Bounty Hunter (The Black Tulip Chronicles #1)

3. Vera

Chapter 3

Vera

Four months later…

I ’m bumped and jostled as people press closer to the street, cheering and shouting. Rupi fluffs her feathers in irritation at the movements as she attempts to barricade herself between my long hair and the warmth of my neck. I wait for a tiny prick from the ends of her feathers, they turn quill-like when she’s agitated, but gratefully, she settles in as I back further into the shadows of a shop entrance that’s closed for the night. I’m grateful these celebrations always occur beneath a dark sky—it’s a lot easier to hide.

I pull the hood of my over-large cloak a little lower until it covers my face in black shadow and watch carefully for anyone who might recognize me. If they see me, they’ll wonder why I’m not also dressed in white garb fit for royalty and adding to the show of light and power soon to come. The conversation would be an awkward one if I were to tell them I don’t actually belong.

Heads turn as the first sign of the Originators appear. A white glow surrounds the group who’ve formed a parade, like they carry literal sunlight. It grows brighter the closer they come until we see the first of the group of Originators appear a ways down the street. Small orbs of magic hover above some of their hands, others send great arcs of light in shapes of dragons, shooting stars, suns with sparkling rays, and magnificent shimmering sprinkles over the crowds, lighting the street ahead of them. The people go wild, reaching out their hands with teary thank yous as they walk by, others cheer and shout to the Originators, our kingdom’s heroes. And of course, everyone soaks up as much of the free raw magic being thrown about as they can. It’s as if they scatter breadcrumbs to starving people. And in a way, they are. In a world being slowly starved of lucent magic, these people need any extra they can get. But despite the nearly tangible joy expressed around me, I despise the entire situation.

Why do Tulips join Originators if they’re the ones who hunted us down and murdered us all those years ago? Simply put, because our magic most closely matches theirs. We silently joined the Originators, and that is the faction most of us are known by, but if anyone did any digging, they’d know it’s a lie the Black Tulips tell so we can live some semblance of a normal life. Originators are similar to us in many ways, but none of them have the magnitude of power necessary to bridge with a king and balance magic for entire kingdoms. Don’t know how that works exactly, but that’s what I’ve always been told. I’ve also been told none of us current Tulips are powerful enough to do so. Instead, lucent magic is dying, disappearing, however you want to describe it. That means that pulling magic takes more energy to use, and every single day it gets worse. Some people are no longer strong enough to use any magic at all. And that’s where the Tulips come in. Similar to other Originators, some of us work with healers, some of us work with those of the Maker faction—people who craft and enchant weapons, fae potion makers, and builders, among others—and others work with hunters. We are their power source for assistance in pulling magic since it’s so taxing and dangerous to do it on their own.

Rupi shuffles within the confines of my hood, getting antsy as the light show continues. I look down to find a skinny cat with ratty fur curling between my feet. I’m used to it. Animals love Tulips. When I travel through the forest, it’s common to have small animals trailing behind me. That’s how I adopted Rupi.

We are also natural healers, though that aspect is one we steer clear of. Healers of the Healing faction can heal even the most serious of wounds—if they have enough lucent—but I’ve heard it hurts like the sting of a thousand wasps for a bad injury. Tulips can heal others without pain, so none of us are allowed to act as Healers—it would give us away and bring attention to our abilities again. Not only that, bloody wounds disgust me. Funny, since my mother was a Healer and loved her work.

I had to choose which faction I would make my way in since advertising that I’m a Tulip is practically a death sentence. Most Tulips choose to join the Originators for practical reasons, but there are still risks. The biggest one? The fact that—as is being so brightly shared before us—Originators’ lucent magic has a yellow-orange tint to it, and its temperature matches, like the warmth of the rays of the suns setting. Tulip magic, on the other hand, is cool and bright white. We’ve learned that if we’re very careful in how much we share at a time, no one notices. Which is why no one will ever spot a Tulip in a parade such as this.

The Originators begin to pass by, the night sky no longer visible beyond the brightness of the lucent magic they carelessly display. They are dressed in varying styles of white, some with flowing dresses, some with brilliant white armor, some with fancy, pure-white, three-piece suits. I can see the design of their mark, a half-sun with straight lines shooting out of a half-circle shape, dots trailing outward to create additional rays between each line, cut out of their clothing and light magic shining through to light it up. All of it adds to the magnificent shining glow that surrounds them as they pass by. The people around me practically worship them, the only ones who have been able to beat back the darkness and maintain our world against dark magic for the past two hundred years. They continue to pull magic as they pass and put on a show of light strikes, bright sparks and patterned flashes, pleasing the crowds with their power while the people continue to pull it desperately.

