The City of Dreams by Hailey Griffiths

Author:Hailey Griffiths
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hailey Griffiths
Published: 2018-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

5

A Different Kind of Magic

The slam of the door woke her. Ariella scrambled up quickly, shoving aside her nest of blankets, and upsetting the loren, who meowed loudly in protest. She reached for her window and swung it open to see Yora haranguing the latest group of socialites. It was a mixed group today, one ruffled pink dress was accompanied by two shiny, pastel coats now making their way sheepishly back to the street.

The hot wind of the previous night had disappeared, and the air held the sharply clean smell of gathering rain clouds. There was also a new, strange floral scent. She poked her head further out the window to look down—and stared in wonder.

The thick vines that crawled up the side of the tall, narrow house were no longer bare. Lush greenery sprouted from the base of the tower, rustling in the cold wind off the river. The leaves were sparser higher up the vines, but green buds nestled in every nook, and she was sure she could see them swelling. Yellow star-shaped flowers nestled among the growth, their rich smell slightly sweet.

It must be magic, these vines blooming now, at the onset of winter.

“Breakfast!”

The shout made her jump and she slammed her head against the top of the window. The pain helped her push away the confusing issue of the flowering vines. Trying to rub her head while getting dressed slowed her down, but not by much. She couldn’t wait to see Prell. Last night, after they’d sneaked inside, he’d sat on the floor beside her bed, holding her hand as she fell asleep. He’d told her his favourite children’s tales, ones she’d never heard from her own mother. The Oracle and the Pond, The Grace that Wasn’t, and her favourite so far, Astyria’s Tale, of the founding of the Vale.

She was a bundle of nerves as she made her way downstairs, almost nauseous with excitement. What if he was sorry she’d kissed him? What if he’d only kissed back because she was the Grace-in-Waiting?

She hesitated on the threshold of the kitchen, watching Yora bustle around, flipping potato cakes and scrambling eggs. And Prell—he looked up from stealing a sausage from her plate and grinned at her, wide and deep and real.

Ariella’s fears dissolved in the burst of joy that flooded from her and she nearly skipped over to the table. Breakfast passed the same way as usual, with Prell eating freely from everyone else’s plates, and although she felt Yora’s gaze on her a few times, the kind woman, who had been more mother to her during a week than her own ever had, said nothing, simply offering more sausages and fried potato cakes.

After a few false starts of forgotten coats or scarves, they left for the Gardens, Ariella’s hair was wrapped up tightly in a scarf. She’d suggested dyeing it, but Yora had shaken her head, and said, “Not worth the risk. Besides, I doubt it would take.”

Ariella didn’t understand why Yora thought it was risky.

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