She's Getting By

Chapter Two

Keeley stared outside her window. Today was the day she left, and it was quite possible she would never return. But, life continued in the palace, as if there was no disturbance, as if the only princess, and one of the most talented magicians was not facing an inevitable death.

Sometimes, she loved her gift. She loved the fact that she could read other people's emotions, understand their thoughts, feed off of their energy. She felt in control when she exercised her abilities. She felt powerful.

But other times, her gift was a burden. What she wouldn't give to spend one day as Arran, to receive her father's praise without her gift, to know that who she was ignited his pride, rather than the abilities she had.

She watched her twin brother spar in the fields beneath her window, envy flaring in her green eyes. Maids watched from a far, in awe of his roguish features. They batted their eyes at Arran, but he did not respond to their forward actions.

This was what she hated most about her brother: he was a genuine, kind person. He cared about others, never broke the rules, did nothing to deserve her envy. He lived in blissful ignorance and naivety. He would never feel the burden of envy or pain. He was, after all, the golden child.

In a sudden impulsive action, Keeley found herself rushing down the stairs and to the field where her brother was training. While she had trained on the grounds many times before, she felt out of place standing in Arran's glory, blocking the views of his plethora of admirers.

"Keeley," her brother noticed her, his brown eyes squinting, crow's feet forming at the corners as he shot her a bright smile.

"Arran." She replied, nodding at him as she glanced warily around at the servants and knights that watched the pair.

"Spar with me," he smiled, tossing her a wooden sword, which she caught in a fluid motion, but the wood still scraped at her palms, the weight straining her shoulders. Despite her many years of practice, to Keeley, holding a sword never felt as natural as her bow. There was another difference between Keeley and her brother.

As the two began to spar, they quickly fell into a monotonous pattern. The dull thud of their practice swords clashing, combined with the pungent stench of sweat under the noon sun left Keeley weary. Arran noticed her growing fatigue, using this to his advantage by tripping her and pressing the blunt end of his sword to her chest as she fell into the dewy grass.

Keeley growled as her brother laughed at her, offering his hand for her to stand. Refusing, she began to rise alone, only to be knocked back to the ground with the blunt end of the practice sword.

"What?" She snarled, sighing as her brother once more offered his hand. Always the gentleman. Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

She stiffened as he pressed a small leather pouch into her palm, his eyes flaring in warning. Gingerly, her fingers curled around the package, and she tied it to the belt underneath her skirt.

"Grind the leaves." He murmured, "put it in your tea, once in the morning and once in the evening. They won't be able to sense the difference. They won't be able to tell you're Mystic."

Keeley eyed her brother. While Arran had never been particularly unfriendly to her, the two had a distant relationship. She doubted Arran would miss her, or even care that she was gone. So, it surprised her when he pulled strings to supply her with the expensive leaves of the rare Tarbor tree.

"Good luck." He murmured, before turning back to the sack of dried corn behind him, whacking the heavy sack with his practice sword, and looking incredibly ridiculous and ultimately handsome at the same time.

"Keeley, darling!" Her mother's cutting voice beckoned, and Keeley quickly left the field. Keeley's mother was controlling, judgmental, and disapproving of her daughter. Still, she was her mother, and Keeley loved her mother with all of her heart.

"It is time to leave...your things are packed...Goodness, are you going to go smelling like that?" Her mother wrinkled her nose at Keeley's attire and poked and prodded her with her fan, nudging her towards the stables, where her horse was mounted.

While her father did not wish her goodbye, she could feel his penetrating gaze on her shoulder. As she mounted her horse, her heart cried out in agony and fear. But she did not look back. The queen watched her daughter ride away, becoming smaller and smaller, until the queen blinked, and Keeley was gone.