Élan: A Youngblood World

10 | The Crown Jewel |

       BOUTS of coughs followed after a deep grumbling whir and broken beats of booming noises pierced their ears. Beneath a cloud of thick dust suspended on the ground, Kayne lay flat on his front, a blunt pain seared through his head that overwhelmed any other pangs across his body. His round forehead had slapped the rocky ground too hard.

       He could have fallen unconscious had it been for the soft spot of soil he hit, evading the rocks pressed down on the ground.

       Crunching footsteps approached, Hiro helped him up by the shoulders, his fair skin tainted with irksome soil and minuscule rocks that clung to the silk cloth of his white Command uniform.

       Thankfully, its quality was designed for easy handwashing.

       "Isn't this a familiar feeling?" Hiro hid a smirk under puckered lips, which failed inauthentically.

       Kayne steadied himself with one arm propped against his shoulder, the shock fleeing from his veins until there was enough pain to tolerate. "Shut up."

       With Cazzie's aid offering her arms to lean on, the stranger uprighted, wobbling all the way.

       "Your courage befits you, gentlemen. And for that, I thank you. I am forever in your debt." The girl curtsied. She appeared less glum, surveying each of them with notable regard. "I am Stella Verdana Astrophes Fjore.

       "You're welcome, Miss." Hiro beamed back, allowing the brunette to stand on his own.

       Kayne pulled his sword out of the anticipated clutter of mess, the hilt requiring three rigorous attempts of heaves, then slid it back to his scabbard.

       "Say, you don't happen to be alone out here? A place like this is too dangerous for a soft, fine sweetpea of a gal such as yourself," the redhead said in an aloof as if he had not been yelling seconds ago.

       Ryeld rolled his eyes, uttering a soundless Oh for fart's sake. Kayne almost chided the birdbrain away--to spare them from hearing a headache worth of attempted flattery--when Cazzie stepped forth. Something in her eyes sparked, unsure whether it signaled good means or ill fate

       She stared at the woman, unblinking, while the latter shrugged Hiro's pathetic remarks off with a light chuckle.

       "Uhm, excuse me," she interrupted, black round eyes alarmingly wide.

       "Oh, yes?"

       She assessed her up and down as if confirming a presumption not even her gut thought otherwise. "I'm sorry if I can't help myself staring, but..."

       "Out with it, Amaerys." Ryeld prompted.

       Everyone was just as impatient, ears itching for context, save for the distant sirens and dogs barking resonating from miles away.

       "There's no mistaking it." Her tone undoubtedly noted astonishment. "It is you, the Flaurellean Princess. You're Princess Stella."

       The statement hit like the aftermath of a bombshell dropped on them.

       Hiro's jaws hung, solidified, while Kayne and Ryeld's eyes broadened like they were about to pop. Zakuro kept a placid, seemingly intrigued, expression.

       Are their ears deceiving them?

       "Wait, hold on," Kayne intervened, "are you sure?" He urged, indicating that she was imposing a risky claim subject to a felony.

       "Yes." Before Cazzie could respond, the figure nearby spoke, impossible to ignore. "You mustn't doubt your friend. She speaks the truth."

       Reclining her green sleeves, Stella--or more appropriately, the Princess--flashed out the bare skin of her forearm. Poking out of the tanned shade behind her wrist by the elbow socket, a faint blemish dented her complexion, less shaded as compared to her whole shroud. Its shape outlines that of a cloverleaf.