He was tall.

That was her first thought upon seeing the Grand Enchanter looming over her. And he did loom— there was no mistaking that. All red cloak and dark shadows under the hood, holding a large wooden staff that made him seem even more imposing, he really did seem like a reaper coming to take her away.

Pale skin streaked by jagged lines of a silvery Mark peeked out from under the hood, just enough to let her see a little of his jaw, a glimpse of his lips. The Mark almost like veins, or maybe branches, but there was too little visible to really tell. Something went fuzzy in her head for a moment, but it was gone before she could latch onto it, overtaken by the desire to flinch away from him, by the fear of what might happen to her.

And then he did something very unexpected.

He extended the end of his staff towards her.

Aoife stared. It felt like she was looking down on the scene from somewhere else, somewhere far away. What was he going to do? Hit her? Magic her? She looked from what she could see of his face to the end of the staff, and then back again.

He didn't move.

"Get up," he said, shaking the staff a little.

Oh. He meant for her to grab it.

She reached out and grabbed the end, managing to extricate herself from the thorny disaster without too much extra trouble. He pulled her up like she weighed absolutely nothing, drawing her out of the tangle like the thorns clinging onto her clothes weren't even there.

The sight of the dried and decaying bushes in the middle of a garden of flowers made her want to vomit. The whole row was dead, not just the area where she fell. Aoife vaguely remembered reading something about interconnecting root systems, but it was overshadowed by a wash of utter numbness in the wake of the destruction.

There was a slight tickling at the corner of her jaw, and when she touched it her glove came away bloody. Her cheek was scratched, then. Her blouse had several rips, tears, and slashes in the sleeves, almost as if the roses had attempted to fight back against their demise. Judging by the stinging in her calves, they had given a good fight.

Aoife started to open her mouth, started to take a step back, but she didn't have a chance. A guard came running over from another area of the garden,

"Sir, what—"cutting off abruptly as he looked back and forth between the dead bushes, the Enchanter, and Aoife. Her heartbeat sped up, sending the blood rushing back to her head. Before she could think about it consciously, before she could think to stay calm or to plead her case, panic won out.

Aoife ran.

Again.

"Wait!" the Grand Enchanter called, but Aoife was already gone, back down the path that brought her here. They were no doubt chasing after her, but the Grand Enchanter's long robes and the armor of the guards might give her enough of an advantage in speed to outrun them. Her feet pounded against the stones as the gate came into view in front of her. If she could make it there, she might be able to lose them in the streets. Aoife skidded to a near stop at the edge of the path, turning a hard left out of the garden gates and—

Ran straight into the large chest of Erik Henning.

It took her a moment to process what was happening, and it was a moment too long. She'd lost her chance for escape even as she tried to pull away.

"You are coming with me," he said firmly, grabbing her wrist. "No little girl gets to publicly insult me."

Aoife struggled against the hold, but she wasn't strong enough to break awa.

"Let me go!" she huffed, but Erik only brought her closer, keeping a firm hold on her wrists over her gloves.

"I don't know what trouble you're into now, but you're not getting away this time," he sneered, the stink of alcohol wafting off him like rancid perfume.

Clearly, she'd been in the garden long enough for him to get a drink, and he'd decided to sniff her out afterwards. Perhaps she shouldn't have gambled on the idea that his pride would heal faster than his body.

Aoife looked frantically around the deserted street outside the garden entrance. She wasn't entirely sure how Erik managed to track her all the way here, but that didn't matter. It didn't change her current predicament.

For all the people that were around the main areas of the city, there was no one here to save her now. The garden she'd thought of as a sanctuary of solitude might be her undoing in the end. The guards were likely chasing, yes, but there was no guarantee that they would do anything against Erik when they found her.

If they found her.

"Get off!" Aoife said through gritted teeth. She yanked her wrists away, still not managing to overpower him, only to feel a sharp slap across her jaw.

She barely had time to register what was going on before the fear started. It came from somewhere in her gut, like churning water as black and slick as oil, swelling up like a dark wave inside her mind. She pulled again, tears welling in her eyes.

The iron in her gloves wouldn't stop it if she didn't hurry.

Somewhere, distantly, Aoife heard herself pleading, begging for him to just let her down, to stop dragging her wherever he planned to take her, to let go for his own safety. She wasn't entirely sure what she was saying, consumed by the crashing waves in her mind, consumed by trying to hold them back.

