I wake early the next morning preparing myself before knocking on the door that has enchanted me since I arrived. The knock sounds hollow as it always does, with its ancient wood and matte black hinges. It creaks open slowly just enough to see Crista's bright golden eyes.

"You really shouldn't be here," she mutters quickly closing the door. It stops, my foot already wedged between the doorframe. I hold back a squeal.

"Relax," I say. "I'm not here to bust anything out of you. I'm just here to invite you to breakfast."

"I've already eaten."

Her stomach growls and she quickly looks away. I drop my eyes into the I-know-your-lying-look.

She is silent for a few short moments before she closes the door. I huff in the pain at my pinched toes.

"Meet you in ten."

"Do you need to me to remedy something for your foot?" she asks dryly.

"No," I grumble taking a sip of tea.

"Then maybe you should fix you face. You look like you got run over by a car."

I can't help but have to hold back laughter. "Thank you," I say sarcastically.

She sits cross legged, lazily sipping her tea. She has tied her hair up today in a bun, her curls poofing above her head like a pom-pom.

"So..." I try. "How have you been?"

"Seriously," She sits her teacup down. "I'm not here for the mummbo-jummbo small talk. You want something. I know it. So just spill."

"I thought we were just having breakfast," I say lightly.

She smirks, rolling her eyes. "I must say, Zaria for someone who is the daughter of a mafia boss, you are a terrible liar. I don't know how you haven't gotten yourself killed."

"I've fooled you."

"Honey, no one fools me," she says picking her tea cup back up and sipping. "So, tell me. What is it you want?"

"What do you know about telepathy?"

"Going into the big leagues," she scoffs. "You could have at least waited until I had eaten one of the cucumber sandwiches. You should know by now I don't think well without food."

I usher one of the sandwiches to her and wait while she eats.

"Mh-mhm. Yeah, there's no way you made this Definitely the kitchen staff."

"Listen, Crista," I say flatly. "I am so glad that you seem to be on the mend, but can you please help me instead of just being insulting."

"I've said only fact. It's your fault it's insulting." She looks over at me clearly reading the impatience on my face. She brushes the crumbs of her fingertips and clears her throat. "But it seems my appetite has been satisfied. What can I do for you?"

"Telepathy. What do you know about it?"

She folds her hands on her lap, leaning back in her chair. "Plenty. What must you know?"

"How long can someone use telepathy?"

"Pfffhh..." she looks off in the distance, pondering. "It depends on the connection between minds. The stronger the connection, the clearer the voice. The weaker the connection, the harder it is to hear anything."

"Can you use telepathy on anyone?"

"Well... yes... Zaria, mind telling me what's going on?"

"And if you could be inside someone's mind forever... could that lead to possession?"

"That depends on if you're going to answer my questions."

I slump myself over. "Oh, Crista. Please, can't you just tell me?"

Like a toddler she slumps in the same position. "Oh, Zaria. Can't you just tell me?" she says mockingly.

"I do not sound like that."

She changes her voice back to her own. "You may want to re-think that. And, come on. Why won't you tell me what you're up to?"

I throw my hands up. "I don't know. Because, your mom would kill me. Because you might kill me."

"Zaria, we talked about this before. Your own lying is going to get you killed by me, but I won't do anything if you tell me the truth."

I bite my lip, trying to hold back what I have been pondering over all night but it's no use. "I think... I surely don't know, but I have a feeling that Queen Eden is still somehow communicating with John. It would have to be through telepathy."

"But you put up the barrier," she says almost as if she's trying to convince herself. "There's no way dark magic can penetrate it."

"That's what I thought but," I get up nervously and fish a piece of paper out of my pocket. She reaches for it and unfolds the parchment, her eyes scanning over my frantic handwritten notes.

"The more I think about how powerful she is the more I start to worry if I did something wrong. And yesterday we went and questioned John. I opened the wall. What if she got in? What if that's what she was waiting for? And say I did do everything right... what if my magic isn't strong enough to block her out?"

Crista lets out a snort I had not expected from her. "Zaria, I think the sleepless night have finally caught up and is making you a tad delirious." She folds the paper back up. "I mean, what are you supposed to do? Go to the King and tell him a theory based off of some overthought anxieties. Trust me, he does it as well."

"I know it sounds crazy, but I need you to listen to me," I beg.

