Page 46 of Hopeless Kingdom
“You’ll do it now, then? You’ll correct this kingdom, your Eminence?”
I nod with too much vigor as my wide eyes search the drastically lit room for a weapon. I just need the upper hand for a moment.
Then it occurs to me, I don’t need a weapon when I have commanding power.
“Close your eyes, my child,” I say as my head tips up with confidence.
He nods with excitement before his piercing blue eyes close.
It’s that fucking easy.
Gods above, why do they all make this so damn easy?
My hand doesn’t shake as I reach out to the weapon at his side. I nearly feel the hard hilt of it when an unseen energy swirls through me, pulling at me from the inside out.
I turn. The inky swirling water of the Hopeless well churns faster, nearly sloshing over the edge and onto the brick floor.
My lips part as I stare at it with a mysterious feeling pooling through me. My knees give out and I fall there at the edge of the well. My reflection looks back at me in dark, ominous colors.
As if my hands are not my own, they sink into the waters, letting the liquid ripple through my fingers, allowing it to grip ahold of my hands and pull me closer.
Warmth sears through me and my body begins to shake, but I can’t let go. I can’t pull away. All I can do is enjoy the tingling fire that’s burning through my veins. It courses all through me. I feel it racing through me. The sound of my shirt tearing accompanies the scream that releases from my lips and it’s then that I tip my head up to see the moon shining down from the open tower above. Perfectly, as if the gods are spotlighting me.
It strikes across the twirling rapids and seems to cast too much color into the room. It’s too bright.
I clench my eyes closed from the stark white light as I fall back from the hypnotic pull the waters seem to have on me. Pain shakes through me in violent waves.
With a gasp, I stand. My shoulders hunching with a heavy weight on them.
The room seems brighter than it was before. Tristan seems thinner, more fragile than he was before. Breakable even.
I’m entirely different than I was just seconds ago.
Black, veering marks strike up the inside of my left arm from my wrist to my forearm. My limbs seem slightly longer, the muscle tone more lithe. Even my hair is whiter now.
And, to my horrendous astonishment, heavy ebony wings span the length of my body. Soft, thick feathers meet my fingertips. They’re an onyx color, sprouting from my shoulder blades and brushing the dirty floor.
“M—my Eminence,” Tristan stutters, breaking my trance. Wide eyes stare at me in complete and total awe.
“Give me my sword, Tristan.” The ringing sound of my voice seems to flow with the turning waters at my feet.
His hands shake as he fumbles with the belt on his tiny hips.
After a moment passes, he flings the belt and all at my feet.
The hilt scrapes across the bricks and I pick it up with care. It weighs my hands just as familiarly as it always did.
My fingers curl around it with meaning and Tristan turns with sudden worry filling his frame.
“I—I freed you,” he says as if it’s a reminder.
“Yes, but you also imprisoned me.” Power tingles through my limbs, my fingers curling and uncurling into my palm.
Carefully, I pull the weapon from his belt. Colors gleam off of my father’s blade like I’ve never seen before. It’s as if my vision has been muted my entire mortal life and I’m seeing for the first time.
Then he has the balls to say something I never thought about. “Your men are still under my possession, my Eminence. My mother is keeping a close eye on them while I’m gone.”
My jaw tics as I lift my gaze to meet his. He appears to be once again, the ever-confident king of this land.
