A prophecy was given to the Realm of Valeera, but only one kingdom took heed to it and set forth a law that would divide the people into two groups. The Fair and the Strange. One group possessed a promise from the gods while the other is doomed for...
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"Release me. You cannot take me to Prince Gideon," Mageia ordered as she struggled against the strong grips of her escorts.
The redheaded Knight Escort tightened his grip on her arm and grinned so wide it made his goatee stretch into a sharp triangle. "Why not?"
"I may be a thief, but I do have some dignity," she said, still feeling her skin crawl after the commander's assault.
Right when the commander pressed against her, her defenses dropped dead to the floor. His closeness was too hot for reasons she didn't want to feed into and made her gut churn. The gentleness of his breath and his touch almost forced her pleading words to catch in her throat. But she managed to psych herself out. How? She'd never figure it out. She just wanted the man to get off. Her words of alliance seemed to work, but thank the Ordained for the intrusion.
Lisa, Trekon's wife, advised her at thirteen years of age, when she became a woman, that boys and men would begin to see her differently. Her body and mind would change and mature, which may lead to falling in love one day or, as bad luck would have it catching unfriendly eyes. Preserving her virtue was one of her main priorities, but never had Mageia thought someone would try to steal it. She trembled, realizing how quickly she had frozen in place under Eron's weight, and her knees buckled. If she could, she wouldn't mind giving him a good beating of her own.
"According to the gods, you have no dignity, Strange," the Knight Escort barked, lifting her back onto her feet and pressing her onward. "Keep walkin'."
Mageia rolled her eyes and scoffed. "You Fair people are delusional."
"Just shut your mouth," said the dark-skinned soldier. He wasn't much of a talker.
She recalled how easily they extracted her from the commander and saw what little power he had. No wonder his temperament was short and his orders sharp and direct. Then again, that eerie smile he gave in his strange altercation with the handsome, blue-eyed soldier could not be ignored.
What were they concealing, and what was a good letter? Whatever it was, it had something to do with the scroll the commander took and the pin that her silent fingers had slipped from his pocket when he came to reclaim her.
She swirled the red pin between her fingers, happy that it was a perfect fit for her shackles. However, thanks to Merlin and his unnecessary use of force, she couldn't unlock them.
Their winding pathway led them through the palace to an outdoor corridor with long rows of archways slowly being smothered with colorful vines. The palace swallowed them up on both sides. Its grayish tan stone blocks were larger than her and both escorts' heads together. She cringed, just imagining the pain of them crushing a person.
Her eyes skimmed the walls, the windows, the entrances, the pillars, adjoining pathways and courtyards, the guard outposts, the gates, the trees, and even the slaves dressed in their plain uniforms for ways to escape. "I will say this, good sirs, if that prince puts a finger on me, I will harm him. Best return me to the Doomed and leave me there to rot until I'm taken to the Dungeons."
