I look into those wide, amber eyes that mirror my own. She leans her small body closer, wisps of long brown hair partly masking her shocked expression.
My heart tugs. Ignatia is the perfect blend of me and my love, with her mother's dark brown hair and my own fiery irises that match her name. She's a little us, only four years old, having to learn about the tragedy that separates us from our enemies and why they would despise her very existence.
Telling the story of Rayden and Lydia is devastating.
I tip myself towards Ignatia as she pushes herself closer against the velvet couch of our sitting room, the violet flames in the hearth reflecting off of her cheeks in dim light. “Now let thisstory be a lesson, Ignatia. It's a very important lesson about our enemies. Rayden made a grave mistake trusting Lydia.”
She slowly nods along as I sharpen my tone. “The Amara kingdom is our greatest enemy, and even though Lydia had loved him before, they turned her against him. No matter how loving they are, never, and I meannever, trust an Amarian. They will ensure you're dead in the end.”
She tilts her head sideways, “But what if they don't? I can't be friends withanyAmarians?”
“No.” I shake my head. “The Amara Kingdom hates our people, and there's nothing we can do to change them. We've all tried but they're hopeless.” I glance at the fire. “They will always stay their brainwashed ways, wanting us dead.”
It becomes silent as Ignatia stares at me and my muscles stiffen. It enrages me that we have a whole kingdom ready to make her suffer, even as an innocent little girl.
I will do anything to keep those people away from her. They are nothing but mass-manipulators who carry vileness in their hearts.
It's a real shame that the Amara kingdom, the kingdom of supposed love, has come to such degrading beliefs.
If this is love, I must've read the wrong definition somewhere.
Chapter 1
Amias
Will it ever glow for me?
I cup the sweet, star-shaped flower, its size nearly as big as one hand. Vibrant, pink petals settle against my fingers, while the white dot in the middle seems to twinkle, almost as if to tease me. My heart can't stop jumping for fear that it might not work, or in excitement that it just might.
For years I’ve wanted to see it glow; not for everyone else, but for me and the someone I love. If it showed me that I had found some sort of love bond, I would be thrilled! I would have reached a level of life I never thought I'd see. All the joys I've seen from love; laughter, intimacy, and increased beauty of life, would finally be a part of my world.
Just please, amare flower. Glow for me tonight.
“Amias!”
I snap my focus to the man in front of me, who's wearing a giant smile on his face. His chestnut-colored eyes, nearly the same color as his skin, seem to twinkle even in the shade of the cherry blossom looming over us.
“You nervous for the date?”
“A little.” I glance back at the flower I grew from my magic. The petals droop, wilting as my mind races. An ache builds in my chest as the vibrant pink turns gray.
I brush petals of the dying flower through my fingers, and then off my cream-colored slacks. Little crumbs of them remain on the white bench we’re sitting on. I refocus on Glaide. “I'm sure it'll go okay.” I tug on my white collared shirt and adjust the suspenders that match the shade of my pants.
“I'm sure it will. You're a great guy.” Glaide nudges my shoulder with a small chuckle. “I can't imagine you going on so many dates with no girl liking you.”
I snort before hunching my shoulders, doubts infiltrating my thoughts. What if it never works out? “Dating doesn't seem to be going right. You know, this will be the fiftieth date I've been on?” And almost none of them lead to second dates.
“It just takes patience,” Glaide shrugs. His pocket then buzzes. He takes out his phone, an orange glow blinking from the fire symbol on the back. After a few clicks on the screen, he makes eye-contact with me again. “Well, I have to meet Ivy to get ready. Want to get going?”
I push myself off the bench. “Yeah, it’s probably for the better.”
Glaide shuts off his phone and puts it in his pocket. I grunt, wondering how long he has until his cheap three-year CaeCae charge runs out on that phone. I much prefer my HonOpus charge enchantment that lasts for five years.
We stroll away from the cherry blossom tree and to the middle of the city square of Vota.
A bird whistler guides white doves to tie garlands of roses and amare flowers to every streetlamp, connecting them into a square. The fountain in the center spews pink-tinted water, with scarlet ignise lilies floating awaiting their pistils to be lit like candles. People set up tents and trucks on both sides of the sidewalk and the smells of hot oil and sugar instinctively make me lick my lips. Amare flowers line the pathways in handmade pots, the sweet aroma of them melting into the other smells.
Part of me wishes I was back beneath that cherry-blossom. I feel like I'm being roasted under Estrella's star. The star is always unbearable at the start of the year.