Erik didn't let go.

The world went cold.

When the wave broke, Aoife felt it. Her wrists grew cold where he held them and the energy was hot, hot, hot, burning against them like embers searing off her skin. His heartbeat roared in her ears against the rhythm of her own, and she felt an unholy kind of shudder as he screamed, clenching her teeth so that she didn't scream, too.

She didn't notice when he dropped her wrist, but she did feel the hard ground rise to meet her, felt the impact of her shoulder on the stone street.

Looking over from where she landed, Aoife noticed two things.

Firstly, Erik was now on the ground several paces away from her, gasping for breath with a trickle of blood coming out one side of his nose. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked afraid.

Secondly, three palace guards, all armed with swords, were standing behind him, staring at her with open mouths and wide eyes. One of them visibly took a step back, looking very much like he might run away if he wasn't afraid of losing his job.

The Grand Enchanter stood behind them, though he seemed much less afraid. In fact, he looked a little more like a bird of prey, standing with his head tilted slightly to the side with an air of eerie calm about him. He didn't seem to have any intention of moving, and he didn't seem afraid, either.

Odd.

One of the guards came to his senses first, dropping his spear and pulling Erik up off the ground, who was still groaning in pain.

"She... she..." Erik moaned, trying to slide farther away from Aoife.

"You, get up," the tallest of the guards said, bringing the end of the spear a little closer to her. "You're coming with us."

The man didn't seem particularly inclined to come closer to her than necessary, and Aoide couldn't blame him. They didn't have any way of knowing what just happened, and they certainly didn't know if it might happen to them, too.

Aoife felt a sinking dread settle into her bones as she looked from the spear, back to the guards, and then over to the Grand Enchanter. She wasn't sure what to say or what to do, but as she tried to slide away, the guard with the spear only pressed closer.

She tried to scramble away, scooting backwards along the cobblestones, but her legs were shaking, and she wasn't able to stand. Instead, Aoife slid approximately three paces away from the tip of the spear before she found herself crashing against something hard and metal.

Stopping suddenly, she looked up and over her shoulder, only to find that she'd backed into the legs of a fourth guard. The panic had consumed her to the point where she hadn't even heard his approaching footsteps, and now he'd entirely blocked her escape.

Wait. No, he wasn't just a guard.

The green sash at his waist marked him as Captain Adelson, commander of the King's personal guard. He was the highest ranked captain in the castle, and he'd been on the platform before. What brought him over here?

"We heard a commotion over... What happened?" the Captain asked, blinking furiously. "Did you find that girl?"

Ah. Now she understood.

Erik managed to track her to the entrance to the gardens because he'd asked the Captain of the Guard for help. A missing person on festival day was serious business, so depending on how he framed his search, it made sense that the Captain himself would come looking.

... And now he was here, blocking her exit and witnessing her humiliation.

Cutting her eyes to the side, Aoife managed to catch a glance of the Grand Enchanter. He was curiously silent, watching the situation like a hawk, but without saying a word. Did he even care what was happening to her?

Answer: probably not.

"She tried to kill me!" Erik practically screamed.

"Shut up," the Grand Enchanter snapped, and though his face was covered, he certainly leveled a glare at Erik.

"Did she?" the Captain pressed, looking at his guards.

One of them kept the spear trained on Aoife, and the other two spoke in low voices with the Captain. She wasn't entirely sure what they said, but she was quite certain that it couldn't be good. The way Adelson looked at her, she thought that running from this might be an even worse decision than before.

"Try to run, and we'll skewer you," said Adelson, in case it wasn't already clear from the spear tips a hands' breadth from her face.

Confirmed. Running away would certainly be worse.

"I can assure you that they will not skewer you," snapped the red-cloaked reaper. Strangely, it felt more like a command for the guards than a warning for Aoife. "In fact, I do not feel it's necessary to take her anywhere at all."

"She trespassed on the grounds under my watch. I plan to deal with it," said the Captain.

"And I outrank you," the Grand Enchanter said coolly. "Make a spectacle of this and it will not end well for you."

"Castle security is my responsibility, Fae," he spat, before turning to the other guards. "Take her to the square immediately. We'll deal with this now. Girl, you can either stand and walk, or you can go to the square skewered on a spear."

The square?

She fought not to curse under her breath. Of course, a disturbance on festival day would be brought directly to the King, to discourage such things from happening again. There was almost nothing worse that could happen. She didn't want the attention on the best of days, and she especially didn't need anyone finding out about her magic.

