FOURTH BOOK OF THE CHRONICLES OF FANTASILIA SERIES
𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭. 𝘈 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘈 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵. 𝘈 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦.
Xanthiene Vivenca, a fairy with a bounty for her soul, is caught between...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Kindly get the shard fairy into his room," the Sovereign said. Xanthy moved to help Cirasa as the shard fairy struggled but her own guards tightened their hold on her arm. Cirasa shouted something that the sack on his head muffled as he was led out of the room. The door shut with a finality that sent shivers down Xanthy's spine.
The Sovereign nodded to the girl standing mutely on a corner. "Silence is of utmost importance, darling," she waved a hand as she strode towards a table where two chairs waited. "You know what to do."
The girl dipped her head. "Yes, mistress."
Xanthy stepped forward. "Wait—"
A gunshot. A form sprawled on the floor with a thud, lifeless. Bright red blood spread in a thick halo around the girl's head. Xanthy's eyes widened as she edged backward. Why...
The Sovereign waved her hand again. A brush of magic swept past the lifeless form. The blood vanished like they're never there. Xanthy's lips quivered. This woman...Synketros was supposed to be good. Why...
The Sovereign smiled as if sensing Xanthy's turmoil. "It's okay, Virtakios," she gestured towards the other chair. "It's just one of the dispensables. It will be replaced, say, tomorrow," her eyes flashed with a deadly glint. "Probably."
Xanthy eyed the door. This woman was insane. Synketros...just what were they?
"Let's have a seat," the Sovereign said as she perched on hers. "I trust that you find our services commendable?"
Light green eyes that almost looked gray followed Xanthy as she strode towards the table and sat on the chair opposite the Sovereign. The Sovereign's bright red lips curled into a smile, exposing rows of white, pearly teeth.
Xanthy forced her tongue to unlatch from the roof of her mouth. She needed to play this carefully. This was her chance to learn things coming from the Sovereign herself and ask questions of her own. "Well, it's not every day your host murders a servant in front of the guest," she crossed her arms over her chest. "So you're good. Very commendable."
The Sovereign simply inclined her head to one side. Hair as red as dried blood fell into a wavy waterfall from her head. "That's a lie," she said. As was your laugh, Xanthy wanted to say but she swallowed her retort.
"Where are they taking Cirasa?" Xanthy followed the Sovereign's high collar that led towards a long-sleeved, black dress girded with an elaborate belt. Pointed shoulder pads rested on the Sovereign's form before giving way to a cloak that caressed her back like a blanket of soft, black wool.
The Sovereign's smile fell like she had just realized something. Then, in a flash, her features rearranged themselves back into the open expression. Xanthy narrowed her eyes. What's that? "Your friend will be taken to his quarters where you will spend the night," the Sovereign said.
"Hold up," Xanthy splayed her hands in the air. "We won't stay the night here. We have somewhere else to be."
The Sovereign chuckled, her warm brown skin a direct contrast against the whiteness of the room's walls. "I make all the rules here," she said. "Be thankful it's only for one night."
