The Fairest (Sample)
Chapter 3: Truths and Promises

Once they had dismissed the children to the supervision of their best sitters, the ten Elders joined to continue the dark topic at the Pit.

“Fae, yuh should’ve came to Geia or me instead of sayin’ it in front of the children,” Dean said, eyes furious.

“I know. I’m sorry, but it bothered me, and it couldn’t wait ’til after the meeting,” Faebrin said, shoulders tensing up and almost touching his earlobes.

“Dean, we have to do something,” Mageia said.

“What do yuh suggest we do, huh? Rescue them?” he questioned, widening his eyes at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“Yes,” she said, hands clenched at her sides. “Children are supposed to live and enjoy life. Not be dehumanized and die in front of reckless fools who enjoy the sight of blood. I know how that feels, remember?”

“Geia …” Dean said, shifting his feet and giving an irritated sigh.

“I agree with Geia,” Jaice said, loud and quick. “We have rescued many children over the years.”

“Yes, but the Taefo is the hardest,” Dean said. “We managed to rescue three children—three from there long ago—” he jabbed three fingers in the air, “—Esan, Esa, and Jayta, may she rest in peace.”

Mageia swallowed hard to restrain the grief from losing 10-year-old Jayta to her blood disease two years ago. She was surrounded by family when she passed peacefully into the Hall of Souls.

“And we still cannot thank you both enough,” 16-year-old Esan said, rubbing his twin sister’s back. They both shared a similar sunken face due to their heads mashing in the womb. His left eye, too small with poor vision, was covered with a black patch, while his sister’s right eye, also very small, constantly blinked.

“Rescuing someone from the Taefo—let alone a group—is risky,” Dean said.

“But it’s possible,” Mageia said, ignoring him.

Dean approached her, grabbed her by the arms, and peered into her face. “Geia. Remember the countless times tryin’ to rescue children from there? They all failed. They all ended up being recaptured and facin’ the slice either way.”

“But we were children then. We are grown now,” she said, breaking free from him to look at the teens. “We have trained our entire lives to scout orphanages, slave holds, temples, and infirmaries, learning and studying how to maneuver with stealth. For gods’ sakes, we’ve picked too many crowds to keep count. Why not scope the Taefo with the daylight we have left and just see if it’s even possible to do a rescue?”

“The Taefo has expanded since our last attempt,” Dean said.

“It has expanded, but I cannot say so for the security and the staff,” Faebrin said.

“How many children did you see?” Mageia asked.

“At least three little ones bounded by chains,” he replied.

“Did yuh hear how many children they already have inside?” Dean interrogated in pure annoyance.

“No, but I can find out,” he said.

Dean shook his head. “No. I don’t want yuh going back there.”

“But the patrollers are familiar with me. They think I’m some Strange with family inside,” he said.

“He’s right, Dean. Faebrin’s been keeping an eye on the place, so he’d know what to look for,” Mageia said.

“I promise to be careful,” Faebrin said. The light from the sun made his blonde curls shiny as they bounced from his assuring nod.

Dean flexed his jaw side to side and placed his hands on his waist. “We should vote,” he said.

Mageia sucked her teeth, hating the need to vote.

Am I not the Chief? She wanted to say.

“Hands raised for those who think this rescue is a good idea,” Dean said.

“We don’t even have Gavin and Liivel here,” Mageia said.

“Still, raise yer hands,” Dean said.

Seven of the eight before them raised their hands, receiving a scoff from her young redheaded friend. He did not need to ask the opposing question.

Dean huffed. “Fine, but let’s plan some of it now,” he said, glaring at Mageia, who gave him a guilty but appreciative smile.

The evening sun hung like a golden flame in the sky by the time they finished planning. Everyone dispersed to do their given tasks, hearts and minds set on doing what was right. Rescuing children was always the priority of the Lost Ones, especially before the Fair Laws prohibited executions of children three years ago. Some unease settled in her gut at the odd decision of the Priesthood and the Crown to defy the Laws. And the fact that they kept this a secret until now only boiled her blood with fury.

Did the High Priest really have a dream from the Diviines?

She packed the valuables needed to do a fair trade with a good friend and prepared to leave. She headed westward back into the Old Forest to an abandoned well. A heart-wrenching screech within the treetops brought her slamming into a tree trunk. She pressed her back against it, eyes scanning above for the dark predator.

