"I can't do it," Alethia hiccuped as tears flowed down her red cheeks. The brisk cold wind whipped her long hair back. She didn't turn to acknowledge the tall man approaching her from the open doorway. The wind died down, allowing the flowers to settle into place. 

Roses were the only flower her mother deemed suitable for the castle gardens. Alethia hated roses; colored like blood and thorns prickly enough to draw it from her hands, a vicious enemy hiding beneath a sweet, almost sickly smell.

The man crouched down to Alethia's height, staring out at the large bed of flowers. "You remind me of dryas."

Alethia used the sleeve of her dress to wipe her eyes. She turned to the man next to her, watching as he pulled on his black beard sprinkled with strands of grey. "Dryas?"

"They only grow near the Eastern Slopes," He continued. "The mountains near the north of our land."

"Why?" Alethia questioned, resting her tiny hands on his knee as she moved in front of him. She peered inquisitively into his dark brown eyes with her bloodshot grey ones. "Is it because they're red?"

He shook his head, resting his hand softly on her head. His cheeks reddened from the cold air. "No, my little dove. They're the purest white with a bright yellow center. And even in the face of the cold climate near the Eastern Slopes, they always survive."

"I can't do it, father." Alethia's bottom lip trembled, and she bit down on it. "I can't use magic. That's why mother hates me."

His hand moved from stroking her hair to her shoulder, pulling her into a bear-crushing hug. She rested her chin on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat overtaking the sound of her hiccupping sobs. Alethia breathed in his comforting tangy smell of herbs and hay, her hands grasping the front of his green tunic. 

"There's a lot more to this world than magic," He responded as he pulled Alethia away from him to look into her eyes. "The greatest mistake people tend to make is relying on it. Your mother will realize that, eventually."

"I want to be useful." Alethia turned her face to the side, frowning down at the flowers and the soil beneath them. The exact thing she was never able to command. Maybe that was the reason why her mother reprimanded her. Her lack of magic made her useless. A fact that never seemed to escape her. "I have to be useful."

Her father gripped her chin and turned her face towards him. "You have other gifts, Alethia. You aren't useless or disposable. You are my treasured, gifted daughter. Never forget that, do you understand?"

His words thawed the ice coating her heart. Tears of relief spilled out of her eyes, and Alethia jumped into her father's arms. He lifted her, carrying her in the direction of the stables.

"How about we go for a ride?"

Alethia nodded into his neck and tightened her grip. Everything was going to be okay. She could survive without magic. With him, she could survive anything.

‡

A soft warm hand pushed the hair back from Alethia's forehead. The peaceful dream drifted slowly away. Alethia opened her eyes, blinking rapidly against the daylight streaming in from her bedroom window. Her body felt like a horse had trampled it and turned around to stomp on it again. She groaned. Her throat was as dry as sandpaper.

Suddenly, a wooden cup appeared into her line of sight, and Alethia took it gratefully, struggling to sit up against the pillows at her back. 

"Let me help you, darling."

Alethia choked on the water as it went down her throat, coughing hard as she looked up at her mother. The extravagant red dress was gone. As was the serpent crown. Instead, her dark curls laid loosely over a plain navy-blue dress, fitted at the waist. 

Alethia shook her head, struggling to sit up on her own. Once settled, she looked around her room and remembered what had happened in the throne room. She tampered down on the swell of grief that surfaced from the loss of Rebecca. If her mother was here, then there was no time for sadness. Or anything for that matter.

"How are you feeling?" Queen Liliana stepped closer to the bed before sitting down carefully.

Alethia looked at the queen sharply, eyes widening in surprise. That was the last question she'd ever expected her mother to ask. Alethia drank from the wooden cup, the water waking her up fully and quenching her thirst. The silence extended as her mother looked at her intently, face absent of any detectable emotion.

"I'm fine." Alethia cleared her throat, grasping the cup in her lap. "How's Roxana?"

"Fine," Her mother said indifferently. Queen Liliana reached out, placing her hand on the scar that marred Alethia's left cheek. Her daughter flinched at the warm touch but didn't dare move her face away. 

"You've been asleep for three days," Queen Liliana paused, removing her hand from Alethia's cheek. "I feared the worst."

Alethia blinked in surprise, then looked down at her changed clothing; she was in her nightgown and undergarments. She could feel the bandages wrapped tightly around her stomach and arm. Her mother turned her vacant grey eyes to hers, staring intently.

"I've waited so long," The queen continued, "And now, the plan can finally be set into motion."

"I don't understand." Alethia couldn't wrap her mind around what had happened or what her mother was referring to. She thought back to the throne room, and the memory of the mud daggers surfaced. A powerful and foreign feeling had set her body aflame. Now, the only thing her body felt was sore. Alethia looked at her hands, flexing them into a fist. It couldn't be. She didn't have magic. She hadn't had it for nineteen years now. 

"Explain it to me, please." Alethia reached a tentative hand towards her mother's. She stopped before touching it, and the queen drew back, standing up out of the bed. "What is this plan? What did I do?"

"You did exactly what I knew you could do." Her onyx gemstone glittered with blue light briefly, and the queen touched it as she looked out the open window. "And now, my little darling, you've become an asset."