the time he finished, the room and everything in it glistened as though brand-new. He grinned, pleased with his efforts. She would appreciate all that he’d done—he just knew it.
Now for the flowers.
Cornelia wanted him to stay here, and had he promised to obey her, he would have. But he hadn’t promised. He’d told her only that he understood her desires. Besides, this was for her, all for her, and no one would see him. He would make sure of it.
He strode to the balcony, pushed open the double doors. Cool night air wafted over him. The palace was situated in a far realm of the lower heavens, neighbored by thousands of stars twinkling from an infinite expanse of black velvet. The moon was bright and high, a mere sliver curved into two upward points.
The moon was smiling at him.
Encouraged, Koldo stepped to the balcony’s ledge. There was no railing, allowing his toes to curl over the side. He flared his wings to their full length, the action bringing a cascade of joy. He loved flying through the sky, soaring up and zipping down, rolling through the clouds, chasing birds.
His mother knew nothing of this. “You are never to use your wings,” she’d announced the day they’d begun to sprout from his back. He’d planned to heed the command, he had, but then, one day, she’d been screaming about how much she despised him, and he’d climbed to the roof so that she wouldn’t have to gaze upon his ugly face. His misery had distracted him and he’d fallen down, down, dooown.
Just before landing, he’d flared the previously unused appendages and managed to slow his momentum. He’d crawled away with a shattered arm and leg, broken ribs, a punctured lung and a fractured ankle. Eventually, he’d healed—and he’d next jumped on purpose. He’d been addicted to the feel of the breeze on his skin, in his hair, and had craved more.
Now, in the present, he dived headfirst. The air slapped at him, and he had to swallow his whoop of satisfaction. The freedom … the slight edge of danger … the rush of warmth and strength … He would never get enough. Just before impact, he straightened and leveled out, his wings catching the current. He landed softly, his feet already in motion.
One step, two, three, annnd he was a mile into the forest. Not because he was fast—though he was—but because he could do something his mother and the other Sent Ones he’d seen could not. He could move from one place to another with only a thought.
He’d discovered the ability a few months ago. At first, he’d only been able to whisk a yard, then two, but every day he managed to go a little farther than before. All he had to do was calm his emotions and concentrate.
At last he reached the stretch of wildflowers he’d found the last time he’d broken the rules and left the palace. He plucked the prettiest from the ground, the petals the perfect shade of lavender, reminding him of his mother’s eyes. He brought them to his nose, sniffed. The mouthwatering aroma of coconut clung to him, and his grin returned.
If Cornelia asked where he’d gotten the bouquet, well, he would tell her the truth. He refused to lie, even to save himself from a punishment. Not only because other Sent Ones could taste when another being lied—unlike him—but also because lies were the language of the demons, and demons were almost as evil as his father.
His mother would appreciate Koldo’s honesty. Surely.
Hands full of moist green stalks, he sprinted out of the forest and leaped into the atmosphere, going higher and higher, his feathers ruffling in the wind, the muscles in his back straining in the most delightful way. Up and down his wings glided. His heart thundered in his chest as he landed on the balcony and peeked through the doorway. There was no sign of his mother.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he entered the room. He emptied Cornelia’s favorite vase of old, dried flowers, then added the new and watered the stems. He returned to his place in the corner, folded his legs and waited.
Hours passed.
More hours passed.
By the time the hinges squeaked to signal the door was being opened, his eyelids were heavy, his eyes as dry and scratchy as sandpaper, but he’d managed to stay awake and now jolted to eager attention.
A soft fall of footsteps. A pause.
“What did you do?” his mother gasped. She spun, taking in every inch of the bedroom.
“I made it better for you.” Love me. Please.
A sharp inhalation of breath before she stomped over, stopping just in front of him and glaring down with fiery hatred. “How dare you! I liked my things the way they were.”
Disappointment nearly crushed him, so heavily did it settle in his chest. Once again he’d failed her. “I’m sorry.”
“Where did you get the ambrosia?” Even as she spoke, her gaze jerked to the double doors leading to the balcony. “You flew, didn’t you?”
Only a beat of hesitation before he admitted, “Yes.”
At first, she gave no reaction. Then she squared her shoulders, an action of determination. “You think you can disobey me and never suffer any consequences. Is that it?”
“No. I just—”
“Liar!” she shouted. Her palm smacked against his cheek, the force of the impact propelling him into the wall. “You’re just like your father, doing what you want, when you want, no matter how anyone else feels about the matter, and I’m not going to tolerate this behavior anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, trembling.
“Believe me, you will be.” She grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. He didn’t struggle, allowing her to toss him onto the bed, on his stomach, and tie his wrists and ankles to the posts.
Another whipping, he thought, not allowing himself to beg for mercy she wouldn’t show. He would hurt, but he would heal. He knew that for a fact. He’d earned a thousand other punishments just like this one, but he’d always recovered. Physically, at least. Inside, his heart would bleed for years to come.
His mother selected a blade from the wall, ignoring the whip she normally wielded.
She was going to … kill him?
Finally Koldo tugged and twisted, but he wasn’t strong enough to fight his way free. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ll never again clean your room, I promise. I’ll never again leave it.”
“You think that’s the problem? Oh, you foolish boy. The truth is, I can’t let you loose. You’re tainted by your father’s vile blood.” The fire in her eyes had spread to the rest of her features, creating a wild, crazed expression. “I’ll be doing the world a favor by limiting your ability to travel.”
No. No! “Don’t, Momma. Please, don’t.” He couldn’t lose his wings. He just couldn’t. He would rather die. “Please.”
“I told you not to call me by that wretched name!” she screeched.
Panic caused little crystals of ice to form in his blood. “I’ll never do it again, I promise. Just … please, don’t do this. Please.”
“I
