Chapter 58

Becky

Rebecka Eriania Fortis had never thought much of the deadlands.

But she decided it would be a preferable location to where she was now, at her family's fortress—a place to which she thought she'd never return. The group behind her ooh ed and ahh ed, wowed by the splendor unfolding before them. Already forgetting her warnings, already hypnotized by the beauty.

She wished she could be surprised by that.

Large magenta gates swung open, and beyond was the colorful glamor of her former life. The fortress was huge—not as big as the manor, but the grounds were wider, open, and far more colorful. Plants and trees were everywhere, so tall and full of splendor that even she marveled as a tree branch reached down and brushed her cheek in greeting.

She hated to cry, certainly didn't make a habit of it, but she felt the stinging burn of tears now. Her family wasn't innocent, but their land was: the trees, the grass, the dancing mushrooms lining the front walk, making little murmured sounds when they saw her walking up the flower-lined path to the fortress entrance. The sound was equal parts comforting and foreign after so many years. The front doors to the house were the same, with gold vines wrapped over every inch, and her family's crest was etched into the front of each door—a large magenta flower with green leaves falling from it.

Archibald, the Fortis family's tried-and-true butler, appeared as the doors swung open, greeting her with unbridled warmth. Undeserved, in her opinion, considering the last time she saw him, she'd slammed that very same door in his face.

"Lady Rebecka. You've come home to us," he said, his voice cracking. The butler was older than both of her parents; he began his service to her family when her grandmother was just a little girl.

"Come in, come in! All of you, please," Archibald urged. She'd always envied his manners and decorum, and she'd attempted to mimic them even after she left.

He ushered them into the foyer, his uniform matching the bright colors surrounding them. The vibrant pinks, greens, and yellows were meant to be an ode to Myrtalia, the continent on which they lived. It was the Fortis family's subtle way of declaring their loyalty to the land and not to any ruler. They were not believers in Rennedawn's Story or its prophecy. Or at least…they weren't meant to be.

Her mother had never mentioned Nura Sage or starlight power, but it was not so out of the ordinary for the family to harbor wayward souls. There were many people who had come and gone through the fortress, looking for protection, looking for safety.

"I've sent for your parents. Your father is out minding his spice garden, and your brothers are training in the Trench." Archibald looked at the people filtering in behind her— my people , she thought with some pride—and with a pinch of dismay. "You and your guests may wait in the green room for them. I'll bring refreshments."

Blade whispered in her ear, "Isn't the whole house a green room?" She elbowed him but stifled a laugh as they all shuffled down the hall after Archibald.

Wild plants straightened as she passed them. A rose in a hanging vase reached up and nudged her hand to welcome her.

She tried to ignore it, and the stem of the flower wrapped around Becky's wrist, playfully tugging her closer in retaliation. "Stop that!" The group of roses flinched and wilted for a moment, and Becky scoffed. "I know the lot of you better than your very poor playacting." The stems perked up immediately, and the roses bounced.

She smiled despite herself, heart softening inside its hard shell. She may have missed them, a very little bit. "I'll say goodbye before I leave again," she whispered.

Clare reached out to touch them, and they leaned gently into her fingers. "I've never seen anything like this! And I deal in magical plants."

"The magical plants in the fortress are blessed by the land. We sit atop the most powerful point in Rennedawn." The words rolled off her tongue easily after years of rote memorization.

When they entered the green room, the first thing they heard was a crash—and then a deep-sounding croak.

"Kingsley!" The boss reached out, gripped the frog by his middle, and hauled the amphibian away from spearing a fly with his tongue. "Who brought him?"

Becky waved a hand. "Oh, never mind him—my family will hardly notice. This house is filled with animals. Listen." Chirping sounds danced through the space, along with squeaks, chatters, and even a bark in there somewhere.

No. The bark had come from the hall, along with a hum of voices that made goose bumps rise along Becky's skin. Her throat grew so tight she forgot to swallow. She looked to one of the potted ferns, which waved at her, then shook when a loud crash sounded outside. The voices came closer and closer to them, growing louder and more boisterous with each passing second.

Evie's lips pulled down, and her eyes widened. "What…or I suppose, rather, who is that?"

Becky sighed, rubbing at her temples as the door crashed open.

"My brothers."