Withering Rose (Once Upon A Curse Book 2) (6 page)

I'm a princess.

I have magic.

I'm about to run away into the realm of a
beast.

And I'm afraid of a few mean girls.

I sigh and shake my head, trying to stop the
butterflies soaring around my stomach at breakneck speed. It's
stupid, I know. But I've spent almost a decade pretending to be
meek and afraid. I'm not sure I really know how to be anything
else—not yet.

I've barely reached the edge of the party
when a voice interrupts my internal pep talk.

"You came!"

I spin with my heart in my throat but relax
as soon as I meet Dean's excited blue eyes. He found me quickly, so
quickly it sort of feels like he might have been waiting for me. I
try not to let that thought linger for too long. But it's nice to
feel wanted, even if I know his want is really aimed toward a girl
I'm only pretending to be.

"I came," I say softly, more like a
sigh.

But he doesn't notice. He gestures to me to
join the party, and when I walk too slowly, he meets me half way,
falling in with my steps. "I'll admit, I never thought I'd see the
day when Omorose Bouchene would come to a party."

"Me neither," I murmur, deciding on honesty
as the best path.

"I'm glad you did." He smiles, and I can
sense his eyes watching me, but I keep my gaze on the ground. It's
better that way. "You want something to drink? We managed to sneak
a bottle of rum and some orange juice out of the supply room."

I shake my head. But he's not discouraged at
all by my silence.

"So why did you come?" he asks, tone
curious.

"Because," I say, glancing up at him.
"Someone finally invited me." An expression passes over his face
that looks suspiciously like guilt. But that wasn't what I wanted.
So before I realize what I'm doing, I reach up and place my hand on
his arm, stopping us both. "I meant that as a thank you," I say
quickly, unsure where the sudden burst of confidence is coming
from. "Not so you'd feel sorry for me or anything. I'm not really
used to people including me. It's a nice change of pace."

He grins.

I look back at the ground and let go of
him.

"Is there any water?" I ask. My throat is
dry.

"Oh yeah, sure, I'll be right back."

When he's gone, I realize that Dean wasn't
the only one to notice my arrival. And without him close by,
everyone finally has the nerve to gawk the way they wanted to
before. There are about forty other teenagers at the base, and I
think thirty-nine of them are watching me right now.

Heat floods my cheeks. I can’t stop it. I've
never been able to. And then almost against my will, my hands start
wringing together, and I shift nervously from foot to foot.

Where'd Dean go?

And more importantly, where is—

"Omorose," an overly sweet voice calls.
Amanda.

I stand my ground. After all, this is the
exact reason I came here. To give them all a show. To cause a
scene. But it was a little easier when it was all in my head, and I
can't find my voice quick enough to respond.

"What are you doing here, freak?" she
mutters when she gets close enough that no one else will hear.

I know that all I need to do is fight back a
little bit, just enough to make her feel for a moment like I'm a
threat. And after that, she'll do the rest. But I still can't
speak. I'm paralyzed.

"I…"

"You what?" she taunts. "Thought maybe
someone here actually wanted to spend time with you? As if a few
hours in class isn’t enough to make us all want to barf."

Be brave, I tell myself.

Just for a moment. Just this once.

"Someone here does want to spend time with
me," I whisper. Each word that passes through my lips gives me more
strength, more fight. My voice grows louder. "Dean invited me. In
fact, right before he went to go get me a drink, he told me how
happy he was that I came."

For a moment, I really think her eyes are on
fire they are so filled with rage. And instantly, I know that one
sentence was enough, one brief moment of bravery was enough.
Amanda's been selfish and territorial for as long as I've known
her. Nothing would make her more furious than the idea that someone
as weak as me would dare take something that belongs to her.

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you,
freak?" she spits.

But before she can say anything else, Dean's
voice halts her.

"Amanda," he calls. And he doesn't know it,
but the little bit of warning in his tone seals my fate.

"Dean!" She turns, plastering a smile across
her lips, gaining a flirty expression.

