by H G Lynch
Slowly, I opened my hands like a flower blooming, and in the cage of my fingers sat a single, perfect red rose.
Despite my fear of his reaction, I chanced a glance at Adam’s face, and my heart cracked. Fear. Fear and anger were displayed on his fine features, and he whipped the duvet away, quickly rolling out of the bed.
“Sorcière,” he hissed. “A witch, in my bed! You tricked me!”
I reached for him. “Adam, no!”
He turned his back. “Get out. I will keep your secret – I would be hanged if it were known I had shared my bed with a witch.”
My heart was shattering into a million pieces and I didn’t understand why, why he was so angry. “But my Mother, you said–”
“Your Mother has no powers which could be dangerous. She Sees and that is all. You...you have a power that could destroy! Ah, I understand now!” he added to himself. “The flames, the chandelier. That was you! You are a dangerous creature, Agatha. You can create real objects from thin air, control the elements! Power like that is beyond unnatural – it is dark and treacherous. You must leave, now.”
He would not even look at me, this man who had loved me so well just an hour ago.
Mother had been right. I had been a fool to trust him, and now I was no longer a virgin. What man would take me after this? After I had been used and discarded by the Prince? None.
Rage like nothing I had ever felt ignited within my chest, and I felt the curls rise off of my back and shoulders. My vision turned crystal clear as objects began to rattle all around us.
Adam whirled, his eyes wide with horror and fury. “Stop that now!” he roared.
But I would not.
Tears streamed down my face, my broken heart aching in my chest. The rose between my palms began to glow. “The rumours were true. You are a cad and heartless man. I believed that you loved me, but I see now that you love only yourself!”
The mirror on the dressing table cracked, mimicking the fractures of my heart, and the doors of the wardrobe began to bang violently. Adam backed against the wall, fear plain on his face. I no longer cared.
“You are a beastly man, Prince Adam, and you shall remain so until you learn to love another!” The words were not mere words – they were a Curse, the intention fusedinto every petal of the rose I held. It shone with unholy red light. “And as this rose withers and dies, so shall you!”
The balcony windows blew out in a hail of glass, scattering across the lush bed around me. Adam roared with horror as his hair grew long and thick, a coat of bristles tumbling down his neck and chest, flowing up his arms and legs. He howled in pain as his spine cracked and stretched, his nails growing into black claws similar to that of a bear. His beautiful face distorted into a wolf-like muzzle, his blue eyes staring at me with shock from an animal’s face.
It was done, and the rose fell to the bed, its glow faded.
I grabbed my dress, whipping it onto my body with magic, not bothering to lace it as I launched myself past the beast that was once a man I loved, and ran out of the palace barefoot.
I did not stop running until I had reached home, and there I found my Mother sobbing in the doorway. I knew she had Seen enough to understand what had happened.
She grabbed me in her arms, bundling me inside. She didn’t say a word as she tossed a rough blanket around my shoulders and grabbed a large potato sack from the kitchen. She began hastily throwing belongings into it.
Finally, she looked at me with a tear-streaked face and said, “Agatha, go and put something plain. Something that won’t attract attention. Grab everything you want to take. We’re leaving this town right now.”
Silently, I obeyed, rushing to my room to slip into a plain cotton dress and some flat shoes. I gathered most of my clothes and the few possessions that I could not bear to leave behind. As I descended the stairs, I heard my Mother arguing with someone at the door.
“Mama? Who’s at the door?”
“Mademoiselle Agatha!” a familiar voice cried, and Nicholas pushed past my Mother into the house. “Mademoiselle! I saw you run from the palace, and I was worried. I wanted to ensure you were alright!”
Nicholas, sweet Nicholas had warned me, and I had not listened. Now he was here again, to ensure my well being once more.
“No,” I said bluntly. “I am not alright. I have Cursed the Prince.”
He nodded solemnly. “I know. I heard the awful howls. He has been rampaging through the castle, destroying everything in his path. The staff...the staff, too, have changed.”
I blinked. “The staff?” I had not meant to Curse the staff, and I felt a wave of shame so powerful it almost made me vomit.
“Come, Agatha, there is no time!” my Mother urged, shoving the belongings I carried into the potato sack.
“But Nicholas, if the staff are Cursed, then why are you–”
“I was never staff, Mademoiselle. I was a prisoner, sold to the Prince at fifteen because of my noble looks. I was whipped regularly on the Prince’s command. Now I am free. The carriage – I stole a carriage, and it awaits us outside. Nobody noticed in the chaos, but your Mother is right. We must leave now!”
Nicholas held the coach door open as Mother and I climbed in, and then swung himself onto the front of the carriage.
“Hyah!” he cried, lashing the reins. The horses whinnied as they took off at a canter, their hooves clattering loudly on the cobbles.
I knew not where we were headed, nor what the future held. I held tight to Mother, my face buried in her chest as we rattled out of Ribauville, leaving behind the only home I had ever known, with only a sack of belongings left to us.
“Shh,” Mother murmured into my hair as a sobbed. “It will be alright. Everything will be alright. I have Seen where we are headed, and what path you shall follow. Stay quiet, Cherie, and keep Nicholas close for he will be more to you than the Prince ever was.”
My Mother had never had a false vision. Her words were as true as a lightning strike, and I had no choice but to believe her.
Everything would be alright.
The End