The Lost Heiress Of Hyperion

Chapter 8- No Delaying the Inevitable

I had been called reckless so many times, but was it really necessary to faint. . .for the third time I think! What if days passed, and Mavis left me, thinking I hated him? As much as my grandfather warned me, I would do anything for him.

I shifted, my uncomfortable position becoming apparent to me when my neck started hurting. I pulled my wrists closer to try and help lift me up into a sitting position, but my wrists were held by something, cold and tight. 

I whimper, hoping someone could hear me. "Please. . .whoever is doing this, please let me go. I need to get to the capital of Hyperion."

A dark voice answered, "Serves you right, freak. Stealing from the dead Royals, quite a price to pay. And no, I'm not going to let you out. That's what you get for stealing a heirloom."

"Please, I didn't steal anything. Just let me go. . . "

"Are you sure?" His voice dripped with venom, probably trying to scare me. "Then what is Princess Cypress', may she ever rest in peace, necklace doing around your neck? Huh? Filthy peasant."

I was confused. Where were we going?

"To the capital. So you can get punished for your crimes."

He read my mind.

"Yes. Is it not amazing that you're in the presence of a Tele?" He was being sarcastic. 

"No," I say, trying to hit a nerve of his. That did it. He tensed, shadows hiding his face. "But you can read minds, right? You can look through my memories and then you'd know I'm not lying."

He nodded, catching on to what I was getting to. "You'd have to come with me to show me your full expanse. I'd get lost in your mind, filled with memories from. . .thirteen years."

"I'm not thirteen!" I yell, frustrated with him. He smirked, crossing his arms. 

"Then what age are you, princess?" He asked, clearly expecting me to say a number larger than twenty. His last word hit a small nerve, especially because he didn't know who I was.

"I—I don't know."

"Then let's start with an easy question, shall we? What's your name?"

"S—April. What's yours?"

"Caleb. Nice to meet you, S—April."

"Haha, very funny." I glare at him, and he shifts a little, uneasy. "Do you need an invitation? I don't want to wait to show you that I'm innocent."

"Fine, feisty, you can have it your way. Be careful though, gatito, I bite."

"Gatito?"

"Kitten."

"Oh." 

He scooted closer to me, and his features came into view. High cheekbones, and full lips. Bright brown eyes, but sandy brown hair. 

He pulled me to lean against him as far as I could, my wrists pulling against the shackles. He looked at me in my eyes, and pressed his fingers into my temple, sharp. 

The last few days flashed through my mind, faster than I could comprehend. Suddenly, I was swallowed by darkness, and my limbs felt numb. 

When the light showed, Caleb was next to me in a crisp white uniform. Loose clothing fluttered around my ankles. Instead of my army jacket and black jeans, I was wearing a white dress that showed my shoulders and hooked up to a collar around my neck. 

It reached to the floor, whispering against the reflective floor. 

Caleb squeezed my hand tighter, leading me over to a small file case. His mouth dropped, eyeing the small container.