A flutter of warmth runs up my arm.
The magic of a kingdom, collected over a thousand years, in the palm of my hand. The key to the Shadow Knight winning his battle and saving his world. And all I have to do is turn off those negative thoughts that make me feel bad about myself and believe.
"If you're that strong, then do something amazing. Bring me a cup of coffee." I wait. Nothing appears before me and my brittle hope starts to wane. Self-doubt returns. "No! I believe in me!" With a quick look around, I thrust out my arms the way televangelists do on the television, squeezing my eyes closed. I'd do anything for a cup of coffee, even suspend my self-consciousness and turn off my thoughts.
And then I smell it, the rich scent that wakes me each morning, compliments of the coffee pot with a timer my mom got me for my last birthday. Leaping to my feet, I frantically look around, ready to overturn everything in the tree for a chance at some coffee.
I find the mug near the fire at the center of the tree, tucked between two logs.
"Omigod!" I almost squeal and carefully pry the mug free. I breathe in the familiar dark scent, a small piece of heaven, and then venture to take a sip.
It tastes perfect. Completely, utterly perfect and fills my chest with warmth. Holding it up like Golem did the One Ring, I take a moment to worship my favorite drink.
"My precioussssssssssss!" I say in my best Golem voice.
"Witch?"
Realizing someone is watching me, I look towards the entrance of the tree. "Just . . . ah . . . coffee." Embarrassed, I lower the mug and clutch it to my chest.
Westley is back, one eyebrow lifted in either curiosity or confusion, a hooded form beside him. "You are well?" he asks.
"I'm amazing," I reply.
He doesn't seem to know exactly how to take that either. "May we enter?"
"You're the captor." Clearing my throat, I sit down and breathe in the scent of coffee. For the first time since arriving here, I feel a little less out of place, though thoroughly humiliated right now, too.
But it worked. By either pretending to believe in - or at least not doubting - myself, I was able to use the medallion. The happy warmth inside me I attributed to coffee isn't fading.
So this is what self-confidence feels like.
The tension of Westley's face fades for a split second before he moves into the tree trunk. The person with him is a woman, judging by the gown she wears beneath a long cloak in the kingdom's earthy brown.