A Ruin of Roses (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 1)

Clearly I would be single forever. It really wasn’t a huge loss, though, given the dickfaces in this village. It was just too bad about the dry spell for the last two years. That wasn’t so easily borne, especially with lust demons wandering around.

“I think true mates are incredibly rare,” Hannon murmured.

“Well, yeah. There is one person in all of the magical world meant for us? And they have to be the same type of shifter, same overall power level, and same general age… Lots of ‘ands.’ But it is doable, or else we wouldn’t have a name for it. Besides, Daphne is very pretty and very willing. I know how you like them curves, too.”

I could see his cheek and ear turn bright crimson. He was very easy to embarrass. I made it my goal to do it at least once a day.

“I’m too young to marry,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, right. That’s not even remotely true, and you know it. Not since the curse. None of us have a long life expectancy anymore—we need to get life rolling. Hell, if that donkey hadn’t dumped me, I might be mated with a bun in the oven right now.”

“Still,” he muttered.

I ignored the pang in my broken heart and tapped the counter. “Do you have a list, or should I guess what we need?”

“We don’t have enough coin for you to guess.”

“This is true. I’m pretty hungry. I go crazy when I shop hungry. Hurry up with that bread.”

He glowered at me, the red in his cheeks just now starting to seep away.

“Oh hey…” He pulled the slip of oddly shaped, overly thick, beige-splotched handmade paper from the edge of the counter and held it out.

We didn’t have normal paper anymore. We couldn’t power the machines to make it. Instead, we either had to make it by hand from wood pulp, plants, and any paper left over from before the curse, or trade for it. Parchment could be made, as well, though that was more expensive and reserved for special situations.

In this house, we received it as a thanks for helping with the everlass or elixir. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked.

“About Dash…” Hannon said.

I finished what was in the mug and set it beside the washbasin. I’d completely forgotten about Dash. I’d only managed a couple hours of sleep last night, and anything not relevant to everlass completely slipped my mind.

“Yes, what was that about?” I asked.

Seriousness stole over Hannon’s expression. “One of his friends knows the location of the field. I guess you’re not the only one who uses it occasionally. He took Dash and another friend. I guess the kid goes with his older brother to collect the leaves.”

The blood left my face. “Are they insane? Why would they risk a ten-year-old boy?”

“They go at high noon, I guess. The least dangerous time. They sacrifice the potency of the leaves in the elixir for the safety of the kids.”

I was having a hard time processing this. To risk the children at all. Children! They were all we had. They were the most important resource in this village. It was why Dash and Sable were pampered more than they probably should be. Overprotected. Watched more than was probably healthy. We needed the kids to keep up our numbers, or we were in danger of fading away.

“We have to do a better job of watching him,” I said, mostly talking to myself. “He’s going to get the spanking of his life. I don’t care how old he is. I will put the fear of the Divine Goddess in him so that he never does that again.”

“You were fourteen…”

“Four years older than him, and I was Nana’s only hope. Not that it helped. Dash has no reason to be out there.”

“I know,” he said softly. “We do need to talk with him.”

I let out a breath. “Well. Now we know. And we have plenty of leaves to keep us going until spring. We’re good.”

Not long afterward, I walked down the sunny lane to the little village market in the square. It mostly held produce and trinkets, some furniture, and one or two hides or pelts. We used to have much more, I remembered, back when I was a kid. Travelers would come to our market, bringing their special skills and wares, and the villagers created finer arts and crafts to sell to the outsiders. I used to love wandering by the various stalls, looking at the beautiful hand-blown glass, the fun designs on the needlework, and the art and sculptures. I would help my mother run our booth from time to time, offering some flowers I’d grown or pelts I’d helped Father cure. I’d say hello to the traveling people and watch their juggling on the grass in the square.

But our kingdom had disappeared from the hearts and minds of the magical world. No one could come here even if they wanted to. Worse, no one could leave. Many had tried over the years. Or so I’d heard. I had been too young to witness any of this firsthand.