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Description
Legend of Kyrandia Fanfiction
Birthright
Muttering under her breath, Delle carefully made her way back to Zanthia’s laboratory with the bucket full of the Enchanted Fountain’s water. It sloshed over the rim, splashing onto her hands and getting her olive green dress wet. A few sprinkles of water had made its way onto her silver bracelet, and the sunlight shiing between the trees of Faeriewood made it shine and sparkle.
The young apprentice paused a moment, her mismatched purple-brown eyes gazing down appreciatively at the only piece of her illusive past. The seventeen-year-old knew nearly nothing of what came before her days with Zanthia. What she did know was that she was, more or less, adopted by the youngest Kyrandian Mystic who raised Delle as her apprentice. And then there was this bracelet.
Zanthia had told her that Delle had that when she was still a baby. Delle could only imagine, but she thought it as a gift from her parents who had perished days after her birth from something as unknown as the rest of her past.
“Stop daydreamin’, Delle! We got things to do.” Zanthia’s voice stabbed through Delle’s thoughts, and she snapped to attention, jostling more water out of the bucket.
She colored as she hurried on towards the laboratory that was rested near the edge of the swamp. Zanthia was framed in the doorway, her blonde hair frazzled and messy as usual. When Delle looked up, Zanthia disappeared back into the building.
Delle huffed, shuffling as fast as she could without emptying the bucket completely. She rushed towards the laboratory, water sloshing out at an alarming rate. She was close to soaked by the time she tumbled into the laboratory.
Zanthia was on top of her the second Delle stepped inside. She plucked the bucket from Delle’s hands with clear impatience. The Mystic, handling the bucket with far more grace and not even spilling a drop, promptly dumped the Fountain water into her giant, black cauldron.
With a pang of jealous irritation at Zanthia’s expert bucket-handling manuveur, Delle watched as the milky white liquid in the cauldron immediately become a pale cyan the second the water was added.
Once the bucket was empty, Zanthia tossed it behind her to have it knock into a shelf harmlessly. The Mystic snatched at the giant wooden spoon and began to stir the new mixture methodically.
“Thank you.” Zanthia said as Delle moved to hover over her shoulder vigilantly. “Did you also point Brandon in the right direction?”
Delle started, almost forgetting about the young prince of Kyrandia. Although, Brandon was ignorant of his royal blood, poor thing, and he was very confused when Zanthia called him “the prince”. He was as lost as Delle was, and she was happy to have someone to relate to.
“Yes,” She answered, clasping her hands behind her back. “I told him to pick the ripest blueberries.”
“And the flask for the water?”
“You gave that to him, Zanthia.” Delle reminded, a slight strain of annoyance in her voice. “Remember? That was before you told him he was the Prince of Kyrandia. And I know what I’m doing. I don’t know why you fret so much.”
“I know, I know. It’s just...” The Mystic paused in her furious stirring, her eyes looking at the pale cyan inside.
A second passed, and then Zanthia turned her head to look at Delle. Her blue eyes were serious, sad even. Delle blinked, unclasping her arms to let them hang loosely at her sides.
“What is it, Zanthia?” Delle prompted, curiosity suddenly pumping in her veins anxiously.
The Mystic sighed heavily, releasing the spoon to let it wade in the potion. She gnawed on her bottom lip, contemplating. A second went by, and then Zanthia shook her head with urgency, grabbing the spoon and mixing furiously with renewed vigor.
The adrenaline in Delle’s blood leaked away, leaving her feeling tired and annoyed.
“No, it’s not the right time.” Zanthia murmured in a rush, almost as if she was trying to convince herself.
“What?” Delle questioned, but Zanthia only continued her stirring.
Delle made a noise of impatience, snatching the spoon from Zanthia’s grip. The Mystic gapsed in surprise, but recovered enough to give Delle an unhappy look.
“Give it back to me, Delle-“ Zanthia began seriously.
“Not the right time for what?” Delle pressed, keeping the spoon just out her reach. “What are you talking about? Why are you acting so strangely, huh?”
Zanthia pursed her lips, her hand still held out for the spoon. Delle could see the hesitation in her blue eyes, the fear. It gave her pause, and she lowered the spoon slowly. The Mystic dropped her own hand, the spoon irrelevent now. She sighed again, running her hands through her tangled hair. Her hands lingered over her face, and that’s only when she spoke again.