Aoife nodded, slowly rising to her feet. It wasn't worth arguing, and she didn't want to think about what would happen if the spear didn't kill her. Would she just be alive and stuck through with...

No, best not to think about that.

She let the guards guide her towards the main square at spearpoint, eyes fixed on the cobblestones so that she didn't have to see anyone looking at her. The sound of her heart pounding in her chest drowned out almost anything else around her, and she simply forced her feet forward.

The crowd parted for them as they walked. Spears generally did that. Aoife kept her eyes down all the way to the dais, though, only daring to raise her eyes when she needed to ascend the wooden steps.

Listing her skirts, she carefully made her way up to the platform, followed by a haughty-looking Erik. Where there was chatter earlier, music in the air, and dancing on the sidelines, now the square was silent.

A fleeting glance out from the platform revealed that yes, everyone in town seemed to be looking right at her, watching with bated breath.

Aoife wanted to vomit.

Her jaw ached where Erik hit her, and her wrists stung, though at first glance he appeared to be in much worse shape. He looked... hollow, somehow. Age lines showed where they shouldn't, and Aoife thought she saw a small peek of silver in his hair where there wasn't one before. Luckily, the age lines were likely temporary, and so were the eerie dark circles under his eyes. The silver streak might be permanent, though.

"Your Majesty, this girl caused a... disturbance," the Captain said carefully. "She trespassed in the castle gardens, tried to run away, and this man claims she assaulted him."

"Tresspassed? How did she even get inside?" the King asked, puzzled.

"The gate was open," Aoife murmured helplessly, but they didn't seem to pay her any mind.

"I don't know, Your Majesty, but I am certain she meant harm. She incapacitated that man after leaving the garden. Who knows what she would have done to our guards."

"I highly doubt this slip of a girl could manage to break into the castle gardens," the King said skeptically.

"She did come out of the gardens, though," Erik said, stepping forward. "And then she... did something to me! One second I was fine, and the next I was on the ground with a bloody nose."

Gasps and murmurs came from the crowd. Aoife didn't have the heart to look up, to see what emotions ran across their faces.

"I don't know what she did, but there was— there was burning, and pain, and it felt like I was having the soul sucked out of me—" Erik continued, even louder this time.

Aoife winced.

That wasn't what her magic did, of course, but it was certainly too close for comfort.

"She must be Touched, then. Though... I've never heard of any magic that can steal souls," the Captain said, eyeing her suspiciously. If possible, Aoife drew even further in on herself.

"I know you were born outside Quilland and aren't used to magic in daily life, but I don't think you need to fear magic stealing souls," the king said, shaking his head, but he did look... unnerved. Perhaps he was simply trying to stay calm in the face of a massive crowd.

Yes, stealing souls was extreme, but Touches usually came in known quantities. A known ability— something elemental, animal speak, or even telekenisis— was much, much less of a concern than something unidentified.

"The—the gate was already op—" she tried again.

It was useless, though.

"She's dangerous, I'm sure, Your Majesty. She should be detained and questioned immediately," the Captain continued, completely ignoring Aoife even as she opened her mouth to correct him once more.

She didn't get the chance to speak in her defense, but an even louder voice than Adelson boomed across the square in her stead.

"As she keeps attempting to tell you, the outer gates to the garden were wide open," the Grand Enchanter said dryly. "I saw them myself when I noticed her sitting there. On a bench. Harmlessly, I might add. Staring at flowers. Probably lost."

Aoife thought he muttered something under his breath that sounded quite like "I live among idiots," but she couldn't be certain, and no one else seemed to hear.

She briefly wondered why on earth he was bothering to defend her, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything, or even to move.

So many people. So many stares.

What if they thought she was a demon again? What if they ran her out? It was a miracle she'd survived last time. With a mob like this on festival day, there was no way she could ever make it out if they decided to chase her. She would be doomed and dead and never have her chance at living in peace again. People would get hurt in the scuffle, too, and it would be her fault.

All her fault.

Aoife felt small and paralyzed, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she hung her head low, gaze focused on the pattern of stones decorating the ground. The whole world seemed muffled and watery, far away and echoing, the loudest sound her own blood rushing in her ears.

"Why were the gates open, Captain?" she dimly heard in the background. It was a man.

The king?

No, this was a younger man.

