I stare at my desk, laden with items. First, I eye Tai's attempt at an apology. A blank book, with a variety of pencils, coloured and not, accompanied with a few other bits of stationary. All of this is vaguely familiar, but not something I've dabbled deeply into. He knows I have no skills, so I'm assuming this is his way of giving me the option to experiment. I'm not going to pretend like it doesn't pique my interest. Later.&nb

The pencil shudders between my fingertips. The stark white of the page frames each uncontrolled line and faintly erased mark. I'm not sure what to think, what to feel. Instead of staring at the page, I eye my bare ring finger. I've been proposed to; I am a pawn in a dangerous game between two royals. I want to be angry at Tai, but I don't know what to think. I'm more confused than anything, considering I haven't spoken to him since about his intentions. He wants to kill his father. Is he crazy? Never mind the strang

This is not how I expected my night to go. Only an hour ago, Vaia summoned me to her bedroom, for what I expected would be to do with her date with Marek tonight. I was right, but not exactly in the way I expected. As I walked in, Vaia had her duvet pulled up to her chin, surrounded by plush feather pillows and an extensive collection of tissues. For twenty minutes, I sat at the edge of her bed, listening to her cry dramatically, as if a date with Marek determines how the rest of her life will play out. I didn't have the heart to tell her Marek is doing this for my benefit.

The tension mulling around in my stomach doesn't leave me, even as I wake. Marek haunted my dreams all last night, and apparently my first waking hours. It were his eyes, usually a warm, cornflower blue like the wildflowers that grow endlessly along the line of the forest, now like chunks of sharp ice, a dagger like glare chasing me through my nightmares. His intentions, etched permanently within my mind. He wanted to kiss me. Did I want to kiss him? It surely felt good, but only for the fleeting moment I al

Marek stands before me, his dull lamp light casting eerie shadows across his face, the shapes manipulating as he moves. I lounge upon his desk chair, watching him in a way a studious student would watch their teacher. Right now, that’s what he is, teaching me the nuisances of a Summoner and their attacks, having just rambled on for the past eight minutes of Summoner history that I will likely be unable to retain. His room is similar to mine, although far smaller with plain bedding and only a desk instead of a dresser. His own balcony door is wide open, despite tonight being far cooler than past nights. The ice tinted breeze dances it’s way through his dark curtains, tugging at the cover of a book that lounges by his bedside. It must be coming from the snowy mountain caps of the Azure Province. "Dealing with a Summoner is simple, in reality," Mare