Withering Rose (Once Upon A Curse Book 2) (3 page)

I shake my head.

I've never thought of what I want to do
after graduation. There is no after for me. I can't leave my
father, not after everything we've been through. All I have are
endless days of walking these halls until he is finally ready to
leave, a day I fear will never come.

"Speak up," Mrs. Nelson commands.

"I, I don't know," I respond, feeling my
cheeks heat as my peers continue to stare at me.

Mrs. Nelson holds my gaze a moment longer,
waiting with a flicker of hope for me to be normal for once. After
a moment, the flicker fades. Disappointment lines her irises, and
she turns to the next student.

"Dean?"

He's the general's son. It's no surprise
when he confidently says he wants to enlist and become a soldier in
the war against the magic. I try to focus on his answer, to make
myself present and pull myself away from my thoughts. But as I turn
in my seat to watch him speak, a word filters into my ear.

"Freak."

A painful spike of heat shoots down my
back.

I sit up straight. I don't turn around.

I know it's only worse when I give in.

"Freak." It comes again.

I can't help it. I snap, spinning to face
Amanda and her cronies. She watches me with a sneer, curling her
upper lip and daring me to respond.

So easy.

It would be so easy.

I wouldn't even have to open my mouth. One
thought and I could curl vines of ivy around her ankles, gripping
her tight before throwing her across the room. I've imagined it a
million times, daydreamed about the expression of shock on her
face, the fear that would line her eyes, the knowledge that I was
more powerful than she would ever be.

It takes all of my strength to curl my
fingers into my palm, to hold the magic in and turn away.

"Ooh, I'm so afraid," she whispers again,
voice triumphant. They all snicker at my expense, proud of
themselves for besting me yet again.

I take a deep breath, swallowing the clog in
my throat back down.

They're not worth it, I remind myself. Not
worth the disappointment I would see in my father's eyes if I lost
control. Not worth my life if the soldiers here discovered what I
was. At least, that's what I repeat in the back of my mind for the
rest of class, not paying attention at all to the lesson Mrs.
Nelson planned, a lesson about a future I can never have.

And then we're dismissed at lunch. The next
half of the day will be combat training, basic skills everyone our
age is expected to know—everyone except me. I come from the magic
world, and they don't trust me enough to train me. Oh, I'm allowed
to go to school and learn from books. Literature, biology, history,
all of that is fine. But they'll never willingly put a gun in my
hand and teach me how to shoot. Little do they know I don't need
one anyway.

"Hey!" A hand lands on my shoulder, stopping
me. I turn, unable to keep my jaw from dropping as I look into
Dean's bright blue eyes. "I'm sorry about before, with Amanda," he
says, smiling at me encouragingly. "She can be a bit of a,
well…"

He trails off.

But we both know what word was going to come
next.

I shrug, trying to ignore the way my heart
is pounding in my chest. Is it the brilliant color of his eyes? The
fact that he's speaking to me? The fact that someone is being
somewhat nice to me for the first time in years? I don't know, but
warmth floods my cheeks, and I shake my head.

"Don't worry about it," I mumble.
Internally, I curse. What happened to the girl I used to be? She
was tough, wasn't she? She stood up for herself, didn't she? Is
this who my father wanted me to become?

"Are you okay?" he asks, peering closer.

The urge to run takes over. In that instant,
I realize I don't want his attention. I'm the girl I've become for
a reason. I don't want the general's son learning my secrets,
looking at me like I'm not invisible, gazing at me like a mystery
to solve.

But before I can step away from his touch,
another voice calls. "Omorose!"

My father.

Dean jerks his hand away. I press my back
against the wall.

Did we look like two teenagers in love?

Is that why my father's voice came out
high-pitched with panic?

"I have to go," I whisper.

Dean looks at me for another moment. I don't
want to like the interest in his eyes, yet part of me, deep down,
does. "A few of us are going to the surface tonight if you want to
come. Just to hang out, party a little, get away from the adults."
He shrugs.

The surface.

I sigh, unable to stop the smile that
spreads across my cheeks at the thought of going to the surface, of
breathing in the fresh air, of shaking off the stale underground.
The smile that also spreads a little bit at the idea of being
included, at the idea that someone might miss me when I don't
come.

Dean smiles too.

I grasp the moment tightly, locking it away
in the corner of my mind.

And then I turn abruptly away without
responding because I know I can't go with him, not ever. And I know
it would only hurt me more to think for a second that I could. He's
just like everyone else in this world. He wouldn't like me if he
saw the real me. And I can play pretend with my life, but not with
my heart.

I'm better off being alone.

"Omorose," my father says urgently when I
reach him. "Follow me, something's happened. Something we can't
discuss here."

"What's happened, Papa?" I ask, ignoring his
unspoken request for obedience.

He glares at me. "Not here."

"But—"

I stop speaking as alarms blare, drowning
out the sound of my voice. My eyes go wide as I realize the panic
in my father's voice wasn't from finding me with Dean. Something's
happened. Something that must affect everyone on this base for the
alarms to be sounding.

"Is it the beast?" I ask softly as we race
down the halls in search of our underground apartment. That's our
name for the mysterious king who resides in the mountains, the one
whose magic the Midwest Command Center is responsible for tracking.
He is at the center of the hazy circle closest to us on the map,
the one we watch day and night for any changes. Some say his magic
is to take different animal forms, wolf and bear and hawk. Some say
he can hide in plain sight. Some say he rules an entire kingdom of
shape shifters. And some say that we still don't know what his
power truly is, because even with all of our technology, we've
never been able to get close enough to find out.

