A girl in disguise. An heir in hunt. A world divided.
Iris Lavera is born into the civilization of the least respected ones. The lineage where it's predicted to birth a curse. A low born who will be the downfall of an entire nation if left alive.
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My humble apologies for the ridiculously long absence this past month. But I am back and hopefully for better. Please do skim through the past chapters to refresh the plot while I wonder what will happen in the next trail of Johnny Depp. Ugh...its been stressing me out more than it should.
Please enjoy. Fingers crossed.
P.s Map reference is required.
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A violent rock on my shoulder and I was wide awake. A palm seals my lips, in the shadow of the dense night I squint at Dorin, I perceive him before I could punch him. My worries deflates when I saw him. It also doesn't appease that he has a pleasing face. I was relaxed only for the sake of not being under some rancid threat.
It was our harmless, tight skinned Dorin.
He paced, scooping up the bags and sleep sheets that I had been snuffling under. Drowsy, I stood up with a yawn bubbling upon. I watch him gather his chattels as I lazily worked with mine. These were cards.
We had to escape from their clutches a day, be tomorrow or tonight.
"Are they-
He hushed my groggy utterance with a finger to his lips in warning. I scratch my head with another yawn teasing me. Not able to clamp it this once. I whisper. Though it's not a need. With the leverage of how the herbs refined by Dorin works, The drugged ones could sleep through a siren's song.
So could i.
My thoughts knock upon the window of rest, keeping me awake, alert and angry. Raining with hundreds of ways we could escape this insanity. Not that of defectors, but the miles lay beyond the horizon. I think of the offer Caelum had baited us with.
A legal citizenship of the Rixilean kingdom. Job, honour and freedom to live with our names engraved and uttered without consequence. But it still was a nonsensical risk to rave, not when we are to reach a relief by dawn.
The town of Ledras, the serene eastern tip of Antar is a flute of greed, fashion and spark. The sole corner is where peace and harmony fair while the rest broils with power and strategy. A piece of gold in a heap of iron.
Naturally, it was our feasible option, and none else.
In my haze I felt a disappointing shove, I doubled with a frown pressing on my wig.
"Hurry, we don't have the entire night in our pocket. We need to lose them soon" I grin at him, a vicious one. His furrowed brow indicates his thoughts. He believed I was flourishing into an insatiable being. Which I certainly am.
"What is there to laugh at?" He says. I shake my head in dismissal.
"What is there not to?"
I stare at the sleeping form of Noon beside the Caelum. The chief's raspy snore echoes the tent and pivots the wilds away. This reminds me that I had been sharing a space with three grown men and their alternative egos for a week.
