The Fairest (Book #1)

49: The Search

The chaos was shedding its mask tonight. Even in the priest's bedchambers, off a short quarter on the second floor of the Diviine Temple, gave no relief from the noise of the riots rampaging through Ardania. Yet a peaceful aura danced about the room, dimly lit by the fire in the hearth. After Suella had returned, checked Gris' wounds, and washed and bandaged him up, she left to check on Lord Dorian and the food.

Mageia grabbed a chair at the dining table to sit beside Gris on the bed. She leaned close to her unexpected companion, sleeping soundly. She gently brushed his wild curls from his forehead. The bruises that were on his face were lighter since she miraculously healed him an hour ago. He'd been asleep ever since. Up close, the boy looked at peace with no care in the world. His soft snores somehow calmed her rattled nerves. His eyelashes were so long, kissing his smooth amber cheeks. And he had nice, full lips that slightly twitched as he dreamt.

Mageia's purple eyes widened in embarrassment at noticing such details. Just days ago, she would have scolded him if their paths crossed on the street.

The door opened, and she stood, hand touching the imprint of the dagger in her pocket. Lord Dorian entered carrying a silver pitcher with cups and held the door open for Suella, carrying their meal on a tray.

"Forgive us for the long wait, my lady," Lord Dorian said. "I had to make a few rounds around the Temple before helping Suella with the food."

"Yes, apparently, the kitchen staff also decided to leave," she added with annoyance written on her round face. She went straight for the dining table and began to unload everything.

Mageia tucked her dagger away and approached. A medium pot of soup steamed and graced her nose with the delicious smell of venison and vegetables. Hot fluffy rolls glazed with butter tempted her to grab one and stuff it into her mouth. The pitcher held a dark juice that made her dry mouth moisten with anticipation to be quenched. Mageia narrowed her eyes at the Diviine Priest. The man's calm demeanor and gentle movements seemed majestic, almost spirit-like as he prepared the table.

Suella slipped away to check on Gris. "Your Highness? Can you wake up for a moment and sit up to eat something?"

Gris moaned, and Mageia caught his slight nod. With gentle hands, Suella helped him sit up against the headboard. She felt his forehead with the back of her head and frowned.

"Still a bit feverish, but once you fill your belly and renew your strength, it should go away," she explained.

"Thank you, my lady," Gris rasped.

The priest now stood with his hands clasped together at the end of the table, wearing a peaceful smile. "Please, sit, my lady," he said.

Mageia sat down, and Suella began to serve the meal.

"Did you really resurrect?" Suella inquired.

"Um ... Yes." Mageia shifted in her seat.

"It had to have been terrifying. Burning up like that," she said.

Mageia pursed her lips and swallowed hard to block the horrid memories from resurfacing.

"Suella, please be respectful," Lord Dorian remarked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my lady," she mumbled. "I'm just - It was so amazing, scary, and unbelievable. I was on the Holy Altar and saw everything. And the night sky was so purple."

"It was?" Mageia said and wished she had seen it. When Sii abducted her from the infirmary, the sky was dark, gloomy, and tainted with smoke.

Suella bobbed her head and gave a sweet smile. "Yes. A beautiful shade of purple, just like your eyes."