(why is ‘morgi’ a town in Telangana, India? Why, Google?)
I felt a cold feeling settle into the pit of my stomach. “About me, isn’t it?” A laugh escaped, a short way away from becoming a manic giggle. “I already got kidnapped, thrown into a magic portal, and lost all my coffee. I mean, what’s a little death prophecy?” I looked up at him, wishing I was unnaturally tall or remotely titan-ish, so I could look this guy in the eye properly. “Um, it is a death prophecy, right? Or a I’m-destined-to-save-or-destroy-the-world kind of thing? Wait a moment-”
A new idea settled into my mind as He-Who-Still-Isn’t-Named gave me a mostly amused smirk. “Go on.”
“Hey!” A blush began glowing hot on both cheeks. “It just occurred- if my twin sister is the princess, doesn’t also make me the princess?”
“Just ‘yes’? No ‘yes, your highness’? Or ‘sorry for having spilled all your coffee, your highness’?”
“Suit yourself. Anyway, why was my twin sister the one they needed, not me?”
“You were not born marked for the throne-” He took a breath, about to say more, but stopped himself just in time. “So you’re a princess, but not the princess.”
“Nice way to put it. Okay, since we’re guessing- is the prophecy about her?”
“It’s about a member of the royal family, and that is all.”
Wow. How articulate. At this rate, the Morgi-Walker is more likely to be a second cousin that’s also secretly a magic goat than me. “What’s my sister’s name, most importantly? And yours? You probably know mine.” Jayla. It is the most amazing mouthful of a name I have ever heard, and it’s also my name.
“I know yours. Hers is Kiara.”
Apparently, we’ve thrown discussion of the life-or-death prophecy out the window.
“Okay, nice name… what about yours? Does it also rhyme?”
He shot me a surprisingly good death glare, considering his eyes were purple. “No. It doesn’t.”
I remembered his reaction earlier, when we’d begun this long talk about prophecies and lost princesses and titans. It was probably personal. That look he was shooting me? Definitely personal.
“Okay… so what is the name? Or do you go by numbers?”
“I also go by Your Highness, if you prefer.” The sentence was loose before he could stop it. He sighed exaggeratedly, then something flashed in his purple eyes and he stood straighter. Yep, I can definitely imagine people calling him Your Highness right now.
“No way, Your High- wait a second.”
“I’m waiting.” He leans against one of the walls, turning his head to the ceiling- eyes closed. This way, he almost looks peaceful. Almost human when his purple eyes are shut.
I ignore those other thoughts and press on with the important question here. “You’re not kidding me?”
“I kid you not.” Apparently, this isn’t one of those things he’s proud of. He sounds like he’s irritated with the title- like an itchy uniform.
“So…” Gears turn in my mind. “So if I’m also a highness and you’re a highness… and there’s only one royal family.” I look at him with an entirely fresh perspective. “Ew, are you my father?”
He gave me a startlingly similar look of disgust. “No.”
“The royal family, hmm…” I don’t know enough about this world, but I’m determined to use everything I’ve got. “So, technically, the prophecy could also be about you?”
“Technically.” He opened his eyes, and they were wet again. Before meeting him, reading eyes- even purple ones- seemed easy. Well, figuring out what was going on with these was like trying to decode… well, code. “The Morgi Walker translates to Morning Walker, in English. The one who walks in new light.”
“Well, at least no one dies…right?” Why does he look like he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown? I debated between asking him to sit down or maybe take a few deep breaths, but he held a hand up to silence me. Let me show you something. His skin became harder and harder to look at, a harsh glow that rivalled the glow of the sky outside. The edges of his form vibrated faster and faster- and then the glowing outline opened a mouth and spoke.
“I am the Morgi-Walker, Kieran Daun, and I am your brother.”
Drat. That’s long.