Page 94 of Scars and Burns

But hers.

Hers is unlike anything I have ever seen. Recalling her white flame and the blue and purple colors that spiraled within it. The sparks of starlight that shot out.

“Oh?” Queen Ayla’s voice must have gone up a complete octave in shock.

I wonder who all knows of her magical abilities. It is known that she has magic but to what extent is unclear for all, not just myself. I’m curious if King Elio is aware of her complete Goddess mark.

“I was not aware you had magic Dinalia.”Queen Ayla continues.

Well that answers my first question.

“When did it first appear?”

I watch her glance around the table. Weary of discussing her magic.

As she should be.

“Shortly after we arrived here in the Middle Kingdom.”

“And your Mother taught you?” King Charon asks.

“Yes, she helped me develop it over the years.”

“And after she died did your magic stall?”

She shakes her head, to answer, “No, I further developed my magic the best I could on my own. While assisting Saphrina to the best of my abilities.”

“That’s enough talk of magic.” King Elio cuts in. His voice booming and harsh.

So, he either does know of Dinalia’s abilities and is wanting to keep it a secret. Though that does not confirm that he knows she has a complete Goddess mark. Or he does not want to expose Saphrina as being the lesser of the two.

“Saphrina, shouldn’t you and Dinalia be getting to the modiste. I’m sure it will take time to discuss and fashion all the gowns Dinalia will need for your upcoming wedding celebrations.”

“Uh, yes of course. Excuse us.” Saphrina says.

They both stand and bow to the group. I watch them leave.

More so Dinalia.

Then I return my attention to the table. I look over at King Elio. Who is glaring at me. As if he is ready to kill me right here and now.

42

Aeron

I’m standing on the balcony of my chambers. Looking out towards the forest. Holding the journals Queen Freya gave me.

My Chambers are in the same wing as Dinalia’s. The temptation to go to her last night was unbearable. She’s right next door.

I lied there last night. Staring at the ceiling. Wondering if she was wearing the same loose tunic. Does she sleep with her mouth open? Would I be able to hear her shallow breathing? Is there a little snore when she reaches a deep sleep? Does she stir or move around? What would it feel like to lay beside her? Wrap my arms around her toned body and melt into her all night long.

I turn my attention to the journals. Still not having read the one from my Mother. I must have held it a million times. Just staring at it in my hands but not able to bring myself to open it past the first page.

The first page wrote.

To Aeron, my little light, life is not all that it seems. This life is not yours alone but shared with another. Life will be your peace.

Written in my Mother’s hand. Confirming the journal is from her. I didn’t know what to make of that opening phrase. This life notbeing my own implies so much. My Father has taken my life into his own hands. Making me into whatever he wants. Doing his bidding. Manipulating and torturing me to his will. And my life has been anything but peaceful. Since before I can remember, my life has been filled with death and chaos. These words puzzled me and they have ever since I first read them. I’m not sure if I am ready to know what else she had to say.

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