The Fairest (Book #1)

41: A Little Trip

Mageia jerked awake, gasping for air. She sat up, grasping at her neck and clenching the soft cushion she sat on. The pain in her arms brought shivers throughout her body until they slowly subsided to throbbing. She squeezed her eyes closed, as if it would erase everything that had happened to her and the fact that she was a Fairest.

"Great gods," someone said.

Startled, she opened her eyes to a man standing at the edge of her bed with a journal. By his plain green attire, the symbols of the Priesthood, and his crossed eyes, she figured he was a temple slave. A woman in the gray dress of a nurse stood across the room beside a long table of infirmary supplies. The slave's eyes shifted to Mageia's right. She followed his gaze, and the anger she felt in the Serene stirred alive in her soul again. Sitting in a chair beside a lit fireplace was the High Priest of Ardania, Lord Hercones. The old man's jaw hung open, and for a minute, everyone was speechless.

Then the High Priest stood to his feet. "Nurse, go and send for Prince Grisonce immediately."

Why wasn't he here? She wondered, watching the nurse dash from the room, leaving the door open. From where she sat, two soldiers dressed in temple designed armor stood in the hall. One peeked inside and did a double look at her before shifting away to the side. Mageia hated feeling trapped and felt herself beneath the covers. Someone had put her in a dress. Though she would be barefoot, she had to prepare to run or fight to leave this room if necessary.

Lord Hercones cautiously approached, reclaiming her attention. "Lady Mageia. Are you still Mageia Unknown?"

Mageia swallowed, but her throat was too dry. "I need water."

Lord Hercones gestured to the temple slave, who scurried to the table for the pitcher and cups. Once he prepared it and gave Mageia the cup of water, she drank it all and gestured for more. The slave obeyed, and this time she took sips.

"Do you know who I am?"

She closed her eyes until the throbbing in her arms and body subsided enough to be bearable. A nod followed, and the anger in her soul sparked. She reopened her eyes and glared at the old man, who needed a solid punch in the face. The color of his wrinkled skin flushed.

"My lady?"

"You killed me," she said. Her memories of the horrific sacrifice and the excruciating pain flooded into her all at once. Tears swelled in her eyes and began to flow down her cheeks.

The old man's thin lips parted, not knowing what to say. "Forgive me," came from him.

The sincerity of his response fought against her anger. She hated him. No. She wanted to hate him. Something about the new power awakened inside her now interfered with her emotions, and it confused her. No, it bothered her greatly because, without the power, she would've thrown the cup of water into the man's face.

"I hate you," she forced out before the rage totally disappeared.

"I know," the High Priest resigned. His watery eyes turned red, and a few tears leaked down his cheeks. He clasped his hands together and shook his head. "You'd think, after years of studying in the Priesthood, I would see the obvious. At least notice it. It took Prince Grisonce and his heart, untouched by our Fair ways, to see you. How you ended up here in Ardania, of all kingdoms, it baffles me."

Mageia laid back against the headboard and diverted her gaze into the remaining water in her cup.

"I am a fool," the High Priest muttered, unable to look at her. The temple slave sniffled and dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief.

She opened her right hand and noticed the new mark blending into the lines of her palm. Her left hand possessed it too.

The High Priest gave a short gasp. "Gods above."