Flower's Curse

by Madison Keller

  “I was just talking with Athura and Eraka about this.” Yegra looked over at them, but neither one would meet her gaze. “They, well, they insist that you are their daughter, by birth.”

  “But...that’s impossible.” Arara stared at her parents, worry tightening her throat. She was beginning to see where Yegra was headed.

  “Yes, well.” Yegra tapped the cover of the children’s tales book. “Remember in the stories how the Yaka always looked like giant monsters? But really they are tiny.”

  “Of course.” Arara opened the book back to the illustration she’d noticed earlier.

  “I think that the Elders didn't tell you everything. Based on what your parents told me and the old stories, I think the Yaka can alter memories, and even use their mental powers to change how people perceive them.”

  “That...that would explain a lot...” Arara said, thinking back to the first time she’d seen Yorik. He’d said a phrase to her, and was surprised when nothing happened. They must have brainwashed her, but somehow the sedyu-bond Arara had accidentally established with Sels broke the programming. If the bond helped protect one mentally, then that would also explain why Sesay had felt her eavesdropping.

  “Arara, honey, your friend is spouting nonsense.” Athura sat up and looked at Arara. “You may be different than the rest of the puppies, but you are our daughter.”

  Arara opened her shields and concentrated on her mother. Athura was thinking about the day Arara was born, a memory Arara had picked up once before on accident. This time, Arara used what the Elders had taught her, diving deeper into Athura’s head and watching out of her eyes and feeling the pain of the birth contractions. She was curled on the floor of their den back home. Eraka stood over her giving encouragement, otherwise the den was empty.

  A line of puppies were laid out on the floor next to him, each one wrapped in a small blanket. None of them moved. Athura cried out, and another puppy came sliding out, its black fur wet and shiny with birthing slime. Eraka tenderly lifted it up and wiped its nose and mouth clean.

  The memory jumped. Arara wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been right there, watching for it. It was like time stopped for a moment. Subtle things were different about the room. Eraka now stood half a tails length further away than he had been, although he was performing the same action he had been before the shift. He finished wiping the puppy clean and held it up to Athura with a smile. The white puppy mewed, little paws twitching. Arara gasped and withdrew.

  Back in the den, in the present with Yegra, Arara hung her head. Yegra was right, her mother and father’s memory had been altered.

  CHAPTER THREE

  UNEXPECTED GUESTS

  The morning after the attack Sels stared out at the city, watching birds soaring on the breeze high above the tree-houses of the city. It looked so peaceful on the surface. The breeze ruffled his vines and fluttered the pages of the book he had laid out on the table. He’d been trying to study Imperial law, but the day was just too nice to do anything but bask in the sunshine on his balcony.

  Arara was off with her friend Yegra, having what she called a ‘girl’s day at the market.’ Sels knew was an unofficial date, although so far Arara had been unable to admit that to him out-loud. His bonded’s innocence and naivety amused him.

  A knock on the outer door brought him out of his reverie.

  “Let them in,” he told the guard who’d been discretely standing just inside the doors to the balcony to give Sels at least the illusion of privacy.

  A silver-and-pink bedecked sproutling page entered with a handwritten note on a shiny ceramic platter. Sels flipped it open and read, gesturing for the page to wait for his reply.

  The front gate guards stated his visitor had arrived. His petalled eyebrow arched. Odd. He hadn’t remembered any appointments on his calendar for the day.

  “Do you know who it is?” he asked the page.

  “A female Kin, Your Highness,” the page squeaked, face flushing bright emerald at being addressed. She stammered for a moment then added, “with white petals.”

  “Ah,” Sels grinned as he scribbled his answer on the card. The page darted away. While he waited Sels cleared the table, returned the book to his study and checked his appearance in the mirror.

  He was just beginning to get impatient when the page returned, leading Roel. She wore a light blue lace robe over a white summer dress. The fabric was cheap muslin and cotton, and showed signs of wear. It was a much plainer look than he was used to, but he knew it was probably the nicest thing she owned. And the blue set off her eyes.

