I wake to the sound of Opalyn giggling while Baliella brushes her wild hair into a bun before tying the white scarf over her hair. I dress and comb my fingers through my hair as best I can before tying my own white scarf around it, and join the others for our breakfast of clumpy, gray oatmeal. Clumpy, gray oatmeal that I used my own ration for.

  The four of us make our way through the halls toward the laundrette. I shudder as the chill from the dim hallways penetrates my linen smock. “You look well rested.” Baliella’s whispered accusation startles me from my thoughts.

  I glance at her. “I am. Thanks to Caia.”

  “You know she traded an exit card to get you that medicinal tonic,” she says, disgust heavy in her voice.

  “First of all, I don’t even know what that is. Second, I didn’t ask her to do that, did I?” I whisper back. Baliella gives me a look, but stays silent the rest of the walk.

  -

  I welcome the steamy, lavender humidity of the laundrette, and feel eager to start working. The work keeps my mind focused on a task, which prevents my thoughts from spiraling. It keeps the clock moving, and the more time passes, the closer I am to going home.

  I check in with Madam, and go to my post without saying anything to Caia, Opalyn, or Baliella. Baliella’s comments in the hallway got under my skin. Whatever an “exit card” is, it sounds important, and I don’t need any of them going out of their way to help me more than they already have. We don’t need to be friends. I will keep Caia’s ensensor powers secret, and in return, they will help me get home. End of story.

  “She returns,” Maigin chuckles, walking past me. “Careful with that first bag, it can be a real doozy.”

  I nod at the jest, and put my first bag on the table to be sorted. I repeat Caia’s instructions to myself: don’t make eye contact; be silent and unseen. I can do that. Be a cog in a machine to pass the time.

  I work tirelessly, but I’m unsure if it is because of the tonic or my need to not feel or think. The conversation of the women around me picks up. Without changing my pace or facial expression, I listen in.

  “They caught that guard, the one who…”

  “...we’ll all have to attend the trial.”

  “Oh, they definitely won’t be there…”

  “Prince Epheiren will be too busy in his bedchamber…”

  “...and Prince Aldermin has all the empathy of a brick wall.”

  Royal gossip must be their version of reality trash T.V. I make a mental note to ask about the trial they mention. Before I know it, Maigin is tapping my shoulder to relieve me for lunch. I can’t hide my small delight when I see Opalyn has the same lunch break.

  We sit in the same corner where Baliella and I sat yesterday. Knowing how willing Opalyn is to talk, I pry her for information. “So Opalyn, what superpowers do you have?”

  She giggles. “Superpowers?”

  “Magical gifts or whatever.” I take a bite of stale bread to mask my curiosity.

  “Oh, I do not have any. I have not done my First Rite, which I cannot do until I’m eighteen, but even then, the land is so depleted that the magic you get from the Rite is nowhere near as powerful as it once was.”

  Remembering what Maigin said yesterday, I ask, “Does it have to do with the Blood Restoration?”

  “We are not really supposed to talk about it,” she whispers. “But Baliella says it is because of royal greed. Before King Apollaris Althias, people would regularly perform the Blood Restoration in order to return magic back to the land. But even though the Blood Restoration helps the land, it would weaken the wielder for a short time. So the Althias royals got rid of it.”

  “So they’re basically hoarding magic?”

  “Pretty much!” She grins. “It is really nice eating lunch with you, Nina, and having someone to talk to. Since Bal, Caia and I are at the same station we never get to eat together, so I usually just sit here by myself.” I’m not sure if the subject change is strategic so we stop talking about magic and blood rites, or if Opalyn just loves having someone new to talk to.

  “You don’t have any other friends in the laundrette?” I ask.

  “Not really. Most Althias want nothing to do with me since I’m half Achrann. But I have Caia and Bal. And now I have you!” She gives me a wider grin. “Look! A lint-scurry! I think they are so cute, but Baliella always squishes them.” I look where Opalyn points and sure enough, a fuzzy, orange lint-scurry is blinking its eyes at us.

