These Bitter Blooms

by Emma Hamm

“What do you think, Browning?” She twirled the blade. “Should I try it? Maybe it’ll surprise us, and I’ll have some wonderful power that I never could have guessed!” The toad croaked loudly, and she swore it sounded like, “Or you’ll get a stomach ache.” Blinking, she looked down at her familiar in shock. “Did you just talk?” The strange sound he made was definitely not talking. But she heard him in her head. “No.” She frowned. “There you went again. You talked.” Browning struggled to sit up in his sling, then eventually gave up. Falling onto his back again, he then placed his webbed hands behind his head as though he were reclining in the fabric. “Ribbit.” “That was definitely the voice of a person trying to impersonate a toad.”

Who was she to argue with the magical salve that came out of a toad’s mouth?

He pressed the letter against his chest and fell back onto the bed. A single letter shouldn’t excite him quite so much, and yet... goodness. She’d written him back even when he didn’t deserve it. Somehow, that made being in this horrible place a little easier.

Because Thea existed. And if she wrote to him, then he existed as well.

Browning plopped onto the ground, breathing hard and covered in... winter clothes? Alistair’s jaw fell open as he finally noted the warm jacket wrapped around the toad like he was a child, the mittens on all four of his feet, and the hat shaped like a lily pad that had been tied around his thick neck.

“It just shows you where the brownies are. And we all know they exist.” “Not all of us,” her mother whispered. “There are some who would stop at nothing to look into the other realm and greet the gods and goddesses on their own terms. Those are the people to watch out for, my daughter. And if they know you have magic like that, I fear you may be in grave danger.”

“The fae have learned that being remembered is more important than wealth or power. For if you are remembered, then you’ve already discovered immortality.” “Immortality sounds rather boring to me,” she whispered, wide eyes staring up into his. “I’d rather live a wild and untamed life than be so concerned with forever that I forget to live.”

Thea was his favorite feeling, even though he didn’t have a name for it.

Those deep green eyes stared into hers, and he whispered, “I’d very much like to kiss you, Thea.”

She’d given him a gift with that kiss. It somehow felt as though she’d handed him his soul back.

“I think you haven’t found the right plants to experiment with yet, then. You’re as powerful as I am, Thea, even though you question that every day. Until you realize your worth, I’ll believe it for you.”

“I don’t mind if the forest wants to have its way with my hair.” A spark burned in his eyes. A passion that she’d never seen before, mixed with a desperation that almost frightened her. Alistair slid his hand behind her neck, trapping her where she was. Between the forest and his body, like a deer trapped in front of a wolf. “And what if I wanted to have my way with your hair?” The breath wheezed from her lungs. “I’d let you.” His lips descended to her cheek, brushing like velvet against her skin. “And if I wanted to have my way with your lips?” Oh, why was she so dizzy? Thea’s hand curled in his shirt, holding herself steady with the brace of his body. “I think you’ve already done that before.”

“Alistair Orbweaver, I think I might be convinced to love you, if you’d let me.”

“You will never be as powerful as I was. This woman will leave you. If you go into that basement, you will fail to bring about anything that you desire.” But then Thea reached her arms around him, and he felt her wrists move as she dashed them through the air. “What are you doing?” he asked, awkwardly holding his arms at his sides. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let go. If only she would let him press her to his heart, he thought maybe they would both be happier. “I’m getting rid of your father.” Thea flapped her hands one last time through the air, and then he felt all the cold air drift away. “The man is a menace. You’re dead, sir! Go toward the light.” The absolute ridiculousness of what she said punched him in the gut. Thea, the girl who had been so afraid to come into this house that she had never actually met his father while the man was alive, had no problem now ushering him away from his son. Balthazar likely thought he should be more feared now that he was a ghost.