  “Roel,” he said as they settled into the chairs on the balcony. “This is an unexpected, delightful surprise!”

  Roel flushed and glanced at him demurely. “I’m so glad you consented to see me, Your Highness. The guards weren’t going to even let me in until I mentioned I had tea with the Queen last month and dropped your name.”

  “I’ll get you added to my guest list, so next time they’ll know who you are,” Sels said as he admired the sunlight shining on the curves of her face. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Whatever you’d like, the chefs here can make it for you.”

  “Some water would be fantastic,” Roel fanned her face and ran her fingers through her long petals. They cascaded down over her pointed ears in a beautiful glittering mass of white. It reminded him of the stories and memories Arara had shared with him about snow.

  Sels turned to the guard, who moved to stand at Sels's right hand side. “Have some water sent up, and some of those little snack cakes with the roasted nut spread.”

  The guard nodded, blinking furiously as he relayed the order. It was fascinating how each Jegera had a different tell for when they were sending a gefir.

  Jeron used to cock his ears just so when he was sending a telepathic communication. The thought sent a little stab of loss through him and he felt Arara responding through the bond with worry, wondering if she should return home early. Sels reassured her, that no, he was fine.

  “Are you alright?” Roel reached across the table to cover his fingers with her palm.

  “Just remembering an old friend who died,” which was only part of the truth but Sels felt a little uncomfortable sharing more about Jeron with her.

  “I understand. Dealing with loss can be difficult,” she pulled her hand away, trailing her fingers across his as she did so. The movement sent a small shiver through his vines, the blooms spreading open.

  “Mmmm,” Sels mumbled, embarrassed by his strong attraction to her. He’d been sheltered at the palace, his mother overprotective of her only child and he was finding himself at a loss for words on how to talk to her. When they’d met previously there had been so much going on that they’d never been alone together. Even when he invited her to the palace afterward, his mother, Sesay, and all the Jegeran bonded had been there.

  “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’d be happy to listen.” Roel leaned closer and smiled at him, her eyes sparkling.

  “Thank you,” Sels said, really meaning it. She was the first to care, first to even say anything like comfort to him since Jeron’s death.

  A page entered with a platter of cakes, glasses, and a pitcher of water. They fell silent while she placed it on the table between them, poured them both full glasses clinking with ice, and left.

  “Ice water!” Roel exclaimed taking a sip. “Everyone in my family are wind mages or healers, so it’s been ages since I’ve had ice in my water. I forgot how divine it is on a hot day.”

  Sels regarded the glass. He’d never thought about that before. “Here,” he picked up one of the cakes and held it out to her. “Try one of these. They’re one of my favorite foods.”

  To his surprise Roel leaned across the table, taking a bite of the proffered cake directly from his hands. Her tongue licked across his outstretched fingers before she bit down. Sels knew he was bright emerald, his flowers straining open as far as they would go. He quivered as she moaned and licked her lips.

 
“Oh, that is good,” she took the rest of the cake from his trembling hand with her fingers and popped it in her mouth.

  “Glad you like them,” Sels barely managed to get out. He picked up a second cake and took a big bite so he wouldn’t have to say anything else.

  “I’d love another one,” Roel arched a brow at him, running the fingers of her free hand up and down her glass of water, leaving streaks behind on the sweating glass.

  Sels gulped hard, swallowing the bite he’d been chewing. He set down his half-eaten cake on the table in front of him and picked up a new one.

  He held it out for her, leaning across the table. Roel did the same, her dress and gown sliding down one shoulder as she did so. This time as she took her bite she sucked on his fingers as she pulled away.

  “SEBAINE LSANDER, what do you think you are doing!” Sesay’s voice cracked like a whip.

  Sels whirled, crushing the remains of the cake in his fist, to see Sesay standing in the open doorway, hands clenched at her sides. He gapped at her, mouth opening and closing but no words would come.

