Exiled

Dervinias lived in a tiny house. The kitchen/dining area felt cramped with the three of them pressed into the rickety, black table, which snuggled next to a rusty-red stove. Behind Venus, the morning sun shone through the window. Its warmth, along with the heat of the stove, was making her sweat.

  “Where’s the body?” Zaren asked through clenched teeth. The table separated Venus and Zaren, yet she still felt the force of his anger. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, and she figured he was mad at her, too.

  “It doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that I have some people who helped out. He’ll be found. His family will be able to mourn the crazy S.O.B. . . . It’s all good,” Dervinias said, forking a piece of pancake and shoveling it in his mouth.

  Zaren pounded a fist on the table, rattling the silverware. A bit of her milk spilled. Venus rose to get a towel and clean up.

  “I’m sorry, Zaren.” She kept her focus on wiping up the mess.

  Tenderly, he replied, “Venus, you’ve no reason to apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry. I should’ve been there to help you. I can’t understand why I slept through your danger.” She looked up in time to see him glare at Dervinias.

  “What?” Dervinias smirked. “Be grateful I arrived when I did or you’d have a dead princess on your hands.”

  “The kid was working for someone else. He kept saying ‘he’. He also mentioned my destiny. Where would he get such ideas?” Venus chimed in, throwing the wet towel at Dervinius.

  “Don’t look at me, unless you want to say thank you for my saving your life. You could be a bit more grateful.”

  She didn’t feel gratitude though. She felt angry, edgy. “Thank you.”

  “And you,” He threw the towel at Zaren and continued, “sleeping through the whole thing. Did you dip into the alcohol last night? Sip a little too much sauce?”

  “I don’t know . . .”