The Witch's Cursed Daughter

52. Healing And Surprises

Unlike the boys' last entering, Voster didn't try so hard to control the Mirrored Hall. Allowing the room to hold them captive, time passed by differently, though Voster knew just how much. As the group relaxed into the space, the reflective walls, decorations, and trinkets all hummed happily since their guests were not repressing the lowing magic like usual.

Laying Romile down on the sturdy glass bed, Julian wondered if it might smash under his weight. He was alarmed as cracks formed where his Guard lay, though Voster assured him that the damages could only create more mirrored surfaces.

The Mage set to work sending more magical energy into the room, allowing the glow which normally radiated from his hands to permeate much further up his arms. Much like how he had described, Voster's magic grew more potent within the looking-glass walls. While he both fed and absorbed the abundant supply of magic energy in the room, he kept going without falling to exhaustion.

As he admired the functioning drawers and chests, Julian asked, "How long do we stay in here?"

"From the time passage of this room, I would guess roughly fifteen hours, Your Highness," Voster replied numbly as he focussed on the forming skin on top of Romile's visible muscles. The smell of his wounds had followed them into the Mirrored Hall, and Julian could taste the iron on his tongue as he spoke.

"Oddly specific," he chuckled in reply to Voster.

"The number of people, and how active the magic flow, affects the speed at which time passes inside. There are three of us and a constant current of active magic, meaning we be accelerating through linear time hidden in the vibrations of this room."

"Why is the Mirrored Hall hidden?" Julian wondered loudly, expecting a response.

Frustrated due to his constant interruption, Voster focussed on replying to Julian's query, "The glass acts as a freeze over a specific event. In this case, it would be my loss of control over causing the disappearance of..."

Voster grew quiet, an expression of dark acceptance colouring his face; rolling his eyes downward, he continued his work on Romile.

"Our mother," Julian finished, almost whispering. He understood Voster's aversion to the topic. He had always blamed himself, and perhaps at one point Julian had blamed him too, but not in a long time.

No longer a conversation daring to be had between them, Voster worked tirelessly to hasten the magic available to the injured. His hair was loose in its knot, and his robe looked as though it clung to his body with sweat, but he was pleased by his handy work, leaving no scars behind despite not directly having a hand in their wounds closing.

"How are you feeling?" Julian asked Romile, who was stretching beside the bed and admiring himself shirtless in the many reflective surfaces.

"Perfect," Romile responded as he strained his muscles with a smile.

"You are still not completely healed, though you can swing a sword if necessary," Voster warned.

As Romile dressed, Julian asked, "Can we leave now?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

As they left the Mirrored Hall, each person walked out without assistance. Julian watched as Voster gently coaxed the room to behave as the humming grew louder as they approached the door. Once outside, Voster announced that they had an uninvited guest. From his tone, Julian knew who was waiting for them. Without responding, he charged through the corridors, barely taking the time to realise that the sun had returned, lighting the way.

Rampaging into the entrance hall, Julian felt bile rise like fire as his eyes landed on a green-eyed monster holding a large obsidian-coloured velvet box.

"Good morning, dear brother," Illea called as she noticed him arrive, beaming sweetly.

"Sister, what a pleasant surprise," Julian cooed in return.

Romile quickly joined his side, followed by Voster, both of whom were turning crimson as the state of their self-control weakened with every passing second.

"Romile, you look much better than I expected, thank goodness," the princess cried in relief as her eyes settled on Romile's tall frame; skimming to Voster, she added, "It must have been your doing, correct? I can't wait until we work together."

"Why are you here, sister?" Julian interjected quickly, knowing that his retainers would not be capable of remaining quiet much longer.

Her eyes dropping mildly in sadness, she replied, "Oh, I just wanted to let you know I will be departing shortly with grandmother for Angoles. You didn't forget that they are holding a celebration for their crown princess, did you?"

"Of course not," Julian said, disinterested.

"Excellent," the princess beamed. "I just wanted to show you what we prepared for her. After all, we are allied kingdoms." Opening the box with excitement, Illea displayed its contents for the boys. "I had thought that a princess would want a tiara, but grandmother insisted on a crown, I think it was a marvellous choice, don't you agree?"

Staring at the box's contents, fury frenzied within Evianna's friends. Julian examined the crown before him; diamonds and sapphires of all shapes and sizes, hundreds of them, perfectly fitted into a white gold frame. It was apparent where Illea had gotten that many gems – Evianna. A crown made from her tears.

The princess smiled at the look on his face. Slamming the box shut, she giggled at their controlled response. After several minutes no words were said. Bored of waiting for an outburst she pouted with her angelic features pursed neatly before gliding away, her black hair flowing behind her. Fury pounding within his skull, Julian's voice climbed in his throat as if it were an arrow released from a bow. Before he could free his scream, a booming voice exploded from the main door.

"Announcing His Royal Highness, First Prince Wen Frenti Del Waldemar."