A particularly bright streak of magic shoots over the crowd and light showers down like warm rain at sunset, meanwhile, I get a sharp poke in the tender skin of my neck as Rupi shifts up and down the ridge of my shoulder, once again aggravated. The people cheer, and Rupi chirps irritably, still shuffling around inside my hood and tickling my ear with her anxious movements. I begin to cringe away, knowing that her currently soft feathers will quill into the painful weapons they turn to when she feels threatened. Still, I reach up a calming hand to rest over her small body while I shrink back a little further. I can’t wait for it to end, seems as if Rupi can’t either. Every year, this celebration serves as a reminder that I don’t belong, that these people, who so readily and easily love the Originators, will hate me if they ever know what I am. And I hate that I am considered one of them. I can’t wait until I’ve saved enough money to never have to call myself an Originator again.

The celebration will last late into the night with dancing, food, and copious amounts of drink. The Originators will continue to share raw magic, which usually costs so much that only the rich can afford to hire one. Sometimes, even kings will make their presence known at these celebratory events. Even more reason for me to skedaddle as soon as possible—wouldn’t want to chance that. I shiver, imagining the cold, hard planes of the face of an older man sitting on a throne, his heavy, ornate crown atop his long hair, powerful with dreadfully hot magic.

I’ve never met a king in person, or seen one for that matter. That’s how wide I steer clear. And I do a good job avoiding them apparently—a skill I intend to keep sharp. I touch the bracelet, reminding myself that the Tulips are safe from detection, our magic disguised by the charmed bracelet around our wrists. No need to worry. Normally, kings and Tulips are drawn to each other. It’s instinctive and strong. It’s a nightmarish thought, and I wonder why magic ever would have created something this way. Why would someone with magic as cold as mine ever want to bridge theirs with the warmer, even hot, magic of a king? Sounds like a lukewarm disaster waiting to happen. I’ll never remove the protection of the bracelet. But if I ever meet Lucentia, the goddess of magic, in person, I’ll definitely be putting in a complaint.

More-so than their love for the Originators, though, the need for raw magic is the true reason the crowds grow so large. But as soon as they pass, my obligation is complete. I quickly slip along the back of the crowds and hurry home. I leave the glow of their lucent magic behind, and soon, I can see the night sky again. I breathe in relief and feel Rupi relax the further away we get.

What does it say about me that I prefer the coolness of the dark sky over their warm light? My lips quirk in a self-deprecating smile .

The twinkling stars and the three moons glowing softly above are a blessed reprieve from the blinding Originators. I leave the upkept, clean area of town and make my way deep into the rundown, dirty, and dangerous side where I pay monthly for a small space with Renna. Spending my last teen years with Mama Tina, my wealthy fae adoptive aunt, made this part of town feel especially scary at first. But when Drade, my boyfriend at the time, suddenly became low king, I knew I had to leave. I had to make a life of my own, and here I am. A set of rickety wood stairs, the paint so faded I don’t know what the original color was, wrap around the building and up to the fourth story, which is where we live. I ignore the slight sway as I climb up. They haven’t collapsed yet, so I simply assume they won’t today. But I make sure not to use the rail to avoid splinters. I insert the old key and give the door the usual solid kick as I turn the knob, and it swings open like a charm.

No light comes from inside, so I assume Renna is still out. I pass through the small apartment and head to my bedroom to ready for bed. Once I walk through the door Rupi immediately flaps her tiny wings a few times and coasts gently to the rough-hewn perch that stands beside my bed where she promptly ruffles up her fluff before settling herself and cleaning her feathers with her stubby beak. She appears as relieved as I to be home. I follow her over and pour a bit of birdseed in the tray nearby.

I remove my cloak and boots, but before I extinguish the orb of light I’ve held in my palm, too lazy to light candles, I lift my bedding and uncover a roughly-stitched seam of my lumpy mattress. I pull the string out, reach inside, and fumble around until I find the money I’ve stashed. I sit cross-legged on the rough wood floor, and my heart picks up its pace as I count it. I set the last coin down with a breathy exhale. I have two more jobs lined up, then I’ll have enough. Enough to buy a little space for a shop where I can sell odd trinkets and never have to use my magic or care about what faction I’m in. It won’t matter that I’m lower class. I’ll live simply. My shop, my bracelet, and Rupi. Even Renna, if she wants to join me. But I’ll never have to call myself an Originator again.