Every year, I remember what it’s like to be truly, blissfully, and naively happy. All while acknowledging I’ll never feel that way again.
* * *
I lie awake,staring at the ceiling just as I did five years ago on this very night.
“Think of something else,” I whisper to myself. “Anything else.”
But I cannot because a thought keeps swirling in my head: on my next birthday, I’ll be queen.
I’ll never sit outside a café and drink the sweetened coffee Regina has spoken of. I’ll never go to the stationery shop where Alice bought my glass rabbit paperweight. I’ll never sit in a darkened theater and watch a performance on a polished stage.
“Stop,” I whisper aloud, shaking my head. But it’s too late—ideas are already taking root. Terrible, tempting ideas.
Brahm’s estate is so close to the border; his land is on the edge of West Faerie. I could cross the bridge before anyone rose for breakfast.
Alice says there are public coaches that go anywhere you wish if you have enough money. I could take one to Valsta’s capital of Davon, see everything my heart desires, and then return home before my holiday is over.
Slowly, I sit up. I could do it. I could go now.
My pulse quickens as I press my bare feet to the rug and tiptoe across the room. I have dozens of human trinkets decorating the space, but one is special.
I take the whittled Faerie, smiling at her as I remember how I felt when I first opened the box.
Making a decision, I carefully set the figurine back in its spot of honor on the shelf. As quietly as possible, I gather a few essentials and put them into a trunk. Before leaving the room, I turn to my reflection in the mirror and brush out my hair.
A silver box rests next to the Faerie. I open it and choose a pink satin ribbon. After tying it in my hair, I leave the room and disappear out the back of the manor. In the morning, Brahm will find a note waiting for him in my room, telling him not to worry.
I don’t, however, tell my brother where I’m going. The last thing I want is for him to track me down and drag me home.