The Strangest (Book #2)

3: The Decision

"What's wrong?" Gris said.

Mageia screamed on the inside. "I thought Komali's were nymphs..."

"Uh... they are, but some of them are born without fins and tails," he said brows clashing in confusion. "My mother never transformed. I'm sorry, but what's wrong? Something's wrong."

"No. Nothing," she said shaking her head while heavily folding her blanket.

Her soul pricked with doubt, but her heart pumped cool and calm. How could they both have two different feelings? Shouldn't they be working simultaneously? Can he be trusted? Can Dawnis be trusted?

Zane Arynliit skipped into the room, his curls bouncing with the rhythm. The ten-year-old threw himself into her and peered up with childish innocence.

"I'm so glad you're alive," Zane cheered.

She tugged the corners of her mouth and gave an awkward chuckle, ignoring Gris' studying eyes. "Me too Zane," she agreed, squeezing him like a pillow.

"And you brought a prince home," he exclaimed, releasing her to stand before Gris. He gave a waist bow, causing his hair to flap in the motion. "Your Highness."

The prince pressed a smile, but Mageia knew their conversation wasn't over.

"Young Ser." He gave a skilled nod.

"You two must be hungry," Zane said. "Please refresh yourselves-," he indicated two piles of clothing and bathing items, "-and join us downstairs for a delicious breakfast."

Mageia nodded and wished she were a child again.

"Indeed, we shall. Nanthe tu, Zane."

His little chest puffed out more and with a strong nod, he left, only to break off into a run. His footsteps thundering down the stairs.

"He's cute," Gris said.

"Yeah, I know," Mageia said avoiding eye contact. "I guess, we should um... get dressed?"

"Ladies first," he said with a proper gesture.

Mageia's cheeks grew hot, hating to be addressed as a lady. Well, she was a woman, but a lady sounded so proper. Just because she was a newly awakened Fairest, didn't delete the fact she was still a common thief and an outlaw. Yet here she was... with the Strange Prince of Ardania, in her friend's home.

Oh, mother, I hope I'm making you proud!

As she went to inspect her pile of clothing, Gris grabbed his blanket and sloppily tried to fold it. Sorrow claimed his face making her wish she hadn't responded like that. But it was such an unnecessary shock. Everyone in Ardania knew about his mother, the late Queen Nari Arlon and her unfortunate death. How an incident with fire distressed her to the point of claiming her life. It was also known, she was a Komali, and that bloodline possessed a dark history.

"Rasheem would be proud to see me clean my own mess for once."

Of course, he was thinking about his longtime friend and manservant! Beaten almost to death by the shadowdemon, Sii, he was still in the royal infirmary. Condition unknown.

"He's probably okay, Gris." Her chest tightened with the familiar pressure of grieving a loved one. She actually loss two. Her father by assassination and her mother by execution.

"Hmm," was his only response. He somewhat turned away from her as he redid his fold.

"Just leave it, I will get it when I come out," Mageia insisted.

Gris froze, staring at his blanket. His sorrow sunk into her, strong and distinct. She had to leave, or her own grief would claw its way into her agitated magic. She grabbed her pile of necessities and left for the washroom.