The party has gone silent. No whispers. No
laughing voices. Nothing but the light music drifting through the
forest.

We have an audience.

"What were you guys talking about?" he asks
innocently, handing me a cup of water. I can't help but notice
Amanda's gaze fasten on the spot where his fingers graze against
mine.

"Oh, just girl stuff," she responds lightly,
mysteriously enough that he'll ask a follow-up.

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" He's predictably
intrigued. But also wary, I'm happy to note.

She giggles. "I can't tell you." Then she
looks at me pointedly. "They're not my secrets to spill."

"What secrets?" he asks, turning to me with
a slightly confused expression.

I take a sip of water and mumble, "I don't
know what she's talking about."

But a trickle of fear seeps down my spine.
What does Amanda know? Could she have possibly found out what I
truly am? How could she have uncovered any of my secrets? What is
she talking about? What's her plan?

"You don't have to be shy," she says
encouragingly, as though we're suddenly best friends.

I watch her, wide-eyed and unsure.

She nudges me with her shoulder, as though
prodding me to confess.

My throat is clogged up. I shake my
head.

She rolls her eyes. "It's not a big deal,
really. She was just telling me how excited she was that you
invited her out here, sort of like a date almost. She was hoping
you might give her, well, her first kiss. I mean, Dean, you must
know she's been in love with you for years."

Dean glances at me and then quickly looks
away.

But it takes a moment for the full force of
Amanda's words to reach my ears because I'm so relieved that the
word
magic
hasn’t rolled off her tongue. She doesn’t know my
secrets. She doesn’t really know how to destroy me.

But then someone snorts under his
breath.

I hear the hum of swiftly spoken
whispers.

The light chime of laughter.

Victory shines brightly in Amanda's eyes
right before she contorts her face into a convincingly shocked
expression. "Oh god, don't tell me you didn’t know, Dean." She
glances my way. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean." And then she looks
back at him. "I really am sorry. I didn’t think it was a secret,
not really."

I look at Dean, knowing my cheeks are on
fire, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'm not in love with
him. I don't have a crush on him. I don't even want him to kiss me,
not really, especially not like this. But if I say any of that, it
will just look like I'm lying. It's the perfect trap.

Except that for a moment, I actually think
he might stand up for me. I actually think he might choose my side.
Behind the shock and the mortification, his expression holds the
barest hint of delight. But then he looks at the ground and runs
his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. And I know I'm on my
own.

The realization hurts more than I thought it
would.

"I, uh," he mumbles.

I shake my head and step back as my heart
pounds painfully in my chest. "That's not," I stutter. "I mean, I
didn't, you know—"

"Just kiss her!" someone shouts.

I freeze.

"Yeah, kiss her, Dean!" another person
yells. It's a dare. A joke. A test for Dean at my expense. Will he
kiss me for their entertainment? Will he toy with my emotions for
them? Pretty soon everyone has joined in the chant. "Kiss her! Kiss
her! Kiss her!"

I can't look at him. I can’t.

I do.

Just one little peek.

He's laughing, as though this is no big
deal. And I know if I pretended to be more confident, we could
brush the whole incident away. If I were Amanda, I know exactly
what I'd do. I'd walk right up to him, kiss him with everything I
had, and then I'd walk away, leaving him dazed. I'd come out
looking cool, not desperate. I'd come out with the victory.

But I'm not Amanda.

I'm me.

So I stand there frozen, caught in a trap as
my embarrassment mounts.

"Kiss her! Kiss her!"

Dean rubs the back of his neck and finally
looks at me. He raises his brows as though asking permission,
asking if we're in this together. And then he takes a step
forward.

I run.

I forget that this was the plan all along. I
forget that this is exactly what I was hoping would happen. Tears
fall freely down my face as my mortification reaches its peak, and
I take off at a sprint, disappearing into the woods.

"Omorose!" Dean calls.

"Let her go," Amanda says loud enough for me
to hear.

I don't dare look back.

