Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts-Chapter 29 - Twenty Nine

The footman nodded his head quickly. That made sense to him. The pain of a broken bone was terrible.

"Please, take her home immediately," Camilla instructed, waving her hand toward the open carriage door. "Get her to a good doctor. The famous one she wanted to invite for the General, seems she needs him more. And drive safely. The roads can be bumpy."

"Yes, Lady Camilla," the footman replied respectfully.

He wrapped his strong arms securely around Isabel. He lifted her completely off the ground.

Isabel tried to fight in his arms. She did not want to leave like this. She wanted her voice back! She wanted to scream at the witch! She kicked her good leg. She pushed against the footman’s chest. She opened her mouth in silent, furious screams.

But without her voice, she was not scary anymore. With her messy hair and her silent thrashing, she just looked like a small, angry, agitated kitten trying to escape a bath.

The footman ignored her silent fighting. He carefully placed her onto the soft velvet seats inside the carriage. The driver quickly closed the heavy door, shutting Isabel inside. He climbed up to the front seat, grabbed the leather reins, and clicked his tongue at the horses.

The horses pulled forward. Thecarriage rolled out of the courtyard, passing through the massive iron gates of the mansion. It disappeared down the dirt road, carrying the silent, broken, and furious Isabel back to her family.

Camilla stood alone at the bottom of the marble stairs. The courtyard was completely empty and quiet. Only the soft rustle of the wind blowing through the green trees could be heard.

Camilla let out a long, happy sigh. The annoying young woman was finally gone.

She turned around to enter the house. She placed her foot on the first marble step.

And then, it struck her.

Camilla stopped completely still. Her foot hovered over the step. Her eyes went wide. She slowly pulled her foot back and stood on the paving stones.

Her mind began to race incredibly fast. She started to put the pieces of a very strange puzzle together.

She thought about the words she had spoken over the last twenty-four hours.

Yesterday, in the dining room, she had been annoyed by the rude maid, Nancy. She had whispered, "I hope that soup scalds your hands." Less than two minutes later, Nancy tripped on a flat rug and spilled boiling hot soup all over her own hands.

Then, the head maid had lied and accused Camilla of putting a dirty handkerchief in the stables. Camilla had looked right at her and said, "I hope you tumble on your words and bite your tongue for lying." Just moments later, the head maid tried to speak, bit down hard on her own tongue, and started bleeding from the mouth.

Today, Isabel had stood at the top of these very stairs and threatened her. Camilla had calmly said, "I hope you do not lose your balance and fall down the steps." Isabel immediately slipped on clean marble and tumbled down to the bottom.

Then, as Isabel tried to stand up, Camilla said, "I hope you do not break your leg." Isabel’s leg snapped.

And finally, when Isabel’s screaming became too loud, Camilla asked, "Can you just be mute? I hope that happens soon." Instantly, Isabel’s vocal cords stopped working, and she became completely silent.

Camilla stood in the warm sunlight, but she felt a sudden shiver run down her arms.

All the jinxed words she had been saying had all come to life. Every single thing she had "hoped" for out of pure annoyance had happened exactly as she said it. It was not a coincidence. It was a pattern.

She recalled Ida, the head maid, and her daughter Nancy. And now, she looked at the empty spot where Isabel had just suffered her terrible predicament.

She realized something. She did not just have a sharp mind and a strong will. In this strange novel world, she had a jinxed mouth.

Her words had actual power. If she spoke a curse, it became reality.

A slow, massive, brilliant smile began to spread across Camilla’s face. Her eyes sparkled with incredible excitement. The disappointment of the torn divorce papers completely vanished from her mind.

"Oh my goodness," Camilla whispered to herself. She touched her own lips with her fingertips. "I have a superpower. I am actually a witch. A very, very powerful witch."

She started to pace back and forth at the bottom of the stairs. Her brain was working a million miles a minute.

If she could make a maid burn her hands, and if she could make a noble lady break her leg and lose her voice just by speaking... what else could she do?

She looked up at the large windows of the master bedroom on the second floor. Damon was up there. The grumpy, stubborn Tyrant General who refused to sign the divorce papers. The man who was keeping her trapped in this boring world.

An idea, brighter and more beautiful than a diamond, flashed into her head.

"I have figured it out," Camilla whispered to herself, looking up at his window with a mischievous, evil grin. "I have figured out a way to go home."

She could see it now. She could see the white sandy beaches of the Maldives. She could almost taste the cold orange juice. She could almost feel her fat cat, Winston, purring against her leg. Freedom was finally within her grasp.

The excitement was too much to keep inside.

Camilla threw her hands high up into the air. She let out a loud, high-pitched squeal of pure, absolute joy.

Eeeeeeeeek!

She did not care if the guards heard her. She did not care if the servants thought she was crazy.

She began to dance. She did a happy, jumping dance right there in the middle of the courtyard. She spun around in circles, making her dress fly out around her. She hopped on one foot, then the other. She laughed out loud, a rich, happy sound that filled the empty space.

Still smiling from ear to ear, and still doing small, happy jumps, Camilla turned around and danced her way up the marble stairs. She pushed the heavy front doors open and practically skipped into the mansion.