A Wicked Game [The Crown Saga II] (Under Editing)

Sounds of Wind

I dropped the spoon into the empty bowl, forcing my throat to down the last spoonful of cold soup despite the foul aroma.

"Urg," I moaned, pressing my tongue against the roof of my mouth and pinching my nose to endure the unappetizing taste.

Faye left not long ago, summoned by the madam after an incident in the Parlor. I'd wanted to resume training right away now that I understood how to summon the power I needed. However, my growling stomach refused to let me until I'd replenished my energy reserves, and all I'd had was the soup gone stale.

I shook off the repulsion and got up to retrieve the tuning fork. It took me a few minutes to work past my wind energy and tap into the source of my sound powers. However, once I found it, the tines instantly began moving, filling the room with its song.

Joy surged through me. I'd completed the first step, but I wasn't done yet.

I clenched my teeth, focusing harder to intensify my power until I no longer heard the melody singing before my ears. This was surprisingly easy, but I wouldn't expect the final step to come as effortlessly.

***

My feet carried me down the corridors; my breath strained to keep up with the absurd pace I'd set for myself.

I needed to show Art what I'd accomplished, my body buzzing with anticipation and confidence. Art had regarded me unsuited for the responsibilities of wielding my weapon, but how could I be unfit to master my main element when I'd grasped the first stages of sound in a matter of days?

"Art!" I exclaimed, barging through the door to his study like an impatient child. "I did it, Art. I—"

I stopped in my tracks when I saw Art standing face to face with Caiden, clutching my training staff in his hand, anger painting his ashen face. Caiden stood with a dazed look of bewilderment, his hands resting firmly on his waist as if Art had just informed him of something horrid.

"D-did I arrive at a bad time?" I asked, cautious not to startle them.

I stiffened when their gaze turned to meet mine. Caiden's hardened face softened at the sight of me, but Art's stare blazed with a fury hotter than the scorching sun. For a brief moment, I worried that his wrath was my doing—as if he'd somehow found out that I'd snapped in front of Faye, revealing what I should never have. However, the wrath didn't cut my skin. It didn't make my guts squirm or my breath lodge.

"Will," Caiden said, turning to approach me. "I think someone might—"

A strong wind interrupted Caiden before he could take two steps as Art vanished beside him. I twisted on my heel as Art reappeared in front of the only table that wasn't cluttered or turned over.

He grabbed the draperies hanging behind him, yanking them down with one fierce pull to reveal a glass case much like the one encasing the weapons I aspired to one day wield. However, this capsule contained only one weapon resembling my staff remarkably.

I winced when he furiously cut his hand through the air, unleashing a wind that lifted and tossed the heavy glass casing into the wall to his right. That thing was heavy—heavy enough to stand anchored through countless of my savage hurricanes.

Caiden stood indifferent as I squirmed at the sound of the shattering glass, but he didn't appear unaffected. Wrath seemed to pulse through his veins, too, but unlike Art, Caiden's anger could only be perceived by the color of his white knuckles and the pumping muscles in his clenched jaw.

"That's enough, Uncle," he said, but Art blissfully ignored the command as if his mind was no longer with us.

Art kept staring at the staff, intensely studying its features. Then he raised my staff above his head before smashing the base into the ground, forcing it to stand supported by the broken floor.