My hair—I stand before the mirror in awe, where I’ve stood for several minutes.

The maids screamed when they saw it this morning. I couldn’t blame them. Gone were the cropped red curls of yesterday, the hair color I was born with. Today, my hair nearly reaches my waist and begins as golden blonde near my scalp, then transitions to a faded coral, then pink, then lilac. It almost…sparkles in the sunlight. 

Where have I seen these colors before? My initial shock does not last long—the puzzle soon nags at me far more urgently. It feels important. Significant

The maids, however, will not be calmed. They’re convinced I’m still cursed, somehow. 

Yet, I slept through the night for the first time in seven years without issue. So how could I still be cursed? The best clerics in the land were here. They would not have left me had they not been confident their work was done. Would they?

I close my eyes.

Gold, coral, pink, lavender. The colors swirl in my mind, large and warm. 

You will remember me, if you wish…

My breath catches as tears prick my eyes like needles. The dragon. How could I have forgotten her? In the darkness—the hellscape—her cloud-like body had always swirled with these very colors. 

A parting gift. She had kissed my brow. My hand drifts to my forehead where her large mouth had pressed, so gently despite her ginormous size. It feels normal.

“We could cut it off,” Mary suggests, misinterpreting my tears.

“No!” I shout, startling her. She jumps and takes a step back, her arm bringing the hairbrush up in front of her as if she’s wielding a knife instead. “No. It’s a…gift. Besides, I rather like the colors.”

She purses her lips. “As you wish, my lady.”

While she brushes my hair, her disapproval obvious, my mind wanders. My sight has returned, but everything else is still strange. And what doesn’t feel strange feels wrong. Nothing is familiar or comforting, not even my pillows. I’m scared to ask about mother and father again, because I don’t want to hear the same answer. 

The fact that they aren’t here, that they haven’t been here at all since I’ve woken up, tells me much more than the maids ever could. If they’re healthy and alive, then they should want to see their daughter, unless something terrible happened while I was asleep.

Something that nobody is willing to tell me about. Rather, they’ve all been commanded not to tell me by my father, the Duke, otherwise they should’ve heeded my command to tell me everything. My brow draws together while Mary braids my long hair up into a style befitting a lady.  

After breakfast, I’ll simply have to go to the main house and demand to see my father and mother. Who would dare stop me? 

Perhaps this has all been one big misunderstanding. Or, perhaps the orders were outdated and the duke forgot to revoke them when they were no longer relevant. Yes, that could make sense. 

Or, you’re deluding yourself.

I dismiss the voice in the back of my mind. It wasn’t the first time that morning I’d heard it. 

♥♥♥⸸

To be honest, the thought of going to the main house filled my gut with dread, making me so nauseous I could barely keep down the meager breakfast I’d barely been able to choke down in the first place. I should want to go home, shouldn’t I? I should want to see my parents more than anything, right?

Surely, it had to be nerves.

Seven years have gone by, after all. Perhaps they were just as nervous to see me as I was to see them. That had to be it. So, I would steel myself for the visit and force myself to go. It would do me good and I would finally get the answers I needed. Desperately needed. 

How could I move on with my life not knowing what had happened? How could I move forward without any idea of where to go? 

Mother and father must have some idea of what to do with me…

I can do this! I must. 

“The pale blue dress,” I tell Mary. It goes well with the colors in my hair. It’s also one of the few options I have available, none of which even fit me correctly. 

The shabby room, the lack of a wardrobe, my placement in the annex…all point to a truth I do not want to acknowledge without hearing from my parents first. 

There has to be a good explanation for everything, there simply must be. 

I step outside without much thought and my senses are immediately assaulted by the glare from the sun, the chill from the early spring wind, and the bouquet of scents ranging from floral to dung. Instinct kicks in and before I can stop myself, I’ve left Mary behind and am running to the main house, skirts flapping annoyingly against my legs as I clutch the useless shawl around me. 

I don’t stop until I run through the doors that have opened before me and see the familiar face of Gerald, our butler, who looks far older than I remember.

“Gerald!” I shout, belatedly remembering I’m supposed to be a lady of nineteen now. “Ahem. It’s lovely to see you again, Gerald. It’s me, Florence.”

His shock is apparent, but he quickly recovers. “Ah.”

And that’s all he says before he walks away, gesturing for me to stay put as he disappears down the hall.