“Maybe they are trying to just mess with our heads,” Absalom said.
“Maybe.”
Silence.
“But why would they capture us just to mess with our heads? There’s gotta be more sense to it than that,” I protested.
“Well I don’t know sense there is in it, Aigneis. Aigneis, your name is so…charming.”
I looked at him with failing eyes, “What?!?” He couldn’t be saying that, he shouldn’t. Why, oh why …
“Your name is beautiful; it sounds like running water. What does it mean?” Absalom asked, his eyes drawing me to him. I looked away.
“What does what mean?” I asked softly, my voice weak.
“What does Aigneis mean?” he asked. There was a long pause, and then...
“It means pure.”
“That name is perfect for you, Aigneis.” I wanted to slap him and smile at the same time. I wanted to tell him how evil he was being to me, but he wouldn’t understand. I hid my face, and became preoccupied with bunching my dress to where it would cushion my back when a slept. His hand rested on my shoulder, guiding my face up gently to look toward him, and then he gently released me.
“You don’t believe me, do you? And yet I could feel it, as soon as I first saw you, that there’s something about you. You’re just . . . diverse.” I looked from his gaze again. After a pause, he sighed, looking away, finally. My heart shuddered uncontrollably as I lay down to sleep with my back to him.
*
Absalom and I looked at each other, embarrassed. Then the bird caught my eye. It was sitting on his shoulder, but Absalom didn’t seem to be aware of it. I dropped my head, wondering about it.
*
“Sleeping Beauty awakes at last,” commented Absalom. I grimaced. ‘He’s just sucking up,’ I thought to myself, ‘just sucking up; it won’t work. Don’t get so unnerved.’
My stomach was complaining a little. The food wasn’t as moldy as it had been yesterday, but it was still disgusting. And after eating it I was still weak from lack of nourishment. I sighed, putting my hands in my pockets; my fingers hit a rock. An idea bloomed.
“Hey!” I exclaimed, looking around to make sure there wasn’t a guard there before continuing, I whisked the stone I had found earlier out from my pocket, then whispered, “Let’s break the lock with this!”
At first, Absalom started to chuckle and say, “It’d have to be an extremely strong rock to . . .” but seeing the stone, he stopped; he stared at me, looking quite dumbfounded.
“What?”
The look he was giving me was critical.
“What is it?”
Still no answer. His face was grave, for the first time since I’d called him ‘Prince’. His eyes were blazing, angry, locked on the gem. His eyes . . .
“Absalom, what’s the matter?” I asked meekly. His wrath was so visible, I was trembling, terrified.
His anger morphed every word into a growl, “Where? Where did you get that?”1
“I found it in my pantry. Absalom, what’s the matter?”
“Don’t you know what that is?” he asked accusingly.
“A gem?”
“No!” he barked, “that’s no gem!” He lowered his voice to where I could hardly hear him, and as I leaned in closer he spat in my ear, “That thing in your hand is the key to the MTGYA!”
“It . . . it is?” I said, my voice breaking. I stared down at the silvery-red thing with coldness in my heart. Absalom’s face softened.
“Yes. You found it in your pantry! Sure! I wonder how that could have been. The last person to hold it was my father. A Sting stole it from him. He’s an old Sting-group leader, by the name of Damon Barklonie. He was the most devious, evil, ruthless, sneaky Sting ever. He was…Aigneis, what’s wrong?” He said this, for my face had surely gone pale, being as sick feeling as I. “Aigneis?”
My voice trembled as I spoke, saying, “Damon...Barklonie? Are you sure?”
“Sure as the rain. Are you alright?”
“No…he...Damon Barklonie was...that’s my father’s name,” I stammered. No one talked. But then...
“Are you sure?”
“Sure as the rain.”
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