Cravers. The bloody bat-like creatures, the size of three men, could pick up a person like a pillow and fly them away to their nest for a meal. They were dangerous, sneaky, and swift like a thief. Unable to see the mystical creature that had found its way from the deeper eastside of the Dauntless, she quickly ran the rest of the way to the well. She climbed in and continued into the underground of the Old Forest and the Hillside.

Under Ardania were old tunnels and sewers forgotten by officials but known by anyone who wished to get around without raising suspicion. Mageia went her normal route that took no more than two hours in and through Midlaan, waving buzzing flies from her face and scrunching her nose at scurrying rats and the putrid stench. Humming her father’s favorite song, she found her exit and ascended the ladder she had installed months ago. She ignored whatever wet substance was draining into the iron grate and peeked to make sure no one was around before climbing out.

This grate sat in a lone alley with crates that had been purposely stacked around it to ensure no one would notice. She fixed her hood and crossed into an adjoined alley behind Grinner Street. Known for its many rows of fooderies and handmade accessory shops, their upper levels were homes to the owners. An owner burst out the back door of his shop, engulfing her with the delicious aroma of cooking seafood. She bent her head lower, but the chef could care less about her presence and dumped a pail of fish grinds into his trash bin.

Mageia slowed her pace, waiting for the man to return inside before slipping into the back door of a bakery shop. For a minute, she sucked in the marvelous smells of pastries, breads, jams, and chocolates, causing her mouth to water and a smile to sweep across her face. The bell above the door rang, but she didn’t have to wait to be acknowledged.

She passed the steamy hot kitchens and went to one of three rows of tables, placing her bag down. Her hungry eyes eyed the multiple trays of food still steaming hot from the ovens. Quickly, she washed her hands in the water pump’s basin and plucked one into her mouth. She moaned with delight as the sweet cream oozed down her throat.

“You could’ve greeted first, Mageia,” a young, cheery voice said. A boy exited from the door to the kitchens.

“Forgive me, little Zane,” she grinned at the boy with his long black hair tied back and his apron greased and stained with work.

“I’m not a little boy anymore,” he said, crossing his puffed-out chest. “Papa said I’m a man now.”

“Oh? I must’ve missed the new law stating how ten-year-olds are adults now.”

The boy made a silly face at her as a bellowing laugh erupted about the room.

“Look who we have here,” the owner said, entering from the dining area, now busy with customers. He turned and locked the door before approaching.

“Hala, Ser Trekon,” she said with a slight bow.

“Don’t be chivalrous; come and give me a hug,” he said, and she did, unable to stop from sniffing his buttery scent.

“You’ve been at it again,” Trekon said, waving an accusing chubby finger in her face.

“What’re you talking about?”

“The Purple Thief was at the Rimly Temple again. I was petrified,” he said in a squeaky voice, mocking a proper woman he must’ve overheard. His son laughed aloud, promising to sound exactly like his father’s in the future.

“It was hectic but necessary, Trek,” she said, plopping into a chair and eyeing a row of buttered biscuits.

“And dangerous. You do know you needn’t steal when you have me to assist.” The baker and a former Royal Knight Escort could prove he came from the lineage of Giant-Folk called Ardeans, created by the goddess Danala, and once lived in Ardania many eras ago. At least six and a half feet tall, wide, and sturdy, with a nicely trimmed beard, he plopped into a red armchair big enough to hold his massive form.

“You have a family to care for. I don’t want you caring for another,” she said.

“You should still reconsider this stealing lifestyle,” Trek said. “You teen Elders are getting old enough to work small jobs that won’t ask too many questions. And like I said, I can help you and your family more.”

Mageia frowned and pursed her lips to restrain her frustration and annoyance over this topic.

Trekon frowned too, and gestured to his son. “Zane. Go help your mother.”

The boy’s shoulders drooped along with his face. “Yes, papa,” he obeyed. Once the door shut behind the boy, Trekon leaned forward on the chair’s arms.

“When my daughter and that lug of a husband she has needs me, I pitch in, do I not?”

“Yes, Trek …”

“And when this handsome lad grows into a fine young man and has his own family, I will continue to pitch in, will I not?”

“You would.”

