Something With a Prince

Chapter Thirty-one: The Vacant Plea

Tallethea

    It wasn't a very big room, but it held my air of hopelessness like it was made for it. There seemed to be a mutual understanding between my rational and irrational sides that this was not a regular abandoned church. There were multiple rooms, hallways, stairs that led nowhere, and mirrors that took you to the basement. This cathedral was an ancient labyrinth, with its twisted architecture, rotted floor boards, and broken windows. However, this room was different. There was no dust, or bad smells. Bugs didn't crawl on the floor, and it actually had the impression of privacy; this was no doubt an illusion to bewitch the eye into thinking I've landed somewhere safe. The cuts on my hands and sides were a stark reminder that safety was not on the table here. In fact, not logic or even reality itself felt as if it were on the table. And yet, I kept telling myself that it was just a room in a church that happened to be in the woods...and Lansing and I must have broken our necks and died in the forest and woke up in the same circle of hell to live our lives forever on in this place as playthings to an all-powerful witch.

Like I said. Logic wasn't here.

    I made them take Lansing from the throne room first, getting him out from under Saorla's gleaming incisors as soon as possible, then walked with them down confusing pathways into this little back room where they promptly bolted the door. The quiet seemed to eat away at my nerves along with every other thought scraping away at my brain.

    What did she know about my father? How did she even know who I was, or at least, that I would be here? What did she mean by having Lansing deliver me to her? I saw his face, and he was nowhere near understanding what she was saying. Why did he jump in front of me? What does any of this mean?

    The thought of all of this being planned out, predicted by her and played into her palm, roiled in my stomach like bad food. I pressed my hand to my gut, pretending that it would help soothe the sick that was turning there. Knowing I had to be calm and collected and actually being calm and collected were two very different things. So, forcing my eyes closed, I moved my hand to my diaphragm where Lansing had told me to breath on the horse and drew in slow, deep breaths. Then exhaled them the same way. It didn't do much, but it soothed the instinct to vomit every time I moved.

    Taking a seat under the window, I put my head between my knees, still breathing in concentrated breaths. I knew better than to think I was alone, and even if I was, I wouldn't leave without Lansing. Which, she must have known because we were taken in opposite directions. The way he looked over his shoulder at me telling me everything I needed to know. We'll be okay.

    So I had to play some sick little game to get us out of here. How hard could it be? It's not like she is a magical witch who makes glass float with her mind, could tear my lungs out through my throat by batting her eyelashes, and laughs as spiders gurgle in her throat... Piece of cake.

    My head sunk lower in my knees at the bleakness of my reality. What would happen if I couldn't get us out of here? If I couldn't get Lansing to the summer palace in time? The overwhelming number of things that could be happening in Tuisedor right now without me was enough to drive my hope into the ground. Arlyn, facing Dominic's forces alone with Cassida prowling around looking for Lansing...it was such a mess. A mess I should be there to help with, not sitting here, wasting sunlight for the millionth time.

    I'd hardly call being held against your will wasting time. My brain recuperated enough to address my endless stream of mental dread.

    Pulling my head from my knees, I turned and looked out the window to an expansive forest. Who the hell knows where we could be, how far the castle was, how far from civilization? I didn't even know if I could trust my eyes to tell me I was in the forest. It could just be another vision the witch cooked up in her mind-game-cauldron. My mouth went bitter, and I slid my fingers under the window, trying to pull up. Nothing. I then tried to send both elbows, feet, and shoulders through the pane. All I got was bruised.