Winged

Chapter Twenty-Two

Annabelle

The magic-hurting metal throbs painfully, etching a headache around the base of my scalp. But the small pain doesn't matter, not really. How could I honestly care, when standing in front of me, are the things that truly matter to me most, my sisters?

Their unknowing and absence of care hurts, as if stabbing me in the abdomen, but I'm quick to remind myself of the unusual skin I wear and stride deeper into the Mangere of other abnormal creatures, towards the pair I understand so well, slow to not attract immediate attention.

Not that it would matter, as they all believe I'm a noble or lesser princess, no doubt to the humongous, magic-hurting 'yumnalt' poles sitting at the entrance that I tried to walk through, and ended up squealing at, louder even than Rhem had at the Gaylen. One of the men watching the entryway had then pulled me aside and, asked about my nobility, because their poles were magic resilient, and then lead me through a back door, secret and unguarded by their yumnalt.

So, there it was. The unknown, young lady Arabeth, who's grandmother happened to be the third cousin of the king, was visiting the continents under her distant relative's rule. It was shaky at best, but I needn't be here for long, and the fact my magic had repelled me against this place made me even more curious to see it.

I stumble, covering it up with a small skip as I adjust my long, drab skirt. Of course, someone of my supposed status would never be caught dead in these clothes, but the attention, at least, isn't bad. Confusion, jealousy, and disgust are pointed bluntly at my garbs, the rebuke assisting the speed of my even strides through the crowd faster than any lady should stroll. It's not as bad as their stares seem to berate, really. Comfortable. Warm. Practical.

Even steps. Steady. Chin up, corners of my mouth upturned, shoulders back. Hands swinging in the same steady beat of my legs. Breathe steadily- who knows what some of these creatures can hear! My heart, pulsing with adrenaline? My forcibly even breaths, pressed harshly through my lips? I push on, keeping my image of a noblewoman solid in my mind, deeper into the room. I copy the movements I imagine, locking the faces of my sisters into my mind, so I may never forget what they look like again. I find each spot they stand. One, two, three, four.

Four people to see, to explain to, to bust out with.

A plan had already begun to form in my mind. I could get in and out easily- infinite cracks and crevices- that was for sure, but getting the others out would be a sure problem. They couldn't shift.

Their inability to shift had only truly come to my mind about hours ago. I had grown so used to my own constant changing and adapting that it now seems to be normal, just a part of my everyday routine and livelihood, despite the small amount of time. It's as if a thick wall of glass separated the before and after of that moment on the ship when my hair changed its hue- when the glass would have been forged. It was there that I felt the separation of time. Strangely, it was not when we were kidnapped. Not when Xavier died. Not when Ethan shifted, in his own way, to his second persona. No.

In an enclosed corner with all but one of its four walls, stands two of my four targets; Rin and Luce, surrounded by walls of water casting shifting patterns on the floor. Closer to the entrance, the twins regard everyone watchfully, Harriet with one eye casually observing me, Jackie with one trained on Lucy. They work best side by side, watching each other's' back. And the rest of the families.

Like Xavier and I, just that we always messed up, or ended up on the ground laughing ourselves to pieces when we tried to work together. Don't get me wrong- it was fun. But we had always been more productive separate. The girls always knew what the other needed, they could always co-operate, and only ever fought against other people. Together.