Dangerous Beauty

We’ll get there today, I tell myself.

I’m sitting in the front room, the one with all the cushions. Outside, the murky green blue of the water washes around us, providing no resistance for the strange thing I’m in.

What sort of place am I going to, that has such odd technology? I’ve pretty much deduced that we’re leaving the continent, and I doubt she’s about to announce we’re headed towards Sweden or something.

I mean, come on. Who takes a private boat to Europe and doesn’t even bring a passport?

I haven’t got any papers at all. I really hope that won’t turn out to be a problem.

Cornelia seems excited. I idly wonder if she’s been homesick, although she’s strangely reluctant to tell me about our destination.

“Two hours,” she announces, more to herself then me, pacing the room for what must be the billionth time.

I drop the book I’m reading, a favorite I brought along, and eye her in frustration. “Can I ask a few questions?”

She glances at me, still pacing, and nods.

“What’s this place like?”

“Beautiful,” she blurts without even thinking. “It’s a paradise. The rest of the world is barbaric in comparison. Nothing.”

“Seriously?” I ask, wrapping my arms around my legs. “What else? Like, what about that Orb?”

She flinches, turning to look at me. “It’s beautiful, and very civilized, but there’s a part of it that isn’t. That place isn’t your concern.”

“No?” I’m confused. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a rebellion,” she spits. “They burnt the forest to the south and built their own city. They’re the ones who make the Orbs, and so must have sent it.”

I shiver, drawing my legs closer. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” She frowns at me. “You’re curious, aren’t you? I can’t hold it against you, considering where you were raised.”

I nod, a bit sheepish under her intense look.

“Fine,” she sighs. “I’ll tell you more. You should be prepared, anyway. There are grand parties, and everything is luxury, unlike the mainland. The whole city is on an Island, which is ruled by a Queen, who is as old and powerful as the city itself.”

“What’s she like? Are we related to her?”

Cornelia turns her suddenly blank eyes on me. “She isn’t human, though she once was.”

I can’t make any sense of this, so I ask the next question I can think of. “Where do you live?”

“Everyone lives in the Home,” she says simply. “Each family has one vast floor, and each individual their own apartment. You will receive one of your own on our family’s level.”

“Cool!” I grin at the thought of having my own place. And family. Will I meet my family?

She reads the look on my face, but her own expression is unhelpfully empty.

“There is something you deserve to know,” she admits. “I’ve been putting off telling you. You have such a weak constitution.”

I make a face at the insult. “What?”

“The people there, on the island... See, they’re special. So am I.” She drops her eyes, kind of unsure how to go on. “We have certain talents you might not understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“We call it Gift. We’re born knowing about it, so to tell someone unexposed is very difficult.”

I look away, giving her a chance.

“See, I can do things, that ungifted people can’t. We all have one or two talents like this, just special abilities.”

“What’s yours?” I look up at her, trying to force back some of the frantic curiosity.

She smiles, suddenly playful. “This.”

I look down, and the thick carpet starts to shimmer. I frown, trying to make out what’s going on, but then gasp. The carpet has turned from white to blue.

“You can make things change color!” I cry, amazed.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s so much more than that.”

“Hmm?”

“I can change things, but only objects. Nothing alive or dead.” She frowns at the limit. “See, like this.” The now colored carpet shimmers again, and suddenly she’s standing on a cobbled floor.

“Oh!” I gasp, sitting back.

She changes it back quickly, a half guilty smile on her fairytale face. “We’ve all got Gift, and each one is different. Mine is particularly powerful. Some are very weak.”

“Wow,” I shake my head, disbelief and joy flooding through my fingers, my arms. “This is so cool!”

“You’re very confusing,” she says, but she’s grinning.

“So what? Everyone has magical powers?” I light up at the thought, my hands shaking a bit with excitement.

“Everyone but the Ungifted, born into any family, always a tragedy. We put them to work, of course. Sometimes they give birth to Gifted children, so it’s not a complete waste.”

That’s strange.

Then, quite suddenly, I’m struck by something. “So, if Ungifted are born to Gifted parents, then couldn’t Gifted be born to Ungifted families? Like, back everywhere else?”

Cornelia gives me a weird look. “I never thought of that,” she murmurs. “I’m sure... not.” But she looks worried.

I shrug. “Just a thought.”
*****************************************

“I will not wear this,” I protest.

“You don’t have a choice. Now, put it on! We’ll be arriving soon.”

“But Cornelia,” I whine, “It’s so... Big. And fancy. I’ll fall flat on my face if I try to take a step.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just put it on.”

Unhappily, I accept the dress from Cornelia’s outstretched hand. She’s wearing a very nice dress, but she looks natural in it. Much more comfortable then the jeans she’s disposed of. It was as though she were wearing a costume, and now she’s back in proper clothes.

