The Beauty of Mist, the Beast of Dawn {INDEFINITE HOLD}

Part 1: Preparations

We watch the squabbling children down below, I with a smile on my face, she with with her usual indifference.

"She's a force of nature, for sure," I comment wryly. "She's just like you."

"Yes she is." The corner of her lips tugs down slightly. "Unfortunately."

I frown at her.  "The fire in you is good. It is why we are friends, is it not?"

"Yes," she says, "but I am going to tell the boy that she is gentle, kind, considerate, and most of all, good. She is none of those things!"

"She is very good," I argue. "And considerate as well. She is standing up for the Blackwell brothers, even though she does not like them. Rightly so, I must say. Those twins are nothing but trouble."

"I suppose..." I can tell she still doubts my words. "Do you think he can teach her? Do you think he can make her all those things before she is eighteen?"

"I am certain James will school everything bad out of her by the time she is ten," I say firmly.

"I hope so," Her evident uncertainty lingers in the words. 

"You ought to have more faith in him. We knew him for so long."

"Yes, I ought to. It is just that..." she trails off. I wait patiently for her to complete the thought, but she does not. Instead, her lips tug up a little when she adds, "It would be a shame if he is the reason my accuracy streak breaks."

I laugh, a melodic sound even to me. Like bells or chimes. At least, that is what I have been told. "I am sure your prophecy will come true just like the rest. Besides, you were given it directly from Destiny herself."

"The stars, remember. I only answer to the stars."

My grin widens, an immediate reaction, my mind aware of the opening to our comfortable banter. "Of course, 'Oh High and Mighty Celestial One.'"

Her mouth twitches. "Thank you, 'Your Supreme Excellency,' but I am afraid you must have heard me wrong, for I am not a star."

"And you are just as mistaken. Much as I prefer 'Supreme Excellency,' I am a princess, actually. What about you? What would you rather I call you? 'High and Mighty Prophet of the Celestial Ones'?"

"Witchling is fine, Princess." She flips up the black hood of her cloak dramatically for emphasis.

I stifle a giggle, still grinning, before I ask, "Are you ready for our next adventure, Witchling?"

"No, never," she responds automatically. A genuine smile creeps up her face as the words leave her lips. Our sacred words from childhood.

"Well, I am ready whenever you are."

"Spoken like a true princess. Unfortunately for you, Princess, you'll have to wait for all of eternity." Even as she says it, she's grinning up at me, her eyes full of mischief, her hand outstretched.

I match her grin and take it. "Let's go."