I’d thrown him out of a window, and I couldn’t even remember doing it. Maybe I did deserve to be in this dungeon. Maybe it was a good thing that I’d lived my life in a prison, being drained by a madman for my powers. They weren’t safe in my own hands.
A noise caught my attention, like a shout in the distance. I almost never heard anything down here in this forgotten, never used place. Something loud must be going on. I tilted my head to see if I could hear it again, but nothing came. Maybe something exciting was happening in the castle. Someone was getting engaged or had a baby or…
No, the next time the noise came, it was clearly not someone being happy. It was a scream of anguish. Some of my numbness fled with curiosity and concern as I rushed to the door. A guard stood at attention there at all times.
“Hey,” I called out to him. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, Princess. I can’t leave my post to go find out.”
Well, that was frustrating as anything. Why couldn’t he leave his post? I wasn’t a danger to anyone right now. I had almost no powers.
“Nothing is going to happen to me here, and I can’t hurt anyone. Go check, please, and come back.”
The guard didn’t say anything for a moment but finally acknowledged what I’d said. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
Good. There was more screaming. Something was terribly wrong. I chewed on my bottom lip. Hadn’t my father said I would have some powers? Just the amount I could control until I could handle more? What did that mean?
I stared at my hand. Could I make vines?
I tried to tether some connection to my abilities but found nothing at the end of my invisible rope. A sense of dread creeped up my spine and bloomed through my limbs. It was as if I could sense the danger around me. Something was very wrong.
More shouts crashed around my ears. Angry yells. Clanging metal. Bombs. The entire castle shook. I had a fleeting moment where I wondered if Cypress was coming for me. But that excitement completely diminished the moment my concrete door slammed open. It wasn’t my assassin coming to save me. It was my doom.
The man walking into my prison was large, nearly seven feet tall. Splatters of blood covered his chest and face. He had one eye, mangy hair and a clenched fist. I looked up at him with my mouth dropped open in shock. Who was he? What did he want?
“Found the princess,” he growled in a low-timbre voice over his shoulder.
“They put her in the dungeon? How completely wonderful.” That was a voice I knew. Bhaltair. He’d gotten to me, and this time I didn’t have Cypress to turn me into a tree and save my life. I backed up. Okay. I had no power, but that didn’t mean I was powerless. I could do what people had been doing their whole lives to get out of trouble, and I’d certainly witnessed it enough in prison.
I rushed forward. The man in front of me was huge, but he didn’t expect me to do what I did. I ducked under his arm and ran past him into the hall. Bhaltair stood at one end, and that meant I was going the other way. I’d done this with Cypress. He’d moved me through the shadows. The trick seemed to be to just keep moving. I ran as hard and as fast as I could, finding the hidden stairway that I’d used with Cypress. I raced up the steps, the assassins close behind me. I wasn’t going to get out of here, but at least there might be help up the stairs. I wouldn't be lost in the dungeon, awaiting my doom.
But the scene on the first floor was worse. The guards were fighting, but they weren’t winning. The sheer number of assassins in the room staggered me. I came to an abrupt stop. There was simply nowhere to go.
My father spotted me where he battled, and his eyes widened.
“Daughter,” he shouted and waved his hand. A bolt of power struck me, and I staggered backward. What was that? A second later, I knew. He’d taken off my dampener. I was at full power again. I stared at my hands as they seemed to blur and then come into focus again.
I felt an ancient sort of power rush me. It felt like turning on a faucet. Like releasing a dam. Like feeling the sun on your skin for the first time. It was a rush, but I was powerless to direct it. Trying to make sense and control the sudden flow of unbridled power was like trying to block the sun—impossible.
Vines rushed up from the floor. The room started alternating between hot and cold, as if I couldn’t control the changing of seasons. Steam billowed off fighting men, as if they were burning from the inside out. On the other side of the room, snowflakes fell from the concrete ceiling, and the floor turned to ice. Men slipped and crashed to the ground.
I thrust my hands out in front of me, and thorny vines conjured by my movement burst from the cracks in the wall. Blood splattered as men on both sides of the battle were struck with the sharp points of my plants. I couldn’t control where my powers were going. I was hurting everyone. I cut my gaze toward my mother
