《The Legend of Fanaura: Cursed》Chapter 11 - The Ice Coffee Latte (Eireen)

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“Did you hear?” the curly hair guy whispered to an older dark skin man.

“What? What happened?” the older man came closer curiously.

“She got demoted from the elite group,” the curly guy said with his wide opened eyes, “I thought she is his golden egg or something…”

“Who are you talking about, Fred?” asked the older man still confused.

“Eireen Silver, you know, the girl that everyone called as King Jace’s favorite,” Fred exhaled long, “I guess she is not anymore.”

“What really? Well, she isn’t that talented or anything to start with, everyone knew that already,” the older man shrugged, ”I thought she was his comfort girl or something.”

“Comfort girl?? What do you mean Josh?” Fred looked more curious.

“HA HA! you don’t know what’s a comfort girl? You sure are a kid,” Josh brayed, “Comfort girl job is to comfort a guy ’need’ if you know what I mean.”

Fred's face turned blazing red, “seriously?? Wow, I would never know. She doesn’t look like a prosti- -Ouch!”

His words were cut off when Fred kicked his shin the moment Eireen walked pass them.

The rosy haired girl nodded and gave her best smile to them while she kept on walking toward her room. She got to clean her personnel room and moved to the lower rank barrack. She knew what rumor that has been going on ever since her demotion. It wasn’t something new for her to be the source of gossips and Eireen already decided to act dumb and ignore all of them.

Eireen opened her room’s door, her eyes brushed carefully on every corner of the room. She couldn’t help to have a little attachment to the room, after all, she has been living there for almost two years. The room for elites wasn’t as luxurious as most people expected. It was just a small space with a small single bed, looking like a snowdrift, so white and feathery. One window curtained with a square starched white cotton cloth with tiny yellow flower embroidery in the corner, they were so small that you need to come closer to be able to see them. The girl did the embroidery herself when she had some day off last year. A tiny wash-stand with an old-copper bowl and a pitcher of white and blue stoneware was next to the window with an old fashioned mirror that has aged bronze frame on the wall. There was also a small splint-bottomed chair in front of a small wooden table in the middle of the room. In one corner, there were some cleats that had been nailed to the wall and some of her clothes hanging from them. It’s not a room for a queen but she loved the place, her own personal space. The one only thing she's going to miss when she moved to the barrack.

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She carefully took her clothes and folding them one by one, they weren’t that many to start with so she wouldn't need a big bag to carry. She sighed softly while putting in her small trinkets and belonging to a small pouch and sat on her bed one last time. She closed her eyes, taking all the atmosphere for one last time.

She expected the king would punish her severely, banishing her from the palace or something. She even thought all the worst possibilities that she would get when she rejected his proposal. He could have forced her to marry him by the king’s order. For Jace to not impose his demand on her using his authority was quite a wonder for her; but also a gift in its own way.

“I am fine this way, everything will be okay, “ she mumbled to herself, “just return to where I belong; a commoner”

A quiet knock startled her, she opened her eyes and saw a boy; younger by a couple of years from her maybe around sixteen to seventeen years old; standing in front of the door. The boy was a perfect combination of coffee hues; his hair and eyes were the color of dark roasted beans but his skin was all latte. He had that shy look about him; hidden under his glasses; the kind of shy look teens often get when they’ve grown too much too fast like they weren’t really sure about being a man just yet. He was skinny, but the way his clothes hung gave away the muscle beneath.

For a few seconds, both of them froze in a staring battle, neither started any conversation. Until finally the boy looked away with a blush on his pointy ears; a Nisse, a race that lives on the island of Niji at the east of Ursa kingdom.

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The boy cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Am I in the right room?” He muttered.

Eireen suddenly realized that this boy might be the one Lyall and Dietra talked about, the one they had been trying to recruit.

‘So he is the one who’s going to take my spot… So young.’

Eireen stood up from the bed and quickly collected all her belongings and walked toward the door with an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I am sure you are in the right room, I was just going to leave. It was mine before, but anyway it is yours now.”

The boy nodded and moved away from the door to let her through. There was something familiar about him that made Eireen wonder.

‘I feel like I have at least seen him somewhere… Should I ask? Is that a good idea?’

A few steps away from the door, the rosy-haired girl stopped and turned around, stalled the boy from closing the door on her.

“Do I know you? I feel like I have seen you somewhere,” Eireen asked curiously.

The boy stared at her for a couple of seconds before finally shook his head.

“Really? I am sure I have seen you from somewhere…,” she rubbed her back head, trying to dig to her memory.

“I think you might be a mistaken miss,” he chided and looked a bit annoyed, “now will you excuse me? I need to unpack and prepare. I hate to be late.”

“Oh yeah, sorry… A-anyway, I am Eireen Silver. Welcome aboard,” she gave her hand out for a shake. The boy glanced at the hand and glanced back to the girl.

“Marc, Marc Albeques, now if you excuse me.” He finally answered; ignoring her stretched out hand, turned away, and closed the door on her face.

“Ouff,” Eireen shivered and dropped her hand awkwardly, as she walked away the girl muttered, “So cold, brrr.”

That night Jace gathered everyone to introduce Marc as his new selected member of the elites. He talked about his talent and why he deserved to be in his team; in other words, his new favorite. Marc himself wasn't really looking that excited to be the center of the attention, he slipped away not long after the feast started.

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