“Forgive me, Darm.” Zanthia muttered, dropping her hands from her face to look at Delle with a small frown. “You were betrothed to the prince, Delle. You were to marry Brandon.”
Delle rose her brows, not sure she heard the Mystic’s words right. She opened her mouth to speak, but she found no words. Zanthia watched her cautiously, her bottom lip sucked in all the way in anxiety.
“What...what do you mean by I was betrothed to Brandon?” Delle finally sputtered upon finding her voice. “That doesn’t make any sense, Zanthia-“
“Your parents were of the court,” Zanthia explained quickly, her eyes closed as she rushed along. “They were close friends to King William and Queen Katherine, so close that when you were born, that they decided you were to marry the young prince.” Here, Zanthia paused to grab Delle’s wrist, the one with the silver bracelet on it. “This is the sign of your betrothal to him, and Brandon has the same one on his other wrist.”
Delle, stunned into silence, could only gape wordlessly at her bracelet, seeing it in a whole new light now. She did notice that Brandon was wearing a bracelet on his left wrist, but she thought nothing of it...
“Oh, my goodness.” Delle breathed, pulling her hand free from Zanthia’s hold to touch her bracelet gently. “You’re serious?”
“Does this really sound like something I could make up on the spot, dear?” Zanthia replied, exasperated. “If Malcolm hadn’t killed the king and queen, you would be married to Brandon, and you would be queen.”
“That’s...that’s crazy-” Delle stopped herself as a realization dawned on her, making her furrow her brow in anger. “And you knew this whole time? You knew who I was, who my parents-?!”
“Zanthia? Delle? I can’t find the blueberry patch...” Brandon’s voice startled them both, causing them to jump.
Delle snapped her head back towards the entrance where she could see the prince’s form, her fiance’s form, coming up from the Fountain. She froze, her heart beating in her ears as she now looked at Brandon in a new light, as her husband-that-should-have-been.
“Zanthia,” She turned on the Mystic, her eyes wide in apprehension as all thought of anger towards Zanthia vanished in seconds. “I can’t do this, not after you told me-“
“Yes, you can. You must.” Zanthia insisted, spinning her around and shoving her towards the open doorway. “As far as he knows, you’re just a Mystic’s apprentice. Try and keep it that way. Now, go!"
Zanthia gave Delle a final shove, causing her to flail out into the swamp and almost knock Brandon to the ground. He gave a cry of surprise, his hands catching her just before she fell to the swampy floor. Delle felt her face get hot as she looked up into his dark, worried eyes. She was surprised to find herself almost melting.
“Delle, you alright?” Brandon asked, keeping his hands around her shoulders.
If only you knew, Your Highness.
“Um, yeah.” Delle squeaked out, attempting to regain her composure and push the thoughts of this man being her husband out of her head. “I’ll-I’ll take you to the patch myself, Brandon. And, we’ll stop by the fountain on our way, yes...”
The prince gave her a queer look, but shrugged in compliance. He released her, and Delle hurried by him towards the direction of the patch. She fingered her bracelet, her eyes unconsciously trailing down to Brandon’s own wrist where there was, indeed, an identical bracelet.
Her breath caught audiably, causing Brandon to give her another quizzical look.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked again, glancing down at his wrist as he followed her gaze.
“I’m fine, just flustered by recent events, is all.” Delle answered quickly, snapping her stare away while her face became a deep red. “I mean, with Malcolm escaping, and-and-“
And discovering that you were to be Queen of Kyrandia. That, too, right Delle?
“I understand.” Brandon murmured, seeing her struggle with what he thought as Malcolm-related anxiety. “Much as happened, indeed.”
Delle couldn’t answer, only nodding her head in mute response as they continued past the Fountain. She glanced over at the Fountain, the sound of bubbling water calming her frazzled nerves, but then-
A laugh, a terrible cackle stabbed through the air and halted both apprentice and prince in their tracks. Brandon stiffened next to her, grabbing her arm and quickly pulling her slightly behind him protectively. She squeaked at his rather rough yank, but when she saw a figure sitting on the edge of the fountain, the young apprentice gladly shrunk behind her protector while releasing another squeal.
“Malcolm.” Brandon drawled, surprising Delle with his arrogant and indifferent attitude towards the insane jester.