  “I’m his friend Roel.” Roel stood and brushed crumbs from her lap. “I’d heard Sels was hurt in the riot yesterday and I came to check on him.”

  “I remember you.” The way Sesay glared he was glad that she didn’t have any fire magic or he was sure Roel would have burst into flames right then. “I thank you for helping him before, but go. Now.”

  “Yes, I need to be getting back to the clinic. Afternoons can be busy.” Roel strolled out, followed closely by his guard.

  Recka’s bulk darkened the doorframe behind them as Sesay walked over and took Roel’s abandoned seat. Sels discretely wiped his hand off on the leg of his chair.

  “Did you forget about your upcoming wedding?” Sesay folded her hands into her lap and looked at Sels. Her face was blank, a sure sign that she was furious.

  “No...” Sels trailed off, unsure what he could say that would appease Sesay. Irrationally, he felt guilty, although he knew that Sesay wanted this wedding to happen as much as he did, which was to say not at all. Remembering what his mother said, Sels swallowed. “I’m sorry, Sesay. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Sesay turned away from him, gazing out over the city. Her hand came up and dashed at her eyes. Was she crying? Sels squirmed, regretting his insincere apology.

  “Roel-”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Sels,” Sesay stood and rushed away, keeping her face turned away from him.

  Sels sat on the balcony, staring at the empty seat and trying to sort through his tumultuous emotions.

  ARARA CLUTCHED YEGRA’S paw tightly in her own as they descended the stone steps down into the bowels of the earth. All the captured Yaka had been jailed in the cells below, being deemed too dangerous to be kept in the domed prison cells in the gardens. Even down here they were made to wear collars that blocked their mental powers.

  As they went deeper the polished living wood of the palace tree gave way to rock. Thick roots poked through the stone and mortar at intervals or wound through the dirt of the walls.

  At the first landing they were briefly challenged by a pair of guards, who let them pass as soon as they recognized Arara. She heard them sending gefir to the guards further down, so that by the time they reached the last and final level housing the prisoners the guards there already expected her.

  The place reeked of urine and unwashed Jegeran musk. Arara wrinkled her muzzle and did her best to ignore the stench. Aside from the shuffling of feet and the tap of claws on stone the place was oddly quiet. Besides a few pings from Yegra, no other thoughts assailed her mental shields.

  Arara glanced curiously up at the guards. They wore the strange silver head bands that the assassins that attacked Sels had worn. She nodded with understanding. While wearing the bands the guards were immune to a Yaka’s powers, just in case one of them managed to get free of their collars.

  A few Jegera were housed in the cells closest to the stairs. Most were huddled at the back, on piles of straw and bedding, except for the Elder Lolop. He glared at them as they went by, the collar on his neck glinting. After they passed he spat on the floor and cursed Arara’s name.

  She shivered and clutched tighter to Yegra’s paw. Yegra gave her a reassuring squeeze and quickened her pace. Arara had to trot as fast as she could to keep up with her. It was a bit irritating but she understood Yegra’s desire to be done with this place as quickly as possible.

  “Here are all the Yaka, Sedyu.” The guard titled his head back respectfully to Arara and gestured down the hall. Cells lined both sides, curious blue-eyes and white-furred faces pressed against the bars to stare at the visitors. “Which one would you like to question first?”

  “Do they all speak Jegeran?” Arara asked, cocking her head to stare back at the closest Yaka. They looked so much like her, it was uncanny.

  “No,” the guard hesitated a moment and consulted a paper tucked in the pocket of his uniform.

  “Just bring us one that does,” Yegra said, glancing at Arara who nodded her head in agreement. They didn’t know which one might have the information that they needed, and since no-one they knew of in the city spoke Yakan, they could only question the ones that already spoke Jegeran.

  “Yes, Sedyu,” the guard pulled out a set of spelled disks and placed one against the locks of the nearest cell.

  The Yaka inside jumped back with a snarl, bringing up his front paws with claws extended. A thick vine shot from the wall with a snap, curling around his wrists and jerking him to the side. Startled by the speed and accuracy of the vine Arara yelped and let go of Yegra’s paw, falling back on her rump.

