He took a step toward me, just one, but it contained more ferocity than any sword. “Leave. Now. Before I kill you where you stand. I’ve never harmed a child, even a woman trapped in the body of one, and I don’t wish to start today.”
Kill me? As in murder me? But, that couldn’t be right. “You need to let me help you. You’re hurt.”
“I’m avian. I heal swiftly. Now leave,” he repeated with more force.
“Stay, both of you.” The command came from my father as he stomped around the same wall of foliage I’d navigated, with Roth, Farrah, and Milo behind him. “Someone tell me what has caused such damage. Now.”
The second the Charmaines caught sight of us, concern contorted their features. Roth rushed over, demanding, “Who did this to you both, Saxon?”
“This didn’t happen to us both.” Saxon glowered at me. “This happened to me. The girl is responsible.”
“Liar!” I rarely fell into a temper, but this boy and his animosity pushed me closer and closer to the edge.
“Ashleigh, you worthless girl.” My father believed Saxon over me? “The avian are a proud people, rich in tradition. Harming one of their royals is a terrible insult to all avian, and restitution must now be made.”
A pang almost rent me in two, fueled by sorrow, fear, and anger. “I didn’t hurt him. You have to believe me, Father. I—”
“Enough. Your mother wanted you here, I do not.” He pointed an accusing finger at me, and I withered. “I have tolerated your presence only because of the prophecy and the potential for blessings upon the kingdom, but I have become more and more certain that your role is a minor one. If not a curse altogether. You’re too...you.”
I flinched, as though I’d been punched.
And he wasn’t done. “I’d planned to send you away tomorrow. Now circumstances have changed. You will move to the Temple of Blessed Peace today, where you will live out the rest of your days.”
I gaped at him. He’d planned to send me away before this? He’d expected me to leave the only home I’d ever known, my mother’s home, the day after her funeral? To live at the Temple, a mystical cluster of trees where dryads worshipped nature? A place hours away, even by route of the Enchantian Forest?
“Will this serve as restitution, Prince Saxon?” Father asked the male.
“No,” the avian snapped. “But it will do. For now.”
As everyone in the group glared at me, awaiting my response to the punishment, my world seemed to contract, expand, then contract again, like a pulse inside my brain. Though I would have loved to sprint away, to sob, to plead my case, I knew better. Father never reversed his decisions, and those who protested ended up in his dungeon.
I fingered my mother’s ring and glared at Saxon. “Yes, Father. I will move to the Temple to make restitution to the prince.” For now, just as he’d said.
But one day...
Yes. One day.
2
Dreams may come, and dreams may go,
but you’ll always have a foe.
Ashleigh
Three years later
Present day
Sunlight spilled through the tiny holes I’d drilled into the walls of my bedroom, warming and waking me. I groaned as I eased into an upright position. New day, same routine. Wake up. Bathe. Eat a piece of fruit. Clean the Temple. Eat a small lunch. Clean the Temple. Eat a smaller dinner. Read. Go to sleep.
I sighed, a plume of dirt falling from my hair, landing on—dirt? I groaned. Not this again. I’d fallen asleep relatively clean. Well, as clean as one could get, living in a hollowed-out tree trunk and working with forest nymphs who cared only about nature. Now dirt caked my feet, stained my nightgown, and filled the underside of my nails.
Clearly, I’d explored the forest in my sleep again. Something I did about once a month. Thrice I’d woken up to mud and a treasure. Today, I discovered another treasure. A large egg rested beside my pillow.
I ran my fingers over the ridged shell and grinned. Red with flecks of green. Definitely a dragon egg, just like the others. And I didn’t care that finding such a thing seemed to support what the warlock’s son had said about me, that I had the witch Leonora, the queen of dragons, trapped inside me somehow. My subconscious had latched on to the idea of dragons, obviously, and now sought to find as many as possible.
Many times, I’d bartered with a vast number of Temple patrons to receive history books about dragons, the avian, and witches, as well as different metalwork and gardening guides, even ancestral journals about the different royal families. In return, I’d carved the patrons’ names into the Temple’s trunk.
Supposedly, when someone who lived in the Temple carved another person’s name in said tree trunk, untold blessings would come upon that person. Had I started the rumor because I needed a way to get my books? Yes. Did I feel bad about it? Not even a little. Maybe untold blessings did come upon them. Who knew?
During all my studies, I’d learned I shared no similarities with Leonora. Other than the fire thing. And the love of dragons. And the war with the avian. But that was all! She’d had a cruel streak. I didn’t. She’d destroyed innocents. I never would. Most important, I hadn’t started a fire since my arrival, as I must have somehow done to Prince Saxon in the garden. How, though? How had I managed to ignite flames while unconscious and magicless?
Then again, anything was possible in Enchantia.
Whatever had happened, I would apologize to the avian prince for my part in it. Surely he would be satisfied then. Hadn’t I paid for my accidental crime long enough?
Ugh. Thoughts of the prince always soured my mood. I pushed him from my mind and focused on my new egg. A joy. After cleaning the beauty with painstaking care, despite its hard-as-steel shell, I placed it beside the others in the box I kept stashed under my bed.
Satisfied, I stood to prepare for my day. This bedroom was smaller than my closet at home. I had the bed, the egg box, a couple changes of clothes, a few toiletries, and a small—very small—wooden tub. If I wanted to bathe each morning, I had to haul water into the tub the night before. Some part of me must have known I’d go egg hunting last night; before bed, I’d lugged four buckets of water up my tangle of branches, also known as my “staircase.”
The Temple itself was comprised of multiple hollowed-out tree trunks, their gnarled limbs creating the walls and floors. In some spots, flowers grew. In others, ivy. Bugs crawled here and there, and birds flew about at will, webs and nests part of our decor.
Though I would have preferred a room on the ground floor, I’d chosen this one because of the moonberry vines hanging in one corner. Some mornings, I had only to reach out to acquire breakfast. Sadly, this wasn’t one of those mornings. I’d eaten the last berry yesterday, and they wouldn’t bloom again for another month.