Malcolm gave another cackle, poking a stick at a small boat’s sail that floated lazily on the Fountain’s surface absently. He looked over at them from beneath his stringy and wild white hair that poked out from under his yellow-purple jester’s hat. The four little bells on the ends of edge tail jingled at his every movement. His crazy, wide eyes roved over both of them, pausing in what looked like surprise at seeing Delle cowering behind Brandon.
Delle’s skin went cold at his leering gaze, and she scooted closer to Brandon as she began to tremble slightly. Zanthia had, indeed, told her stories of Malcolm and how just his eyes could send you trembling. Boy, she wasn’t kidding. Not even a little.
“Forgive me for interrupting, children.” Malcolm’s voice was like the sound of fingernails on a glass flask, and Delle closed her eyes as she pressed herself even closer to Brandon. “It does indeed seem like I am intruding on an intimate moment.”
Brandon started in confusion, glancing down at Delle’s cowering form that was latched onto his side. Mystics above, Delle thought wearily, wishing she could pull herself away from him, but she was frozen in place by Malcolm’s words and eyes. Malcolm smiled widely at the young prince’s expression, twirling his finger in the water. Brandon said nothing, only clenching his jaw. Malcolm shrugged, taking notice that he was obviously not going to get any more reaction out of either of them.
“How goes your quest?” The jester mused, his eyes bouncing with amusement.
“I have few tricks up my sleeve.” Brandon told him, a bit more cocky than Delle would like.
“Are you ready now?” Malcolm questioned, jumping up and flailing his fists about in mock combat. “Shall we joust?”
“At this moment, I only seek water from the fountain.” answered Brandon, not intimidated in the slightest.
His indifferent bravery struck Delle as both noble and foolish. She looked between the two men, her nerves on edge as their banter continued.
“What shame.” Malcolm sighed, almost looking genuinily disappointed. “My finger bath is boring now, and I must have some fun.” He paused, his wicked smile plastered on his face as he held out his hand.
Brandon tensed up at his movement, stepping completely in front of Delle. That only caused Malcolm to widen his smile as his hand gave off a slight blue glow. One of the four orbs that circled the Fountain began to illuminate with the same blue, and it was suddenly up and flying into Malcolm’s awaiting hand.
Immediately, the Fountain was drained of water and took on a sheen of rust as the magic was snagged away. Delle cried out in horror as the Fountain changed right in front of their eyes. Malcolm gave her a wink as he tossed the orb absently in his hand.
“Perhaps some hide and seek will amuse us all.” Malcolm continued, now only watching Delle as he turned the orb this way and that, reveling in her winces. “If you need water, you’ll have to fix the fountain first. I cannot tell you where to look. For that is neither fair nor fun!”
Malcolm tossed back his head and laughed once more as he sauntered over to the pair. Brandon shrunk back in surprise, but he kept a chivalous arm around Delle while Malcolm advanced. There was no reason for alarm, however, since Malcolm began to disappear right before their eyes. By the time the jester was nearing them, he had faded into oblivion with his cackle lingering behind menacingly.
They stayed glued to one another until his laughter faded away just as Malcolm himself had. Even still, Delle could not bring herself to unlatch her fingers from Brandon’s arm. The prince didn’t seem to mind, however. He released a long, pent-up breath before turning his attention to the shaken Delle at his side.
“You okay?” He asked her gently, brushing a fly-away strand of her dark red hair from her face.
The gesture sent her heart beating rapidly, and she was sure that her face had turned bright red again. In attempt to gain her composure, Delle pried her fingers from his arm and took a subtle step away. She cleared her throat, tucking that same strand of hair into her headband.
“Of course.” She replied a little shakily. “Just-just-“
“I know.” Brandon said softly. “It is nerve-raking when you meet him for the first time.”
“Well, yes. I suppose so.” Delle agreed, sighing deeply as she looked towards the heart of the forest. “So...where do we start looking?”
Brandon gave a small grin, an adventurous gleam flashing in his eyes. It gave her heart a little start, and Delle couldn’t help but smile back at him. He turned away from the direction of Zanthia’s laboratory, looking back over his shoulder.
“Looks like we have our own little adventure to have, Delle.” He jerked his head in gesture for her to follow. “Come on, then. We can’t let a crazy old man outsmart us.”
Delle giggled, clutching a wad of her olive green dress in her hand to keep her from tripping.
“Lead the way, Brandon.” She encouraged, having to bit her tongue to not call him ‘prince’.
It’s going to be a long day. Delle thought as she took his offered hand.

