A Princess for the Witch Doctor (Legends of Rahasia Book 3)

Chapter Seventeen

​"Aaron."

​"Nope."

​"Adrian."

​"Still no."

​"Alex."

​He stops ripping up pieces of stale bread. "Are you even trying with these names? And besides, the rules of the challenge were that you only got three guesses!"

​I throw the scroll at him. He ducks. "None of these are official guesses. Maybe I just like passing spare time by yelling out random names. Nothing's official until I say the words."

​He sighs, resigned. "Nama anda... your name is..."

​I nod. "Exactly. You're not the only one who can find loopholes, asshole."

​He grunts, and then goes back to trying to coax rats out of the corners of the prison. "Here, little one."

​He makes an intricate trail of crumbs.

​"Trying to eat a rat?" I snort.

​He turns back around, hideous, goggle-eyed mask in full view. I try to glimpse past the eye-holes, but all I see is gleaming black pupils, like night. A bit around the eyes, soft brown skin.

"Yes." He informs me.

​"I thought you were a prosperous gentleman farmer."

​He narrows what little I can see of his eyes at me. "You try buying food from street vendors when you look like this. Setan! Setan! And then I'd get rotten fruit pelted at me, not even edible fruit. You learn to eat other things."

​I take part of my own flatbread that I'd set on the tray next to the scrolls filled with possible witch-doctor names. Names for a Dukun, names that aren't Aaron, Adrian, or Alex apparently. I tear at the remains of my meal and help him with making rat-catching trails. "I don't feel sorry for you. You killed kids, h'mar."​

​ "In the service of Rangda," he shoots back.

​"Yeah, but you still killed kids."

​He stops moving, shoulders slumping for the briefest moment. Then he sits up straighter again. "I should've killed you." He mutters.

​"Same." I dust off my hands and pick up my food tray.

​"That's enough cheeriness for the day. Goodbye. Selamat tinggal."

​"Da..." he replies, going back to his bread.

When I exit the prisons, I nearly run face-first into Tawil. I turn the corner, and who else do I expect to see but everyone's least favorite patrol drunk.

​The skinny young man glares at me, dust rubbed into his ochre skin. "Princess Arnina," he bows, all nobleman manners and floweriness.

​He hides something behind his back, so being the royal leader here, I tell him to show me. He sighs, reluctantly pulling out a sack filled with incredibly luxurious tunics with silver stitching and elaborate embroidery. But they're all incredibly tiny shirts and tanned shoes, fit for a chubby little kid. And golden-painted toys litter the bottom half.

​"They're for my kid. The mother, she lets me see the child sometimes." He mumbles, and when I take a whiff of him, he smells freshly bathed. Not a hint of liquor in sight. His hands are even trembling. "It's my day off, so before you go accusing me of shirking patrol..."

​I nod, a tad bewildered. I didn't think Tawil was the type to take responsibility for his own child. "You're not a half-bad father, Tawil."

​He looks at me, pain in those dark eyes. A nasty, yellow-purple bruise on his cheekbone and chin from the fight with the Dukun. His arm set in a sling. "Thanks, princess." He bows stiffly again, avoiding my gaze. "اتمنى لك يوما طيب . Atmna lk ywma tyba. Have a nice day."

​When he leaves, I wonder just how much I underestimated him. Sure, he got a girl in trouble. But he's owning up to it. I would've assumed he sent servants to deal with his children, like the other spoiled nobleman sons.

​Maybe I haven't lost everything with General Sol, if only I looked around me.

​Or maybe, just maybe, I can get her back...

***
Readers,

I wonder what Arni's going to do now.

-Sophia