SAMANTHA

I woke up gasping for air and my hand immediately flew to my throat. The nightmare had been so vivid and so real and I could still feel the phantom pressure of Molly’s fingers wrapped around my neck. I had dreamed of her face twisted with rage and her eyes burning with hatred and her voice hissing threats into my ear. I had dreamed of the sisters laughing in the background and the sound of their cruelty echoing through the darkness. I had dreamed of being sent away into the wilderness with nothing and no one and no hope of survival.

I sat up in bed and I pressed my palm against my chest and I tried to slow my racing heart. My breathing was shallow and quick and my skin was slick with sweat. The room was quiet except for the sound of my ragged breaths and the distant chirping of birds outside the window.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and my bare feet touched the cold floor. The shock of the temperature against my skin grounded me and it pulled me back to reality and it reminded me that I was still alive.

I stood up and I walked to the window. The gardens below were peaceful and the flowers were blooming and the fountains were sparkling in the pale morning light. Everything was still and everything was quiet and everything seemed so normal.

I sighed and I turned away from the window. I took a step toward the bathroom. And then I saw it.

A small flower was growing from the floorboards where my feet had touched.

I froze. My heart stopped. My breath caught in my throat.

I stared at the flower and I could not believe what I was seeing. It was tiny and delicate with petals the color of soft pink and a center that was golden like the morning sun. It was real. It was alive. It was beautiful.

I knelt down and I reached out and I touched the delicate petals. They were soft and warm and they felt like silk against my fingertips.

"How is this possible?" I whispered to myself.

I looked at my hands. They were ordinary. They were the same hands that had scrubbed floors and held toothbrushes and trembled in fear. They were not special. They were not magical. They were just hands.

I touched the floor again and another flower sprouted from the wood. A tiny purple bloom with a yellow center that seemed to glow in the dim light.

I gasped and I fell back onto my heels.

"What is happening to me?"

The door opened and Joanne walked in. She was carrying a tray of tea and bread. She stopped in the doorway and she stared at the flowers on the floor. Her mouth fell open. The tray slipped from her fingers and it crashed to the ground.

"Miss Samuels," she said. Her voice was shaking. "What have you done?"

I looked up at her and I shook my head. "I do not know," I said. "I do not understand. I touched the floor and they just... appeared."

Joanne stepped closer and she knelt beside me. She reached out and she touched one of the flowers. Her fingers traced the petals and she looked at me with wide eyes.

"This is impossible," she said. "Flowers do not grow from stone floors. Flowers do not appear out of nowhere."

"Then how is this happening?"

Joanne shook her head. "I do not know, Miss Samuels. But I have never seen anything like it."

I looked at my hands again and I felt something stir inside me. Something warm and powerful and unfamiliar.

"Joanne," I said. "Let me see your arm."

"What?"

"Your arm. You cut it yesterday. Show me."

Joanne hesitated but she extended her arm. There was a small cut on her forearm, a thin red line where she had accidentally nicked herself with a broken glass. It was not deep but it was still visible and it still looked painful.

I reached out and I touched the cut.

"Miss Samuels, what are you—"

"Shh," I said. "Just let me try."

I pressed my fingers against her skin and I closed my eyes and I focused. I did not know what I was doing. I did not know if anything would happen. But I felt something warm flow from my fingers into her arm.

Joanne gasped.

I opened my eyes.

The cut was gone. The skin was smooth and unbroken and there was no trace of the wound that had been there just moments before. It was like it had never existed.

Joanne stared at her arm and her mouth fell open and she could not speak.

"I healed you," I whispered. "I actually healed you."

"You have a gift," Joanne said. Her voice was trembling. "You have magic. Real magic."

I sat on the floor surrounded by flowers and I did not know what to think. I was terrified and I was curious and I was hopeful all at the same time.

"I do not understand," I said. "Why now? Why me? I have never had any powers before."

Joanne shook her head. "I do not know, Miss Samuels. But you should be careful. If anyone else finds out about this..."

"I know. They will use me. Or they will destroy me."

Joanne nodded. "Exactly."

I stood up and I looked at the flowers on the floor. They were beautiful but they were also dangerous. They were proof that something had changed inside me. Something that I did not understand.

There was a knock at the door.

Joanne and I exchanged a look. She walked to the door and she opened it.

A guard stood in the doorway. His face was serious and his voice was flat and official.

"Miss Samuels," he said. "The king requests your presence in the throne room. Immediately."

My heart sank. I looked at the flowers around me and I did not know how to hide them.

I stood up and I smoothed my dress and I forced my voice to stay calm.

"Tell him I will be there soon," I said.

The guard nodded and he walked away.

The door closed behind him.

I looked at Joanne and I felt my hands shaking. "Why does the king want to see me?" I asked.

Joanne shook her head. "I do not know. But you need to go. And you need to be careful."

I nodded. I walked toward the door.

And I wondered what the king wanted with me.