Page 15 of The Princess and the Demon

I reach my hand into my pocket, fingering the folded piece of parchment there. The demon’s sigil lies at my fingertips.

The design is intricate, but it seems easy enough to draw.

Granuail and I head towards the gardens, and I raise my face to the sun as soon as we step outside.

The air is brisk, but the sun warms my skin, and I groan gratefully.

Others meander throughout the gardens slowly; some arm in arm. Mumbling conversation travels across the gentle breeze.

I kick off my shoes, reaching down to pick them up before wiggling my toes in the grass. The aches from sitting far too long seep away, and I turn to take Granuail’s arm once again.

“It’s so nice today.” I say, looking up at the scattered clouds.

Granuail hums her agreement, pointing to a bench near the fountain at the middle of the garden. “Sit me there, child.”

I walk her to the bench and help her into a seated position.

She groans and settles, waving her hand at me. “You go on ahead. I’m going to sit here for a while.”

I giggle, shaking my head.

Turning, I walk towards the other side of the courtyard, nodding at people as I pass.

Goosebumps raise along my skin as I run my bare feet along the grass. I sit, spreading my skirts around me before laying back against the gentle slope of the ground.

The sun felt so warm, and I yawn.

My mind begins to wander as I watch the clouds move slowly by.

If I can sneak away from Granuail long enough to grab what I need, I can be gone long before anyone knows I’m missing.

I knew I would have to make my way to the crossroads tonight, based on the moon.

Tomorrow will be too late.

Elora

“Hey sleepy head.”

A voice startles me awake, and I jump, my heart thudding in my chest.

My eyes pop open, and I shield my eyes from the sun to see someone standing over me.

Olam moves to block the sun so I can see his face, and I drop my arm, sighing.

He sits next to me, stretching one leg out in front of him and pulling the other up against his chest. Reaching down, he pulls a few blades of grass from the ground, fiddling with them.

The quiet lingers between us for a few moments.

“How are you?” I ask.

I know it’s an empty question.

I know how he is.

Olam shrugs, looking off into the distance.

“Ziterra is inconsolable.” The words come out low, his shoulders slumping. His head falls between them for a moment before he glances up at me.

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