So I got art from a friend, and it is gorgeous. I mean, I really love it.

Enough to dedicate this entire chapter to her, and to give everyone the link, because I seriously think that this art is amazing, and I squeal childishly every time I see it. Somewhat pathetic, but hey. Sue me.

Or... not. Because this site hates my links. *glare* I'll attempt to post it in the comments, but if all else fails you'll just have to take my word for this one...

"Again."

I hated that word. How many times had a heard it now? A thousand or more. For the past few hours, I had been twirling about this freaking plant, trying to get it to grow.

"This is elementary magic," Mama Thistle keeps reminding me. "Find your magic, channel it in your dance, and focus it on the plant." The woman had shown me a series of movements – all quite bland if you asked me – and told me to perform them whilst thinking of all of those things. Really, I wasn't too thrilled about the activity to begin with. But I went along with things in a vain attempt to prove how useless I actually was.

That hadn't happened yet, and I was getting tired of it. The movements were pointless now, and it became more futile with every attempt. I had learned a few things about Thistle. I had learned that as she got more annoyed, her Russian accent became thicker, and sometimes she lapsed into the native language. It was really wild, and I had to wonder what it was she was saying. Despite how peeved I was, it was amusing to listen to her mutter in Russian.

This hell had started with a lecture – of all the things it could have been. I believe that began with the reasoning behind the 'magical outlet'. Some people could just read a few words, and poof! Magic. Others expressed it through potions or through pentacles. Many, though, could not channel magic through such conventional means. They expressed it through a skill or a talent. Apparently this applied to Warren – he expressed magic through his inventions. Supposedly, I was supposed to do this through my dance… So far this had been a complete failure.

The second half of the lecture had been about how – in order to get the basics of magic – one had to master the four elements. I'll admit, I started to get distracted here. She said something about how mastering the elements was a way of telling your magic who's boss. 'Assertion of dominance' was the exact words. Then she might have said something about mastering things in order of earth, water, wind, fire. I couldn't be sure that wind didn't come before water, but hey. I wasn't paying complete attention, so sue me.

Anyhow, so with this said, she'd conjured up (or however the hell you get a potted plant to come out of nowhere) this seedling, and told me to make it grow. Movements in mind, I had pranced, focused, and cussed at this tree and nothing had happened. Friggin' tree.

Feeling like an incapable idiot, I was slowly getting more and more irritated. I was done. Actually, I had been done a few minutes ago. Now I was just fed up. Was the purpose of this exercise to humiliate me?

"Again," she repeated in a calm voice. With this, I spun around to face her. I was angry, I won't lie. I was tired of these people who took me from my life, and were forcing me to learn something that was clearly impossible.

Glaring, I screamed, "Screw you and your fucking magic!" Turning, I began to stomp out of the room. Even if I couldn't find my way back to my damn room, I wanted to be anywhere but here.

Suddenly, Mama Thistle flashed in front of the doors. That's the only way I could really describe how she got there. One moment she was on the stage behind me, and the next second, she seemed to flash into existence in front of the door. Goddamn magic.

Staring at me levelly, it bothered me how calm this woman was. Her posture showed no stress in it, and that made me wary. Yet I could see in the depths of those black and beady eyes that a fire of anger hid there. For moments, I was worried about my personal safety. Annoyance and anger washed over my momentary fear, and I merely glared back at her. I would not stand down now.

"You impetuous child," she started out, her words nearly complete nonsense to my ears through the thick Russian. "You will sit down and stay here." The words were laden with power. I could hear in the emphasis, and feel it in the force that I was suddenly met with.

What the hell? It was as if something were pushing against me, trying to force my muscles into a sitting position. Something, an instinct, told me that I could not allow her to control me so easily. How I was supposed to resist such a force, I did not know. A little voice in my head seemed to whisper yes; I had the stuff to do this.

This was a battle of wills, I thought. Like the scene at the very end of the Lord of the Dance, when Michael Flatly had to battle it out with the evil guy. They tap danced it to the end. (I always thought that was the coolest part of the movie. Mom had always been too busy drooling at a shirtless Mr. Flatly.)

At the thought, I think I began to shuffle my feet a little. Not huge movements, but just a little scuffling that barely counted as tap. Somewhere, I thought that this felt right, and began to tap with more vigor. (Not that tap was really my thing; I had taken a few workshops here and there. Ballet was my forte.)

Slowly, the power Mama Thistle had forced on me bent backwards, until there was a snap. The power snapped and crackled apart. At first, my opposing force just kept on going; I threw Mama Thistle through the door with it. Shock broke my concentration, and I abruptly stopped my passable tap. Blinking, I gaped at the mess that had been a door.

I… I had done that? Holy shit.

Somewhere between feeling concerned for the old woman, feeling pleased that she'd gotten what she'd deserved, and complete shock at this little mess, I leapt over the splintery remains. Crotchety and bossy old woman or not, my mother had raised me too well for me to leave an elder lying like that on the floor.

I found her heaving, and sprawled against the far wall… Apparently there had been a lot of force behind that throw. Grabbing one meaty arm, I helped bring her to her feet. As she stood, she began to laugh heartily. Gaping at her, I wondered if she remembered that bit about my tossing her against and through a door. Maybe she'd hit her head a little too hard on the way out…

"A little pressure and you function just fine. You clearly aren't one for structure. So much like Lanora," she mumbled, grinning lopsidedly at me. Yep, she'd lost her mind.

Gesturing towards the mess, I tried to organize my baffled thoughts. Lamely, I said, "Wait, so you're not mad about being thrown through the door?" I won't lie, I was confused by this woman.