  “I think I met that guy yesterday.” I put my open palm next to the lint-scurry. It hops onto my hand and I bring it up to face level. “They are awfully cute.” The lint-scurry hops onto my shoulder.

  “He likes you,” Opalyn squeals.

  “I think he remembers how I saved him from being another casualty of Baliella’s fist.” I scoop him off my shoulder and place him back on the ground, and we watch him hop away.

  Opalyn and I finish eating and walk back to the lunch corner to return our bowls. A swarm of women buzz around the lunch station and I stand on tiptoe to see where to put our bowls. “This way,” Opalyn beckons, and attempts to squeeze through the mass of linen bodies.

  I start after Oplayn, but lurch to a stop when another woman bodychecks Opalyn; the girl flies forward and crashes to the floor. Hard.

  “Watch it, halfbreed filth!” The woman snaps.

  Opalyn doesn’t move for a second, and my heart stops. Is she hurt? I take a step toward her, but she shakes her head at me, her eyes brimming with tears while she scrambles for the broken pieces of her bowl.

  My teeth grind against each other, and an internal dam breaks inside me. I whip around and yell at Opalyn’s assailant. “Hey! What the fuck is your problem!”

  “Nina, I’m fine!” I hear Opalyn plead behind me.

  “So you’re the new halfbreed lover?” The woman says. “I heard you were staying in their room.” A small circle begins to form around us.

  “Nina?” Opalyn whimpers from the ground, but it doesn’t register. I am seething.

  My finger nails bite into my palms. “You just assaulted a literal child! You’re pathetic.” So much for staying silent and unseen. My gaze is corrosive as I look the woman up and down. I cock my head to the side and scoff, “But now that I see you I guess I can’t expect better from someone who looks like an actual halfbreed.”

  There is a beat of silence, and then the woman’s face contorts as the insult sinks in. I huff a triumphant laugh and turn back toward Opalyn, but I don’t make it. I am knocked off my feet as the woman barrels into me. My head cracks against the ground and I am simultaneously assaulted by a fist, the symphonic yelling of laundresses, and Opalyn screaming my name. Arms and legs fly everywhere. Some of the other laundresses try to pull the woman off me, but she’s too strong. Yelling and shouting echo throughout the sandstone chamber as women from other stations run over. I have never been in a physical fight before, but all my pent up terror from the past forty eight hours comes rushing out as I claw and struggle against the woman on top of me.

  “ENOUGH!” Bellows Madam.

  The woman is yanked off me, and she goes stumbling into the crowd. Out of one eye, I see Maigin staring down at me. She shakes her head before bending down and hoisting me to my feet. “You got balls, new girl.” She glares at the women around us, and they slowly disperse. She turns back to me and shakes her head. “You better make yourself scarce. Madam is not going to be too pleased you started a brawl in her laundrette.”

  “I didn’t start it,” I say as I search for Opalyn and my other two roommates. I spy Caia in conversation with Madam. The old woman gesticulates wildly, spit flying from her mouth, face turning red. Caia is the picture of perfect calm. But I can see a muscle tightening and relaxing in her jaw, the only tell she is exercising restraint.

  “Nina!” I turn. Baliella waves me toward the exit, Opalyn by her side. I navigate between the pockets of women standing around taking advantage of the disruption to the work day, and brace myself for Baliella’s barrage of insults once I reach them.

  Opalyn still looks like she could burst into tears at any second, but Baliella’s face is expressionless as she takes in my disheveled appearance. “I am going to take you and Opalyn back to the room,” she says. “I think it is best if you two are not visible for the rest of the day.” Great. She’s waiting until we get back to the room to lay into me.

  Setting a brisk pace, Baliella leads us through the labyrinth of hallways back to our room. I can tell she’s pissed by her refusal to slow down for either of us. My eye is throbbing and I really don’t want to deal with her snarky self-righteousness.

