Fate's Demand (Twisted Fate, Book 3)

Chapter Forty-Two

The group of Dark Souls stared at me after Deryk's introduction like I was an oddity.

In their defense, I was the strange one amongst them.

Shifting my weight, I looked to Deryk and the silence stretched, feeling unbreakable. Why didn't I say anything right off the start? What kind of leader waves after they've been introduced to people they are meant to guide? I am such a dork.

Deryk caught my gaze and then nodded back to the group, and I turned back.

A young girl stepped forward from the crowd. She was the most innocent-looking of the group with soft doe-like eyes and light brown hair that hung in ringlets to frame her heart-shaped face. All those around her inched in, protective. They only allowed the girl enough room to make herself known but never allowing her to venture out of their reach.

"Hi," I said, bending to rest my hands on my knees so that we were even at eye level. I would be surprised if she surpassed five-one.

"Hi." Her voice was soft but steady, her gaze not at all hesitant. "Are you the boss now?"

The boss?

She was so young!

What had she ever done not to be accepted into Glory Academy? Or was it a choice? Did she understand it when she was asked—or was she never asked at all? I smiled and stepped forward, still hunched down to her level. Deryk glared at the line of Dark Souls who appeared ready to extract the girl.

I looked at Deryk and shook my head, and then swept my eyes over the crowd before focusing on the girl again. "What's your name?"

"Justine."

"Justine what?"

She looked back to someone, but I didn't glance away. It didn't matter what approval she received. All I knew was that charming her would win the rest over. As far as I was concerned, that made her the only one who mattered.

Justine looked back to me, seeming conflicted. Whatever she saw in me, despite whatever else she may have just seen from another, made her smile. "My name is Justine Edwards, ma'am."

"Oh, I'm not a ma'am," I said, laughing. "You can call my Aly."

Justine looked up and smiled behind her, and then turned back to meet my gaze. "So, are you our boss now?"

"Well, Justine, I'm not sure what I am." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw everyone was still watching us, listening to every word. "How old are you?"

"F-fourteen, ma—Aly."

"You know what it's like to be scared of something, right?" I asked, nodding when she did. "Like when you died? Were you scared then?"

"Don't talk to her about death!" a deep voice threatened.

"Tyler," Deryk said, stepping forward in my defense.

"What does she know about death? She is still alive," the boy continued, undeterred by the warning.

My gaze stayed on Justine and I was happy to see hers on me. Shrinking back down, I lowered my voice and said, "Death is scary, huh? I bet you were brave, though. You look brave."

"Stop," Tyler growled, and I ignored him.

"You know, when I died, I was scared too," I said, and watched her eyes widen.

"What the—?" Tyler started but was hushed by those around him.

"You died?" Justine asked with wonder and then confusion. She crossed her arms, looking indignant, and suddenly appeared to be a sulking child robbed of her youth. "Then how come you aren't dead?"