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When that disaster falls, which side will you be on?

No matter what she did, it wouldn’t change the fact that everyone now knew exactly what she was.

A lost girl playing pretend.

Chapter Four

Thicket stood on the threshold of a bedroom, lit only by the steady sway of purple fire slumbering in its hearth. Where the light faded, shadows danced, bringing the astromeia vines engraved into the baseboards to life, writhing and twisting along the length of the room. Her sister sat before a vanity, face held inches from the mirror as she dabbed a brush along her cheeks, leaving behind a rosy sheen. She drew back, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she examined her work.

Thicket was so transfixed by the cascading locks she had failed to notice the shift in her sister’s attention.

“What do you want?” The voice was cold and crystalline, and when Thicket glanced back up, she startled when she met the harsh slant of her sister’s light brown eyes.

“I wanted to see if this dress was appropriate for my coronation!” Thicket twirled, showing off the rippling layers of purple silk embroidered with little twinkling stars. She stopped short, nervousness tamping down on her excitement.

Her sister arched a single, perfect brow. “Then why do you look as though you are contemplating running away?”

“Because…” Thicket’s eyes met the ground. “You are beautiful and regal, just like a princess should be. And I’m… not.” It was an effort not to bunch the perfectly steamed fabric between her shaking fingers.

“You only think that because of your hair. It’s too wild. Someone with hair as unruly as yours can never be beautiful.”

Thicket flinched.

Her sister’s tense jaw worked, as though battling back words she knew better than to say. “But,” she amended, “hair is something you can fix.” She pushed away from the vanity, vacating her seat. “Come here, little Rose.”

Grinning, Thicket bounded over. Her sister took a comb and ran gentle, soothing strokes across her curls. Only the more her sister brushed, the more frizzy and unruly her hair became. Thicket reached up to touch the locks, which had doubled in size. She gasped, catching sight of her dress. Where it had once been the picture of perfection it was now in tatters, the rich fabric coated with layers of dust and grime. And her once perfect skin was marred by a gruesome gash running from her chin down to the tip of her shoulder. Fresh blood oozed, stretching like knotted fingers down her neck.

Lavender bent over Thicket, lips curved with derision as she traced the lines of blood. “Face it, little Rose.” Her sister’s perfectly straight hair escaped from where it had been tucked behind her ear, falling to caress Thicket’s cheek. “You will never be enough.”

She grabbed Thicket roughly by the chin, her bloodstained fingers smearing across Thicket’s face. She struggled against her sister’s hold but it was too tight. Lavender leaned in, her perfect features contorting into something heinous. “Even if you manage to beat me, you will still have to be queen. Do you really think you are capable of leading an entire kingdom? You can’t even take control of your own fate.”

Fear was a beast inside Thicket, bucking and clawing, desperate to be free. With one final yank, Thicket managed to jerk her chin from her sister’s grasp. The force sent the chair tipping, and she careened backward, tumbling into a pit of darkness.

Thicket sat upright, lungs heaving. Her hair and nightgown stuck to her clammy skin and her breathing continued to hitch in time with the pounding of her heart.

Had that… been a dream? It felt so familiar, as though—

As though it had been real.

Thicket had never experienced a true dream. The ones she had in the Dream World turned out to be memories and every time she “slept,” she was actually brought a step closer to reality, as though her subconscious had been fighting to return even though Thicket herself had done everything in her power to stay.

Even after waking up, there had been moments where the sleeping curse had visited her, lurking in the crevices of her mind, just waiting for the right moment to steal her back. But she had never actually dreamed. She still wasn’t sure she had. What she had just witnessed felt more like a perversion of an old memory.

You will never be enough.

A soft rap sounded against her window. Thicket jumped, clutching her sheets closer, heart beating anew with fresh panic. Then, a familiar voice said, “Thicket, are you awake?”

She scrambled from the sheets and flung back the curtains. Elian stood before her window, squinting through the astromeia vines clinging to the glass.

When he spotted her, his eyes brightened and he gave her a small wave. The action was so open and innocent it sent butterflies to chase away the lingering beads of panic. She couldn’t help but be reminded of the last time they had peered at one another through a window.

I wish I could see you this clearly all the time.

Her cheeks ignited. Swallowing back her embarrassment, she pried the window open, snapping bits of tangled astromeia vines. “What are you doing here?”

Elian straightened, distancing himself enough to release the strain on his eyes. “I wanted to see how you were doing. They escorted you away pretty quickly after the Pyre and… I was worried.”

The butterflies in her stomach made their way to her heart. “Stay there. I’ll come outside.”