Haze doesn’t know as much as Cedar or Ash. Not even close. They are all knowing, having a special connection to nature’s whispers. Hear the call of the wild.

But she knows Nova. And Nova trusts their word. Not the people themselves. But their promise.

So Haze strides into the library. It’s where a little bird told her that former King Sebastian spends the most time.

It truly is a majestic room. Just not Haze’s favorite. It’s full of books made of the flesh of hundreds of trees. Their cries made into knowledge for the use of humans. The pages are lifeless, death sumwirling in the room.

That’s why Haze’s mom passed down information through stories. Word of mouth. Never paper. Nature has suffered enough, her mother always said.

Just as she hoped, Prince Sebastian is there alone. He sits on a chair that is carved to emulate a throne. High back with raised arm rests. The legs are unmistakably wood which hurts Haze more to see. He is upright, so prim and proper, a book in his one hand.

He reminds her of a goat. The pointed goatee is as white as snow. His ears stick out like one too. The design of the chair perfectly creates two curved horns above his head.

“Witch girl, speak or leave.”

The boom of his voice spooks her, and she jolts like a frightened cat. Good thing she has a balance of one and rights herself. “I apologize,” she bows to him. “I would like to speak with you if you have the time.”

He squints his eyes with this scowl on his lips. Animals have instincts to detect threats, and Haze’s are on edge. His hatred is on full display. “And why should I grace you with any of my time?” He questions.

When she told Aziza of what Cedar and Ash revealed, she didn’t know anything about her grandfather and why he might behave this way. She warned her that he would be rude.

Haze has dealt with worse, so she sucks in a breath and calmly says, “You don’t have to. You can tell me to leave any time you would like.”

Respect is crucial. Not only for human royalty, but it often is improtant among animals and nature. She was raised by a forest, so she will follow that. Even if he doesn’t deserve it.

“This is why I don’t like your kind,” he curses. It’s very clear, not a mutter or a murmur. He wants her to hear it. For it to hurt her.

But Haze has an invisible armor of steel.

“I would love to hear more about that. My kind and what they do,” she responds, putting on her best cheerful voice. Her mom always taught her and Nova that positive people make positive impacts. Their mom was one of the most positive people she had ever known.

Nova compares her to their mother all the time. Time to live up to it.

His eyebrows turn downwards at her attempts. She is angering him more somehow. He looks like a bear that had just been disturbed. Grizzly with his teeth bared. “You act cordial, even generous, but underneath, you have a rotting black heart.”

There’s poison in his words. A sharpeness that only comes from being cut yourself. She’s getting close to something.

“I am truly sorry if that is how I come off.”

Any of her attempts to overcompensate with kindness is being met with hostility. His frown deepens, if that is even possible. “I know you must think of me as unfair. An old man who doesn’t know how to have an open mind. But I’ve seen and experienced much more than you have ever known.”

The ending of his response has a different feeling to it. It’s like when a harsh wind turns into a breeze. It washes over you differently. It means something else. There is damage there. A wall that has been built so far up that he can’t see over it. A wall compiled from self preservation.

He’s sad. Hurt. Something that is layered in something that Haze has yet to understand.

“I believe it. Everyone respects you and your wisdom. I have been pretty sheltered, so I regretfully do not know as much as even your granddaughter,” Haze says, truthfully. While Nova puts their experience in the Wild Thicket higher than being raised in the castle, Haze can see that it comes with its own cons. She loves her home and would never take any of it back, but it makes normal things strange to them. They are unprepared for the society that ‘normal’ people follow.

Prince Sebastian went from hurt to angry in a flash. It is like a hunting cheetah. The second their prey trips up is when they attack. “Do not mention my kin. I have heard about your friendship with her. I will promise you that if you don’t leave her alone, there will be consequences.”

The venom is back. But the thing that most people misunderstand is that animals utilize venom when they are afraid. When they desire protection.

He is afraid for Aziza.

“I did not mean to offend you. But what is it you think will happen?”

This man is as closed of a book as the ones on these shelves. Getting him to talk is harder than she thought. Maybe she should have waited to talk to him with Nova or Aziza.

