Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Wild reddish-brown curls cascade around her head and shoulders, with horns protruding from them. Her lips purse and smoke pours from her nose. Her eyes, which were an amber hue of brown just seconds ago, turn black.
“You have not,” I breathe. “Who are you?”
“You will call me Blaise.” With that, she turns and storms out. Her long tail swinging behind her. “Feed him nothing. He wants to behave as a prisoner, let him be so.”
“You will starve him,” Bach calls after her.
“If he dies, he dies.” Her voice echoes back to me.
I drop back to my seat. Rubbing my eyes, I try to reconcile my thoughts with what I’ve just seen. I’ve seen many otherworldly things, but that was something else.
How did I miss the tail? It wasn’t exposed the first time I saw her. What… in the gods is she?
Father, what have you gotten us into?
* * *
Blaise
“Blaise,” Ms. Posh calls after me. “Blaise. Princess,” she snaps, causing me to halt.
“What?”
She flies around my head to come face-to-face with me. Right away, I can tell she’s winded from rushing after me. I sag my shoulders. I shouldn’t have made her chase me.
“You have to be more patient. The last time he saw his father, he was unwell. He is now your prisoner in his father’s stead. Be gentle, child. Give him time to adjust.”
“I don’t care for him.”
“You will have to learn to if he is the one. You have to at least try.”
“He doesn’t want to be here.” I pout like a little child.
“He will learn to love it here,” Ms. Posh says with a smile.
She flies closer and strokes my unmarred cheek. The fire burning within begins to settle. Although, it’s not just burning from anger. When I touched him, something strange happened inside of me.
“Did you see the way he looked at me?” I say sadly.
“He was a little startled. But, dear, he’s still here.”
I blow out a breath and let my tail swing behind me as I contemplate her words. I chew on my lip. As long as he’s here, I have a chance at least.
“Fine. Tell the others not to lock his cell. He can roam free. Just keep him away from my quarters. When he’s ready for his room, Bach can lead him there.”
With that, I take off again. I need my cello. I have to play off some of this frustration.
My fingers tingle with flames. I ball my fists and snuff them out as I mutter to myself. “He will challenge me. I know it.”
Chapter 6
Roaming Prince
Argon
The tiny flying fairies left the door to my cell open. I’ve been eyeing it warily as if it’s a trap. I’m not sure what will find me beyond these walls.
I look at my hands and access my power. It seems to be dimming. I wasn’t expecting this. It is understandable how Father became so weak here.
Is that… creature the cause of it, or is it this place? The power pulsing in the walls leaves me cautious. My stomach rumbles and I make the decision to leave this cell in search of food.
“We’ll see if she truly plans to serve me,” I murmur as I stand.
I move out of the cell and stand tall as I make it into the corridor. I look left and right. Wind blows through the deserted space. I turn in the direction I saw all the rest of them go.
Bach said I could go anywhere in the castle except for the West wing. My curiosity burns to know what’s there. Could it be an answer to how I shorten my time here?
I turn to look at the wall as the surface ripples. I stop and a mirror appears before me. My reflection gives way to the image of a hooded figure playing a cello. I tilt my head to the side as I study the image.
There isn’t sound, but the movements reflect passion. The player seems to be lost in the music. Suddenly, beautiful music fills the corridor I stand in. It’s soul stirring. I’ve heard this melody before.
However, this player brings a new sorrow to the sound. It’s breathtaking and heartbreaking at once. It tells a story with each note.
It’s her. A tail peeks from the cloak she wears, swinging in time to the music. She’s an accomplished player. As if a gift granted to her by the gods.
Lost in the music, something catches my eye in the image before me. A rose of fire encased in a glass dome. As I turn my attention to the rose, it comes into clearer view. It burns bright and strong. A petal falls and the player stops its motion.
I turn back to the cellist. Her shoulders sag. I reach to touch the mirror with my fingertips and the surface ripples.
Before I grasp what’s happening, I’m sucked into the mirror and standing in the room I had been watching. It’s much larger in person.