thunderstruck | book #2 | discontinued

X I I I

Annika thought that she had avoided being noticed leaving the house when she found no sign of her father in any of the rooms and corridors, and she began to relax—that was, until she was halfway down the garden path leading away from the Principle's residence and she saw a familiar shock of white hair approaching from behind the hedges.

She took a deep breath, knowing she had but a few moments until she was seen. You are fine, she told herself. You are doing nothing wrong—well, not much, if one is to compare it to the other instances I have done wrong.

"Annika," the Principle said in surprise as he emerged from behind the greenery. His hands were clutched behind his back as though he had been deep in thought. Now, his glazed grey eyes iced over and Annika knew it would not be easy to convince him to let her leave the house. "Where, might I ask, do you think you are going? I thought I had made it quite clear you are not to leave the house until all has calmed down in Astracia."

Annika looked up at her father from beneath her long lashes, her golden eyes glittering in the afternoon sun. They were still flecked with back, and she saw August flinch ever so slightly upon noticing. "I understand, father, but I have been cooped up for days. I simply wanted to take a walk in the forest. You needn't worry—I will be alone."

"And am I to trust you after all you have done?"

She could not look at him, so she looked beyond him to where the red and gold leaves shone like flickering fires, and thought she saw a black silhouette passing through the darkest parts of the woods. Her heart fluttered with a sudden fear of being caught.

"No, probably not," she responded finally, sighing. "But you cannot shield me from the world forever. I hate who I am and what I have done, and I never wish to return to dark magic, not now, not after I have seen the consequences of it. I was naïve before. Now I know better. I promise you, father, that I just need some fresh air. I will be back within the hour."

August pursed his lips, his eyes darting between Annika and the house, contemplating, no doubt, what choice to make. "I cannot trust you as easily as I once did."

"And I do not expect you to, but I cannot find redemption if I am sat inside all day remembering the blackness that still stains me. If you wish for me to become the witch I once was again, you must let me try. This is me trying." Her voice was filled with desperation, and for a moment she forgot that she was supposed to be meeting Ackmard. All she could think about was how the humid air touched her cheeks, making them rosy and warm, and how much she had missed such a feeling. It had been so long since she had felt anything but hatred and jealousy, and it felt a relief to appreciate the world for what it was again.

"Very well." August's hands fell to his sides awkwardly. It never had been difficult for Annika to convince him of anything—he still saw her as the little girl she once was. "But you will be half an hour, not an hour. That is plenty of time."

A small smile graced Annika's lips, and she reached out for her father's hand, the pad of her thumb stroking his wrinkled skin. "Thank you, father. I promise that you can trust me."

He pulled his hand a way, a flash of something wavering in his eyes—disgust? Fear? It was gone before Annika could decipher it, but still her chest ached again with guilt and shame, and she took a step back from the Principle.

"Do not make me regret it," he said gravely. "I am ignoring my own values as a leader in order to protect you that the Council will not have you punished. I am risking everything that we have here, for I will lose my position as Principle if you are found out. Do not make me risk anymore. And do not think that I will not put you in the cells if I am to find out you are still tethered to the darkness. Am I clear?"