The Firebird Rose

By Beka Gremikova

The domed turrets of the Little Palace blazed a fierce rose-red. The color of magic. The color of a curse.

Mariya had to get there.

But a line of Rusakian soldiers blocked her road, their blood-red shields reminding her of all the lives lost during their occupation of her city. Behind them, Prince Illya sat trapped in the Palace, cursed into a beast by a Rusakian enchantress so Tsar Ivan could invade Tenkev.

Mariya shivered in the cold evening air and slipped back into the townhouse she rented with Papa. “The guards are still there. We need the roses, Papa.”

He sat slumped on a stool, running his fingers through his greying hair as he stared at the struggling rose bush in front of him. Not a single bud burst on the sickly branches of the plant they’d saved when Tsar Ivan destroyed Tenkev’s famous roses.

Papa sighed deeply. “Nothing, Mariya.”

She pulled up a chair, perching beside him. “Any news from the Firebird operatives in the palace? Can they smuggle us roses from the Inner Sanctum?”

He shook his head. “No. I fear… Tsar Ivan’s destroyed the Firebirds.” His voice broke.

She hugged Papa as he wept, her own dark fears swirling through her mind. At least I don’t have to leave him now. I won’t have to leave him alone. It haunted her to imagine him in this tiny house, with nothing but memories of fallen comrades to keep him company.

Yet he expected her to leave, to save the future of this nation. To break into the Little Palace to provide Prince Illya companionship—and perhaps find a way to break his curse. After all, as Papa liked to remind her, she was a codebreaker. And what was magic but a different kind of code?

She sucked in a deep breath and hugged Papa tighter. Why does it have to be me?

Rapid, pounding knocks shook the doorframe.

“Down!” Papa hissed, and they both dropped to the floor, out of sight of the window. Mariya’s heart thundered. Beside her, Papa trembled. Had Rusakians learned of their connections to the Little Palace and tracked them down?

More knocks, but softer. Mariya crept to the window and peeked through the thick curtains.

A nearby gaslamp illuminated an empty front stoop.

Another knock.

She sucked in a breath. The knock was real. Which meant—

She ran to the door, cracking it open slightly. “Codeword,” she breathed into the cold night air.

“Firebird,” a deep voice answered.

She yanked the door open fully and backed away as the invisible visitor clomped over the threshold. The door swung shut, and a tall man flickered into view. A crimson Firebird, the symbol of the royal family, emblazoned his robes.

She gasped. “Lord Peter!” Prince Illya’s uncle and closest advisor held a delicate flower within his grasp, and Mariya nearly wept. A rose. And its magic worked.

But now she’d have to leave Papa.

Mariya curtsied unsteadily as Papa offered his stool to Lord Peter, who collapsed onto it, hands on his knees. “I was able to smuggle out one rose from the Inner Sanctum,” Lord Peter said. “That was all.”

“What about the other Firebirds?” Papa paced the room, scratching at his beard. “I’ve heard nothing for weeks!”

Lord Peter shook his head. “As far as I know, Illya’s alone in there. Everyone else is… gone. I tried to turn the prince invisible and smuggle him out, but…” Lord Peter’s shoulders sagged, and even his curly brown beard seemed to wilt. “His curse counteracts the rose magic.” Turning his haggard face to Mariya, he offered her the flower. “But maybe your codebreaking can crack the curse entirely.”

Mariya glanced at Papa. His eyes glistened, but he smiled at her, hopeful.

He deserves that hope. Her lips trembled, but she blinked back her tears, straightened her shoulders, and took the rose.

I’m ready, she thought to the flower. I stand with my people. No matter the cost. The rose thrummed with warmth, blooming a brighter red as its magic tingled from her fingers into her limbs.

When she looked down, she saw only the worn floorboards.

Mariya scanned the stoic faces of the line of Rusakian guards. About sixty paces behind them stood a door, glinting the same stark red as the rose. Lord Peter had left it unlocked for her—if she could reach it.

One man shifted slightly, and her heartbeat quickened. She gripped the rose’s stem.

They can’t see you. You’re all right. She let out a breath, refocusing her gaze on a gap between two shivering, glaze-eyed guards.

Holding her breath and making herself as small as possible, she slid between the two guards. Once she was thirty paces away, she broke into a run, dashing right to the door.

It opened onto the withered palace gardens, and she hurried through them, scrambling up the Little Palace’s once-grand front steps.

Inside, she found Illya in a receiving room, an untouched cup of tea before him. Dark fur sprouted from his limbs, though royal red robes covered most of it. One of his ears, shaped like a horse’s, tilted toward Mariya as she entered.

Done, she thought to the rose, and its magic subsided, making her visible again.

“Uncle Peter said you’d come.” Illya’s voice was soft, genteel. His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry he dragged you into this.”

Mariya pictured Papa’s smile, thought of all the sacrifices he’d made to give her this chance to save their nation. She wiped at the dried tears stuck to her cheeks, took a deep breath, and curtsied. “They didn’t drag me. This is my duty and honor.” As she straightened, she held out the rose to him. “Your people stand with you, Prince Illya.”

Illya swallowed. Then he reached out and took the rose, careful not to scratch her with his claws. As he met her gaze with glittering eyes, his lips curled into a smile. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Beka Gremikova hails from the Ottawa Valley, Ontario, Canada. She loves wolves, travelling, and exploring new cultures and cuisines. Her obsession with folklore and myth often weaves itself into her stories, multiple of which are published with Havok. Her writing has been included in Bingeworthy, A Kind of Death from Uncommon Universes Press and the Faces to the Sun collection edited by S.J. Blasko. She dreams of attending ComicCon in Princess Zelda cosplay.

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