The Beauty of Mist, the Beast of Dawn {INDEFINITE HOLD}

Chapter 8: The Witch

My feet were sore, my legs bruised, and my body ached all over from the two torturous hours of dancing, poking, and prodding it had been subjected to. So it was with great reason, I believed, that I arrived home ranting at the top of my lungs. "Why?" I demanded, shaking my fists at the ceiling. "Why me? Why is it always me?"

The ceiling gave no reply. The stars, to which the outburst had actually been directed to, remained silent. What had I expected? It was only half past noon.

"Myalah?" The frail, almost fragile question melted my rage instantaneously. 

"Papa!" I cried, throwing myself into his study from which his voice had come from. Sure enough, I found my father sitting at his desk, studiously tweaking a bit of metal and wire. He glanced over his wired frames when I entered.

"Myalah." Even without looking, I would have heard the smile in his voice. "You are back home already? We both know I love having you here with me but... it is unexpected. Unusual."

"Yes, Papa," I agreed as I crossed the room to join him. "I expected to remain at the library far longer. Something came up."

"And does that something happen to be what brought you home in a tizzy?" he asked as he pulled me in for a hug.

"It was not a tizzy."

He shifted, so I could I see his face. His one brow was arched much more prominently than it should have been. I sighed. "It does happen to be what made me so upset. The royal herald brought news today. Apparently, our lovely crown prince has called a Princess Picking. I have been chosen."

My father smiled. "That is good news, is it not?"

"No, Papa! It is terrible news. You know how how I feel about beauty!"

"A shallow, abstract concept that has no right to exist and that creates the most toxic and faceless people ever? Feel is not strong enough a word." He chuckled, his laughter halting once he saw my frown.

"The Princess Picking relies heavily on beauty! I want nothing to do with it, yet I was chosen anyway."

"Can you simply not participate?" I must've had an expression of incredulity on my face because a perplexed "What?" followed shortly after.

"Unless I want to bring disgrace on Ilah and even more on our family, then no, I have no choice except to participate."

Papa whistled. "That is quite the mess you've gotten yourself into, my daughter."

"And not one I wanted," I reminded him. "I cannot disobey an edict by the royals, can I?"

"No, I suppose not," he agreed.

"I do not want to do this."

"I know, Myalah. I know."

"But I have to."

"You do not have to. Must I remind you that Ilah is far from the most respected village?"

"Everyone would hate me! Would hate you!" I exclaimed, my voice a near screech. I lowered it before adding, "Not that we have a high social status to begin with."

"See my point? We would be totally fine should you choose not to participate. It is your choice, and yours alone. Nobody is forcing you to do anything, despite how it may appear. However, I want you to consider your options carefully before making your decision."

"How can I consider carefully if only have until sundown to register, and those chosen leave tomorrow at dawn?" I paused briefly when surprise crossed my father's face. "Oh, Papa. Why are you so shocked? You know how long the journey to the castle is."