Sequel: Obliques

Outliers

t·e n j·u n c t u r e

I roll another furry blanket in the case, before I hear a knock on my door. A maid walks in.
“The Prince has arrived.”
I quickly dash down the hall and halt at the top of the stairs. I finally see Prance dusting off the trickles of snow from his shoulders. I lean my hands on the railing, as if fir support. I don’t exactly know how to feel. I try to brush it off. I watch him order people around. My heart is silent in my chest. When he looks up, we share eyes. I walk down the stairs.
“You’re back,” I say.
He looks away and walks down the foyer. I follow behind him.
I speak up, “You’re father came earlier today.”
He stops to look at me.
“Why? What for?”
“He spoke to me about what I said during the meeting at Parliament,” I tell him.
Prance frowns, “Of course you had to open your big mouth.”
“W-well it was a good thing!” I defend, “He said he’ll send money for Outliers.”
He pauses, “That doesn’t sound like my father.”
“He did. He even agreed to send me to the Hitherlands.”
Prance jerks his head in disbelief.
“No,” he shoots.
I knit my brows together, “No?”
Prance walks ahead.
“No, you’re not going.”
My eyes widen.
“What do you mean? Of course I am!” I argue, fuming.
“He’s clearly got a plan of his own.”
I fold my arms across my chest and puff a ton of air out of my lungs. Why am I even arguing with him? He doesn’t really care.
“I am going,” I spell out.
“You don’t know my father,” he warns.
“I don’t know you,” I say, firmly. Prance stops in his steps again and glares. “Why should you care?”
“I don’t,” he throws.
I tighten my lips and hiss, “Then don’t stop me.”
I turn back to the stairs and up my room. I remember how to feel. The mere sight of him brings me anger. I can hear him breathe like a bull.

I hear the chopping wings of the helicopter starting up. The butlers pack my bags of blankets and food away. The maids slip me in a warming coat. I quickly go outside and see the helicopter waiting for me. Suddenly, Prance walks pass me, towards the helicopter. I groan.
“What are you doing?” I yell through the noise.
He doesn’t even answer me. He simply hops into the helicopter. I jump in as well, as the pilot assists me in buckling into protective gear. I glower at Prance who sits next to me.
“I don’t remember inviting you to keep me company,” I say.
He doesn’t respond. I grit my teeth together.
We fly over the city and over the seas.

Within a few hours, we reach the edge of the Hitherlands. Once the helicopter lands safely, I eagerly climb out. The streets were quiet and grave. A few other jets land after us. I pace to Piths Square, the place I know too well. It’s the crack of dawn and people were doing their daily chores. I stand by the little market place that’s falling apart. I’ve wanted to return so desperately, and now that I’m here… I don’t feel like I belong. The wind here is colder to the bone. The eyes on people’s faces are sombre. Not with angst, but with grief. It smells terribly of blood and dirt. My nose has grown delicate to flowers and fruit. I tuck my hair behind my ears and inhale as much as I can. Nearby, I see a little girl picking scarce dandelions growing out of the concrete with only one arm. I march over to her and bend down. I rip out of my coat and wrap it over her shoulders.
She smiles widely, “Are you a princess?”
I struggle to smile back and shake my head, “No.”
“You look like a princess,” she tells me.
I button the coat all the way up for her and say, “Now, you do too.”
The assistants behind me just stand motionless, which irks me.
“Set up a tent,” I order, “Prepare food and water and clothes.”
Immediately, after my words, they all get moving. I look back at my new little friend. It becomes easier for me to smile, as I feel as though I have the power to help now.
“Tell everyone to come. I have good food and warm blankets,” I tell the little girl.
She beams and hands to me her four dandelions like a bouquet. I take it and she scampers to spread the word. I breathe a sigh of relief. I feel so much better that I’m lucky enough to come with plenty. I’m glad that I didn’t hold my tongue to the King. This is better than I could imagine. Once I turn around, I see Prance’s eyes on me. He has on an unreadable gaze. I try to ignore him and start my next task. To find Isa.
♠ ♠ ♠
A/N: what do you think prance is thinking? hope you like.

yay! tenth chapter!

-ẍimone