches, blotting out the stars with its blaze. Just as the
blaze of Inferno could someday blot out the Celestial light.

The Age of Fire is coming, and if the
prophecy is true, it will engulf the world in flames. But I refuse
to fear it any longer. Inferno may be fire, but so am I.

Right now, with my magic suppressed, I am
deprived of a vital part of me. I’m not whole. I feel like a fallen
twig—brittle and useless, separated from that which once made it
something, and unable to act. That the unicorns did this to me
ignites my rage, and I feel it flowing through my veins like lava.
Amdyth was the one who cast the spell, but the others, still
gathered over Cyim, did not interfere … and therefore tacitly
approved.

The unicorns may protect this land, but they
expect total, unquestioning obedience in return, and that is
something I cannot give. Fury boils in my very soul, for I know now
that I cannot trust them, either.

I will never be powerless like this again.
Not before the unicorns or anything else.

I swear to the Divinity above and the Fiend
below, to the stars and the flames and everything in between, I
will never be powerless again.