I followed Doverel—
Mostly out of curiosity.
Partly to watch how excited she was over absolutely nothing.
I missed that innocence.
The kind she still had.
The kind I lost.
"We're going to meet the King!" she beamed, tugging my arm like we were skipping to a picnic.
"We'll be given our wands!"
Kiddo, you're deluded.
You must know that.
We stood in line.
Orderly. Wide-eyed.
Well—they did.
I was busy calculating.
What if King Baltimore recognizes me?
Should I cause a scene? Would it even be warranted?
Has he changed?
What if… he's actually a good king now?
I mean—yes, he locked me up and forgot about me. I have every right to want revenge.
But if our people are well… maybe I shouldn't rock the boat. Not yet.
Then something in the distance caught my eye again—
The Hundred Year Bloom.
It shimmered in the sunlight, its blossoms swaying like they were celebrating my freedom.
Still blooming. Still bold.
A quiet defiance.
I remembered something else.
The nectar stains hair. Permanently.
A grin curled my lips.
If I changed my hair, maybe he wouldn't recognize me.
He'd be searching for Scarlette the Red.
Not some purple-haired nobody.
A forgotten face.
Faded into myth.
I needed to see up close if he was still the same, without risking myself being caught.
Instinct took over. I moved without thinking, letting guilt catch up later if it needed to.
"No… Elder Arisa will punish you…" Doverel whispered, tugging my hand, glancing around.
But I was already rising into the air, drawn to the blossoms.
I reached for the petals—
And just like that, I was caught.
"Stop that this instant, child!"
A voice—sharp, cold, commanding.
The same elder from earlier.
"Make me," I said sweetly, crushing the petals and smearing the nectar through my hair, watching violet streak through red.
Her face went pale.
"What's your name?" she snapped, wand glowing faintly.
"Scarlette," I said with a smile that showed teeth. "And you must be Elder Arisa."
Her grip on the wand tightened.
For a moment, I saw it.
The urge to strike.
The flicker of power barely restrained.
The fear of losing face.
I tilted my head, innocent.
"Are you… teaching me a lesson in offensive love magic?" I asked, my voice soft as honey.
The wand lowered.
Jaw clenched.
"I will do no such thing," she spat. "Get in line, child. Hurry. And wipe that smug look off your face. Don't keep King Baltimore waiting."
Oh no, darling.
This look is permanent.
I turned back, victorious.
Doverel wouldn't meet my gaze.
Shoulders stiff. Lips pressed.
Coward.
Then—
We received our wands.
From the King himself.
I waited in line, anxious, conflicted.
If he recognizes me, do I attack him?
If he doesn't, what next?
Is he the same tyrant I knew?
When it was my turn, he handed mine over without so much as a glance.
No flicker of recognition.
No pause.
Nothing.
Did the purple dye really work that well?
Was it that easy?
Did he seriously not remember me after all these years?
I couldn't tell if I felt rage… or disappointment.
Maybe both.
One thing was certain:
He looked the same.
Arrogant. Detached.
Speaking to young fairies like his existence alone was a gift.
I clenched my wand.
I saw him up close, and I was disappointed. Not an ounce of sincerity or humility.
This won't be the last time he sees me.
And next time—
He. Will. Remember.
I kept my glare fixed on him as Elder Arisa shoved the next fairy forward.
"We don't have all day, you know?" she barked at the trembling child.