The Emerald Legend (Book 1)

Chapter Twenty-Four: King of Spirits

After changing Amalia stepped out of the tiled room and into the kitchen with the cotton towel around her neck, keeping her wet hair from dampening her pale yellow clothes. The color Osirian picked for her to wear was a nice complement to her complexion.

She slowly closed the wooden door behind her and turned to look past the kitchen into the living room. Osirian was sitting there, quietly sipping a small clay cup filled with freshly brewed tea. He looked up as she entered the room, and the sight of her softened his expression for a brief moment before he smirked. She looked back to him and wondered what was so funny.

"What?" she asked coyly. Osirian smiled at her sharp eyes.

"I didn't expect those garments to suit you as well as they do." Yet another strike to Amalia's cracking ego. She wanted to play off the could-be insult, so she decided to take a gander at what lay over her body. When she looked back up to Osirian, his eyes were glued to her.

"I've only seen such clothing upon painting's and tapestries. I never thought I'd get to see something like this in the flesh, let alone be draped in them," she said, desperately trying to change the subject.

"I would expect not. The Amir desert is quite far from this place," he said bluntly. "Now sit, have some tea." She walked nervously to the low settled table.

"Is that where you are from, the Amir desert?" she asked while taking a seat across from him on a plush, orange pillow. He smiled and held the steel pot full of wonderful smelling tea and tipped it into the cup in front of her. He held onto the lid of the kettle making sure it did not slip.

"Indeed, although many people from my home would say I look quite pale for being raised there," he said while setting the kettle back down onto a flat wooden mat.

Despite his obvious desert features, like his wild hair and golden eyes, his skin was rather light compared to the stories and paintings she had seen of the people of Amir. Amalia sipped on the hot tea and it slightly stung her throat.

He smiled at her and poured himself another glass. Amalia could taste the strength of the tea; it's herbal and soothing nature. It was delicious.

"This is wonderful," she said looking down into her cup. Then the realization of why she had journeyed so far came back to her. She looked deeply into Osirian' eyes. "When can I meet the King?" she asked setting her cup down against the wood.

Osirian didn't budge, he simply drank the delectable brew. Amalia watched him for an answer and after many moments there wasn't one. She raised an eyebrow and Osirian's eyes finally met hers. "You already have," he said and took another drink casually.

Amalia's brows furrowed trying to see the answer behind his words. Then it hit her.

"You are the king," she said shyly. She immediately felt embarrassed because she treated him so aggressively before. Never in her wildest imagination would she have expected the king to be this good-looking, yet irritating, young man. Osirian smiled as he set his cup down.

"So, she figures it out."

Amalia scoffed silently and turned away. How in the world is this man a king!? She wondered while Osirian chuckled a bit.

"Not what you were expecting?"

"It's not that, I just—" She looked at him again. "You're just so young."

"This body does not define the age of a soul," he said with a soft expression. Amalia looked at him again and realized this would be the man that would help her find her true kin—the one who would help her unlock her past. She lowered her head in respect.

"Forgive me for my aggression," she said, her face turning red from embarrassment. "If I had known that you were the King, I would not have acted so feverously."

Osirian chuckled deeply now. "Oh, no apologies are needed. I do not desire the fake loyalties that you offer."

Amalia took another stab in the chest. Now he thinks I offer fake loyalties. This man must take me for a joke.

"That's not what I meant; I just meant that I was not thinking clearly from my journey. I only offer my sincerest loyalty and respect," she said with her head still bowed.

"Raise your head," he said, which made her jolt.

She gazed up towards his eyes. Their eyes met for a moment, and he stared into her. His expression was blank but it felt as if it were drawing her in.

"I'll help you find your kin," he finally said which signaled a rush of excitement through Amalia's being.

"Oh, I am forever in your gratitude," she said with a gleam in her eyes.

"However," he looked at her with a serious expression. "When you're training is finished, there is something I want you to do for me."

She nodded her head. "What can I do?"

"The details of it will best be discussed in time. For now, you should gain your strength back." Amalia hadn't realized just how exhausted she was until he pointed it out to her. She felt suddenly how sore her muscles were, and how her breathing was labored.

"Ah, I suppose you are right," she agreed.

"I've prepared a room that you will be using during your stay," he said and rose to his feet while his hands straightened out his long, intricate tunic. "I'll show you to it now."

Amalia gulped down the last of her tea and stood up to follow him. They made their way to the furthest door down the hallway to the right of the dining room and Osirian turned the metal handle exposing the room beyond. Amalia looked past him and saw a white bed against the far wall and a small, wooden table next to it. Atop the table was a white, silk-woven gown.

"I've prepared something for you to sleep in and placed clean linens on the bed."

Amalia looked up towards him, she noticed now just how much taller he was than her and how hospitable he actually was.

"You didn't have to do all of this," she said, feeling like she was being a terrible inconvenience to this man that, truly, she had only just met.

"Despite you seeking out my help for free," his powerful gaze turned to hers, "you are still my guest." Amalia appreciated his kind gestures and nodded again in embarrassment.

"Thank you," she said meekly.

"Be sure to get some rest, we start your training tomorrow." Amalia turned to face him once more. "Ah, and Seian?" she asked wondering where he had gone.

"I'll see to it that he gets enough food and rest. For now, your task should be to rest your mind." He smiled and closed the door to the room, leaving her with nothing but her thoughts.

Amalia drug her feet across the carpet, over to the bed, and sat down upon it. How many nights has it been since I've slept upon a bed?

She laid back feeling the soft feathers inside the frame form around her body. She nearly fell asleep right then but a string of thoughts crossed her mind: Calhūn, Varus, Mezia—even though they weren't her blood, they were still her family. She wondered what they must have been feeling now that she had been gone for so long.

She sat up suddenly as she remembered that she had broken her promise. Guilt washed over her as she remembered Calhūn's face when he first told her that his father never came home from a market trip. She remembered how broken he was, how completely lost, and how each time he would travel out to the city he would look for his father's face in the crowd.

Amalia got up and changed out of the yellow tunic and slipped into the white silk night gown. She placed the tunic and the matching pants onto the wooden table next to the door.

"I'll still keep my promise, Cal. Once I complete my time here, I'll find your father, along with my parents." She closed her eyes as the heartache bubbled in her chest. Osirian, who was listening beyond the doorway without her knowledge, silently stepped away wanting to listen no further.