I keep going until all the hurt is replaced
by anger. I'm furious with Amanda for playing me like that. I'm
furious at Dean for being able to pretend like it was no big deal.
But more than anything else, I'm furious with myself for not being
able to do the same.

That was my plan, I try to tell myself. That
was exactly what I wanted to happen, what I needed to happen, so I
had an excuse to run away.

But deep down, I know the truth. Even if the
situation had been different, I still wouldn't have fought back. I
would still be here, running away. I'll always be the one with the
tear-stained cheeks and not the victorious smile.

The realization consumes me.

My emotions rage, uncontrollably switching
from hurt to anger to fear to loathing, a dark spiral without a
drop of light. And as I twist further into the chaos, my control
over the magic slips away. I try to dig myself out of the
bottomless pit, to concentrate on the pounding beat of my feet
hitting the ground, but it's a losing battle. I hold on just long
enough to break through the line of trees before I trip and fall,
tumbling against the grassy plain splayed out before me.

I haven't reached the barrier where the
beast's magic obstructs the radar system at the base, but I can't
take another step. I can just barely see snow-covered peaks
gleaming in the moonlight, and I hope I'm close enough for the
beast to reach me before the general does. I hope he senses my
magic and recognizes my power for what it truly is—a desperate cry
for help.

Before I have time to hope for anything
more, my magic takes over.

The torrent carries me away, and I'm
drowning in it, sinking to a place I've never gone before. I'm no
longer Omorose, no longer a princess, no longer a girl. I am raw
energy that has been pent-up for too long. I seep into the ground,
strengthening dried out roots, sharpening bent stems, lengthening
newborn pines. Flowers sprout to life all around me, fanning out in
a circle around my forgotten body. The trees in the distance grow
inch by inch as my life force transfers to them, bringing the
forest new vigor. I am the sun. My magic is light that nature draws
in, and lost as I am, I have no control over how much the greedy,
dying world claims. I have no idea how long I lie motionless on the
cold ground, power flowing freely into the dirt and the air. I have
no awareness. Nothing.

Until finally, the pain comes.

Agony saves me.

I snap back into my body as my soul cries
out, begging the magic to stop. I can't move. Every part of me is
spent. My muscles ache. Even lifting a finger is too much. But
deeper, my chest feels ripped apart, as though each rib was pried
away, broken and crunched to pieces, leaving my heart fully
exposed. But I hardly feel that ache. It is nothing compared to the
torturous pulses that rack through me as time is stripped from my
soul. Burning hot and frigid cold waves pass over me, one after the
other, over and over as though I am being dipped into two different
types of hell. The little rosebud at the center of my being grows
smaller as petals fall one by one, disappearing as my life force
weakens, dropping away into nothing.

Time is my curse.

Time is being yanked forcibly away.

I'm motionless on the ground as the curse
that binds my magic to my soul takes its payment. My vision begins
to wane. The already dark world grows darker. Even the moon turns
its back on me as silver grows more and more ebony each
instant.

Just before I fade entirely, I notice a
figure in the distance, the fuzzy outline of a man. Is he friend or
foe? I don't know. My eyesight disappears before I find the answer
to my question. But it wouldn't matter either way.

I'm in a void, dancing with oblivion.

Yet through the darkness, I feel fingers
lightly caress my cheek, as though I am made of stardust, so gentle
I fear I'm dreaming. They trace my nose, my chin, up and over my
brow, so soft I wonder if it is silk pressing against me. Finally,
that phantom touch outlines the edge of my lips, tickling my skin,
before it disappears.

I fight to open my eyes.

I fight for one glance.

A warm hand cups the back of my head,
pausing for a moment, scorching me with eyes I sense even through
the void—eyes that can see every bared part of me, the secret I've
kept for so long, the magic I can no longer hide. And then his hold
drifts lower down my spine to the curve of my back. Another arm
slips beneath my knees, and I'm airborne, being cradled against the
night.

All I can think as my consciousness slips
away is how infinitely sad it is that I've never felt more precious
in my life than I do in this moment, wrapped in the arms of an
invisible stranger.