In the old world, my people were afraid of
those mountains and the beasts who watched over them. In the new
world, I've found myself wondering which side of the fight I should
really be on. After all, wouldn't these people label me a beast
too?

My father strengthens his grip and pulls me
ahead, not bothering to answer. I am still a princess and he is
still a king, so I bite my lip and stay silent, finally adhering to
his command.

But if the alarm isn't about the beast, then
what?

The ringing quiets down, and a static
crinkle takes its place. Everyone who was moving stops. Trying to
blend in, we stop as well, but I can feel my father's pulse
thrumming with nervous impatience. And then the voice of the
general takes over.

"I hope that got your attention," he says
lightly. A deep chuckle reverberates through the speakers, and all
around us people release the breaths they didn't realize they'd
been holding. I scrunch my brows, glancing toward my father. The
general sounds happy, elated. So why is my father so afraid?

"Today is a glorious day," the general
continues, his smiling voice coming through loud and clear despite
the crackling of the microphone. My father grips my fingers so
tight his nail beds turn white. "Today, after a decade of fighting
the magic that turned our world upside down, the people of Earth
have finally been victorious."

Murmurs rise up around us, excited
chatter.

The general pauses for effect, as though he
can hear all the whispers spreading around the base, all the
hopeful theories about what that victory might be.

I, on the other hand, can feel the color
draining from my face. A knot has formed in the pit of my stomach,
twisting tighter and tighter with each prolonged moment of
anticipation.

"We've just received a report that the
Northwest Command Center has taken down the queen they've been
fighting for ten years. The magic vanished from our radars late
last night, and it has been confirmed this afternoon that the queen
is dead, and that with her death, the magic plaguing New York City
has finally disappeared."

Cheers erupt from everywhere at once,
drowning out whatever the general's next word might have been. Some
people are crying, others are shouting, more are hugging and
laughing and beaming with joy.

I meet my father's eyes.

New York City.

New York City.

Why does it sound familiar? Why have I heard
it before?

The knot coils tighter.

My mind races.

I'm missing something. I know I am.

But I can't think straight. All I hear over
and over again is, the queen is dead. The queen is dead. They
killed her. And everyone is cheering for the sheer joy of that
fact.

I clench my fists as the magic stirs deep
inside of me.

I know in that moment that they would kill
me without hesitating. I've thought it before. I've told myself
that a hundred times, to keep my heart guarded, to keep my magic in
control. But I never believed it until now. Freak. That’s what
Amanda and her friends have been calling me under their breath for
years. Freak. That's what everyone who watches my father and me out
of the corner of their eyes believes. I am a freak to them. An
outsider. Someone who doesn't belong and never will.

The queen is dead.

But all I hear in my head is Omorose is
dead. I am dead. My magic and my legacy are dead. All I hear in my
head is their uproarious applause.

"Quiet down, quiet down," the general says
between laughs. He's partaking in the merriment. And why wouldn't
he? He's devoted his life to fighting magic, to fighting me.

No one is quieting down. In fact, they just
get louder.

Someone next to us grabs my father, pulling
him in for a hug. My father instantly turns off the panic in his
face, flipping his expression to a jubilant smile, hugging the man
and joining in with the cheers. He glances at me, expression
pleading.

Blend in, his eyes are saying.

Pretend. Join in the revelry. Don't let them
notice you are different.

"Quiet down!" the general repeats, still
laughing.

Suddenly, his words sound like they are
meant only for me. Quiet down. I've spent my entire life being
quiet, looking down, bowing my head to keep everyone from noticing
me. I can't do it anymore.

My father reaches for me, but I step back. I
shake my head. I can't meet his eyes, can't stand to see his false
happiness for another moment.

Instead, I flee.

Everyone is so consumed by their joy, they
hardly notice me as I swerve my way between them, walking quickly
but not running. The general keeps talking, but I'm not listening
anymore. Blood pounds in my ears, and it drowns out everything
else. Magic thrums through my veins.

When I finally reach my bedroom, I do the
only thing I can think of doing to release my anger, my hurt, my
frustration. I scream until I collapse on the floor. Then I scream
again. And when my throat is too raw to scream anymore, I finally
notice the salty tears dripping down my cheeks.

I crawl across my carpet and reach beneath
my bed, using my shaking fingers to pull out the box I've hidden
there—the box I haven't opened in five years. My heart skips a
beat, and everything in the world turns peacefully quiet. As my
breath becomes uneven, my throat clogs, growing tight.

I open the lid and pull out the torn,
stuffed bear I hid inside.

Mr. Winky.

A gift from my sister.

It's the only thing I still have from my old
world, my old life. The crown I was wearing on the day of the
earthquake was confiscated, as were my family ring and the necklace
my mother had given me—all jewels that could be sold for profit. My
dress was thrown out when I grew too big. The trunks my father and
I had packed for our journey had either vanished during the
earthquake or were stolen from us. This little bear with a missing
eye and patches on its seams was the only thing deemed not worthy
enough to take, a toy no one had the heart to steal from a
frightened child. And I'll be forever grateful for that fact.

I hug the soft fabric to my chest, letting
Mr. Winky take my tears and my fears as my mind opens up to a
memory I haven't allowed myself to think of in years. But no matter
how much time passes, I will never forget the day my sister gave
this to me.