Elizabeth bit her nail, pacing back and forth inside her room. Her wet hair draped on her shoulders with the white gown fluttered around.
"I don't know what to say." She mumbled.
"Please quell your anger, my queen. May I know what the problem is?"
Elizabeth walked toward the bed and stopped a few inches away before she turned around. And then walked to the opposite side; the wall.
A few inches in front of the wall, she turned around and repeated her action.
"Something is not quite right from the start," she was agitated by the performance of the alchemist and the magician.
"What is wrong?"
"A lot. Everything. Ever since I was born. It's just wrong. Should I die?" Elizabeth did consider the option.
What if she died and returned? Would she become the childhood friend of Kovit or become the princess of Shariz again? But there weren't any guarantees. Instead of those two options, she might become a commoner from any trivial family.