4 : Wilted Rose

Maya

Wilted roses carried many meanings.

Lost love. Rejection. Humiliation.

Maya thought the flower suited her perfectly.

The Palace of Blossoms had never been louder. Excitement buzzed through every corridor, garden, and gilded cage. Servants hurried back and forth carrying silks, jewelry, perfumes, and cosmetics. Musicians rehearsed in distant halls. Florists decorated every corner with extravagant arrangements.

The annual auction was only days away.

Every Rona knew what that meant.

A chance at a new life. Or a worse one. Depending on who purchased them.

Maya stood quietly near the edge of the conservatory and watched the preparations unfold.

No one paid attention to her. No one ever did.

The most beautiful Ronas occupied the center of attention. Especially Celeste. Servants surrounded the blonde beauty like worker bees around a queen. One brushed her hair. Another polished her nails. Several adjusted the shimmering blue gown prepared for the assessment. Every movement emphasized her value. Every smile reminded everyone why she would command the highest bids.

Not far away stood Serena. The Rose Rona. Her dark red dress matched the flowers blooming effortlessly around her. Crimson roses spiraled along marble pillars. More appeared wherever her fingertips lingered. Perfect. Fragrant. Alive.

Maya lowered her eyes.

She had never seen Serena create a flower that died.

Not once.

A group of servants walked past. One of them sighed dramatically. "I heard three kingdoms are fighting over Lady Serena already."

"Only three?" The other servant laughed.

"I heard seven."

"Well, Celeste will still sell for more."

"Obviously."

Their voices faded into the distance.

Maya continued sweeping fallen petals from a pathway. Nobody assigned her beauty treatments. Nobody measured her gowns. Nobody discussed potential buyers.

The palace had long ago decided she wasn't worth the effort. And perhaps they were right.

A loud bell echoed through the conservatory.

Assessment day.

Immediately, excitement and at the same time, worry, spread among the Ronas. Many hurried toward the preparation chambers. Others gathered in small groups. Everyone wanted to make the best impression possible.

Everyone except Maya.

Not because she didn't care. Because she already knew the outcome.

Still. Her palms grew sweaty. Her heart beat faster. Anxiety didn't disappear simply because failure was expected.

As she passed a hallway, familiar voices reached her ears.

Servants.

They hadn't noticed her standing nearby.

"Do you think anyone will buy her?"

Laughter followed. "Buy who?"

"The mute one."

Another servant snorted. "You mean Maya?"

"Who else?"

More laughter.

Maya froze. The broom tightened in her grip. In times like this, she missed the elderly servant who was always nice to her.

"Nobody's buying her."

"Not unless they need someone to kill flowers."

"Maybe a gardener with a personal grudge."

The servants burst into laughter again.

One lowered her voice. "I heard His Majesty plans to sell her as a joke."

"No."

"Yes."

"That's terrible."

The first servant shrugged. "She embarrasses him."

Maya looked down.

The words shouldn't hurt anymore. She had heard worse. Yet somehow they still found a way beneath her skin. She waited until the servants left before continuing. The conservatory suddenly felt smaller. Colder. Lonelier.

The assessment chamber occupied one of the grandest halls in the palace. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Nobles, merchants, and invited guests observed from elevated balconies.

The assessment served two purposes: One, to determine a Rona's value. And two, increase anticipation for the auction. Only the nobles of Valir’s close circle were invited. Nobles used the assessment as a chance to pick a Rona they would want to buy and prepare for the real auction.

Maya stood near the back of the line. Exactly where she preferred.

One by one, Ronas stepped forward. Each demonstrated her abilities. Flowers bloomed. Vines danced. Entire displays of nature unfolded before the audience. The spectators applauded enthusiastically. Several nobles took notes. Potential buyers valuating each Ronas like they were valuating merchandise.

The realization made Maya feel sick.

Hours passed. Eventually, Celeste stepped forward. The room immediately quieted. Even Maya couldn't help watching.

Celeste smiled gracefully. Then raised both hands. Light shimmered around her fingers. A moment later, flowers erupted across the chamber. Hundreds. Thousands. Every color imaginable.

Blue. Gold. Pink. Silver. Lavender. Rainbow blossoms drifted through the air like living stars.

Gasps echoed throughout the hall. Applause thundered. Several guests rose to their feet. Even King Valir looked pleased.

Celeste lowered her hands. The flowers continued glowing softly. Perfect. Beautiful. Everything Maya wasn't.

The demonstration ended to overwhelming praise. Serena followed shortly after. Her roses covered an entire section of the hall. Crimson petals cascaded from above like scarlet rain.

The audience reacted just as enthusiastically.

Bella and the other girls had turns to show their abilities. Each manifested wonderful flowers that delighted all the guests.

Then it was Maya's turn.

A hush settled over the room. Not anticipation. Curiosity. The kind people reserved for accidents.

King Valir lounged lazily upon his throne. Already looking annoyed.

Maya stepped into the center of the hall. Her plain cream-colored dress suddenly felt inadequate. Too simple. Too plain. Too much like her.

An attendant placed a pot of soil before her.

The familiar ritual. Grow a flower. Demonstrate your gift.

Maya swallowed. Her hands trembled slightly.

The entire room watched. Waiting and judging.

She knelt before the soil. Closed her eyes. Reached for her magic.

A small green stem emerged. Then another.

Electricity buzzed inside her chest. Her heart raced as sweat beads dripped down her forehead.

Please.

A flower bud appeared.

White. Delicate. Beautiful.

The audience leaned forward as the bud opened. For one glorious second, the flower bloomed.

