A Tale of Shadows - THE OUTDATED VERSION

Chapter 18 - Facing the Past

After the deed had been done, Melinda allowed herself to halt pondering about what could occur in the future for several hours, walking around the palace and admiring the view. She always found a new detail in its architecture that she could study and be impressed by, as if there wasn't enough of them already. From the stained glass windows to the portraits of former Obscurian rulers in golden frames with edges carved into shapes that resembled flowers and leaves, there was nothing about the design of the building that dissatisfied her, which made her appreciate the glimpses of beauty hidden within the piles of ugliness the universe had to offer a lot more than only a few months beforehand, when she never could have imagined that she would become a resident of that enchanting place. The sun kept shining through the curtains from the outside as well, adorning the flowers and trees and the grass, bringing warmth to her icy soul, and she could not remove the smile from her face. Everything seemed magnificent until she remembered another crucial thing that inconvenienced her.

To start her reformations concerning the Xarian language, she first had to go to Patrick's house and retrieve the dictionary. Although the house wasn't far away, she wondered how she would go there, to the location where the worst memories of her life were at. Her heart beat with alarming intensity, reminding her of the times when she could have and should have been more courageous, making her ask herself what she could have prevented if she had been more careful. She knew that it would have been near impossible for her to achieve in those circumstances and that she needed to keep her mind calm if she were to delve deeper into the secrets of the unknown powers she was dabbling with and persevere her reputation as well, but there were some things she could not do. However, despite her paranoia and her shame, she still managed to remind herself that it was her right to act as she had started acting recently, for she had received it after everything that she had gone through when she ascended to the throne.

As her dread commenced turning into tedium, she took a carriage, and while she was getting into the carriage, she stared at the clouds, trying to determine what shape they were while the carriage driver was calling her name. She did not turn in his direction until a few seconds later, when he nudged her.

"Your Majesty, you haven't given me the slightest clue as to what is going on," he remarked, his words barely audible.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Gilbert, please do not talk to me like that. It is merely a matter of business. When I get into the carriage, I am going to tell you where to drive me to. That is all."

Gilbert nodded, staring at the ground. "I apologize most earnestly, my Queen, but I haven't seen you act like this before."

"I am in a hurry. Forgive me for such impolite behaviour."

"Your behaviour bore no impoliteness whatsoever," he noted before remembering something. "Madam, may I ask you a question?"

"And what could that question be?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Why do you need the carriage? An individual with power such as yours would never waste the opportunity to transport themselves to the wanted destination with magic."

Her mouth remained closed for a while as she was thinking of what answer to give him. The moment she noticed he had been observing her with anticipation for too long, she settled for the simplest and most convenient answer, which was so: "The secrets of my powers consist of facts you could never comprehend."

After he nodded once more, both of them got into the carriage. Not long after, he asked another question.

"Where must I drive you to, my lady?"

"To Patrick Hemingway's house," she responded, her voice lifeless.

All the colour in his face had been drained by that small number of words. His eyes widened, his teeth rattled, and his whole body was shuddering. It looked as though he had been left in a frozen wasteland with that shirt and pants of his, yearning for nothing more than to return to warmth, which was to be expected. Out of his brown eyes, a tear threatened to come, yet he could not cry. Instead, he turned away, grabbing a whip from his pocket.