On sunny days, Jared liked to play a game. It wasn’t a traditional game and it didn’t really have any specific rules, but it kept him reasonably entertained. Today, he was sitting on a park bench that leaned up against a big oak tree and had a good view of the sidewalk just outside the park grounds. This was important because he was using the deep underground roots from this tree to play his game.

It was simple. He sat with one arm draped lazily across the back of the bench, fingers brushing the tree trunk. When someone came walking nearby, he waited until they were close, and then he pushed one of the roots beneath the surface up just a bit. This caused the paving stone to rise and thus a tripping hazard was born. He was there for the reactions and they rarely disappointed. The most boring was the non-reaction, but he’d experienced muttered curses, yelled expletives, tears, and even bursts of power depending on the gift of the individual.

He wasn’t often noticed or confronted, but it did happen, and on occasion he even initiated it. It really just all depended on the reaction he received. He wasn’t exactly hiding and his smirk or chuckle was occasionally noticed by the tripped victim.

He took a bite of the apple he was eating and perked up a little as he saw someone approach. His finger tensed and unconsciously pushed against the tree to get a stronger feeling. After that, instinct guided him as his mind followed the tendrils of the roots and reached out for one of sturdier threads underground. A moment of waiting and then as the footsteps drew closer, he pushed up, forcing the pavement to rise at the seam a good few inches. He bit down on the apple again, chewing quietly as to not miss a second of the reaction of the person who was quite possibly (and Jared could only hope) about to face plant.

Pouco animada seria um eufemismo para o que Selene sentia no momento. Definitivamente, a agora lady não estava nem um pouco empolgada para ouvir o discurso da prima. Desde que voltara para a corte vidariana, a relação com ela não estava das melhores. Sempre havia tensão quando se encontravam, mesmo que não dissessem uma palavra, afinal todos sabiam que Amelie havia sido responsável pela morte do tio, pai de Selene. Entretanto, não podia fazer tal desfeita de se ausentar em um dia importante como aquele. Não faria isso pela Rainha, faria pelo pai dela, seu tio, que havia sido um homem esplendoroso e havia governado Vidar com um destemor jamais visto antes.

Em frente ao grande espelho de seu quarto, Selene alisou o vestido azul escuro que vestia e ajeitou os cabelos. Não pretendia permanecer muito tempo no evento. Não queria sorrir ou fingir estar feliz, pois mesmo depois de semanas, Selene ainda se arrastava pelo doloroso processo de luto, que incluía sair de seus aposentos apenas quando fosse extremamente necessário. Infelizmente, o discurso de Amelie era uma dessas situações extremamente necessárias. Com passos rápidos e decididos, e olhos azuis frios fixados apenas em seu caminho, Selene seguiu até o lugar aonde seria realizado o discurso da Rainha. Tentou sorrir e cumprimentar os nobres presentes, porém suas tentativas de parecer entusiasmada ou alegre falharam vergonhosamente.