Fake Princess
CHAPTER 66
As she looked up at the prank, Paula squinted her eyes while contemplating. “ A strange spell, really. They would have had a hard time had the princess died as a child, while living in a convent orphanage. His spell can fall apart, and your magic will come back to you, just like now. They won't be able to acknowledge you as the princess. But I don't think there's any other way to do it. But now that I really have to start working on this,“ Paula shook the bowl until the powder inside turned briefly to the side, then fell to its base again, “ or its potential will be lost. Famous blood fig seeds like that.”
After that I wandered, restlessly, around the house. I wanted something that could distract me, something other than my musings regarding the conversation with Diana or the disturbing idea that parts of us had been exchanged during the spell.
Or the idea that there's some unknown person following me. I knew I should have used a message spell to tell Devan, to tell him that his words about Diana were true, but every time I started the spell, I stopped.
I wasn't ready; it was too new, too sensitive, like a newly opened bandage. Some of the wounds inside me may have been killed by chatting with Diana, but that doesn't mean I want anyone to check on her. So, I made a troublemaker, disturbing everyone from Gema, who drove me out of the kitchen in a cloud of flour, to Arion, who was driving me away from the kitchen, who received my presence in the stables until I accidentally flew some horse combs, and scared off Paula's mare. After being herded out of the stables, I returned home, took a walk down the hall and occasionally entered a room and came out again just moments later.
Not even the library interested me, and I finally found myself in front of my bedroom. Sighing and unable to think of anything else, I opened the door, entered, and lay on the bed to stare at the ceiling.
What is Diana doing? Has he returned to the palace? I wonder if he sensed the remnants of the spell they cast on us.
With a growl I got up and observed the room, desperately wanting something that could make me stop thinking about things. I'm tired of dying thinking about my situation, worrying about who I am and not who I am.
Please, my mind, send a request to the Nameless God, to help me, I know the Nameless God has many other things that are more worth worrying about than thinking about an unhappy copycat girl.
I closed my eyes and prayed. Please let me stop. I just want to be me, I just want to be useful and satisfied. I wanted to stop wondering if I would feel whole and completely whole. I want to have a purpose, a purpose that I can see without feeling inferior to my former self.
If I had expected some kind of omen.a thunder roar in the rain-drenched sky or a sincere tremor in my chest.I waited in vain. Nothing happened, not even the wind in the window. Feeling silly, I kicked the side of the bed a few times until my eyes were pounded onto the table, which was filled with papers and books I borrowed from the library. Well, my inner self, if the Nameless God had not left all his affairs to meet my needs, I would have better get it sorted out.
Seriate