The servant made a face of someone utterly offended. "You mind your manners if you wish to keep your tongue."
"I don't want to see him either," Mageia said.
"You have no choice." Dargany brought his sword closer to her chin. She had nowhere to go but inside.
She held open her bounded hands and stepped towards the servant with caution.
"Fine. But I swear if he tries anything stupid, I will hurt him," she promised.
"Be my guest," Dargany said, either in annoyance or in dark humor.
"Come on now," the servant barked, backing away to further open the door.
Mageia's heart climbed up her throat as she slipped inside. She kept her distance from the servant.
Dargany lowered his sword. "Remember what I said, Rasheem."
"Yeah, yeah," the man said and closed the door in the soldier's face. He muttered under his breath as he relocked the door with a key. Instead of keeping it inside, he pulled it out and tucked it into his vest pocket.
Mageia pretended she hadn't seen him do it and took in the prince's quarters. The smell of spices, stale eggs, and parchment greeted her as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit sitting area. Other than a long coat on a sofa and a pair of boots on the patterned rug, the quarters felt clean and homely. The smaller windows sat opened, bringing in the warm breeze, and a calm flame lit the fireplace.
A large dining table, cluttered with items, separated the sitting area from a mini kitchen at the back. And to the left, a thick curtain hung from the ceiling, partially revealing a bedroom with a litter of clothing on a king-sized bed. Mageia stepped further into the sitting area to peek inside an open door of a fancy washroom, which sat beside a staircase leading up to a balcony overlooking the sitting room.
Mageia looked around in astonishment at how unroyal the chambers felt. She expected the chambers of a prince to have a fancier, more lively appeal.
"This is the Strange Prince's chambers?" she said, unimpressed.
The servant, with an apparent title she did not care about, gave an irritated huff.
"You will address His Highness appropriately, young lady," he said before sharply limping away towards the kitchen, leaving her gut melting with unease.
Prince Grisonce Arlon was not the most spoken of prince in the kingdom. The son of the late queen, he was rumored to have an incurable defect that tainted the king's bloodline, yet the Priesthood granted him clearance. Some rumors mentioned how his special hobbies involved odd experimentations, and the Strange were known to be his test subjects.
Mageia's chest was near to exploding. I need to leave now!
The manservant fumbled around in the kitchen with his back to her, unaware that his full attention should be on the so-called thief-slash-witch standing in the room. With great ease, she finally freed herself with her stolen pin and quietly sat the shackles on the sofa. Within seconds she stood at the door, trying to unlock it with the pin. After a minute of failing, the manservant cleared his throat.
She spun to face him. He stood with one hand already held out. "Hand it over."
She shifted her feet, pouting in defeat, and dropped the stylish red pin into his palm. He frowned at it and shook his head.
"Now, where did you get such a fancy pin?"
"I picked it off the commander."
"Eron?" he asked with some surprise in his tone. She nodded. He sighed and clasped his hands. "How do I call you?"
YOU ARE READING
The Fairest (Book #1)
FantasyA 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...
