Page 168 of Hidden Kingdoms

I spent the hours after bored out of my mind, and for a good chunk of time, I stood at the tall,yet locked, doors that led to the balcony, letting the scenery sweep me away. It was easy to get lost in the motions of the vast expanse of trees that stretchedahead. The rocky slopes of the volcano with its constant plumes of smoke created its own artwork against the pale sky.

But it wasn’t enough, I needed more. To do something, make something.

I wasn’t even sure I knew how long I had been here now, the longing to be around things of my own growing within me every day. I was itching to create, to get my hands back on my tools and use the power that flowed within me. Gods, I’d even be happy with clothes that had come from my own wardrobe.

Being surrounded by not a single item you owned was disconcerting. I’d even lost the little collection of things I’d hidden away when my first room was destroyed.

Now all I had that didn’t belong to the palace was the gold that I kept on at all times, and a book which had been left for me that first day. The copy of the one I had lost.

I left the view, the smoking mountain and verdant carpet of trees. The heat from the floor soaking into my bare feet as I let them carry me back to my room, and the drawer I had hidden it in.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I held the book cradled in my hands as my eyes traced over the stamped letters. I turned it over, taking in the used edges and creased spine that showed how well loved it had been before it arrived on my table.

The binding creaked gently as I opened it to the page I had looked at the most, the hand-written inscription of parental love, the scribbles of a young child.

My fingers ghosted over the message, hoping to pull those feelings from the paper and wishing I had had a piece of my parents to hold onto like this.

Slowly, I flipped through the book, hoping to see a glimpse of another drawing, more notes. Midway through, as the paper slipped past my thumb, something thicker than the aged pages fell from inside, fluttering to the ground at my feet.

The rectangular card lay sidewards, neither up nor down, and I stared at yet another tarot card from my deck that as far as I was aware, was back in my drawer at home.

Laying directly across my path, with its shining silver sword clenched in a tight fist and a glittering crown adorning its pointed tip, was the ace of swords.

Facing upwards, it would have signified a breakthrough, some sort of clarity of mind which would be wholly fucking welcome right now. Facing down, confusion and chaos. Impending brutality.

And yet, it was neither.

Or was it both?

Seemed a little pointless to show up if it was neither.

On instinct, my head whipped around the room despite knowing I was very much alone. How long had it been in the book? It was reasonable to think I’d missed it the last time I’d picked it up, but there was also a real chance it had been put there for this exact moment.

Though its portent was a little wasted considering its current placement.

Had that itself been intentional?

And who was even doing this?

With confusion reigning prevalent, I had to hope that going forward it wouldn’t continue, and the path would become clear.

A sharp knock interrupted my thoughts, and I walked away from the undecided omen on the floor, leaving the book on the dining table as I passed it. The knock sounded again, an impatient rap at the extra few seconds it had taken me to cross my room, and I pulled the door open—unsurprised—to find my least favourite of the palace's occupants standing in the doorway. A lingering ripple of anger travelled through me, but I schooled my face into indifference as I flicked my eyes over him,every curl neatly in place. His large being taking up too much space.

“Let’s go,” Bastian said by way of greeting.

Well, hello to you, too, asshole.

“No, thank you,” I shot back, knowing it wasn’t a game I should play, but I was going to anyway. A little thrill going through me as his jaw clenched. It soon smoothed into the calm, collected mask of a prince.

A mask I delighted in removing.

I went to slam the door in his face, but he moved quicker, his foot pushing forward to halt its closure. We both knew there was no chance I could physically move him without using magik, and while I could feel it rearing its head at the seed of anger that was growing within me, it offered nothing.

“Move your foot, you absolute psycho.” I all but growled; the last thing I wanted was to go anywhere with him.

“I thought you wanted to remove that convenient block on your mind,” he said, eyes as hard as emeralds yet otherwise ignoring the well-deserved insult, much to my annoyance.

He had a point.

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