I glare at my own gown. It’s a painful shade of pink and ruffled more than any self-respecting prom dress. Eww.

Cornelia looks like a fairy tale princess. When I emerge from my room, half tripping on the trailing fabric, I just look ridiculous.

She claps, but more likely at my giving in then the actual fit of the dress, which is decidedly awful. I look like a rose colored beast.

“This sucks,” I sigh.

“You’ll get used to it. I suggest you practice walking before we arrive. You don’t want to fall on your face and make a fool of yourself when we get there,” she’s grinning at the joke, but I see the truth in her words.

Groaning, I comply.

“This is so stupid,” I mutter.

“You were meant to wear dresses,” she shrugs. “None of those stiff pants. Those are horribly barbaric.”

I make a face. “Maybe I liked being a barbarian.”

“Don’t be silly,” she snaps.

“I’m not,” I grumble, but then I shut my mouth. I don't want her to regret taking me along, and besides, I have to at least pretend to be thankful. Still, I can’t quite get the hang of walking.

It’s strange, too, to be wearing shoes and yet feel the softness of the carpet. I’ll miss my sneakers, now safely stored in my bag.

“See,” she beams, once I’ve managed to go two paces without tripping. “It’s not so hard, is it?”

I trip.

She sighs, curling up on the couch with a resigned expression. “You’re a natural, Chandra. We’ve just got to make you rediscover your true nature.”

I want to respond, but I’m too confused.

“I can’t wait to be home,” she admits, staring longingly up at the ceiling. “You have no idea how lovely it is there.”

I doubt I do.

“They will be waiting, you know. Many people, and all of them thrilled to see us,” she smiles, caught up in the dream of the future.

I quietly wonder if my parents will be in that crowd.

“You must be on your best behavior,” she warns.

“I will be,” I promise.

“You don’t want to prove us right, you know, about the mainland being full of barbarians.”

I swallow, feeling the weight of this new responsibility fall on me. I was clumsy and plain, but I’d do my best.

“Just smile and don’t speak out of turn,” she suggests. “You have a sweet face. That should do the trick until you adjust.”

Me? Sweet faced? I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of her comment. “I will,” I say instead.

She nods. “I’m sure you’ll do very well.”

I just hope she’s right
**************************************

I know we’re approaching, because the ocean floor is suddenly rising up very quickly.

Only then do I realize how very fast the through water goes. I swallow, dragging my eyes away from the bottom.

We’re almost there.

After a while, the through water surfaces, slowing considerably. Now the window is only half submerged, a fact that seems to thrill Cornelia. She paces faster now, raising her hand as if to chew her fingers before dropping it suddenly.

The Island, as Cornelia now calls it, is really an island, but more forest then I would have expected. There’s a river, and to my shock, it’s into this that we navigate. There’s no sign of humans.

“The animals are Gifted, too,” Cornelia murmurs into my ear, seeing me nervously stare at a few wolves that have gathered on the bank to watch our passing.

They don’t seem particularly friendly. I swallow, grateful for the water and metal separating us.

“Don’t worry,” she smiles at me. “You’ve got nothing to be afraid of. Not now, anyway,” she adds mysteriously. I suspect she’s mocking me and turn away.

When I see the first distant tower, I gasp in awe. It looks like a jewel, rising out of the emerald forest like an elegant outstretched arm.

“I told you it was beautiful,” Cornelia tells me smugly. She seems determined to ruin this moment with talk.

The forest thins, and then gives way altogether. Now, quite suddenly, we’re in the middle of a busy city. We ride through a river that cuts through the middle, which gives us (me) the chance to gape at it. And oh, it’s lovely.

I have stepped into a fairy tale. This place is amazing.

Each polished stone seemed to glimmer in the knowledge of its own beauty, and there was a pride in the elegant arch of the jewel toned structures that lined the busy street. They were tall, colorful occupants looking down on the fantastic crowd that gathered beneath them to witness our arrival. Every face seemed impossibly beautiful, and the cloths sparkled with quality. Ahead, like a diamond crown set at the center of the city, was a palace. This building somehow managed to be grander then the rest. The glorious heart of a city already finer then anything else I’d ever seen.

Still, there was something odd about the sight. This was a lovely child’s tree house, not useful, but charming. There was something delicate and useless about this place. It was a toy.

We pull up to a marble colored dock, a stark contrast the the rotting illusion on the other side of our journey, and the through water opens. A little swell of panic rises in my chest.

And yet, somehow, I make my legs move.

Cornelia exits first, lovely and smiling into the oddly harsh daylight. I sort of miss the murky soft light from underwater.

But now it’s my turn.

Taking a deep breath, I emerge, smiling and blinking into the warm afternoon. Instantly, I feel the weight of hundreds of eyes on me, all bright with curiosity.

Oh, God.

