The Heir of Aiwan--Book 1

chapter 11

The next morning it is difficult for Emma to get out of bed. The curtains have been drawn back as she lies there, trying to will herself to go eat something. Her stomach lets out another protest, something about the magic here drains her faster than she's used to, but her head and her legs don't seem to care what her stomach has to say. It hurts to even close her eyes leaving them with a tingling burn that feels like rocks and dirt are being ground into them. Having them open is not much better. Finally, she forces her legs over the side of the bed. Running water over her face she rub her eyes with the heels of her hands. This doesn't make them feel better but it certainly doesn't make them feel any worse.

Nothing could make them feel worse. She is not sure she can feel any worse. Emma's muscles ache and her head is pounding as she makes her way down the stairs, the pale pink dress she has chosen for the day swooshes as she walks. Everything in her wardrobe seems to be cheery lately, completely opposite of her sour mood. She wishes she had that Metallica t-shirt from her earth wardrobe today. She wants nothing more right now than to pull on some skinny jeans and combat boots, let the world know that she is raging against her situation.

As she pass the kitchen, it is full of banging and clattering as she makes her way to the dining room. Smells waft out of the seam in the door making her mouth water and her stomach cry out in pain. She needs to eat. She can't imagine why she'd be famished. Sarcasm, look it up. Last night was a nightmare in itself. She was up half the night concerned that she was upsetting her mother's dying wish and also angry with her for leaving her on her own. She guessed not entirely on her own, there's no way her mother say her kidnap and separation from Jame, she wasn't ai.

Her heart aches for Kira. Emma would wish for nothing more than to have her little sister here, maybe not here-here but close at least. She would know what to do. It's then that a thought pops into her head, one that should have come earlier. Kira. She was an Ai princess and didn't she also have sidhe blood? Maybe a mistake was made and Kira was the real leader? She did have more leadership qualities than Emma did. She was strong, powerful, determined. Unlike Emma in so many ways, she thought bitterly. Shouldn't she be happy? Only last night she had not wanted anything to do with any stupid prophecy. Some prophecy her mother hadn't even bothered to tell her herself. Instead leaving her to find out from some random maid in her grandmother's castle. Jame had mentioned her need to rise to the throne, always emphasizing the need for a balanced leader, never once mentioning some sort of prophecy to combine the worlds? What the fuck was up with that?

Shaking her head, she pulled her shoulders back, put her game face on and pushed open the door to the dining room. The fabric that lined the walls lined the door too, her hand sunk into its richness as her weight leaned forward to face her destiny head on. The queen was in her seat again, where she'd been every day this week. The only times she had really seen her besides that one counsel meeting was at meal times. Sometimes she was here for lunch but most days it was breakfast and dinner. That time Emma spent in awkward shallow conversations about the weather or how she was liking Aiwan. A part of Emma just wanted to shout, "What's with this whole prophecy thing?" and get on with it. The other part was terrified to bring it up. It had been important enough for her mother to leave her entire world and travel to scary earth. She thought Emma needed to be protected. She couldn't ignore that entirely.

She pulled her chair out to sit down. Preparing herself for another morning of awkward conversation. She could tell almost immediately after the chair scraped to a stop that something was different, something had changed. Her grandmother had a small smile on she lips, this time it reached she eyes, crinkling them slightly. She looked a bit older just then. In the last week she begin to wonder if fae ever aged. She hadn't seen any around the castle that looked a day over forty, her grandmother included. Now she looked a bit older, especially in the eyes. The rest of she looked as young as ever. The skin of her neck still taut. The kind of skin every woman over the age of thirty hoped to have but knew didn't exist outside of Hollywood without the help of a scalpel.