Four Suits (Book 1)

Day 42-2: Patience

DAY 42-2: PATIENCE

The word prince echoes in Leda's mind even as she leads Avel up the slopes towards Mavix's lodge. He's riding on the broomstick he's conjured, perched and floating. But she can't see it no matter how hard she tries.

She ventures past the crystallized coniferous trees, combing through the bushes. She ensures her footsteps are short and even as to not slip from the ice beneath them.

Did she really (kind of) kick a royal prince in the face? One that (kind of) proposed to her, a stranger—however that's supposed to work?

Is it possible for someone to be a prince and doctor at the same time? And how can he be strolling through the city with no means of disguise or bombardment. There's a ton of questions swirling through Leda's mind. But, she has encountered half-humans, death reapers, and a necromancer in the past. For this all to be as true and perfect as it feels isn't necessarily impossible.

"Leda."

She turns to find he has hopped off from his broom. At a much closer proximity than earlier, he extends a bouquet of red flowers for her to receive. They're identical to red carnations—possessing the meaning of love.

Leda meets his eyes.

He's alight with nothing but puppy-like content. Just like Mavix, she can't tell if he's being honest or fooling around. It rubs her the wrong way.

Leda swallows hard, eyeing the bouquet. They end up awkwardly wedged in her arms, alongside other groceries she'd bought with the change Mavix left behind for them.

Still... Leda's lips curve into a ghost of a smile. Is this guy really a prince? He's too much of a lovesick idiot.

A chivalrous playboy prince in a fantasy world? She's not sure what she should think—feel.

"Thank you," she says, anyway. Well even if he is a little fishy, she doesn't have much of a choice right now. She doesn't have the leisure of being nitpicky. They need to secure a cure for Ro and the rest of his people as quickly as they can. Then get this bizarre prince to agree to Rhett's terms.

Leda departed on this journey thinking it'd be easy. But her and Orian only have around forty days left. Forty days from fifty-two. They needed to work a lot more swiftly. She had to be of more help; for Orian and everyone in Edaps counting on her.

She's run away her entire upbringing. Any slightest inconvenience, she tucked her tail between her legs and avoided hardship like the plague.

But that's not an option now. She needs to discard the word from from her vocabulary; blaze it in an inferno with no hopes of resurfacing. Because, if she runs away now—from this—there's no way she'll be able to forgive herself.

♥♦♣♠

   Orian is napping when they arrive. Leda feels a tad wary letting Avel stroll his way indoors, gawping at the tiny household like a kid on a field trip, but she pays him no mind.

She approaches Orian currently reclined in a chair. His breathing is faint, and his unnerving mask is back on his face. He seems to always be wearing it when he does, as if he can't rest without it.

Leda jostles his arm to wake him up, and he reacts with a start. He instinctively jerks his injured arm to which ends up in him hissing hysterically and ducking over.

"Orian," Leda cries, crouching to his aid at once. "I didn't mean to—"

"A wrist issue? Potential sprain?"