The Hunted - Book 1 of the Lost Royals Series

Chapter 4: To New Lands

Sigmo, Arietes Orbis
Year: 4998

It was raining hard and the wind could bite the nose right off someone's face, but this was something Daphne could never escape. And, to be completely honest, she did not really mind it. The only problem with such harsh conditions was the change of sailing schedules. If she was going to make it to Salmo in time it would take a considerable amount of bribing, which was something Daphne had never been good at. Call it what you may, whether it's an honest streak or a cowardly one, the girl always found it painful and trying to get anyone to help her with anything, especially if the particular task was something like sailing across the ocean in winter. 

   "It probably doesn't help much that I'm Human," Daphne muttered, hugging herself tightly against the cold. 

   She was standing under the overhang of an Inn, staring at the ships that tugged and pulled against the ropes and chains that held them close to the docks. 

   "I have to get there somehow," she said. 

   Looking in through the window she could see the Captain of the Lily Rose hard at the liquor. There were several empty flagons scattered across the table and the other sailors in the room just watched him, barely touching a drop of the spirits themselves. It was strange to see their sober faces silently judging their leader, for most sailors drank every drop they could get and at anytime they could get it.

   "Huh...I wonder what the problem is?" Daphne muttered, leaning against the wall.

   She thought back to the argument she had conducted with the Captain about sailing to Salmo and remembered how he had practically sworn off sailing for months. The sailors had all been on his side, which was only logical, but now; Daphne could not tell what was going through their heads. 

   Looking up at the sky and rubbing her arms the girl sighed and decided to go back inside, despite the awkwardness of having to pass by the drunken Captain and his prejudice sailors. It seemed as though everyone Daphne met in Arietes looked at her with disdain and would rather welcome a murderer and thief into their home than converse with a Human. 

   Closing the door quietly Daphne slid alongside the wall, her sopping boots making slight squeaking sounds on the floorboards. The Captain continued to drink his alcohol and remained oblivious to her presence, but the sailors eyed her with an unfair hatred and she could not help but crinkle her nose up at them and glare, trying desperately to keep herself from sticking her tongue out. She scooted along and never once took her eyes off of them, hoping that they would look away first so that she could retire to bed with at least one achievement for that day. 

   But of course, being the unlucky girl that she was, Daphne backed right into one of the chairs that was pushed unusually far out and toppled over it, landing with a hard thud on her side. Letting out a slight groan she rolled over onto her stomach and pushed the sopping brown curls away from her face, staring strait at a pair of boots. Daphne groaned again and wished a million times over that fate would treat her with more delicacy. Sighing, she placed both hands on the floor boards and pushed herself up onto her knees, smiling at the Cieven girl who sat there with a face of stone. 

   "I beg your pardon," Daphne said, trying her best to remember the few Arieten phrases she knew. "I am afraid fallen I have."

   The girl just looked at her with the same stone expression and took a sip out of her flagon in a cool manner, making it hard for Daphne to retain the smile which was turning more into a sarcastic sneering expression. 

   "Don't bother with Arieten. I can see it is not your strong-suit," the girl replied, her Satarian flawless in every way.

   Flawless that is except for the slight educated Cieven accent that made the Satarian language sound far more poetic than anyone would believe possible.