Please make it work.

Then it died. The petals darkened. The stem shriveled. The blossom collapsed into itself.

Complete silence filled the room, suffocating Maya’s chest. She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare to even blink. The tension was too much for her shoulders to bear.

Maya stared at the dead flower. Her chest tightened.

I’m sorry…

Laughter erupted from somewhere in the audience. Then another. Soon, the entire hall buzzed with whispers.

Mockery. Amusement. Disappointment. Pity. 

King Valir's expression darkened as his voice rumbled to the entire room, “Maya.”

She flinched.

The king rose from his throne and descended the dais toward Maya. His polished boots echoed throughout the chamber. Each step increased the knot in Maya's stomach. He stopped beside her.

Everyone immediately fell silent.

"Again,” he ordered.

Maya lowered her head. Obediently, she called upon her magic again. Another flower emerged. Another flower died.

Valir kept his face stoic. “Your mother was the best Rona at her time,” he said, “How can she have given birth to a useless creature like you? Again!"

The third attempt ended the same way.

Wilted. Dead. Worthless.

The king's jaw tightened. Several nobles in the assessment exchanged uncomfortable looks. They pitied the girl who would not even have a chance to be auctioned. 

Maya knew what came next.

The first crack of the whip echoed through the chamber. Pain exploded across her back as she stumbled forward.

Gasps escaped the audience. 

Maya bit down on her lip hard. No sound escaped her throat.

Another strike followed. Then another. Each lash burned across old scars. Fresh agony layered atop familiar pain.

"Again!" Valir's voice remained calm as he held the whip in cold blood. His blonde hair swept back, showing his vicious green eyes. He was wearing a black coat with golden laces in flower patterns.

Maya's vision blurred. Still, she obeyed.

Another flower bloomed.

A second later it whitered.

The whip cracked.

Again.

Again.

Again.

The audience watched. Nobody intervened. Nobody ever did.

Valir believed pressure created perfection, that diamonds formed beneath force and flowers bloomed beneath pruning. He prided in how he handled the Ronas. He truly believed that Ronas improved beneath punishment.

But more so, toward Maya.

He kept insisting that Maya could one day create beautiful white flowers just like her mother, one of the legendary Ronas who ever existed. So he kept ‘polishing’ her with whips. Yet time and time again, Maya’s magic never improved. The only flowers Maya could grow were black, wilted, crinkly, and disgusting. That made him more annoyed. If he knew Maya would be a defect, he would have had her killed at birth and just kept her mother, Freya.

Oh, he missed Freya. Missed the beautiful and fragrant white flowers she could summon. Freya’s flowers were white, pure, and delicate. Valir regretted her death. Especially because Freya left a ‘defect’ Rona as her legacy.

Maya trembled violently in front of the dying flower. Blood streaked down her back. Yet no voice escaped her lips. No screams. No complaints.

Valir's face twisted.

"Useless."

Valir threw the whip at Maya, which made Maya flinch in fear. The king stared down at her, crouching like an injured dog. Then he laughed. A harsh sound. Cold and cruel.

He said, “Tomorrow at the auction, you will be sold as a slave instead. That is the only value for a defect.”

Maya stared at the floor. Humiliation burned hotter than the whip wounds.

"Remove her."

The attendants immediately obeyed.

Maya struggled to stand. Blood stained the back of her dress. Her hands shook as she shifted her weight to the attendants, dragging her away.

The audience had already lost interest as the next Rona stepped forward.

The spectacle continued.

As though Maya's humiliation had merely been another performance.

She barely remembered leaving the hall. Or returning to the conservatory.

Everything hurt.

Her back. Her pride. Her magic.

The afternoon passed in a blur.

Eventually, she found herself sitting alone beside the dying camellias in the conservatory. A familiar voice interrupted the silence.

"Maya."

She looked up.

Celeste stood nearby. The blonde Rona with doe-like brown eyes carried a small basket. Concern filled her warm brown eyes.

Maya immediately tried wiping away the tears she hadn't noticed falling. 

Too late. Celeste had already seen them. Without a word, Celeste sat beside her.

The basket contained healing ointments. Bandages. Fresh bread.

Celeste smiled sadly. "You should eat."

Maya lowered her gaze. The kindness made her chest ache.

Unbothered by Maya’s muteness, Celeste carefully applied ointment to the visible wounds on Maya's back.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable.

"I wish I could help more,” Celeste whispered. 

Maya looked away. Celeste always said things like that. Yet both of them knew the truth.

No one could help. Not really. The system itself was broken.

“But honestly,” Celeste continued in a low voice, “you brought this upon yourself. You made everyone believe that you could only grow withered flowers. So you chose this thorny path yourself.”

Maya looked at Celeste sharply. A warning. A question. A plea. Unspoken words showed in Maya’s dark eyes. Celeste returned the gaze without missing a second.

“And you chose the flower path yourself,” Maya muttered. Her voice was very small, but enough for Celeste to hear. “How does it feel to be plucked over and over again?”

At that, Celeste’s jaw tightened. She felt insulted by Maya’s remark. But she couldn’t reply back because… it was the truth. Her eyes burned with anger, her nose flared, but none of that fire could escape her lips. Because it was the fact. 

After several minutes, Celeste stood. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” 

Maya looked away from her, evidently implying to Celeste that she had nothing more to say. She became a mute once again. Eventually, Celeste turned around, leaving her alone in the conservatory. She laid on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest next to the dying camellia. Her back hurt so badly but she was so very tired. 

She chose to close her eyes for a while, not knowing that this little secret of hers would soon be known by everyone in the most unexpected way.