Description
Legend of Kyrandia Fanfiction
Birthright
Muttering under her breath, Delle carefully made her way back to Zanthia’s laboratory with the bucket full of the Enchanted Fountain’s water. It sloshed over the rim, splashing onto her hands and getting her olive green dress wet. A few sprinkles of water had made its way onto her silver bracelet, and the sunlight shiing between the trees of Faeriewood made it shine and sparkle.
The young apprentice paused a moment, her mismatched purple-brown eyes gazing down appreciatively at the only piece of her illusive past. The seventeen-year-old knew nearly nothing of what came before her days with Zanthia. What she did know was that she was, more or less, adopted by the youngest Kyrandian Mystic who raised Delle as her apprentice. And then there was this bracelet.
Zanthia had told her that Delle had that when she was still a baby. Delle could only imagine, but she thought it as a gift from her parents who had perished days after her birth from something as unknown as the rest of her past.
“Stop daydreamin’, Delle! We got things to do.” Zanthia’s voice stabbed through Delle’s thoughts, and she snapped to attention, jostling more water out of the bucket.
She colored as she hurried on towards the laboratory that was rested near the edge of the swamp. Zanthia was framed in the doorway, her blonde hair frazzled and messy as usual. When Delle looked up, Zanthia disappeared back into the building.
Delle huffed, shuffling as fast as she could without emptying the bucket completely. She rushed towards the laboratory, water sloshing out at an alarming rate. She was close to soaked by the time she tumbled into the laboratory.
Zanthia was on top of her the second Delle stepped inside. She plucked the bucket from Delle’s hands with clear impatience. The Mystic, handling the bucket with far more grace and not even spilling a drop, promptly dumped the Fountain water into her giant, black cauldron.
With a pang of jealous irritation at Zanthia’s expert bucket-handling manuveur, Delle watched as the milky white liquid in the cauldron immediately become a pale cyan the second the water was added.
Once the bucket was empty, Zanthia tossed it behind her to have it knock into a shelf harmlessly. The Mystic snatched at the giant wooden spoon and began to stir the new mixture methodically.
“Thank you.” Zanthia said as Delle moved to hover over her shoulder vigilantly. “Did you also point Brandon in the right direction?”
Delle started, almost forgetting about the young prince of Kyrandia. Although, Brandon was ignorant of his royal blood, poor thing, and he was very confused when Zanthia called him “the prince”. He was as lost as Delle was, and she was happy to have someone to relate to.
“Yes,” She answered, clasping her hands behind her back. “I told him to pick the ripest blueberries.”
“And the flask for the water?”
“You gave that to him, Zanthia.” Delle reminded, a slight strain of annoyance in her voice. “Remember? That was before you told him he was the Prince of Kyrandia. And I know what I’m doing. I don’t know why you fret so much.”
“I know, I know. It’s just...” The Mystic paused in her furious stirring, her eyes looking at the pale cyan inside.
A second passed, and then Zanthia turned her head to look at Delle. Her blue eyes were serious, sad even. Delle blinked, unclasping her arms to let them hang loosely at her sides.
“What is it, Zanthia?” Delle prompted, curiosity suddenly pumping in her veins anxiously.
The Mystic sighed heavily, releasing the spoon to let it wade in the potion. She gnawed on her bottom lip, contemplating. A second went by, and then Zanthia shook her head with urgency, grabbing the spoon and mixing furiously with renewed vigor.
The adrenaline in Delle’s blood leaked away, leaving her feeling tired and annoyed.
“No, it’s not the right time.” Zanthia murmured in a rush, almost as if she was trying to convince herself.
“What?” Delle questioned, but Zanthia only continued her stirring.
Delle made a noise of impatience, snatching the spoon from Zanthia’s grip. The Mystic gapsed in surprise, but recovered enough to give Delle an unhappy look.
“Give it back to me, Delle-“ Zanthia began seriously.
“Not the right time for what?” Delle pressed, keeping the spoon just out her reach. “What are you talking about? Why are you acting so strangely, huh?”
Zanthia pursed her lips, her hand still held out for the spoon. Delle could see the hesitation in her blue eyes, the fear. It gave her pause, and she lowered the spoon slowly. The Mystic dropped her own hand, the spoon irrelevent now. She sighed again, running her hands through her tangled hair. Her hands lingered over her face, and that’s only when she spoke again.