"I want to help, I really do." She sighs. "I told my mother I would have no business in this and I can't to go against her." She starts to walk out, but I grab her delicate wrist.

"Crista, you're the only one I can ask these questions to. No one knows magic like you do."

Her smile is tight; forced. "I for one am not living in the past, Zaria. You are the one with the magic, not me."

He words pierce me like a sword. Her arm slips from my grasp. Before walking out she turns.

"You want my help?" she asks almost pleading. She grips the doorframe, her knuckles turning white.

"Yes," I whisper.

"Then leave me out of it. That is my help." Walking out, she closes the door.

I let the silence fill the room. Never would I have thought Crista could be this cold.

"All very interesting."

I gasp, quickly turning around with my hands in fists. My stomach drops and my muscles twitch as I scan around for any movement.

"It's me, Sherlock." Lucy says standing in the middle of the room.

"What... how did you get in here?" I say out of breath.

"I was here the whole time. You must not have noticed."

I think back to when I returned to my room. Nope, I think to myself. I don't remember anyone being here.

"How much did you hear?" I ask trying to focus on what's important.

"Enough that Mika has gotten to her again." Her tone of voice is as foul as she speaks.

"You don't like Mika?" I say, remembering there has always been a strange animosity between them. "Why?"

She pats my back, her slender fingers cool to the touch. "That's a story for another time." She takes a deep breath. "It is interesting though."

"What's interesting?"

She almost laughs over her words. "The fact that she's not willing to help yet she bears the same mark as me."

My mouth gapes open and I struggle to find words. Shaking my head, I try to convince myself it's not true. It can't be true.

"I could be wrong. Saw a tiny bit of ink sticking out of her sleeve when you handed her your notes. With all your pacing you wouldn't have seen it, she was quick to cover it up. Guilty look on her face."

"I wish I knew what they mean. What if it's a curse or disease spreading through the castle?" I say.

"I don't know, but we'll find out. I have an idea."

I raise my eyebrows trying to coax something out of her. "... And?"

Too late. Her eyes glaze over in that white haze, leaving this world to see the future. Should I sit her down? Or, is it like sleepwalking? If I move her, will she freak out?

Luckily, there wasn't much time to think of what I should do anymore. Her brilliant blue eyes peeking through the fog.

"Isaac Griffin," she says, still semi in a trance.

"Who is this, Isaac Griffin?"

She starts heading out of the room. I follow her into the grand hallways struggling to keep up with her long stride. She walks a little further until suddenly making a left near the Servant's Quarters. She opens a door to a room; her room. The floral decorations give everything away, knowing that Lucy has decorated this space to be exactly hers. The room is filled with tiny lamps and candles grouped together instead of a harsh overhead light. The windows are drawn open with lacy curtains blowing lazily in the breeze.

"You still live in the Servant's Quarters," I say quietly.

She kneels down, reaching under her bed. Drawing out a satchel she stands, her curly blond hair swishing.

Gesturing around the room, she smiles. "This will always be my home. No title will take that away."

"What was it like... you know...when everything happened?"

Her eyes glaze back over but this time it is not due to a vision of the future. It's a vision of the past. I can feel it suddenly get cold the more she thinks on it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up—

"It was the single most terrifying thing that ever happened to me. I remember blurred faces and screams and shouts... that was probably from me..." she giggles slightly. "But," she pauses. "I clearly remember when your mother came to my rescue. She carried a sword. Out of the corner of my eye I could see it happen and in that moment all the pain just stopped."

"What happened?"

"She held the sword up high and it started glowing. It looked like golden flame. I could feel the heat but it didn't hurt. And then, she plunged it into the earth. The light closed in. I don't know how exactly I got back to the palace." She clears her throat. "Crista was hidden away, safe. That's all that really matters."

For once, I was left speechless. I just let the air hang heavy in the room. What is it you are supposed to say after someone tells you their torture story?

"I'm so—

"Sorry?" she finishes. "Yeah, I know. Everyone is," she says lightly. After a moment she smiles. "I believe some things were meant to happen though. How else would I have met Adam if I didn't live down here?"

"Right," I mumble, hanging my head.

"You really have to stop blaming yourself for that," she pleads.

"I can't just act like I didn't have a part in it."

Acting as if she didn't hear me, she continues. "I worried something like that would happen sooner or later. That's just how he was. There was no stopping him from anything. He died heroically."