With another bark of laughter, Mama Thistle shook her head at me. "Much worse has happened to me before, girl. But I now know more about your magic. You are one of those who base your magic, first of all, on memories. Which will be tricky, you have no idea. Second, you derive the power of the magic on emotion. Another tricky thing. We are going to have a fun time cracking your magic." I wasn't quite so sure about that as she was.

Standing there awkwardly, I hadn't the slightest idea as to what to say to all that information. Emotion and memories. Funzies. Not to mention working magic through dance… Perhaps I was over thinking this, but suppose I wanted to curse someone. Would that mean that I would have to twirl around angrily to get the curse right? I shook my head. This was really ridiculous.

It took me a few seconds to notice that Mama Thistle was still talking. Not to me, however. It was more that she was mumbling to herself. "Of course, I really think that over time she might be able to just focus her will on something… naturally it won't be as powerful as the dance, but much more applicable. Intriguing, certainly." … Perhaps she was just crazy, and the door hadn't done any more damage.

Regardless of which, I didn't like her talking about me as if I weren't here. "I'm right here, you know." I crossed my arms, and gave her an annoyed glance. Her eyes stared at up at me, and narrowed.

"Yes. Well, I'm done today. No more. I need to think." She began to hobble away, and paused. "Oh, and I believe you need someone to escort you to your room, no?" I began to reply that, no, I could manage quite well on my own, when she seemed to twirl a finger in the air. I could easily guess that one of the three people who I disliked most on this planet would appear in a matter of seconds.

What a shocker; it was Arion.

Fuck. My. Life. Right now, and do it quickly. I didn't want to be there.

"Arion." Mama Thistle's voice caught his attention, and he spun around to look at her. Thank god, those steely eyes were no longer on me. "Take her back to her room, and be civil about it." I rolled my eyes. Like that was possible.

To my surprise, he nodded to her shortly. "Yes ma'am." Dude, did he just listen to her! I guess I was shocked. No, really shocked. He seemed like the sort who would just go his own way, and here he was listening to this Mama Thistle. Clearly, she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Come along, Lady." He gestured to me, and did not make a move to take my arm. This was a surprising take on his over-assertive self. Of course, he seemed particularly resigned to something. Like he was over tired. Humph. Perhaps that stick up his ass had kept him from sleeping well last night, I thought.

There was cold silence between us. I kept my distance, and he ignored me. Clearly, he was in stony mode, which I did not mind. I had nothing to say to him, and was made very uneasy by his presence.

Thankfully, he walked quickly. We found my room in good time, and I excitedly rushed inside. After this morning, I was excited to find solace in the large and comfortable bed. One good thing about the room where I was held captive was that bed, which was darned comfy.

However, before I could escape from the oppressing presence that was Arion, he caught my upper arm. Shit. Here it came, the moment I thought I would escape. I flinched involuntarily, and then glared up at him. He would not boss me around, thanks.

"Let go," I ordered tightly, jerking my arm in a lame attempt to break free. Naturally, he held on to my arm with ease. Seriously, I had one arm free, and the thought of punching him and breaking that perfect nose sounded so tempting…

Rolling his eyes at me, he sighed as if disappointed. "Honestly, resorting so quickly to anger and violence. Savage." He was taunting me! After all the hell he put me through, he was taunting me. "I have an invitation from the King –"

I had swung before he had started talking, because I was fed up with his bullshit. Perhaps I should have waited on that punch, because he was so focused on his invitation I had a straight shot to his nose…

He reeled away from me, and I felt horrendously proud of myself. A clean, straight punch. Score one for Grace! I nearly started a victory dance, but he collected himself from the other side of the hallway. The pretty shirt he was wearing was dotted with blood, and I had to watch as he coolly cracked his nose back into place. He stood still for a few moments, holding his nose. All the while, his gray eyes were set on me. I won't lie, it was unsettling being under his gaze, which was really intense.

The pause seemed to end, as he calmly wiped away the last of the blood with a tissue he pulled out of his pocket. "You broke my nose," he observed calmly. I nearly shouted that if I had broken his nose, he wouldn't be dabbing at it right now but then I remembered his pause. Magic. He just needed to focus, and the magic came to him. Ugh. Wonderful.

I had readied myself for an angry response, which would have been satisfying, because I would have let him have it, but he just stood there, dabbing his nose. I was baffled for a second time that day. Glancing at me, he seemed to chuckle. "Oh no, I wouldn't disobey Mama Thistle. I learned that years ago. Trust me. You have nothing to fear until you come outside again."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh good, so I step outside this door, and you'll get back at me? Way to make me want to leave my room."

He glared at me, and I knew that perhaps I shouldn't push these boundaries anymore. He'd proven that the rule that a guy shouldn't hit a girl didn't matter to him. I always shoot my mouth off. "Anyhow," he continued, his voice dripping with steel. The easy humor from moments ago had left it in an instant. "My father says that you will be attending dinner, and you shall be pairing with my brother's and I for the dance afterwords."

I opened my mouth to say like hell I would, and Arion held up a finger. "Think before you speak, Grace. I only gave you the briefest taste of the backlash of the contract. My father is not so lenient." I swallowed the words and my pride. Even though I did not enjoy bowing to my captor's will, I enjoyed that pain less. I nodded curtly.

"Fine. Goodbye." I turned to leave, and just as I stepped into my room, I heard Arion call after me.

"Do not think that because of my immense dislike for you that I will give up my right to the throne, Grace. All it will take is a bit of time, and I shall have you."

Turning, I smirked coyly. "Go to hell, sir." With that, I slammed my door shut to the sound of his maddening laugh.