The Hidden Princess

Chapter Four

"I was sent to assassinate the princess."

Liora turned to face Rowen fully, her eyes narrowing as she saw the utter bewilderment etched across his face. They locked gazes, both of them frowning deeply. This was the one boundary she had promised herself she would never cross-revealing the extent of her powers to anyone. Yet here she was, defying that rule.

"The plants... that's me," she repeated, her voice firmer this time. With a deliberate motion, closing her eyes and waving her hand, and the greenery that had sprung up around them began to retreat. Tendrils and leaves sunk back into the floor, fading away until the room was stripped of the botanical intrusions. Rowen watched in stunned silence as the last remnants of the foliage vanished, his eyes wide with amazement.

"Your... how?" Rowen stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze darting between Liora and the now bare floor. He looked back at her, his expression a mix of awe and confusion.

Liora, her dress rustling softly around her as she moved, took a moment to brush off a few specks of dirt that had collected on the hem. Her movements were graceful but tinged with a hint of nervousness. She made her way to the window, her eyes settling on the scene outside-the garden where workers were laboring to cleanse the spot where Owen's blood had stained the earth.

She stared out at the garden, her gaze distant, and a heavy silence settled between them. Rowen, his curiosity piqued but tempered with caution, followed her to the window. He stood a respectful distance away, his body tense. While one might have thought his fear was directed at her or the revelation she had just made, in truth, Rowen was more concerned about saying something that might upset her further.

"I was born this way," Liora finally said, her voice soft and tinged with a weariness that belied her youthful appearance. She shook her head, her fingers absently tracing the delicate patterns on her dress. "I still don't fully understand it."

Rowen's gaze shifted to her hands, which were now resting gently by her sides. He examined them closely, as though seeking answers in their graceful movements. The silence between them was thick with unspoken questions and the weight of Liora's revelation.

After a long, stunned silence, Rowen finally broke the quiet with a question that had clearly been weighing on him. "You're not actually staying inside just because of your studies, are you?"

Liora's response was a slow shake of her head. She moved over to a small table by the window and picked up a pair of gloves, their dark fabric contrasting sharply with her pale skin. As she carefully pulled them on, her movements were precise and deliberate, a subtle attempt to mask her unease. Rowen observed her closely, a frown tugging at his lips. He felt an impulse to reach out, to pull the gloves off and demand she demonstrate more of her powers, to reveal the extent of her abilities. Yet, he restrained himself, recognizing that pushing her might only cause her more distress.

"No," Liora said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken struggles. The word "powers" seemed to hang in the air, as if it was something forbidden, a term she had been taught to avoid. Her parents had made it clear that discussing her abilities was dangerous, and the very act of saying the word felt like a rebellion. "My... powers," she continued, her voice faltering slightly, "my parents, they don't trust them. Or maybe, they don't trust the people out there."

Rowen nodded, trying to piece together her explanation. "I can see that," he said thoughtfully. "I'm sure not everyone out there would be thrilled about a princess with magic." His attempt at empathy was genuine, though his own frustration was evident. Rowen's training had left him feeling confined, his world restricted to endless practice with his sword and little else. He could only imagine the complexities of Liora's situation, where her very identity and abilities were sources of both power and isolation.