Aoife blinked, surprised to see a second figure standing with the king. He was just as tall, but his crown was smaller, and he looked younger, his dark hair glinting slight red in the bright sunlight.

The prince?

The world came back into focus as Aoife blinked, forcing herself to take in the scene in front of her. Why... why would Prince Corin take up for her?

"I... ensure you that the gates were locked this morning," he said hastily, "and she still is responsible for destruction of castle grounds. Several rose bushes are now dead."

"I must take the blame for frightening her, I'm afraid," the Grand Enchanter said calmly, interjecting even before the King could respond. "She seemed quite rattled already, and I mistook her for someone else and called out."

"This is clearly an innocent mistake," Corin said, nodding at the Grand Enchanter. "A mistake brought on by a lack of preparation from the guards, it seems."

Aoife tried once more, but failed to come up with any reason why either of these people might be protecting her. The Grand Enchanter was not known to take part in affairs that did not involve him directly. The rumors said he only rarely showed up at Court, and only for the most heinous of trials. His sense of justice was swift, and he wasn't known to show mercy.

Prince Corin, on the other hand, was known for his kindness. He was also known for his lack of interest in politics, though. It was a little out of character for him to involve himself in anything involving the justice system, especially if it interrupted the festivities.

So why show concern for a scratched-up village girl who he'd never seen before in his life? Certainly he was smart enough to conclude that she was Touched, so he knew she was dangerous. He more than anyone should be trying to rid this earth of her presence, shouldn't he?

"It doesn't change the fact that she did injure this man—" the Captain spluttered, his face slowly turning an interesting shade of purple.

"And yet he bears no bruises," the Grand Enchanter said, heaving a sigh. "Take a look at her, though. You, girl, what happened after you left the garden?" He gestured to Aoife broadly, waiting for her to fill in the details.

Aoife jumped half a head into the air, stammering slightly as she spoke.

"H—he grabbed me, and when I resisted, he hit me," she said flatly, wrapping her arms around herself a little more tightly. She could feel the place on her jaw where the smack had no doubt left a bruise. The Grand Enchanter watched intently as she spoke, but said nothing. Though the hood obscured his eyes, she had the sneaking feeling he was staring at her.

"And then you... incapacitated him?" the King asked carefully. Aoife shook her head, but the words caught in her throat. Fear was a highly effective means of paralysis, and in the face of the Grand Enchanter, she felt like a mouse standing next to a mountain.

Or, quite possibly, a volcano.

He looked at her... Well, she couldn't tell how he looked at her with his face obscured, but something about his posture made her think she was under scrutiny. He seemed like a very large, red hawk, waiting to pounce if she moved. The Captain was no better, though he seemed less calculating. Oddly, the King seemed the least threatening out of all of them. At least the worst he could do would be to throw her in the dungeon.

Probably.

"I..." the king began, shaking his head. "I can't ignore the fact that this man was injured by magical means."

"Even in self-defense?" Corin countered.

"This is dangerous magic," the older man said softly. "Based on what they describe, this isn't something we've seen before. We can't have her just running lose like this."

He clearly wanted to keep his opinions out of the public eye, as he practically whispered this to his son. Aoife couldn't blame him, truly— it wasn't like any normal Touch he'd be familiar with.

However, this situation had very quickly spiraled into her deepest fears come to life.

"And we celebrate magic in this kingdom. All of it can be dangerous if we aren't careful!" Corin said, not bothering to lower his voice. There were one or two sporadic whoops from the crowd, but not enough to make his father look away.

King Tristan glowered at him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Clearly, this situation was not handled with care," the older man hissed.

"Care went out the window when he attacked her—"

Aoife was afraid this would turn into more of a heated argument than she wanted, but she was too shocked and afraid to protest. This was, arguably, the most public setting possible, and she still couldn't understand why the Prince felt it was important to take up for her.

"Young lady," the king finally said. "It seems this problem would be solved if you could simply tell us the nature of your Touch."

Aoife opened her mouth, a fleeting flicker of hope rising in her chest.

"I... It's..." she began softly.

And then it was gone.

How was she supposed to explain that she killed things? That people and plants and animals couldn't survive prolonged contact with her? How was she supposed to convince them to let her go, to live in peace?

How was it even possible to tell someone that she wasn't dangerous? Magic like that spoke louder than any other reasoning she could offer.

It was only when another, deeper voice calmly spoke that she was saved from her explanation.

"Give her to me, then."