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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A stone appeared in his throat after hearing those words from his own father. He shook his head in disbelief and glanced, horrified, at Mageia, who reflected the same expression to him.
Finally, he found his voice. "Don't do this to her. Why be so cruel?"
"Cruel is how you've betrayed your family by bringing her into the palace."
A mocking laugh escaped from Gris. "You and these fools are not my family. You've made that very clear to me."
The color left his father's face. His eyes were wide with shock and fury. "How dare you?" he hissed.
"You've lost your way, father. You have," Gris forced out the truth. "Ever since mother took her life!"
"Enough!" he shouted. With large steps, he stormed towards him, hands clenched and prepared to strike. "Never speak of her under this roof, you foolish boy!"
Rasheem broke free of his guard and took a strong stance in front of Gris, chin raised and eyes furious. The king halted, and the two men exchanged a chilly look. For some unknown reason, the king allowed the Strange manservant to keep his defense.
Gris trembled and refused to accept this man as his father. He had become just like the brainless delusional Fairs he surrounded himself with. The bastard had too much power to know how to use it for good.
The king raised a finger and jabbed it at Gris. "Damn you," he sputtered and turned to Rasheem. "And damn you, too."
Rasheem clasped his hands before himself, raising his chin even higher with defiance.
"For your involvement, Rasheem, you and the maid will be whipped."
"No, I won't do it," Gris growled.
"No, you won't have to. I'll get one of my men to do it," King Dimitri snarled. "Seventeen lashes for the seventeen years of you breathing on this earth."
The king clung to his robe and turned away. "This is over."
With one swift movement, he exited the sitting room with his queen, their children, their escorts, and the guests. They were all witnesses to the king's unfairness and mercilessness.
Lord Hercones stopped, worry plastered across his face. "Do not worry, Grisonce. I will speak to the king about his decision."
"Thank you," Grisonce sighed. He was surprised that the High Priest felt it necessary to do so.
Once he took his leave, the only ones left behind were Gris, Rasheem, Hasana, a few post guards, and the smirking commander.
The post guards lifted a speechless Mageia off the ground. "Mageia, I am so sorry." Gris moved toward her.
Eron laughed and gestured for the guards to take her away. "So pathetic."
"Damn you," Mageia muttered, but the hatred in her purple glare pained him more.
