Chapter 6: Sorry, Not Sorry — I’m Outta Here

The first rays of dawn hit me right in the face as I struggled to regain my bearings. I was barely awake when I heard a familiar voice nearby.

“Research subject number 812457147093 is waking up after 3.14 hours since the incident. Given the commotion in the palace, it might be 3.16 hours of sleep or concussion,” said a man, his tone almost robotic.

I was lying in one of the palace infirmary beds.

“Glad to see you too, Sir Callum,” I said, already knowing who he was. That man was one of the most famous sages, doctors, and researchers at court. I’d had to deal with him more times than I cared to remember during these six years in the palace. I didn’t hate him, but I certainly didn’t like him much. After all the scoundrels, guards, and people who wanted me dead here (not even counting Lyra, whom I wasn’t sure I could even call a friend), at least Sir Callum left me alone.

Of course, in another life, he’d probably have been labeled a sociopath with Asperger’s, but here he was a respected scientist who just studied me from time to time. He didn’t ask uncomfortable questions without reason, only out of curiosity. So, at least he gave me some peace.

“The subject is conscious,” Sir Callum said, jotting notes in his notebook. “No signs of brain damage. Opening oral cavity,” he added, prying open my mouth roughly with the same pen he was using to write.

Without thinking, I punched him square in the nose, making him bleed. He didn’t even flinch.

“The subject responds normally to my tests. Exam concluded,” he said, closing the notebook and walking away.

A few meters away, Lyra stood with a worried look on her face. Behind her, Serine peeked curiously from the doorway.

“I will not inquire about the incident, Princess. Etiology and behavioral events combined with manners are not my specialty. I expect your report tonight in my office, as always,” Sir Callum said.

Lyra just nodded without looking at him and threw herself on me, hugging me tight.

I was surprised but returned the hug with a half-smile.

“I was worried!” Lyra said, tears welling in her eyes. “I didn’t know if you were going to wake up. What the hell happened?”

I told her what little I remembered after the drunken stupor I’d had that night.

I had just gone to the shooting range with the straw dummies, and out of pure frustration, after yelling at them, they exploded.

“So, you got drunk and your powers showed up,” Serine said, stepping in the doorway with a half-scolding tone aimed at me. “You know this isn’t a joke, and if something bad happened—something could happen to you, Rissa—what would I do if it did? Tell me, huh?” She was half crying, too.

Great. Now I had a half-crying princess worried sick and a little sister figure scolding me tearfully. Definitely not the ideal situation—I’d made them worry, and I felt bad.

“Alright, alright,” I started, trying to calm them both down. “Nothing happened to me. I just blew up a couple of straw dummies. It’s no big deal. Besides, it’s progress. Maybe we can figure out more about what I can actually do…”

Suddenly, a slap landed across my face. The princess had stood up and hit me with all her strength.

“A couple of dummies? You idiot! Come with me.”

Grabbing me by the sleeve, Lyra dragged me to the window overlooking the castle courtyard.

I was stunned. Not only was there no trace of the straw dummies at the shooting range, but the area was full of craters, like the castle itself had been bombarded. One of the walls and a tower on the west wing were completely destroyed—or rather “erased.” It was just a gaping hole.

The next few hours were an endless barrage of interrogations from every corner of the palace. They didn’t even bother to let me recover. I put on a tough act, but honestly, after that episode, I was feeling weak.

First came the knights of the Holy Order, accompanied by the highest-ranking episcopal clerics. They certainly didn’t like having me there, and if their exorcisms weren’t useless against me, they’d have killed me by now. They acted out of pure fear—not duty. Cowards, I thought, mocking them and scaring them a little for my own amusement.

Later, the king’s personal guard arrived, followed by the king himself, Lyra, and her older brothers. The two men closest to the king were twins—the same ones who’d been in the throne room the day I arrived. I barely exchanged words with them; they were always busy. Behind Lyra stood her three ladies-in-waiting: Serine, Alenya, and Myrrin.

They interrogated me again. The king was merciful, more so than his guard—maybe he wanted to please his daughter, who’d grown fond of me, or maybe he knew I wasn’t hostile. His sons said nothing, just nodded silently, and I felt disgusted by them. Of the three ladies, Serine seemed the only one interested in how the interrogation was going. Myrrin looked at me with pure contempt, and Alenya was busy staring at some cobwebs on the ceiling like they were far more important than everything going on.

When night finally fell, I was left alone with my thoughts. What a shitty day, I thought. But at least I’d managed to let my powers show themselves. Still, I had to stay alert—they were dangerous, way more than I’d imagined. Over the years, they seemed to grow exponentially, and I was nowhere near controlling them.

