Hidden Spirit {Completed}

Chapter Fourteen: A Different Sort of Thief

Upon return, Amelia had to be careful to sneak in unnoticed. The morning was still early and the servants still busy with the duties such a time required. Amelia had considered for a long while staying in her room, before realizing that the last encounter she'd had with the Lady of the keep was short, rude, and unfavorable — when Lucia had had her pulled from bed.

To show that she was very capable of handling herself, Amelia would have to at least show her face once. Where were the servants when she needed them?

She'd changed and left the other clothes and boots hidden in the bottom of the wardrobe. Then the usual dress was adorned and her hair let down, wavy and tumbling in a different style as she'd braided it before. She walked silently down to the lower halls and realized her stomach was growling.

As if on queue, Lucia walked around the corner with a maid at her heels.

"—And I would like for there to be some—"

She caught sight of Amelia and her words faltered. Amelia continued to walk by, passing a soft smile.

"Oh! Darling, good morning. I'm glad to see you up at this hour! Are you busy today?"

She hesitated to reply, her mouth open without words.

"Oh, excellent! Would you like to join me in my errands?"

"I can't say that I wou—"

"I will be going into the town today to speak with some of Andrew's friends. I thought you might like to meet them."

"I understand that Andrew has plenty of friends," she tried softly.

"Yes, he is quite the amiable man, my son. Well," she announced, bouncing her shoulders back with a pleasant smile. "I will be leaving around noon. We shall meet in the grand hall then. It will be fun!"

They bustled off before Amelia could make up any sort of excuse.

This is what you get for trying to seem normal, she told herself. Wonderful.

***

Feren sat and stared back at the grey towers for a long while after the sight of her disappeared. His spirits nudged at him and demanded his attention, but he didn't turn to them until a spirit lay down at his side and it wasn't his own.

Well it was, but not really. Amelia's lion lie there, as dark as the shadows and as laid back as the rest of his animals. It was very large; its paws the size of Feren's head. The sight of it made him sick with a mixture of longing, discomfort, and anger. It was quickly called away.

He didn't feel bad for how he'd spoken to her before.

However, the outburst wasn't entirely his fault.

When they had first discussed how to handle each other and this new discovery of their pairing — this "coming together as a whole" thing— she had wanted him to completely ignore that they were quite literally formed for each other. That of all the people in this stupid country, this continent, she and he were cut from the same cloth; designed to fit together so perfectly that no one else would ever quite fit.

And that, surely, was not the thing that made Feren cringe.

Then finally as the idea was beginning to make sense to him, and the idea of outright rejecting her began to fade, she decided that she did want to pursue whatever this joining meant, and she does want to be with him.

She wanted to be free. A wild spirit. Like any animal caged.

She wanted to be free of all of these burdens that were so... human.