Chapter 4
The vibrant red of the velvet curtains match my hair. I don't even bother walking in the shadows anymore. I learned long ago that the extra effort was in vain. No one was ever out after hours, and the guards didn't even bother to do their rounds in the servant's hall anymore. That of course also had its disadvantages. I roll my eyes hard.
Gee, lucky me. A would-be victim in a rebel attack.
I round a corner and go up a set of spiral steps. Ivy has made tiny cracks in the stone and wrapped itself around the columns. The violins have long since ceased.
My mind wanders.
I mean, of course it would be her, why wouldn't it be? with her as queen the Eraklyon bloodline would practically be secured as one of the most powerful, both politically and magically. It most definitely would never be me.
I sigh, and carefully take off my necklace, a blue ribbon tied around a small gold medallion. The only thing that was not given to me here at the palace. The detailed metal feels cool to the touch, a contrast to my usually hot skin which can reach up to temperatures that would be too high to bear if I was a Normal.
If it wasn't for the moonlight softly lighting the area with its peaceful aura, the place would have been completely dark.
I close my eyes and try to picture happy things since it helps with concentration. The scenarios ranged from large fields of flowers, to cranberry scones, to a specific pair of blue eyes that could make even the most coldhearted shed some of their ice. Eye contact, the most frightening yet absolutely most wonderful thing ever created.
Depending on the person, that is.
I fill my lungs with air and exhale all the sadness, pain, and stress. And there. It's happening. My feet no longer feel the cold floor and I am as light as a feather. I can't help but giggle at the delight that comes with floating and the ecstasy that comes with imagining golden hair, a strong jaw and the exuberant grin that adorns it.
The hall echoes my childlike laughter. I can feel my back pressing into the ceiling and my smile widens even more.
There is no one to look at me as inferior, no one to hide the most important part of me from. The one that is proof that I –or at least my ancestors- used to be someone. That maybe, just maybe, there is a tremendously good reason as to why I don't even know my real last name or where I was born. It is a nice feeling.
I forget about everything.
...that is, until I hear someone clear their throat. Which is impossible. Until I hear it again, even louder this time, obviously trying to catch my attention.
What?!
I open my eyes and my body turns stiff as I am met with another pair that watch me from below.
I look like – No, am- a deer caught in headlights. Really big and blue headlights.
A loud gasp escapes my lips. My medallion falls from my hands making bell like sounds as it hits the marvel floor.
I had never noticed how high palace ceilings actually were until now, but one thing is for sure, I would not make a sweet sound when I hit the ground.
My long hair is no longer sprawled around the ceiling. Gravity has taken its hold on me and pulls on me like an anchor. Reality hits.
I'M FALLING!
I let out a scream and I flail my arms trying to grab at nothing. "DON'TWORRY!" A deep voice hurriedly and anxiously calls out. A slur of words that I can barely make out.
"I GOT..." I hear a grunt as strong arms catch me
"you..."
I look up at him. Grateful for him having caught me, and mortified for having been caught. Sudden jolts of electricity pass from where his hands hold me tightly to him. I notice that his breath catches.
Anyone would have wished for the honor of having been saved by the prince. My body is still trembling from the adrenaline. His blonde hair (too impossibly blonde) reflects the moonlight.
I stare at him drinking in the small details of his face. The dimples, the freckle on his lower lip, his long, dark eyelashes, then his gaze, which I notice, was also studying me.
My body temperature rises well above normal.
His deep voice rattles me out of my trance and makes my heart skip a beat or two.
"Loss of focus," he says. "Floating spells are always the trickiest"
