“Harrow, let’s leave the queen be.” Aria yanks on him.
“How dare you,” he whispers as he’s being dragged to the door.
“How dare you,” I repeat back, seething. “Get out and never bother me again.”
Even though they retreat, my rage fuels the unruly vines even more. A thorny net spreads across the doorway and creeps over the walls and the ceiling. Roses the size of umbrellas now bloom like chandeliers.
I fall to my knees, gasping for air. I try and release the magic but it has as much of a hold on me as it does the vines.
The windows are completely covered and I am left in the darkness. I hear the sentient foliage, crunching over furniture, breaking the glass mirrors. The slithering continues, approaching me like serpents. The vines slide over my legs, leaving deep cuts in their wake. I don’t even cry out; I’m too tired to care.
Death by vines. This wasn’t how I expected to go. I close my eyes and sigh.
No.
No… If I die now, I’ll never be able to return to Capton. If I die, another young woman will be chosen because the power passes on. She might be like me and have goals and dreams of her own. She will be taken from people who need her. This wretched cycle continues.
If I live, I could have a chance to end it, couldn’t I? The rogue thought is like a flash in the darkness. A quiet thunder that almost sounds like my parents’ voices, murmuring late at night about the unfairness of this whole system, chases behind the thought. My eyes open again.
Maybe my father was right. Maybe there’s a way out of this prison that’s been imposed for centuries on the women of Capton. If the elves can separate worlds, can’t we find a way to link the natural world with Midscape? Has it ever been tried?
Even if I fail, I can’t return home if I’m dead. Capton still needs me. Somehow, I’ll still find a way to help them. I swore to my friends and kin I would.
“Enough,” I attempt to command the vines. “That’s enough.”
I try and wrangle my magic to get it back under control, but the power is as much of a thorny beast as the plants feeding off of it. I push the vines off my legs, letting out a cry of pain, and try and stand.
If my magic made them, my magic can control them. I have to believe that’s true. I made it off the redwood throne somehow, didn’t I? And the world had me in much deeper clutches then.
This isn’t the throne that’s steeped in thousands of years of magic. These are just some flowers. They only have power I gave them.
Focus, Luella.
Rather than retreating and curling in on myself, I extend my will out to the vines. Slowly, they begin to contract.
That’s it. I don’t know if I’m encouraging myself or the vines. Smaller; let me see the day. Light winks through the windows as the plants retreat, little by little.
All at once, they shudder. I watch as the magic withers, stolen from my grasp. The life within the vines vanishes. They shrivel, turn brittle, black, and then collapse to dust that fades away as smoke.
In their wake, the room is a wreck that stinks of roses, and standing in the doorway is a scowling Eldas.