Book 3, Chapter 10: Burning Off Energy
I shut the door to my room and paused, thinking. Months ago, when I arrived to this land, escape was all I wanted. A way out. I’d hoped it was a game, it sure seemed like one, and wished for it to end.
Yet the end, the escape, didn’t present itself. Survival took over. I had little choice but to play the role I’d been given, cute little princess. To stick with my army in a desperate attempt to survive. We had survived and I forged the role as my own, engaging in very un-princessly activities like sword and spear training.
Now I wasn’t so sure I wanted a way out. And I was less and less convinced of the simulation hypothesis. If it were, it wouldn’t end, no matter how I tried. And the only survivable path was to remain in power, build my armies, retake my lands. Take the crown, become queen, rule. There were perks to being at the top. Better food, accommodations, baths. Better security and people mostly did what I wanted.
Well, except for Brin. And probably Morry.
I walked through the apartments to my dressing room, to my armor stand. It was shaped like a person to hang the armor off.
As I pulled the armor over my head and onto the wooden manikin, lightning shot up and down my arms. Purple, throwing off rippling shadows across the stone floor, then blues, a touch of yellow. The energy crackled around my hands, leaping from finger to finger.
Instead of tossing the excess out the window like I normally did, I sat down in front of the mirror, cross legged. I looked like what yoga masters dreamed of, magical energy coursing down my arms into blue and white balls around my hands, fingertips tingling. It shot around my torso. Almost like armor itself, like I was wearing lightning.
Closing my eyes, I tried the standard meditative trick. Walking on a beach, sand crunching under my boots. Small waves gently crashing into the shore, wind across the tree line, leaves rustling. Step, step, step. Until my heartbeat calmed down and became slow, regular.
I opened my eyes.
It was calm. Not gone. But not streaking or sparking. I had tame energy coursing around me, almost like a fluid. Purple, blue, streaks of yellow.
Someone banged at the door, my attention diverted, and energy blasted out from my hands into the cabinet beyond, exploding it into pieces. Glasses and jugs crashed to the ground, some bouncing, others shattering.
More banging, Brin yelling, “Cayce! Cayce! Are you ok?”
“Fudge.” I stood, looking at the destruction, then headed to the door. “Yes?”
“Cayce!” She shouted from behind the door, “It’s me, Brin. Open up!” More banging, “We’re about to have a bath, mother and me. You want to come? Are you ok in there?”
I spoke through the door, “I’m good! I, uh, dropped my sword.”
“Your sword? Come on, just open the door. I’ll help you clean up.”
“I’m busy! No time for a bath. Say hi to your mother!” I didn’t lift the wooden bar to open the door, instead patting it down to feel how secure it was under my hands.
“You’re being dumb! We should talk about the suitors, what kind of suppers to throw. And you need to start being seen around the castle! You can’t hide in here!”
“I can tonight! Go away!” I turned my back on the door, ignored whatever else she said and her poundings, and created little tornadoes to clean up the mess. It was tricky to get all the shards and splinters, scattered as they were all over, but I was getting the hang of it.
If anyone was checking, they’d find a ton of little glass and clay remnants, wooden slivers, on the ground outside my window. I tossed the larger glass pieces into a corner to deal with later, most of the wood into the fireplace, sighed and sat down. I was going to need another cabinet.
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