II - Sigh of Smoke

Chapter 48 - Beckoning Whisper

TheAleksDemon:

Alright. I knew this was going to happen (since I haven't done much reviewing of my older chapters) and I'm here to apologize. :( I write weirdly, and I'm sorry if there's any confusion. I just wing every chapter according to my vague timeline for the book in my head, upload, hope for the best. Because I do this, I often make mistakes with continuity. 

I just went back to look over some stuff, and I realize that in the earlier chapters I said that Atlanta's mother was taken to the Arena of the Wickeds. This however, was me just being vague, because at the time I hadn't really decided her final fate, in case I wanted to change it up a little later. Later on during the writing process I killed her off instead, you know, when the two soldiers went to collect her at her house. So earlier I said she was alive and taken to the Arena, and then I said she was dead when she was finally approached by the Arena's collectors. I AM REALLY SORRY ABOUT THIS. I hoped, just a little, that it slipped underneath your noses? x) But that's no excuse, so here's the truth.

ALSO. I'm kinda irritated since after Wattpad updated their create screen, some chapters I haven't edited since the update no longer have my beloved em dashes. These babies: "—" that help create the atmosphere of abruptness. Instead, where the em dashes were, there are now the tiny guys: "-" and it pains me to look at it because I have to edit them all over again. ANYWAY, hope you guys are enjoying so far :) Hope you forgive me, and sorry about delaying the update(with this message, and for not updating for so long even tho it's summer :( i haven't touched a keyboard in a long time)! 

One last thing—dedication to IlyaVit for frequently commenting throughout his journey from the beginning of Breath of Flame, and to now :) you really know how to marathon a book xD Thank you very much!

Now you all can go ahead:

__________________________________________

-Atlanta-

It was the evening of the second day, and she knew well enough that she was lying to herself. Fooling herself with these distractions, touring Lucan around the palace—even if she was fascinated about the fact that he was in awe—and trying as hard as she could to think of things other than her King. It wasn't very successful, as everywhere she turned, there was a reminder. Whether it was as blatant as his guards, or even as subtle as a memory of a childish Atlanta telling him a certain brick looked like him very much. Her attempt to ignore his memory was difficult to execute, especially considering who it was: a King who never looked at her, or sought her out, or even acknowledged her even if they were in the same room.

Not until today of course.

Summoned to the throne room after supper with—strangely enough—Aleksandra, Atlanta only wondered what they both could've done to possibly offend the King, or warrant their summoning.

They stood in front of the throne room doors, herself in a pair of deep, brown trousers, with a sleeveless blouse, and Aleksandra in the dress she had taken from the underground den of hidden Wielder children. They were prepared to retire for the night when a soldier had arrived at their door, stoic and stiff and expressionless.

"Can we help you?" Aleksandra had asked him, expression sour after having Atlanta braid her hair to keep the curtain of heat off her neck. She was still very much falling victim to the merciless breath of the Zarkarian desert and the Southern Sea, Adaeze Deep. Her skin had become slightly golden in the sun, and she was drenched in sweat regardless of the cool night.