In the Open Cage

Chapter 16

Misa paced in front of the square water fountain, unable to sit still and enjoy the serene view of the colourful fishes splashing in the water. She had tried to sketch as was her routine, but she simply couldn't concentrate on anything other than what had happened in the throne room.

Something was terribly wrong. The witches had begun to celebrate the success of the treaty, some uncloaking their magic just for the sheer freedom it gave them. Even Brin, who had been skeptical of Nisha's intentions from the beginning, had told Misa that maybe Nisha had had a change of heart.

It seemed only Misa was feeling antsy and uneasy about the whole ordeal. Maybe she was looking too much into it. Maybe Nisha had other plans that rested on the success of the treaty, that relied on peace between witches and the country's nobles. If that was so, even if Nisha had evil intentions, Misa saw no reason to stop the witch's plans.

She took a seat at the corner, tapping her finger against the hard back of her sketchbook. Was she overthinking it? Had Nisha been such a terror to her that everything the witch did hiked up Misa's nerves? She recalled the terrifying conversation she had the night of the witches' meet, when Nisha had gloated over her victory. It was possible all that she said was only to intimidate Misa and not at all what she truly planned. Misa just didn't know, and she couldn't celebrate or relax when there was a sickening twist at the pit of her stomach.

"Misa," a smooth, cool voice called from the pathway. The guards instinctively fell back, as if they had been told prior that they were to give Misa and the prince some privacy any time the two of them would meet.

Misa glared at the prince. "I don't have time for this." She stood, wary in case Perrin tried to grab her, as he so habitually did. "What do you want, Prince? If you're here to offer me something else that will taint you and the people around you, I don't want it. Excuse me. I will return to my chambers now."

"Misa, wait." The prince's footsteps tapped against the bricks, and Misa whirled around before he could make a grab at her. He paused, smiling sheepishly. Why was he acting so friendly? Another tactic of his, no doubt.

"Leave me alone." Misa inched away from him. "Aren't you tired of this?"

"Listen," he said, taking a deep breath. "I apologise for everything I did to you since you arrived. I have reflected on it, and I understand that I've been quite..."

"Rude?" Misa finished. "Pushy? An entitled prince who thought he could get whatever he wanted because he was a spoiled brat?"

"Brash," the prince said, meekly. "But, well, you're not wrong."

"What are you trying to pull, Prince?" Misa shook her head. "I already know your true colours. There's no point in acting all polite and sweet now."

"I'm not pulling anything." Perrin shrugged. "It seems I misjudged you. I've been thinking about that day in my painting room, and your reaction made little sense to me at the time."

"I don't want to hear it." Misa already knew she couldn't trust anything he would say about that horrible day, and it was a memory she wanted to blot out forever.

"I understand I may have been a little too forward that day, and I'm sorry for it. As I said, I feel I misjudged you. I've been told witches are named after their most powerful spells, not their character."

So that was what he'd thought of her, Misa realised. He saw her rising anger and spoke before she could retort.

"It's my mistake, honest. But, I've learned the truth now and I wanted to offer you an apology."

Misa studied him, still full of distrust. He seemed earnest, his smile nervous and his gaze apologetic, but Misa couldn't bring herself to listen to him. She had learned all too well that appearances were easy to feign.