By Eve Tyger
“A proper princess should not…” Amira ran out the door before her mother could finish the sentence.
I know, a proper princess should not show excess emotions. But how can I help it? Granda is dying!
She dashed down the tapestry lined hallway, tripping over her bejewelled high heeled slippers, snagging them on the hem of her dress. She kept on running till she turned a corner and collided with Conrad, her twin brother. He held up an arm to stop her.
“Woah, Ami, why are you running blindly along the castle passages crying? Granda wouldn’t have liked to see you like this.”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the heir to the throne. He didn’t get scolded at every turn by nagging mothers. Granda wasn’t his only support.
“I’m not crying. I’m just letting water leak from my eyes.”
He laughed at our mother’s favourite saying, and gave me a hug.
“Tutor says that Granda’s will has been released, and we are to go to Granda’s lab to receive what he left us, from him while we still can. Cheer up!”
Amira smiled best as she could through her tears. “I’ll cheer up if you race me, Conie!”
He groaned, “I hate running, you know that. Besides, it’s not a fair race with you wearing those stilts you call shoes. And don’t call me Conie, it sounds like a girls name!”
She laughed harder and pulled him down the hallway, Conrad complaining the whole way. They came to a halt in front of the locked door, and where the lock should be, a wide slit sat instead.
Conrad turned to Amira, looking worried, then his smile brightened.
“Ah, you do have the key.”
“Of course.” She pulled out the ornate stick holding up her long reddish-gold hair. Her hair came tumbling down in elegant waves. It became obvious that the hair holder was no mere stick, but a beautifully carved wooden spoon. She handed it to Conrad, who placed it in the slot, and turned it carefully. The door opened with a creak.
They stepped inside a room full of oddities. Everywhere you looked there were open fireplaces, cast iron pots, and wooden implements. In one corner was a desk, with a huge leather notebook, a clay jar of ink and some quills. Beside that was a huge bookshelf filled with titles like Elixir of Life, Never Grow Old, and Philosopher’s Stone, Turn Copper to Gold.
For indeed, Granda was an alchemist, and not only that, but the greatest alchemist history had ever seen. The only thing was, Granda was dying.