"He knew you were the princess?" I ask having to know for whatever odd reason.

She lets out a tired chuckle. "I didn't have to tell him. He had been pretty close with Axil before he met me. After five minutes of my disguise, he knew the real me. Told me I had that same 'annoyed glare' Axil had. Whatever that's supposed to mean. And of course, even though my mother didn't want me to use my magic, I can't just shut it off. He actually helped me understand visions."

I feel a little guilty for never paying close enough attention to Lucy. I had never been with her for more than an hour at a time. I wouldn't have guessed she was a sorceress.

"I wish I could have known him better," I say. "He was great."

There is a moment of silence.

"Me too." She brushes the loose curls out of her face. She reaches in her satchel and pulls out a pair of boots. "Get ready for a ride. We have a date with Mr. Isaac Griffin."

***

I meet Lucy out at the stable and saddle Stella, making sure to occupy her with apple slices while I struggle with the side buckles.

"Have you ever ridden on a horse?" I ask her. "I mean, being locked away."

She slowly strokes Stella. "Do you remember the time you saw me in the sparing room?"

The memory flashes before my eyes. "Yes," I answer. "That was still when I was... well... not of allegiance. I was highly suspicious of you."

"There were many things I did under the cover of night when everyone else was asleep. I know more than you think. In fact, I think we are more similar than anyone truly knows."

Finally getting the buckles in place I jokingly back away, bowing as she leaps onto the back of Stella, myself following after. Grabbing hold of the reins, I lean over my shoulder.

"Look at us. A couple of girls leading our double lives."

And then the wind is in our hair as Stella runs out of the palace grounds to Senwain. Spring has come early. I breathe in the cool sweet-smelling air. Cherry blossoms line the pathway from the palace to Senwain looking like pink clouds. The songbirds chirp and sing sweet songs.

"So, what exactly am I looking for?" I ask over my shoulder.

"On the outskirts of town there is a rickety wooden shack. You'll know it when you see it," she says definitively.

"Why do we need to see Isaac?" I ask again.

"He's a tattoo artist."

I instinctively pull on the reins, slowing Stella down. "Whhhhyy are we visiting a tattoo artist? They put the ink in your skin, not take it out."

"I know that," she snips. "He deals with ancient runes. I'm thinking he might be able to detect something in my tattoo... or whatever it may be. Here, turn right."

I keep my questions to myself, waiting until we meet Isaac. I rub the inside of the leather reins to calm myself. As we travel further into Senwain I realize I've never been this far into town before. The furthest I have ever been was in the square when I came with the Queen. Even when I came here with Axil, we never traveled this deep and it's starting to make sense why. All of these houses look abandoned, as if there was an explosion that tore everything up.

"Did Malaka do this?"

"Yep. A few years back. This was their first attempt at a riot. They didn't make it very far. The people of Lumbridge are very brave, but not all of the houses survived. I take it Axil never showed you this."

"No," I say, almost ashamed.

"Don't take it personally. Axil likes for things to be perfect. It's something he gets from our father. I'm guessing he didn't want to scare you away."

"Why would this scare me?"

"Zaria, you amaze me sometimes. Crista was right, I don't know how you made it as a mafia boss's daughter."

"Ha. Ha." I say sarcastically.

"He promised he would protect you, no matter what. Why would he show you something he thinks he failed to protect?"

I speak without even realizing it. "He puts too much pressure on himself."

"Don't we all?" she sighs. "Here. Stop here."

I front of us stands a shack that looks half burned down. She's right. You do know it once you see it. Some of the wooden panels of the wall lay crooked and out of place. The building looks like it could crumble at the slightest touch. There is a sign near the top that says, "Griffin's Art Livin."

Lucy jumps off the horse and gestures her arm to the door. "After you."

I dismount Stella and walk her to the nearest tree before meeting back with Lucy. The stairs creek under my step. I squeeze my lips together praying I don't break anything, but for as weak as the building looks and sounds it is surprisingly strong. This obviously isn't Lucy's first time here. She practically skips up the stairs and knocks twice at the door.

A tiny old man opens the door standing only up to my stomach. There are a few scraggily hairs still hanging onto his bald head that stick straight up.

"Good morning," Lucy starts. "I was wondering if we could come inside and have a little bit of a chat. It's an emergency.