  During my walk of shame my thoughts drift to the only other time I’ve been the subject of a fist fight. A classmate had started following me home from middle school, taunting me the whole way. Somehow Patrick found out, and the next day, the kid came to school with a black eye and fat lip. I asked Patrick if he knew what happened to him, but he just shrugged. The kid never followed me home again, and my adolescent heart developed a tiny crush on Patrick Connor. But somehow I know Baliella will not appreciate my chivalry, as much as I appreciated Patrick’s.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  -

  Once inside the room, Baliella pushes me onto a stool, and snaps her fingers at Opalyn for the washbowl while she searches for a clean towel in the cupboard. Towel procured, she soaks one end in the water while gently lifting my chin with her other hand, tilting my face into the firelight.

  “Yep,” she squints at my face. “She got you good.” She carefully dabs the damp towel around my left eye.

  I suck in a breath. “Ouch! What are you doing?”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m cleaning your eye, it's swollen shut and going to bruise.”

  “How is cleaning it going to help?

  “I do not know!” Baliella tosses the cloth in the bowl and throws up her hands. “You are injured, and I feel like I should do something to help you.”

  Wait, what? I look over at Opalyn who’s chewing on a thumb nail, her eyebrows pulled together in distress, and then back at Baliella. My good eye narrows in a suspicious squint. “Why’re you being weird? I expected a whole, ‘You want to survive here? You stay quiet and unseen!’ speech.” I mimic Baliella’s voice.

  She gives me a dry look. “Fates. You have no complaints from me about what you did. That cun–,” her eyes flick to Opalyn, “that woman had it coming. I only wish I could have done the honors.” She sits back on her stool with a sigh before sending Opalyn out for fresh water. The girl jumps at the chance to help, and when the door clicks shut, Belliella says, “Opalyn is a walking target.”

  I give her a confused look and she leans forward on her stool to rest her elbows on the table before continuing. “Althias and Achranns hate each other. About two hundred years ago, we all lived peacefully under Achrann rule until there was a coup. The Achrann king was overthrown by Apollaris Althias and his people. Now the ruling class and most of the servants in the castle, including myself and Caia, are Althias. But Opalyn had an Althias mother and an Achrann father. As I’m sure you can guess, ‘interbreeding’ is looked down upon by both groups. Even full-blooded Achrann are treated better in this castle than Opie.”

  I take a minute to absorb this information, my heart breaking for Opalyn. “But you and Caia are friends with Opalyn, so not all Althias and Achrann hate each other?”

  “True. Most of the animosity is between the noblemen and ex-noblemen of the two groups. There are many of us who want peace. Outside of the castle, Althias and Achrann are on friendlier terms. But here, I think servants are easily influenced by the Althias royalty. That’s why we live here in this small room instead of the dormitory with the rest of the laundresses - some of them refuse to share sleeping quarters with Opalyn.”

  “Why are you telling me this? I thought you couldn’t trust me.”

  She looks me directly in the eye. “You showed your true colors today. I respect what you did.” I think she wants to say more, but she sighs and looks away. “I will see if I can find a tonic or poultice for your eye before returning to the laundrette.”

  -

  Caia and Baliella return from work later than normal. They set down bowls of porridge for dinner, but Caia doesn’t sit. She stares at the table, hands on her hips. An uneasiness grows in the room, and Opalyn squirms on her stool without touching her porridge. Caia finally looks at me. “You’re suspended for a week without food rations.”

  “What? Please tell me that horrible woman is suspended for at least a month, then!” I feel my ire from earlier begin to heat.

  Her eyebrows raise, letting me know I’m in no position to be making demands. “It took a lot of convincing and promises of working late just to get you a suspension.” She turns to Opalyn. “Opie, you will return to work with us tomorrow, but you are docked a food ration for the broken bowl.” She finally sits and starts eating without looking at any of us.

  “Caia, I’m sorry about what evolved, but I’m not sorry for defending Opalyn.”

  “This is not about you defending Opalyn,” she says sharply. “It is about you drawing attention to yourself. Someone could have seen your eyes, Nina.” Baliella and Opalyn suddenly find their porridge very interesting.