Her sister is so self assured. Even if she didn’t know what to do, she acts like she does which would greatly help to appear confident under Prince Sebastian’s crushing stare.

“Don’t play dumb. Your kind is nothing close to it.” That’s the closest thing to compliment she’ll get from him. “Shrewd and cunning. Wolves in sheep’s clothing.” Nevermind.

Haze has never ever considered herself a wolf. Nova would laugh in his face at the suggestion. She would cut him back with equally sharp words. But Haze isn’t like her sister.

“If we’re wolves, what does that make you?” She genuinely questions. She thinks it is a perfectly fine thing to ask. He is like a mother doe, protecting her young fawn. That must be how he views himself.

“Innocent. Victims. Prey,” he emphasizes each word with a breath in between.

It strikes Haze that he sees witches as animals.

“We are not animals, your majesty.” Even though Haze likens everything to nature and animals, it’s not in the negative, visceral tone the former king is using. But she can’t ignore humans are entirely different beings. It may sound hypocritical, but maybe the former king needs the reminder.

“I certainly am not insinuating that I or anyone that grew up in my kingdom are creatures,” he practically growls, which doesn’t help his point. “But I am,” she finishes for him. He nods in agreement even though it was his statement.

Even though he is an old man, there is strength in his tone. In his resolve. No matter how much wind she sends, his branches may waver but never bend. “Your species befriend, invade and infiltrate, and then destroy. You’ll leave and hurt anyone that thinks you actually care for them. I should know,” he snaps, his words cutting into her skin, trying to find her most vulnerable spot.

But she has lived so many years running. Being afraid of getting cut. If she harbored it, let it fester, she would end up like Prince Sebastian. Unyielding, yes. But wrong.

She won’t run anymore.

“Is that what you think I’ll do? I’ll leave Aziza?” She needs to be direct. Channel her sister.

His glare turns steely. Wild and feral. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes, witch girl.” His breath has a wisp of warning, like she shouldn’t test him.

“Certainly not with me,” Haze points out.

He lets out a long sigh. She isn’t a young pup who doesn’t know any better. Haze is a young woman, who may not have thw owl wisdom that he does, but she does have life experience. “You are all the same. I’ve been left by someone who I used to think was different. She opened my eyes to a whole other world. That is until I found out that my eyes were closed the whole time, and she tricked me. Made me believe I was seeing. When I was really just imagining,” he finishes.

There is a pause. Haze has no idea what to respond with. He spoke with such emotion. That came from within. A secret boiling over until the spillage made decipherable sense.

He once loved a witch. Haze is sure of it.

“That sounds awful. I am truly sorry that she did that to you. But I am not her,” Haze reminds again, hoping he will see it from her side. One interaction doesn’t have to color the judgement for all.

He doesn’t seem to get her point. “It doesn’t matter if you say that. I can’t trust anything you utter.”

Her stomach lurches. There’s that word. Trust. Witches feeds off of it. And she doesnt have any in this room. She can feel its absence like being in the rain without a jacket. You can survive without the cover but it’s definitely noticeable.

She’s literally harmless without someone’s trust. He would probably feel better if he knew that they both share the same amount of magical capabilities in this moment.

Or maybe that wouldn’t be a comfort. Because it’s easier to hate someone that has more power than you.

Deciding to change the direction of this conversation, she tilts her head and asks, “How do you know if she wanted to leave you?”

His neck snaps towards her, which is impressive because he was already looking at her. “Excuse me?” He replies, shock dripping from his lips.

Shrugging her shoulders, she begins to slowly walk backwards, going closer to the entrance of the library. “I don’t know what you went through, but I have to imagine she must have had a reason. I’m not saying it was a good one. Just a reason.”

His eyes widen, his mouth gaping in a very un-royal like manner. More like a baby bird that wants food.

“Your kind do not need a reason,” he eventually says, though it lacks the certainty that he possessed before.

“Everyone needs a reason,” Haze turns and leaves with these final words.

Maybe, just maybe, he realizes that he has never tried to listen before.

She can’t see his face, but she hopes she left an impression. A reason to look further.