He studies me, distrusting. The muscles of his jaw are ticking.
"The great warrior queen of Black Moon Draw said there were side effects of her spell that she didn't know when she placed the curse upon everyone."
"You spoke to her?"
"In a way, yes. She spoke to me in my dreams," I reply. "I don't like the way the Shadow Knight does things any more than anyone else does. But I understand that he's trying to accomplish something truly great. He's trying to save the world."
Westley stands, shaking his head once more. "I cannot believe this!"
"It's true!"
"I know, witch, that you are a prisoner, one who will use manipulation to be free. I do not fault you for this. 'Tis your right to -"
"Westley, I'm not -"
He holds up his hand and I shut up.
"'Tis your right to use deception and lies to escape. But what you speak is nonsense. No battle-witch has ever spoken to the dead, and nowhere is it said that the kingdoms will disappear if the Shadow Knight does not win."
"I'm not wrong!"
"You are tired and confused."
I'm getting nowhere with him and fight the urge to climb a tree rather than hide inside one. He's more upset about what I'm saying than he was being imprisoned by the Red Knight. Maybe I'm wrong about him being reasonable or approachable, but I really thought I had a shot with this kid.
His dismissive choice of words reminds me too much of Jason, who had a way of brushing off everything I felt or said. It strikes me how much I hate feeling that way, how much frustration this kid provokes and how deep the emotion runs.
He's not Jason, and I'm no longer the mushroom who let Jason talk to her like this. I force my hunched shoulders down and decide that the time for backing down is gone.
"Will you think about it?" I ask softly. "I am a battle-witch from another world. I might not understand much about here, but this is one of the few things I'm sure about. I know you're afraid of your father, but you need to grow a backbone and focus on what's right instead of what he tells you to do."
He looks like he wants to say something and then shakes his head, storming out.
For once, I'm confident. Unaccustomed to pressing an issue instead of dropping it, I'm surprised by how natural it feels to stand up for myself. I usually let people like Jason tell me I'm wrong, ugly, stupid, fat - and I usually take it.