“Forgive me, Darm.” Zanthia muttered, dropping her hands from her face to look at Delle with a small frown. “You were betrothed to the prince, Delle. You were to marry Brandon.”
Delle rose her brows, not sure she heard the Mystic’s words right. She opened her mouth to speak, but she found no words. Zanthia watched her cautiously, her bottom lip sucked in all the way in anxiety.
“What...what do you mean by I was betrothed to Brandon?” Delle finally sputtered upon finding her voice. “That doesn’t make any sense, Zanthia-“
“Your parents were of the court,” Zanthia explained quickly, her eyes closed as she rushed along. “They were close friends to King William and Queen Katherine, so close that when you were born, that they decided you were to marry the young prince.” Here, Zanthia paused to grab Delle’s wrist, the one with the silver bracelet on it. “This is the sign of your betrothal to him, and Brandon has the same one on his other wrist.”
Delle, stunned into silence, could only gape wordlessly at her bracelet, seeing it in a whole new light now. She did notice that Brandon was wearing a bracelet on his left wrist, but she thought nothing of it...
“Oh, my goodness.” Delle breathed, pulling her hand free from Zanthia’s hold to touch her bracelet gently. “You’re serious?”
“Does this really sound like something I could make up on the spot, dear?” Zanthia replied, exasperated. “If Malcolm hadn’t killed the king and queen, you would be married to Brandon, and you would be queen.”
“That’s...that’s crazy-” Delle stopped herself as a realization dawned on her, making her furrow her brow in anger. “And you knew this whole time? You knew who I was, who my parents-?!”
“Zanthia? Delle? I can’t find the blueberry patch...” Brandon’s voice startled them both, causing them to jump.
Delle snapped her head back towards the entrance where she could see the prince’s form, her fiance’s form, coming up from the Fountain. She froze, her heart beating in her ears as she now looked at Brandon in a new light, as her husband-that-should-have-been.
“Zanthia,” She turned on the Mystic, her eyes wide in apprehension as all thought of anger towards Zanthia vanished in seconds. “I can’t do this, not after you told me-“
“Yes, you can. You must.” Zanthia insisted, spinning her around and shoving her towards the open doorway. “As far as he knows, you’re just a Mystic’s apprentice. Try and keep it that way. Now, go!"
Zanthia gave Delle a final shove, causing her to flail out into the swamp and almost knock Brandon to the ground. He gave a cry of surprise, his hands catching her just before she fell to the swampy floor. Delle felt her face get hot as she looked up into his dark, worried eyes. She was surprised to find herself almost melting.
“Delle, you alright?” Brandon asked, keeping his hands around her shoulders.
If only you knew, Your Highness.
“Um, yeah.” Delle squeaked out, attempting to regain her composure and push the thoughts of this man being her husband out of her head. “I’ll-I’ll take you to the patch myself, Brandon. And, we’ll stop by the fountain on our way, yes...”
The prince gave her a queer look, but shrugged in compliance. He released her, and Delle hurried by him towards the direction of the patch. She fingered her bracelet, her eyes unconsciously trailing down to Brandon’s own wrist where there was, indeed, an identical bracelet.
Her breath caught audiably, causing Brandon to give her another quizzical look.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked again, glancing down at his wrist as he followed her gaze.
“I’m fine, just flustered by recent events, is all.” Delle answered quickly, snapping her stare away while her face became a deep red. “I mean, with Malcolm escaping, and-and-“
And discovering that you were to be Queen of Kyrandia. That, too, right Delle?
“I understand.” Brandon murmured, seeing her struggle with what he thought as Malcolm-related anxiety. “Much as happened, indeed.”
Delle couldn’t answer, only nodding her head in mute response as they continued past the Fountain. She glanced over at the Fountain, the sound of bubbling water calming her frazzled nerves, but then-
A laugh, a terrible cackle stabbed through the air and halted both apprentice and prince in their tracks. Brandon stiffened next to her, grabbing her arm and quickly pulling her slightly behind him protectively. She squeaked at his rather rough yank, but when she saw a figure sitting on the edge of the fountain, the young apprentice gladly shrunk behind her protector while releasing another squeal.
“Malcolm.” Brandon drawled, surprising Delle with his arrogant and indifferent attitude towards the insane jester.
