The Beast Within

In a world where magic is outlawed and virtually extinct, Princess Fiamatta suddenly finds her world turned inside out by the traitorous word. From royalty, to fugitive, to leader of the rebels, Fia is forced to work with a handsome, arrogant magician she found locked away in a dungeon.

btw, this is my NaNoWriMo story so criticism is much appreciated! Thanks :)


19. Act 18

We began traveling early in the morning. I had estimated that we should be able to make it to Irian by nightfall if we traveled straight through with minimal breaks. I told Logan about wanting to switch my clothes and he agreed to go in and see what he could find. I stood behind a tree in my underwear until Logan returned after what felt like ages. He came back with a pair of black trousers and a burgundy tunic. I changed quickly, desperate to be clothed again. Finally, I emerged from my tree, trying to get all of my hair out of the collar. Logan’s eyes wasted no time in examining my new wardrobe. He stood in front of me and then smiled slightly.

            “What is it?” I demanded, feeling extremely self-conscious. I looked over myself, trying to see if maybe I did not tuck the shirt in right or something. He shook his head, dismissing my words and glanced at my eyes.

            “The color really brings out the beauty of your caramel eyes.” Despite his soft tone, his gaze seemed to magnify his words exponentially. I tried to respond with a comeback but for once my brain was silent. I had always disliked my eyes; they were a bright brown with an almost reddish hue striking out from the center. Silently, my gaze followed his hand grasped a piece of my wavy auburn hair. “It suits you very well indeed, Princess,” he whispered while he brought the tip of my hair to his lips, kissing it softly. His steel gaze never once left my face. It recorded my embarrassed blush, and watched as I warred with myself on the inside.

            Logan definitely had ulterior motives, there was no way that what was happening right now was sincere. I refused to let myself fall for pretty words. But his gaze seemed to reflect the same emotion as his words; surly they could not lie. Still, it was suspicious, and would be a mistake to throw my caution away now.

            “I don’t know what you’re planning, but it won’t work.” My hand flicks my hair out of his grasp. I turn away without waiting for a response, and walk off, resuming our journey.

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