  “What?” I say, confused and annoyed. “I’ve hardly made eye contact with anyone, just like you’ve told me. Always keeping my eyes on the ground. What happens if they look me in the eye? Is there some voodoo magic you forgot to tell me about? Could someone hex me if they make eye contact?” Baliella makes a choking sound that almost sounds like a stifled laugh.

  Caia sighs, softening a bit. “I will explain later.” She glances at Opalyn to indicate that the conversation will happen without their young friend present.

  “Fine,” I relent and sit down to eat the cold porridge. “Thank you all for sharing your dinner.”

  -

  Caia, Baliella, and I sit around the table in our nightclothes, the embers of the fire barely illuminating our faces. In a hushed voice, Baliella says, “Opalyn sleeps like the dead, so we should be able to have this conversation without her waking.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, and wait.

  Caia begins. “Baliella believes you need to know more about our history.” When I don’t say anything, she continues. “She told me she gave you a brief summary of the Althias-Achrann tensions. Please understand that saying anything negative about the Althias nation is considered treason, but I want you to know the truth. Everything I tell you should never be repeated outside this room or even mentioned to Opalyn. As much as I love her, she struggles with secrecy.”

  Baliella snorts. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “I won’t repeat anything you tell me. Especially since I have no intention of getting in trouble for treason,” I say.

  Caia nods. “The origins of our magic are mysterious, even to us. All we know is that our ancestors, guided by the Fates, performed a blood rite in The Sacred Springs of Mount Glaeona. During this First Rite, magic was transferred to our peoples and now runs through all our veins. Even though we are born with magic in us, each of us is required to perform the First Rite to access our magic. After performing the First Rite, magic freely flows inside the wielder for the rest of their life. However, The Springs do not hold an infinite supply of magic. They require reciprocity. Magic wielders must regularly return to the pools for blood letting, which we call the Blood Restoration. Under the previous Achrann rule, it was required that every wielder return to the Springs every ten years to perform the Blood Restoration in order to give back. Because of this requirement, The Springs, the lands, and our people flourished. But there is a drawback.”

  “There’s always a drawback,” Baliella quips.

  “After performing the Blood Restoration, a wielder loses access to their magic for an entire month, and it takes a full calendar year for their magic to restore to its full power. Many Althias noblemen were not fond of the ten-year Blood Restoration, fearing that other nations would attack during their year-long weakened states. King Achrann ignored them, believing it was in the best interest of future generations to continue Blood Restorations. Apollaris Althias, the highest ranking Althias nobleman and good friend of the king, married a poisonous woman who set him on a lustful path for power. Apollaris successfully turned the army and some royalty against King Achrann, promising an end to the Restoration. He overthrew King Achrann during the month immediately following the king’s Blood Restoration. It was a violent coup with almost half the Achrann population slaughtered. King Achrann escaped into the mountains, prompting many of the remaining Achrann to believe him a coward. The remaining Achrann nobles pledged their allegiance to Apollaris Althias, who has now reigned for the past two hundred years.”

  I gape. “Two hundred years—,”

  “Don’t interrupt,” Baliella says, interrupting me, before picking up where Caia stopped. “Once in power, Apollaris Althias rescinded the mandated Blood Restorations, which did two things. Firstly, he, his army, and the nobility are never in a weakened state, which helps them remain in power. Secondly, without returning magic to The Springs, magic has been evaporating from the lands affecting not only our food supply, but also new wielders—”

  “New wielders get less magic.” I finish Baliella’s explanation. They both nod. I blink. “Okay, I’m totally going to gloss over the fact that this guy has been in power for two hundred years and is still alive. Your magical history is all very weird and witchy, but none of what you’ve said has anything to do with eyes.”

  “Patience,” Baliella says and nods for Caia to continue.

  “Yes, well, on the day of the coup, after Apollaris claimed victory and declared himself the new king, a Seer came before him with a prophecy. I do not know the full prophecy because she was put to death immediately after delivering the message, but one line has survived through generations: ‘the one with emerald vision will come into control.’ The king has interpreted this to mean that a person with dark green eyes will overthrow him. Because of this belief, the king has beheaded every person with green eyes that has been brought before him.”