Malcolm gave another cackle, poking a stick at a small boat’s sail that floated lazily on the Fountain’s surface absently. He looked over at them from beneath his stringy and wild white hair that poked out from under his yellow-purple jester’s hat. The four little bells on the ends of edge tail jingled at his every movement. His crazy, wide eyes roved over both of them, pausing in what looked like surprise at seeing Delle cowering behind Brandon.
Delle’s skin went cold at his leering gaze, and she scooted closer to Brandon as she began to tremble slightly. Zanthia had, indeed, told her stories of Malcolm and how just his eyes could send you trembling. Boy, she wasn’t kidding. Not even a little.
“Forgive me for interrupting, children.” Malcolm’s voice was like the sound of fingernails on a glass flask, and Delle closed her eyes as she pressed herself even closer to Brandon. “It does indeed seem like I am intruding on an intimate moment.”
Brandon started in confusion, glancing down at Delle’s cowering form that was latched onto his side. Mystics above, Delle thought wearily, wishing she could pull herself away from him, but she was frozen in place by Malcolm’s words and eyes. Malcolm smiled widely at the young prince’s expression, twirling his finger in the water. Brandon said nothing, only clenching his jaw. Malcolm shrugged, taking notice that he was obviously not going to get any more reaction out of either of them.
“How goes your quest?” The jester mused, his eyes bouncing with amusement.
“I have few tricks up my sleeve.” Brandon told him, a bit more cocky than Delle would like.
“Are you ready now?” Malcolm questioned, jumping up and flailing his fists about in mock combat. “Shall we joust?”
“At this moment, I only seek water from the fountain.” answered Brandon, not intimidated in the slightest.
His indifferent bravery struck Delle as both noble and foolish. She looked between the two men, her nerves on edge as their banter continued.
“What shame.” Malcolm sighed, almost looking genuinily disappointed. “My finger bath is boring now, and I must have some fun.” He paused, his wicked smile plastered on his face as he held out his hand.
Brandon tensed up at his movement, stepping completely in front of Delle. That only caused Malcolm to widen his smile as his hand gave off a slight blue glow. One of the four orbs that circled the Fountain began to illuminate with the same blue, and it was suddenly up and flying into Malcolm’s awaiting hand.
Immediately, the Fountain was drained of water and took on a sheen of rust as the magic was snagged away. Delle cried out in horror as the Fountain changed right in front of their eyes. Malcolm gave her a wink as he tossed the orb absently in his hand.
“Perhaps some hide and seek will amuse us all.” Malcolm continued, now only watching Delle as he turned the orb this way and that, reveling in her winces. “If you need water, you’ll have to fix the fountain first. I cannot tell you where to look. For that is neither fair nor fun!”
Malcolm tossed back his head and laughed once more as he sauntered over to the pair. Brandon shrunk back in surprise, but he kept a chivalous arm around Delle while Malcolm advanced. There was no reason for alarm, however, since Malcolm began to disappear right before their eyes. By the time the jester was nearing them, he had faded into oblivion with his cackle lingering behind menacingly.
They stayed glued to one another until his laughter faded away just as Malcolm himself had. Even still, Delle could not bring herself to unlatch her fingers from Brandon’s arm. The prince didn’t seem to mind, however. He released a long, pent-up breath before turning his attention to the shaken Delle at his side.
“You okay?” He asked her gently, brushing a fly-away strand of her dark red hair from her face.
The gesture sent her heart beating rapidly, and she was sure that her face had turned bright red again. In attempt to gain her composure, Delle pried her fingers from his arm and took a subtle step away. She cleared her throat, tucking that same strand of hair into her headband.
“Of course.” She replied a little shakily. “Just-just-“
“I know.” Brandon said softly. “It is nerve-raking when you meet him for the first time.”
“Well, yes. I suppose so.” Delle agreed, sighing deeply as she looked towards the heart of the forest. “So...where do we start looking?”
Brandon gave a small grin, an adventurous gleam flashing in his eyes. It gave her heart a little start, and Delle couldn’t help but smile back at him. He turned away from the direction of Zanthia’s laboratory, looking back over his shoulder.
“Looks like we have our own little adventure to have, Delle.” He jerked his head in gesture for her to follow. “Come on, then. We can’t let a crazy old man outsmart us.”
Delle giggled, clutching a wad of her olive green dress in her hand to keep her from tripping.
“Lead the way, Brandon.” She encouraged, having to bit her tongue to not call him ‘prince’.
It’s going to be a long day. Delle thought as she took his offered hand.