Lizzie of the North (Yrsoreth Chronicles 2)

60◦❀◦The Paper Storm

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Vague dreams of a crying girl with a red book on a cliff and a raging storm has been a constant fixture in her night throughout the years. There were moments of emptiness as she wake at night, sometimes peace, and sometimes curiosity. 

Who are you? Why do you cry? Who do you cry for?

She had no attempt to ask these questions. Lizzie resigned that the fate of girl in her dreams was not for her to change, or it might be something irreversible. She was simply a spectator through dreams and nothing more.

 someone else's life and now in a world with magic, Lizzie, for the life of her, had no superpowers. She was confident in her archery skills and some convincing capabilities with negotiations, then nothing else.

Another cosmic mystery was Red, the missing Red, who seemed to know the supposed-to-be story of her life would unfold. 

She was surrounded with forces unexplainable, but Lizzie lacked such. Yet at that moment, it was as if she gained a drop of cosmic omnipotence. 

Her senses were magnified a hundred folds. The intricate curvy carving of the wooden table coated in lacquer was magnified in her eyes she read the names of her ancestors, too small to easily miss. She could also hear the rustle of her clothes in the slight shifting of discomfort as if her bottom was on fire. And the silence, oh gods, the silence was especially loud. Her skin tingled by the gaze of her father throughout their minutes of silence.

She's aware, but she's reminded how her father has the greatest skill of making everyone feel so small and uneasy.

Also, she never knew awkwardness could make one's senses powerful until today.

"Feliziia."

It was such a powerful one-liner that she rigidly sat straight and squeaked a "Yes my dear Papa?"

"My face is right here."

Like a broken mechanical doll, she lifted her eyes to Devanti sitting across her. A minute passed, and another, but he never said a word, just stared at her with an unreadable expression. "Do you want me to leave?"

"By 'leave,' this room or Nordis?"

"This room of course. Why would I leave—" The youngest Norvillon clamped her mouth. She did leave the kingdom once. "I know you're still mad at me—"

"—Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because I ran away to Gran Dacchia."

"And?"

"Got everyone worried."

"What else?"

"I kept secrets from you."

"Go on."

"Running away with... a boy?"

"Yes?"

Her mind searched for more answers. "...For helping him run away from an obsessed admirer by shooting arrows on that woman's dress?"

He did not say another word, but his darkened expression coaxed Lizzie to continue.

"...For going to a gambling house..."

"...also talking to the emperor."

"...then having a scandal with the prince."

"...and kiss—dancing with... people."

She has said it all. She's done it now. Lizzie gulped, a big one, that got stuck in her throat and choked her from within.

He must have known everything by now through Erdan's web of connections and intel. If looks could kill, the princess would have been dead, cremated and her ashes thrown to the wind.