Cursed: Briar Rose's Story - Kaylin Lee Page 0,78
want to be captured right now. You should have come hours ago, when my hair and makeup were fresh.”
“Seth …” Ruby patted his shoulder. “Just go try it somewhere else.”
“I’ve already tried it at several victory parties tonight, and everyone else loved it.”
“Well, not us,” Ruby said kindly. “Truly.”
“I don’t understand.” The reporter heaved a sigh, then delicately set the crystal into a pouch at his side. “It’s like you don’t want to be in the newspaper.”
“We don’t want to be in the newspaper.” Chloe crossed her arms.
“Right. Honestly, none of us do.” Ella smoothed her dress over her belly. “Sorry. Maybe you can find someone who wants to be famous.”
He scratched his jaw. “You’re all already famous.”
“There are dozens of heroic Sentinels in the next room eating all our food,” Mom said, having re-entered the kitchen with a collection of empty trays. “I’m sure they’d love to try out your cap-thingy and be in the newspaper.”
“I already asked them,” Seth grumbled. “They said Sentinels don’t trust magic. Not sure why they’re all at the same party as you lot, since half of you are powerful mages—”
“Why, indeed.” Mom laughed and set the serving trays on the counter, then poured a fresh glass of chrysos and handed it to Seth. “Happy Victory Day!” she said, smiling sweetly, a glint of humor in her eyes as he took it from her gingerly, careful not to touch her skin. “Here, I’ll walk you to the door.” She led him to the front hallway, keeping just close enough to make him walk quickly. “Take your chrysos with you. No need to return the glass.”
When Mom returned, the bespectacled girl from Draicia followed her to the doorway. But she didn’t enter the kitchen. Mom waved to her as she hovered in the door to the parlor. “Astrid, isn’t it? You’re visiting Asylia with Ruby and Lucien Patras, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Astrid said stiffly. “Thank you for having me.”
“Call me Zel.” Mom went to the oven and helped Ella move a new batch of freshly baked pastries from the pan to the empty serving trays.
Astrid twisted the ends of her long hair around her finger, lurking nervously at the edge of the kitchen as if she was afraid to enter, despite my mother’s welcome.
I looked around the warm, gold-drenched kitchen, imagining how it might look to Astrid.
There was Belle, the Princess of Asylia, stunningly beautiful and whip smart. Free of any royal airs, Belle leaned against the counter like a commoner, chatting with Ella as they arranged the pastries in perfect pyramids.
The two women were petite and dark-haired, but Ella’s green eyes and the scar that sliced down one side of her face, from temple to jaw, set her apart.
Together, they had helped stop the Crimson Blight and set mages free from True Name-based slavery.
And Ruby, Astrid’s mentor, had been the first ever journalist to go undercover with Draicia’s ruthless Wolf clan. She’d faced the Masters alone, when no one else on the continent even knew they existed, and she had warned us about aurae in time to stop the Masters from taking over Asylia.
And then there was my mother. She caught me studying her and blew a kiss as she passed me on her way to the parlor with the fresh pastries. “You look beautiful, hon,” she said. “Glad we found that dress.”
I managed to smile in response, though my chest suddenly tightened with an intense, breath-stealing surge of pride. No one had survived more than my mother. A brutal childhood spent locked in a Draician tower, followed by the work of keeping her three daughters safe and alive for over a decade in hiding. She had defeated the Crimson Blight by the sheer strength of her stubborn will, only to be captured and tortured by the Masters five years later when she’d helped rescue me.
“More chrysos?” Alba shook my arm. “You’re looking too contemplative for a victory party.” I nodded distractedly.
My sister. My sister.
I wanted to squeeze her in a tearful embrace right then and there, but I settled for taking the chrysos she handed me instead, the liquid sloshing up the sides in my unsteady grip. Alba had saved me from the Masters by orchestrating that rescue mission, and by discovering sorbus in the Hollow, my bubbly, warm-hearted sister had made it possible to truly, fully defeat the Masters forever.
Yet Astrid seemed to be watching me.
“You’re a heroine of hers, you know,” Ruby whispered, leaning toward me. “She’s thirteen. Probably overwhelmed by your