Hidden Mysteries

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

          The now nineteen year old Anya was woken up by a knock on her door. Sitting up slowly, she scratched her head and shouted. “Coming!” She pulled a robe on and walked tiredly to her front door. When she opened it, she nearly fell back. “Mason!” 



          There he was; the prince. He was dressed in a plain white shirt paired with dark brown trousers, yet he still seemed as regal and cocky as ever. Anya pulled her robe even more tightly around herself as she regained her composure.

          Why in the world is the prince at my doorstep?

         “Sorry I that I have not been here for a while, it has been sort of…. Busy. But I did receive your letter and immediately came.” The prince said, apologetic. 



          “M-my letter?” Her groggy mind was clouded with confusion. “Oh… I sent that over three days ago.” She remembered.



          “It arrived much faster than any other common letter, if I do say so myself. A courier from the Messengry came with it - I think her name was Julie?”

          Anya's lips curled up in a small smirk. “Yes, her name is Julie. How very nice of her to take it herself. Well, come in.” She said, ushering him inside and closing the door behind him. 



          “Have I missed much since I last saw you, Anya?” Mason asked, looking around.

          She thought of the Akoi. “Uh- no.” Anya replied quickly, pulling breakfast food off the shelves. 



          “You, my dear, are lying.” Mason laughed. “You were never really good at lying” 



          “Now, Your Majesty, that is a lie because I never tried to tell a lie, and if I did it was because of my moth-” Her voice choked as her face fell. “Because certain people made me.” She regained a small smile for Mason.

          “I … apologize. ” Mason took a step towards her before wrapping his arms around her. Anya pushed him away.

          “There is no need to apologize.” She rubbed her temples as she walked away from him to start cooking the breakfast over the kitchen fire.

          “Please, do not put on a facade for me. You must need to let it out after eight years of pretending to be someone you are not.” 



          “Whatever do you mean?” Anya questioned, pretending not to understand.

          Mason came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders comfortingly. She shrugged him off. “Please Anya, I am a great listener.” 



          “I really have no desire to talk about anything.” Anya told him before she turned back to cooking. 



          “Allow me to help you, then .” He went to work beside her at the stove, their hips touching.

          “It is a little cramped here, Mason.” She told him. 



          “That is fine.” He smiled down at her. “Besides, I rather enjoy it.” 



          “You have room on your side, please move over.” 
Anya pointed her wooden spatula at him.

          “No thank you, I like where I am.” Mason was grinning now.