Blood Ties

Chapter 2: Declan

Declan thought of the girl. There had been something off about her, something strange. First of all, she was veiled from head to toe, only her eyes visible through the gap between the gossamer fabric. In a fairly temperate climate such as Milona's, there was no pragmatic need to be so covered. And he had studied the culture of Milona for many years as a boy, yet found no reason for a woman to be so very hidden away.

Their culture dictated that married women and priestesses be covered, yes, but not to the extent that she was. They mainly veiled their hair, not their faces. And then there was the reticent way that she had spoken with him. The words pouring from her lips had been few, to be sure, but edged with a wariness that made her all the more intriguing. What had pushed him to spout all those lines as he had, though? Yes, she had lovely eyes, but every inch of her was so draped with garments that not a curve of her body could be seen. And still, this aura of power had radiated from her, this aura of something not to be tampered with. Yet tamper he had wanted to.

"Find anything interesting today?" Nolan nudged him. The bodyguard's presence irritated him to no end; Nolan was a younger cousin, and at the age of twenty-two he was younger than Declan by three years. He had been assigned to watch Declan by the command of Declan's father, the king. Declan knew he was only taking the position because he wanted to gain favour with the monarch. Nolan had just returned from schooling with top marks and though he had the mind of a scholar he also unfairly had the body of a warrior. It was extremely unjust for the gods to bestow this many gifts and a sense of humility upon Declan's younger relation. Especially since he was not even the heir to the crown, but everyone treated him as superior. "Or anyone?"

"A priestess," Declan said, uttering the bare minimum. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "At the temple. Covered from crown to heel."

"That does not seem so odd," Nolan said, fingering the hilt of a blade on his belt. His red hair shone in the sunlight as they strolled through the marketplace, looking at various items. "Are you certain that there is magic in Milona? There seems to be no sign of it anywhere, and we have been here for over a week."

Declan rolled his eyes. "Just because you read in your silly little books, that magic is revealed in certain ways that are not present in Milona, does not mean that magic does not exist here. Milona is an ancient city and all your books are written by those newfangled scholars who do not know what they are talking about."

"For the last time, Declan," Nolan began before coming to a stop, putting his arm in front of Declan as an old crone hobbled in front of them, her cane thumping against the cobblestones. Declan hadn't noticed her and had been about to cross anyways.

"Thank you, you handsome young man," the crone said, turning her wizened face toward the two of them. Her green eyes gleamed with wisdom and something murkier. It felt rather like looking into a swamp, not knowing the integrity of the ground beneath one's feet. She stepped too close to the two men, close enough that they could smell her breath--sage and peppermint--as she shook her finger in Declan's face, causing him to take a step back. "And as for you... you, sir, are a no-good, inconsiderate rascal."

As her cloak trailed over the ground and lifted a swirl of dust, Declan suppressed a snicker, having been called much worse. "Well, that was rude."

Nolan frowned. "I don't think she was that impolite."

"That is because she called you handsome." Declan peered at a set of keys dangling from an iron ring, which was one of many similar items at a stall that was cluttered with intricately wrought gold and brass creations. When the vendor's back was turned, he pocketed the item.

Nolan elbowed him with a hiss. "Why did you steal from him? It isn't as if you cannot afford to pay for those keys!"

"We have been coming to this market for the past three days and he cheats everybody with his poorly made wares. The gems in those daggers are mere glass, yet he hawks them as if they were diamonds. It was justice, of sorts, really."