Freedom comes at a price and a young Earthal princess must live the life of somebody else, even if it means facing evil threats and impossible odds.
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As someone who craves freedom, Princess Clarabelle cannot just stand by and let her life be take...
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AN IMPRESSIVE two-story A-frame cabin stood alone at the end of a gravel path. It had been built away from the greenhouse, in the middle of a shady pocket of redwoods, so its steep, triangular roof and the vast open lawn in front of it were covered with a blanket of fallen needles. There was a nice grassy patch with some picnic tables, but the main attraction was the cabin itself. More than half of it looked like it was made of glass, all wide, tinted windows, and open sliding doors.
Clara, Emir, and Maxwell neared the grounds. Students huddled together in a circle around a huge floating diamond crystal, carved with intricacy and a lot of jagged corners. Bright energy was encased inside, it pulsed as if breathing in air. And in every beat was a wave of gentle push like how the sea wave gently lapped the shore.
Next to Clara, a girl squealed. As she squeezed her friend by the shoulder and rambled words in a whisper, Clara traced the girl's line of sight where she spotted an older man next to the school staff during the orientation—the one that had horns and hooves.
The man in question had a thin face, stylish rectangular glasses, and a thick head of wavy salt-and-pepper hair.
"Oh, wow. Someone's finally here." A whiny, bloodcurdling voice slithered its way into Clara's ears.
Her forehead scrunched the moment she found the owner of the voice, closing in with a devious grin. The girl was dressed up in glamour—a long ruffled dress that reached her mid-thigh, accessories that might be in a way, and flashy stuff that seemed to be too much, making it look heavy atop her head. Her dress code didn't match today's activity.
The girl stopped in front of Clara, too close to her liking. The way she was eyed from head to toe as if assessing her whole being, delivered an unsettling gut-wrench in her stomach. Clara kept on switching glances between the girl and the academy staff, who were obviously unbothered by a rule-breaker in the open.
Realizing Clara was not alone, the evil look was gone. Her facade softened and glowed.
"Prince Emir, Lord Maxwell." Untangling her crossed arms from her chest, she transformed into a modest woman and curtsied. Even her shrill, catty tone changed into a gentle purr.
Clara knew nothing of Anneliese's deal with this girl, but she just found herself raising a brow—something that was so out of her character.
"Um, hi?" Clara said, trying to make a conversation between them. But her face crumpled like a paper when the insolent girl disregarded her presence even if they were only three steps apart.
The girl smiled sweetly. "Prince Emir, fancy seeing you here. It's not all the time we get to see each other."
To what extent would Clara surprise herself today? She couldn't predict that much. But she found herself rolling her eyes openly.
Clara wasn't aware of Emir's reaction if he was the least bit interested in talking to this girl. Was he wearing the same cold mask he always put on every day? Or did he give her the same small, radiant smile he pulled off earlier? The idea of it brought a pang in her chest.