Dizziness takes me, and I have to try extra hard not to trip. I’m so overwhelmed, I can’t help but shrink back a little from the crowd.

I’m so dull, and pathetic.

Cornelia helps me into a car, and I try not to scream as it turns out not to be a car at all, but actually something like a tiny plane. We lift into the air, the thing buzzing a bit under us. Soon, we’re whipping away, leaving the crowd behind.

I sigh, sinking deeper into my seat in relief. Then I remember we’re flying, and I look out the window, amazed.

“It’s called a transport,” Cornelia yawns. “Not a Through-Air. Those are much more powerful.”

“Oh,” I gape.

Joy replaces all my nervousness from before, and I’m laughing in bubbly amazement. The rush beneath me is like nothing else; I can feel each turn like it’s my own movement.

I would have given everything up for this moment without thought, even if it were for only a moment.

Too soon, our trip ends, and we pull to a halt outside a giant building that I would consider squat if it hadn’t been so very tall. It’s massive, in all directions.

“Home,” Cornelia points. “Come on, take your bag. They’ve prepared your rooms.”

I get out, unsteady on my feet, and follow her through a breathtaking courtyard of polished amethyst stones and heavy purple blossoms dewy in the fragrant air. Two glass doors swing open for up, and we step into a cool, dim lobby.

At least, I think it’s a lobby. A strange set of doors slide open for us on the opposite end of the room and we walk quickly through them, into a room with one wall entirely made of glass. I look out, gaping at the gorgeous gardens that surround the home, and behind me the doors slide shut.

“A lifting room,” Cornelia names the space.

And then we lift.

I don’t scream, amazingly. I’m used enough to elevators. Instead, I stare out at the view, my mouth hanging open. This whole place is one huge garden, with the odd toy city not far away.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Cornelia sighs. “Oh, I missed it so.”

I nod, unable to speak. Everywhere else must be terribly unimpressive if you grew up here.

The view just gets better the higher we go. Soon, though, it gets a bit too high, and I have to look away to keep myself from getting dizzy.

It would be horrible to fall from the top.

The door slides open again, and Cornelia has to drag me away from the window. We’re in another lobby area.

“Our family’s floor,” she explains.

I follow her down a hall, until we pause outside a door with a lovely painting of the night sky on it, though the real focus is a bright moon, heavy and full.

A quick glance reveals that all of the doors are similarly painted, all with different scenes. They probably serve the same function as numbers, but it’s a bit much.

The inside is no less impressive.

“This is yours,” Cornelia says, sitting down on a couch. My couch. Giddy, I start to laugh.

It’s just an apartment, but it’s way luxurious, and it’s mine. I throw my painfully plain bag onto my huge soft bed and start to skip around, my face hurting from grinning so wide.

“Calm down,” Cornelia laughs, pleased by my reaction.

“Thank you!” I cry, “Thank you thank you thank you!” I run over and hug her. For a few seconds she freezes, shocked, but then I feel her relax. I pull away and continue skipping around.

“Thank you!” I shout again, tripping over my dress in an uncharacteristically excited display.

“Of course,” she murmurs, watching me with amusement. “I didn’t know you were so energetic.”

“I’m not,” I gasp, still grinning. “I’m just really, really happy.” My voice is husky with excitement.

She smiles, but her expression is suddenly serious. “I have to leave you soon, but only until tomorrow. I have a few affairs to put in order. In the meantime, I suggest you relax, but first I must share with you a few rules.”

“Rules?” I stop, spinning to face her. I don’t like the sound of rules, especially not now.

“Stay within the city,” she tells me severely. “There’s a hill surrounding the gardens with a road at its base. This is the outer belt, and since the rebellion it’s much too dangerous. In fact, you really should just avoid the south all together. There’s a maze there, which is also strictly off limits.”

I make a face. “So, it’s dangerous because of the Orbs?”

“Among other things,” her face is smooth, blank. “And never be outside the home after twilight. That time belongs to the rebels. To be caught outside at night means certain death.”

I shudder. “Got it.”

“Really, Chandra, listen to me. Generally those who see Orbs don’t live to tell the tale. The only reason I was able to stop it was because the Rebels coated the inside of the CD player.”

I stare at her, confused.

“Orbs can move through solid objects,” she explains. “If you’re targeted, you will die. They consume souls. It’s painful, and there’s no stopping them.”

“Oh,” I gasp, feeling suddenly sick .

“I must go now,” she smiles, tired looking. “Stay out of trouble. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Okay,” I try to sound cheerful.

I watch her go, suddenly exhausted. I go back into my new room, and pull a book from my bag. I can’t believe this. I’m on this grand adventure and I’m reading. I’m concerned with my own strangeness.
***************************************

The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful, with the exception of one time when a shy looking girl came in to put dinner out for me. She was about my age, so I smiled at her.

