A girl in disguise. An heir in hunt. A world divided.
Iris Lavera is born into the civilization of the least respected ones. The lineage where it's predicted to birth a curse. A low born who will be the downfall of an entire nation if left alive.
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There hasn't been an exaggeration on his part. When he claimed that he won't be back for the night to the girl in his chamber, he had pledged it like a promise. But there wasn't a sign of warrant from him that I would be there right along with him on his excursion. We were on foot since the morning, he often disappeared into an edifice for hours imploring me to do my heart's will after he was gone. But would find me no matter how far or in throng I was.
I would suddenly find him standing by my side judging what I was doing.
Looking at a compass, gazing at a fountain, sniffing a pastry or breathing in general.
His disguise was neater than mine, while I suspect anyone in the city would recognise me from the trial, he was much more prone to the blunder than I was.
He was a prince.
And I had to keep reminding myself of such lunacy as I watch him eat, look or move.
He had his scarf wrapped around the Lower role of his face and often shoved his gloved hand inside his pockets, which was odd since he could simply remove it to mingle without such inconvenience.
When he had asked me for my preferred dish in a Serai, I had looked at every single pitcher of sweet and sauce jars with regard so high, that I know he saw the sparkles of stars in my eyes as he in all but quietness refused to ask me more and got me one of everything there was.
"What a thoughtful big brother you got their lad" a big lady who sold them to us smiled plumply, good thing I was literally deemed speechless with the savoury halfway down my mouth, the flavour of orange and berries melts in my tongue.
I didn't anticipate the Ezdan to answer, so I chewed faster so I could be polite to the lady whose hands were blessed with such charmed craft of baking.
"Not a brother" he drops some coin in a fancy case and flicks his gaze to look at the woman dead in the eye "If I had one, I wouldn't have been the last resort"
My mind is a drone with various outcomes. When I walk along him- I am excessively aware of his presence and when he is not- it was his behaviour that invades my thought. It has been this way since the night of pond, the more I run from him the closer our fate entwines. And I am scared, I am utterly terrified of what it could mean.
Centuries ago Antar hung on the brink of annihilation. A war almost lost to a vicious Rixilian king whose language of peace was silencing a tongue that spoke and slicing the eyes that testified his sins. He had Antar surrounded, scarring and digging their lands, filling hearts with hostility, robbing and tarnishing the dignity of women and abducting children into slavery- a history that still causes the Rixilians to plummet their magnificence and fight fair.
All a heard and read tale- because Caelum and his bunch of defectors appear every inch the guilt-less hoarders that one would expect from a realm as theirs.