“And when a good man made me promise to take care of his family if anything happened to him, was I supposed to say no?”

Mageia rubbed the side of her neck, and her hand habitually continued across the lumpy birthmark. She remembered sitting on her stepfather’s lap, wrapping her arms about his neck, drenched in sweat from wearing his armor for so many hours. The image of his smiling face still weaved its way into her thoughts from time to time. Even his brown eyes that popped off his dark skin like the chocolates he’d bring home from the palace would resonate from the bloom. She was seven when he was assassinated, and though they were not blood related, she loved him nonetheless.

Even after his death, she remembered how her mom continued to hide her from the world, fearful that one day she’d be taken and executed for her purple eyes. Sadly, that did not last long.

“No,” she said. “It’s strange how much he cared for us—for me—since he wasn’t my father. I feel I still know nothing about him except he was just a knight.”

“Not just a knight, my girl. He was Ser Leon Holt, Commander of the King’s Army,” he said in admiration. “An admirable man, he was, and the only one with a heart compared to those in his company. Don’t forget, Mageia, how he somehow pleased King Thadd enough to persuade him to welcome refugees fleeing Gorana during the Gold Madness with open arms. He even made sure they were kept excluded from the Fair Laws for four years until they decided whether to leave or stay. Without his good heart, you and your mother wouldn’t have made it.”

“Yes, I know the story all too well, Trekon,” Mageia said with a smirk. “He fell in love with her beauty despite the fact she was pregnant with me and took us into his home.”

“And he didn’t turn you in when you popped out with purple eyes,” Trekon reminded her. “No. He married that fierce mother of yours and helped keep you a secret for a very long time. I swear, Leon was a great man and a better commander than the one we have now. Our friendship only grew over stuffing our bellies in the kitchens. So, he asked me to step in and take care of the family no one knew he had, and I shall keep my promise.”

“If you two were so close, even with my mother, why can I not use my surname of my father’s?”

Trekon sighed and shrugged. “Look, Mageia. Whatever Leon and Vale were up to, no doubt it had something to do with your eyes. So, whatever truths and promises they endorsed in you, I refuse to hear any of it.” He held up a hand to silence her, seeing her mouth open to speak. “I only want to do what’s right and care for you and your family. I don’t want to know anything. The less I know, the safer we are under this roof.”

“Trekon, you are a good man.”

“A good man who’s about to lend a favor. You know, you’re only supposed to pass by any time after nightfall.”

“I know, Trekon. I really need your help.” Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I knew it,” he smirked.

She smiled ear to ear. “I brought something to trade for your assistance.”

“Mhmm. Jewelry?”

Mageia bobbed her head. “Only the finest timepieces and bracelets for your lovely wife, Lady Lisa, to sell.”

“Gods, help me; she’s going to be up all night going through it all,” he said, eyeing the sack she revealed and placed on the table. He then grunted. “What is it you want?”

“We heard the priests are sacrificing children tonight.”

“Damn, you heard,” he grumbled, rubbing his beard. “Please tell me you’re not thinking about—”

“A rescue? Of course.”

“Mageia …” he started and leaned back into his chair.

“They do not deserve to die, Trek. The king is breaking the law he passed three years ago about executing children. If the Crown offered free monthly Checkings and lowered the costs for treatments, it could make a huge difference for people being marked Strange at a young age. They could rid the idea that you can become Strange just because of an unexpected injury. We wouldn’t have so many slaves, and don’t forget the poorest of us all working in the Runes, mining for emeralds they would never get to wear in their entire lifetime. Trekon, I need to do this. Those children do not need to stand on the dais like some performance.”

“Mageia. You cannot save them all,” he said, voice heavy with sorrow.

“What if it was Zane?”

“Don’t do that, Geia,” he said, averting his eyes to his wedding ring he knowingly twisted around his finger.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. You can be Fair one day and Strange the next, all because of a stupid prophecy, cruel laws, and the Crown filling their pockets with peeks they surely do not need.”

“You sound like your parents,” Trekon said, falling deep into memories.

“Then help me. Help them.”

The man’s wide chest expanded and deflated as he pondered the danger he could be putting his family in. Mageia hated doing this to him, but what she needed him to do was simple, and no one would bat an eye about it.

“Diviines help us all. What do you need me to do?”

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