CHAPTER FOUR

Adela gazed at the moving moon with tight grips on the dry wood she held in her hands. In the present circumstance her whole essence seemed to have exploded, a tense and almost tangible passion emanating from her that her father didn't seem to feel. She had urged, pushed and pressed the King but it had resulted in nothing at all. The princess stared on the verge of tears remembering his cold and sharp response. She could not recall a time she had wanted anything more with any more ferocity. She could not select a moment where all of her being had been in such agreement — her body, mind and soul working in tune as one. It was then she had decided that she wouldn't let him ruin her harmony. So she had left with money and bread and very little plan for return. The plan was to spend the night under the stars, and think of an actual plan for life after court.

Taking in a large breath of the thin air made her light-headed for a short while, but she recovered and about faced to the small shelter she had built. To a tree she had secured a hammock and a canvas tarpaulin higher above it to protect her sleeping area from the weather. A walk away was a flat rock which she had decided would make the perfect kitchen. She placed down the wood in a pile before beginning to spark a fire.

It was at these times that had wished she had been taught how to bring fire from her fingers like she had seen some of the council members do. Her mother had even done it when she was much younger to relight a candle in her chamber. She knew she possessed the ability. She could feel it within her, as if it were a physical reserve of energy. She just had no idea how to tap into it. She paused with focus on the pile of wood, straining her mind and stretching her hands forward, but nothing happened. She continued smacking the rocks together with automacity, trying to ignore the cold crawling up her fingers and toes. Sparks would jump down, and sit on the tip of a twig, before fading from the bright orange into nothing. Soon however, due to her slowly dying perseverance the branches caught a flame and held on while she gently breathed life into it.

Stretching her back, Adela's eyes returned to the sky, timely catching a bird glide and land on a tree branch above. The bird's beady eyes looked down on her with a sneer, as if it knew what she had done, how she had gone against her father and his wishes. She'd always been cautious of birds. There were too free and aware of their state. A bird was once kept in her chambers, a mortana, the songbird of Greythorn. She would listen as it sang her a lullaby and when it had finished she would open the latch to its cage. She felt guilty that the bird had given so much and she had returned nothing to it in payment. The bird would always fly out and circle the room, never needing more before landing back within the cage. He had found his freedom where he was and Adela was insanely jealous. She had always said that birds were her favourite animal and their freedom was her justification. But the mortana had gone against her, had proven her wrong. The bird had believed it was free and was content.

Humming the soft mortana song sent Adela into a wavering daze, her eyes flittering shut for minutes at a time but never being pulled deep enough into sleep. Sounds passed by her in waves of activity, until she found she had become uncomfortable slumped forward. She stood, and moved to the hammock, swinging slowly as she climbed in. Almost instantly, fatigue took her into slumber before she could fight it and the noise of the forest continued while she rested.

The crunches of footsteps did not do much to rouse her, but the swinging motion of the hammock had caused her to stir, for it seemed faster than she had felt primarily. Soon she had pushed herself from the dip in the hammock as she swung higher and higher. One last push threw her from her resting place and onto the soil beneath, stones and branches pressing into her hands and knees. She quickly turned to face her aggressor and the small girl emerged from behind the tarpaulin.

"Odette?"

The handmaiden looked on, with melancholy swirling on her face, regret swimming in her eyes and tears staining her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

"Why it's alright, my dear," Adela stood and dusted her hand off.

"I'm sorry, Adela. He made me do it. He gave me a bag. Full o' gold it were," Odette cried some more, shaking her head left and right without stopping, in an uncontrollable trance.

Adela stepped towards the girl but she retreated quickly as if she would break at the slightest touch. "Who are you talking about? Why do you keep saying sorry?"

"Sir Raymond... and the King. My family — I've got to help 'em," she turned around with her head hanging low she called out into the brush, "She's here."

Two men emerged into the princesses camp, dressed in the uniform of the Kings Guard. Menacing and sharp, their swords looked at her in the eye, and she looked back to her handmaiden. Her eyes were strong now, and brave. A look she had never seen, let alone had set against her. The eyes of Odette cut her sharper than any sword.

"I will get my revenge, Odette. I will," Adela said, before she set off sprinting into the forest. The guards shouted after her but she didn't wait to listen to what they had said. Her chest heaved as she hopped over thick fallen branches and diverted through trees. The guards seemed to get closer but a burst of her own energy would pull her forward until they caught up again. The sounds of their shouting were closer and in a panic, she screamed once again, "Levitus Dominia!"

Into the air she rose, running at first until the strange sensation caused her to yelp and stop shaking her legs wildly. One of the guards jumped, with a weak hold on her leg but she kicked and he dropped to the ground. Soon she had lifted passed the canopy of the trees and was heading to denser and thicker forest. She was sure that she was on her way out of Greythorn but she didn't care anymore and as she flew to uncertain safety she saw in a tree below a nest full of small and lonely yellow mortanas, but this time, their song did not sound as sweet.