// a wish on a flower | part 01 //
I found the note Prince Rune had written, scrounging about for both halves. Once I had both, I lined up the edges and taped them together. I sat on my bed, staring at it.
A wish on a flower. A whisper into the velvety petals was all it took to return to Eternity. It seemed so simple, so easy, yet impossible. It was the sort of magic of which only Eternity was capable.
With Annalyse, I had resolved to go to Eternity. I knew nothing there. It was far beyond my comfort zone. I was going to leave my family, my friends, the ballet studio — I would leave everything behind.
And while it was terrifying, I knew I would regret not leaving more. Even before I'd left Eternity, I'd regretted it. That little voice in the back of my head knew, but I had ignored it. I was done ignoring it.
Knowing that friends and family (although not blood-related) waited for me in Eternity was a reassuring thought. Unlike the last time I'd first arrived in Eternity, I would have a place to stay and people to care for. I also had a new goal: to affect change. I could make a difference, fight to abolish the Bride Competition. And I couldn't do that from Portland.
Seeing Eika, Kit, and Jack again sent me into an excited frenzy. I pulled my duffle bag from my closet and filled it with clothes and ballet outfits. Serla's red gown winked at me, as though it had been waiting for this. After I threw my ballet shoes into my bag, I froze.
As much as I wanted to pack and leave, as easy as that, I couldn't. I had to tell my parents about my plans — that didn't include college. I had to tell my friends goodbye. Those things took time.
And time was running out.
There was one week left before everything had to be packed up and ready for transport. And I was panicking.
I had been wracking my brain with the best way to phrase my intentions. But it turned out that coming up with a gentle way of saying, "I choose a boy that I'm only starting to have feelings for over going to college," didn't exist.
I even considered telling the full truth: that the summer camp had been a ruse for a deadly competition in a faraway galaxy. That I had not only survived, but that I had come to care for the planet and her inhabitants. That winning the competition came with a Prince and a kingdom and I was ready to collect my reward.
It sounded farfetched even to my ears, an elaborate lie fabricated to get out of college — even though every word was true.
Annalyse supported me whole-heartedly, agreeing to stay up late with me to play with wording. But she was sixteen-going-on-seventeen and my decision to follow a boy into the unknown sounded romantic and rebellious.
Such a plan to my parents would undoubtedly come across as reckless and short-sighted and the bad kind of rebellious. Convincing them would take more than appealing to a teenager's sense of adventure.
I agreed with them both: the decision was romantic and rebellious and reckless. But this decision was mine. And that had to make it right, at least on some level.
After dance class that day, I trudged upstairs, deep in thought about when and what to say to everyone. In the hallway, outside Dad's office, a thought rooted my feet in place.
The one person who needed to know that I would return to Eternity didn't know. Prince Rune was in absolute darkness about my feelings, about my intent to come back. All the Prince knew was that, yet again, the Competition had failed for him. The victor had fled. He was alone once more.
Had another search for a bride begun? Was another round of the Competition underway? Would someone win this time and stay with the Prince? Was I too late?
An image, so vivid and detailed I thought I was actually there, invaded my mind: Prince Rune stood at a window overlooking the gardens, lazy golden light touching his sunken shoulders. The usual regality of his pose had been replaced by a hanging head, a stiff back, curled fingers.
My heart ached. The Prince knew loneliness and betrayal like a close friend, and I had only added to it. What if it was the final blow?
Urgency swept through me.
I dropped my dance bag in the middle of the hallway and opened Dad's door, not bothering to knock.
He glanced at me from over his glasses, shock painting his expression. But he closed his mouth, shuffled his papers, and gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
I plopped into it, heart racing. "Dad, I need to talk to you."
"The floor is yours, Belline."
His use of my name didn't escape me, and I smiled. Rolling my shoulders back and steeling my spine, I filled my lungs with as much air as I could. "Okay. Here goes. Dad, I don't want to go to college." I held my breath.
He simply folded his hands. "Why?"
My hands fidgeted and I bounced my leg. "I've never wanted to go. I just wanted to dance. I just want to — to be. I don't want to go to college."
His lips puckered in a slight pout, the wrinkle of worry forming. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"
"Well, my super-smart dad went to college. And my awesome mom went. And both of them just want a better life for me." I felt small in the leather chair. "It's hard to tell you that the better life for me excludes college."
A soft smile appeared, causing his dimples to surface. "You should've told me before we committed to Puget."
I hung my head. "I'm sorry. I was just so scared. I made things hard on you, didn't I?"
"Of course you did."
I winced.
"But that's your job. That's what kids are supposed to do to their parents."
"So . . . You're not forcing me to go?"
He shook his head. "No. I realize that college isn't for everyone. I'm not going to push you, especially if you feel so strongly about this. And if you think that this is the best thing for you."
A flood of affection surged in my heart. I would miss him so much.
He removed his glasses to rub his nose. As he replaced them, he asked, "But do you have anything planned in lieu of college?"
More half-truths. They stung. The guilt churned my stomach. But I took the plunge anyway. "I'm going to leave Portland. There's — um — I'm going to start doing some more political activism stuff elsewhere. And — okay, I met someone. At camp."
Dad laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"Ah," he sighed, "I should've known a boy was involved in this." He grinned at me, eyes twinkling.
I shook my head. "He had nothing to do with my decision to leave college. I've felt this way for a long time, long before we met."
"So, you'll leave Portland and participate in protests with this boy you met at camp?" He quirked a brow, amusement still etched in his expression.
"Yes?"
He chuckled. "Belline, I want to tell you something. When I was eighteen, I met this quirky girl from Portland, Oregon with a passion for cooking and baking. But she intended to move back to her hometown after college. I did not share her sentiments. I'd never been to Portland, and I didn't care to live there.
"But she changed my mind. It didn't matter that I was nineteen, that any penny I earned went to my aspirations of being a physicist, that my frontal lobe had six more years of development. I knew I would follow her."
He rounded the desk and knelt in front of me, holding my hands. "When you meet that person that you want to follow — and they want to follow you too — no one is going to change your mind.
"Since you've come back, I've been so happy to have you home. But I could see, from the second you arrived, that you weren't happy to be back. Something was missing. I think you left your heart behind. And I would be a hypocrite if I said you shouldn't follow it.
"Belline, I want you to be happy. It doesn't matter where you go. And, I think we've always known that life would take you far away from us. Whether for dance or for something political. It's just happened sooner than we expected."
Tears dripped down my chin into my lap. I sniffled. "You're letting me go?"
"Every parent has to let go of their child someday."
I tackled him in a hug, sobbing. "Thank you, Dad. Thank you so much."
We embraced until my tears slowed. Then Dad pulled back and smiled. "I hate to be the worried parent, but how will you afford everything? The travel, the lifestyle, your basic needs?"
I chuckled and shook my head. "I'll get a job." A job as a princess.
He frowned, but he released a slow sigh and nodded once. "Alright. I trust you."
"Now's the scary part: telling Mom."
With a chuckle, he stood up. "Just be honest with her. Don't worry too much. I'll talk to her too."
And we hugged again for a long time.