"My little Lucy. Look at how big you've gotten. I haven't seen you in ages. Come in, come in."

"It's good to see you, Mr. Griffin," she says while crouching down to hug him. She slinks her way into the door and disappears.

"And you must be Zaria. I've heard much about you."

"Oh, it seems a lot of people here have," I laugh dryly.

"How couldn't we? Well don't just stand there. Come in, come in."

Inside the shack is like walking into a sister version of Crista's room. The walls are filled with shelves from ceiling to floor. Large and tiny corked bottles filled with herbs, spices, shining liquids, and bone fragments all labeled with a messy, blotchy handwriting.

"You sure have a collection," I say in awe.

"Oh, that. Yeah. Some is for me, but I like to keep an inventory for my family. Never know when she might need it."

I look and see the cauldron that sits in the middle of the room right next to a table for someone to lay on.

"Lucy tells me you're a tattoo artist that works with runes. How exactly does that work?" I ask.

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked. I don't get many customers. Not since the invasion. Never had the heart to leave this old place behind. It's pretty quiet. Not many people come here... apart from you, Lucy," he adds giving her a smile. "I can remedy any rune inside the ink and once it is tattooed, well I guess you could think of it as magic. Nothing like yours, of course," he quickly says as if he had just made the greatest offense. "I can strengthen people in any area they would like to change. I could give them more courage, more physical strength. I could change their appearance or voice."

"But how can you do this?" I interject. "How does that happen? Are you a wizard?"

He smirks. "I know much of the magical world. No, I am not a wizard, I'm just a regular town's person who dabbles in scientific art. Follow me." He waves his hand walking away from the door towards the cauldron. "In this book," he heaves up on a desk with a grunt, "are all the recipes for any kind of rune you could imagine. It goes back to ancient civilization. Their specialty was concerned with hunting abilities. Superspeed or stealth was a very common choice."

"What about the tattoo. Does it have any meaning or correlation?"

"Interesting question. No wonder the Kind found favor in you. Always one step ahead."

Lucy let out a sly snort.

Mr. Griffin continues to explain while I roll my eyes at Lucy. "That depends entirely on the whole art itself. I guess you could think of it as a calling. Certain ingredients call to certain shapes or patterns and can make something entirely new happen. I know I have a guide to it somewhere in here." Pressing his fingers to his face he squints at his bookshelf.

He skimmed his hand over all the covers of the books, whispering the titles to himself.

"So, all you have to do is make the recipe and join it with the ink?"

"Precisely. You're catching on so well. AH... here it is." He takes out a book from the shelf titled, "Everything You Need to Know About Brewing the Perfect Tattoo."

I try not to think about how cool John would how find this to be. I can almost hear him now. "Screw our old tattoos at Flesherg. I'm only going to Mr. Griffin."

Lucy finally speaks up in her calming voice that somehow sounds even sweeter speaking with Mr. Griffin. "I was wondering if you could help us with something."

"I was figuring that. You bunch aren't really the type to come into a shop like this."

This earns a tiny laugh from Lucy. "Oh yeah?" she almost taunts while rolling up her sleeve.

His eyes go straight to the dark wings that lay on her forearm, a complete contrast to her pale white skin.

"Lucy!" I told you if you ever wanted anything done that I would do it for you. How could you do this to me," he says as if this was a joke.

"Trust me, it wasn't my choice."

"What do you mean? What has happened?" His bushy eyebrows furrow.

"I was hoping you might be able to tell me that. Have you ever heard of tattoos just appearing?" I ask.

He shies away, shaking his head in disbelief. "You say this just appeared? Are you sure no one was around?"

"Only Zaria."

He takes a moment to look me up and down, sizing me up to see if I could do such a thing but quickly shakes his head again and dismisses the thought.

"This is grave."

My heart start to beat faster. "Why?" I ask.

"Because a tattoo without consent is not just art. It's a slave mark."

"What does that mean?" I ask sheepishly. Lucy hangs her head as if she expected to hear this but was holding on to a glimmer of hope.

She speaks. "It means exactly what it sounds like. Anyone who bears a slave mark is just a pawn in someone else's scheme. Can you check to see if a rune was placed?"

"Of course, but I do not wish to harm you in anyway, your majesty."

Lucy speaks stronger than anyone expected. "What's a little blood to uncover the truth."