  The guard chuckled. “Yeah, I had about the same reaction the first time I witnessed one of those buggers. Spelled by the mages upstairs.”

  “I thought...” Arara gasped as Yegra pulled her to her hind feet with an amused grin, “Kin magic didn’t work in the dark?”

  “Doesn’t work for long,” the guard said, snapping a pair of iron-wood cuffs around the Yaka’s arms behind the vines. Even as Arara watched the vine withered and disappeared in a puff of dust. “But those roots come from the tree up above us. Not sure how it works, actually.”

  The guard dragged the Yaka out of the cell by the scruff of his neck. The Yaka, though taller and bulkier than Arara, didn’t even reach the guard’s shoulders.

  They followed the guard back down the hall the way they’d come; he turned off through a closed door, revealing a small room set with a kneeling table and a few mats. The guard set the Yaka down on one side of the table, attaching the iron-wood manacles to a ring set into the bricks of the floor. With a nod to Arara and Yegra he left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Arara and Yegra crouched on their haunches across from the Yaka. He yanked at the manacles and then the ring before he crouched, eyeing them warily.

  “Hello, my name is Arara and this is Yegra,” Arara tipped a front paw at Yegra, who dipped her muzzle. “We have some questions for you, do you understand?”

  The Yaka snarled and lunged at them. Arara scrambled back with a squeak while Yegra jumped in front of her, but the Yaka didn’t even get close to them. The cuffs jerked the Yaka to a stop and he fell back to the floor with a scrabble of claws. After a few minutes of trying to get him to talk they opened the door and called the guard back.

  “He’s refusing to talk to us.” Arara told him.

  “Wait here, I’ll bring the next. But just to warn you, only five of them speak our language.” With that the guard unchained the Yaka, taking him away. A few minutes later he returned with a second one.

  This Yaka, after being secured to the ring, just scratched at the back of his ear with a hind leg. The fur there was matted into a painful looking knot; the guards had obviously not supplied them with basic grooming brushes. Arara made a mental note to insist on giving the Yaka access to proper fur cleaning and care supplies. Knotted and matted hair behind the ears was painful, as Arara knew from
experience.

  “What is your name? Please tell us if you understand,” Arara gave him a smile without teeth and cocked her head.

  Yegra, however, had other ideas. She jumped up on the table between them, landing with all four legs spread and claws extended. Her muzzle was a claw length from the Yaka’s nose, lips pulled back as far as they could go as she snarled. The Yaka’s ears flattened and he narrowed his eyes, giving Yegra his full attention.

  “Ottont,” he said in a hoarse voice, licking his lips.

  Yegra gave him a nasty smile as she climbed backwards off the table to re-take her place next to Arara. “Thank you.”

  Before Arara could say anything else, Ottont’s eyes cut to Arara and he barked, “you, you Yaka?”

  Arara touched a paw to her nose then set it on the table, comparing her paw size to Ottont, and her white fur to his. Despite the grime covering him patches of white fur shone in the light of the sunflower that bloomed out of the ceiling. Her small paws and petite stature matched his, although being male he was bigger all around.

  “Yes, but raised Jegera,” Arara finally responded, summing up her life in the most uncomplicated way she could think of.

  His brows furrowed, one ear canting back and Arara hoped that he understood what she’d said. “I heard guard say sedyu.” Ottont lifted his wrists as far as he could and pointed one claw at Arara. “You?”

  “You know of me?” Arara leaned forward hopefully.

  “Yes, the true-speak paper say this would come.”

  “What does that mean?” Yegra’s question echoed Arara’s thoughts. “This isn’t working.”

  Arara said to Yegra.

  To Ottont, she said outloud “you mean the prophecy?”

  Ottont shrugged. “Not know that word. But, true-speak say that next come the night of the day and the end of the all. Unless the flames of night cleanse the sins of the father.”