  “Oh.” I am at a loss for words as my eyes bounce between Caia and Baliella. “You can’t—you can’t possibly think I am the person in the prophecy. I am a girl from Los Angeles. A completely different world! I have no plans of overthrowing kingdoms!”

  “Hush!” Baliella scowls. “We do not want to wake Opie.”

  Caia's voice is lower, more soothing when she says, “I have always been doubtful of their interpretation of the prophecy. ‘Emerald vision’ to mean ‘green eyes’ felt much too literal, but then something happened when we first found you in the woods… you turned the grass green.”

  “Okay, yeah, I remember that happening, but at that moment I just thought it was part of my trippy dream.”

  “Ugh! Were you not listening?” Baliella asks. “We just explained that magic has been evaporating from the lands with the end of the Blood Restorations. The dying woods, the frigid temperatures, the gray sky, all of it, is because of a loss of magic. That grass will not turn green with more water or sunlight. That grass can only be revived with raw magic!”

  I push back from the table to create a little space between myself and the other two women. “What exactly are you two saying? You think I have magic?”

  “It’s quite possible,” says Caia, “but whatever it is, I think there is something very important about you. I’m not saying you are the answer to the prophecy, but I do think you need to be protected.”

  Is this why I’m here? Did the magnolia tree sense me and suck me through a portal? I shudder at the ridiculousness of the idea. “But you’re still going to help me get home, right? You’re not planning on turning me in just because I have green eyes?” My breath feels like it’s hitting a block in my chest. The more I try, the harder it is to get air into my lungs.

  Caia puts her hands on the table, palms facing up. “Nina. We mean you no harm. Honest. You have our word that we will help you get home.” She and Baliella watch me. Caia's gaze is soft. Baliella’s is harsher, but I see a hint of concern in her blue eyes. Baliella reaches out and stiffly pats me on the shoulder, which almost shocks me more than everything I have just learned.

  Caia smiles at Baliella’s gesture. “How are you, Nina?”

  “Not good, but I’ll get over it.”

  Caia laughs. “You are definitely resilient, but before we can all go to bed we do need to talk about your eyes. Before I left the laundrette today, I tried to use my gift on the women who witnessed your fight to sense if any of them saw your eye color. I did not perceive that any of them noticed or registered your green eyes. However, I was not able to touch the woman who punched you. She was hauled out of the laundrette soon after you left with some wicked scratches down her face, I might add.”

  “She deserved more,” Baliella grunts.

  “Even so, I think it is best that you, Baliella, start glamoring Nina’s eyes when she is in public.”

  “What is that?” I interject.

  “Remember when Opalyn let slip that I have protective powers?” Baliella asks. I stare at her blankly. “Well that’s how my gift manifested. I’m an obrumbatia. Again, it is not as strong as it could be, I mostly just have masking powers, but I can glamor certain features or whole bodies to be relatively undetectable.” As Baliella talks, I squint to keep her in focus. The outline of her person blurs and fades, until there is only a hazy shimmer where she was sitting. Suddenly, she comes back in full color as if someone whipped off a blanket in a magic show to make her reappear.

  “That was wild,” I say, eyes wide. “You completely disappeared!”

  “Not really. It was just a trick of the light. If you had reached out your hand, you would have touched me.”

  “So you’re going to make my eyes disappear? Won’t that be more suspicious?” I ask.

  Baliella chuckles. “No, I can make people see what I want them to see. I can make it so no one notices you have green eyes. Maybe they just will not notice them, or maybe they will appear blue or gray. Unfortunately, it only lasts for so long and does wear off, but it is better than nothing.” Turning to Caia, she nods. “I agree. I will start glamoring her eyes.”

  I fiddle with my necklace from my mother, wishing more than anything to hear her soothing wisdom. I guess glamored eyes are better than getting beheaded. But this is yet another thing these women are sacrificing for me. I give Baliella a weak smile and nod my thanks, too lost in thought about all that was revealed.