She smiled back, her poorly concealed curiosity making her eyes bright, and left without a word.

Sighing heavily, I ate.

The food was strangely delicate, somehow, but managed to be richer then anything I’d ever tasted before. There were all these sparkling glasses set up, some containing a bitter emerald liquid and others water that seemed to be tinted a pale gold. There were familiar things, too, like a sort of flat flaky bread and little red fruits that gushed with a fragrant sweet juice whenever you bit into them. There wasn’t much, but I was full quickly.

Finally night came, and resigned that I’d had my excitement for the day, I took a bath in the huge sunken tub in my new bathroom. At least they have similar plumbing here, if not much nicer.

I dried off quickly, and look for something to wear to bed in my new wardrobe. When I open it, I grimace. It’s all dresses. No pants in sight.

Upset, I close it again, and pull out my favorite old oversized tee shirt and shorts. I feel horribly plain, maybe ugly, compared to the rest of the city.

I’m like my bag, contrasting so severely with the beautiful blanket it’s resting on. Plain, worn, and all the more flawed when compared with its perfect surroundings.

Shoving this depressing thought from my head, I crawl into my new bed, and find it surprisingly hard to sleep.

Oh, crap. I’m homesick.

I groan, rolling over.

Who knows how long I’ll be here. I have to go home for school, though. It’s not like I can just skip my junior year, and there’s no way my aunt would let me drop out.

I wonder if anyone misses me, and doubt it. My friends might wonder where I am after a few days, but I doubt they’d be bothered.

Well, ha! It didn’t matter if they didn’t care about me. I was in this amazingly beautiful city on the adventure of my life, and they’re still sitting in a classroom.
**********************

“Good morning,” Cornelia calls.

“Hmm?” I buried myself deeper into my warm blankets, unwilling to entirely drag myself from my dreams.

“Do you always sleep in this late?” She comes in, almost throwing my door open. “Get up!”

“What?” I ask blearily. “What’s going on?”

“Be ready in ten minutes and meet me on the first floor,” she sniffs, disapproving. “We’re going for a tour.”

“Oh,” I sigh. “Okay then. Be right down.”

She leaves, and I jump from bed, realizing the source of her disapproval. She saw what I was wearing. My old sweatpants and tee shirt. Heaven Forbid I should be comfortable.

I open my closet, but the contents haven’t improved overnight. Oh, well. I pick out a dress that reminds me of spring, and almost fall over trying to get it on.

Some fairytale princess I’ll make. I frown at my reflection in the mirror, finding a matching ribbon to tie my hair back in a hasty pony tail. I grab a pastry thing off the cooled breakfast that’s been put out for me, and feeling ridiculously self conscious dart through the hall.

The lifting room doors slide open without me needing to press any button, and I step in.

Uh oh. I don’t know how to make it go.

“Um,” I say weakly, feeling beyond silly. “Down?” There’s no response. “Bottom floor? Lobby?” I give it an unhappy look. “Please?”

After an agonized two minutes, a man stomps in. Casually, he reaches over and brushes a tile I hadn’t noticed against the door.

The room shifts, sliding downwards.

“Thanks,” I say, blushing furiously.

He just laughs.

I watch the view in fresh awe, chewing my breakfast quickly. The gardens stretch on for an immeasurable distance, green and bright. There are large gaps where paths cross through, many already occupied by well dressed dots that must be people. I can see waterfalls and rivers and fountains decorating the intensely planted area, and places that would seem to have gone untouched for years if they weren’t so well kept. This is a magical place, I can tell.

When the doors open, Cornelia is there.

“Come on!” She ushers me through the door, and into another transport. We take off.

I pay attention, awed, as we dart through her city. Everything seems so fresh, and once again I’m stunned by the contrast to my own home. This is so much more beautiful then the mainland.

Mainland? Did I just call it the mainland?

But already, after only a few days, my memories of the past sixteen years, my whole life, are fading away. How odd.

We pass by several buildings, all rising out of the garden in an absurdly abrupt manner that doesn't take away from the general splendor. I’m very impressed.

“That’s the meeting hall,” Cornelia points to the biggest building by far, only outdone by the palace. “It is designed so that every person in the city could fit inside of it all at once. Even the Ungifted.”
****************************

“Once again, I must leave you,” Cornelia says, once the tour is finished. We’re back in my rooms.

She leaves, and panic takes me. I can’t let my adventure become so uneventful! I remember last night with a shudder.

No, I’ll take things into my own hands now.

I eat quickly, nervous and excited, my head still spinning with a thousand places. I’ll go exploring. I stand, trying not to be afraid. What’s the worst that could happen? I’ve still got hours until sunset. So I leave, less self conscious as I go down to the lobby. I feel a little guilty, stepping out into the courtyard alone, but I can handle that. What I can’t handle is just sitting.