I’m not stupid. I’ve come to my own conclusions. I know my stay at the palace is nearing its end. My powers have manifested three times in my twenty-three years, and everyone knows why.

First when I was seven, powers surfacing as I faced death. Then at seventeen, driven by anger and anguish. And now at twenty-three, fueled by frustration. It’s clear: my emotions—the more unstable I am—the trigger for my powers. Potentially, I’m a huge threat; just feeling attacked could wipe out the entire kingdom. So if they’re going to get rid of me, they have to do it without me noticing or feeling threatened.

I have to escape. Tonight. There’s no time for anything else. Figuring out how my powers work, learning about the world—that’s fine, but I value keeping my head on my shoulders more. I’m not dying twice young. Next time I die, it’ll be in a bed, surrounded by the wealth I’ve gathered.

Two guards stood outside the infirmary door. When I left, I told them I needed to go to my chambers for “woman’s things.” Foolish as they were, they escorted me. It took less than two minutes to pack a quick bag with some sheets and four things, and without hesitation, I moved to jump out the window onto the barnyard below.

Suddenly, a loud crash erupted from my closet like an elephant in a china shop.

“Ah-ha!” Princess Lyra said, stepping in. “Caught you! I knew you’d try to run, Rissa.”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms.

“Well, I’d say hello, but I guess you’re here to stop my grand escape.”

Lyra smiled softly, eyes full of concern.

“You don’t have to run. I know why you want to. But please, stay.”

My sarcastic smirk softened a little.

“You always know, don’t you? It’s like you can read me better than I read myself.”

She stepped closer, voice tender but firm.

“Because I care. More than you think.”

I scoffed lightly.

“Careful, Princess. Last time I checked, that word meant little in this palace.”

Lyra shook her head, eyes shining.

“Not between us. Remember that night? The one between you and me?”

My breath caught, a faint blush warming my cheeks.

“You mean the night you wanted me to stay by your side... forever?” I teased, half smiling.

She nodded, ashamed.

“I want you here. Not just for the palace, for me.”

I looked away, battling the surge of feelings inside.

“You don’t get it. If they find out what I can do... they’ll destroy me.”

“But I won’t let that happen,” she whispered, stepping even closer.

My defiance cracked. I reached out, one hand sliding to her waist, the other cupping her chin, lifting her face. Our eyes locked—a silent conversation full of years of unspoken things.

Then I kissed her—soft but desperate, like it was the last time I’d ever get to.

Lyra melted into the kiss, her fingers tangling in my hair.

When we finally parted, her voice was barely a whisper.

“Stay with me,” Lyra said, her voice trembling with a kind of desperate sweetness that made my chest tighten.

“You know I can’t,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, though part of me wished I could stay. “Lyra, I know what you want — to burn down all the rot around the crown and the kingdom and build something new. And somehow, you thought I’d be part of that plan. But I can’t stay. You’re smart enough to know that already. I’m leaving. Don’t try to stop me.”

Then, without warning, Lyra broke down. She sobbed, real, heart-wrenching tears that made me feel like the worst person alive.

“I’ll make you stay,” she said through her sobs. “Because I need you with me. Guards!” she shouted, her voice cracking.

Before either of us could react, something darted out from under my bed — a small figure who lunged at me, pushing me toward the window. Neither Lyra nor I noticed until I hit the sill with a BAAAM!.

I landed in a pile of straw — thank the stars I’d prepared that, just in case I ever needed to sneak out and get drunk in the barn with my ever-annoying accomplice.

“Serine!” I gasped, recognizing her immediately.

“No time to chat,” she interrupted, already moving. “Everything’s ready. Jerrick!” she called out sharply.

From a shadowy corner near the stables, Jerrick appeared, torch in hand, leading two horses saddled and packed with supplies.

“Quick! Let’s go!” Serine urged, mounting her horse in one fluid movement.

I’m not usually the warmest person around, but I threw Jerrick a grin, grabbed his arm, and slammed my fist into his in a perfect fist bump, like we’d been best friends forever.

“Consider me indebted to you, handsome,” I said, smirking.

“Make that debt to two drinks,” Jerrick shot back, shaking his head with a grin. “One for helping you escape, and another for calling me handsome. My own mother doesn’t even do that.”

I laughed. “You might just be the smartest bumpkin in the whole palace, Jerrick. Thanks.”

Without another word, Serine and I melted into the darkness of the night, swallowed up by the dense, whispering forest.