I felt myself a pure part of the abyss / I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose on the wind.
I love spring. I know it as soon as I see it—as soon as I woke up this morning, looked outside and saw the sunlight streaming in through the window, bright as beaten gold.
But there’s no time to waste. The day is half-gone (Mother might scream if she knew how late I woke up today). Snow-white hair streaming loose behind me, I blow out of the bedroom and go racing down the stairs: so fast that the cook going up chastises me for it, so fast that I hear a screech when I hit the floor and go darting off to find him. I want to go way up to the top of the castle, stand on the parapet and look at the flowers with him; I want to do the things normal kids do.
Below me, the fields of Susurro roll out to the horizon. I can’t hear it, but I know a breeze is rushing through, because I see the long tawny grass swaying in the wind, rippling smooth as waves and flashing light-dark, light-dark as it rolls. But it’s not all gold now, the way it was last week. Now the grass is speckled with bright flowers, tulips blooming in pink and red and purple, so vibrant I feel like I’m buzzing when I look at them, swaying in clumps of acrylic color.
I gasp when I see them, pressing my forehead to the window so I can look closer. No, I’m not imagining things: seemingly overnight, my home has turned into a fairytale. The sky is a clear and perfect blue. The field is a patchwork of flowers, so lush I can’t help but think Delumine’s king helped work on it, using his magic to pull up bloom after bloom from the ground. From here they are as small as bugs, but I see many of my homeland’s people wandering the festival, filling their baskets with tulips, tumbling through the fields; and as I watch the scene play out, my heart grows light and warm.
I am… happy. Giddy, even.
Where’s Aeneas? Our room is empty. I can hear the silence, settling over me like a warm blanket in the dusty sunlight. He must be gone on some adventure already; I glower at his messy bed, offended that he dared to run off without me.
But there’s no time to waste. The day is half-gone (Mother might scream if she knew how late I woke up today). Snow-white hair streaming loose behind me, I blow out of the bedroom and go racing down the stairs: so fast that the cook going up chastises me for it, so fast that I hear a screech when I hit the floor and go darting off to find him. I want to go way up to the top of the castle, stand on the parapet and look at the flowers with him; I want to do the things normal kids do.
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