Eleven – 07

[This post is from Thomas Merlin Ambrose’s point of view.]

Kailey threw up her hands, glaring at both of us in equal measure.  “There you go again!  Riddles!  Why the hell is it always riddles when I need you to tell me something straight?  I don’t get it.”  Her expression contorted, growing hard, and she stood up.  Three long strides took her to the door.

Phelan startled.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go get answers.”  She jerked the door open and if Phelan hadn’t sprung into action to grab her, she’d have been out the door before I, at least, could have reacted.  I was already reeling, especially since I understood what the implications of all of this might be.

She isn’t ready to handle it.  I’m not even ready to handle it and I already know—or at least suspect.

“Kailey,” Phelan said, his tone measured, “please sit back down.  Let me explain.”

“Because you were doing such a good job of it already, Uncle Phelan.”  She jerked her arm from his grasp.  “No.  I want to see and hear this for myself.”

She was out the door before he could stop her.  Grimacing, I shoved myself to my feet even as Phelan cursed under his breath.

“This isn’t going to end well,” I said.

“No,” Phelan said grimly, “it’s not.  Come on.”

He didn’t wait for me to catch up, though that happened soon enough once we were in the hall.  Kailey was too far ahead of us already, though, and neither of us were able to get a hand on her before she was at the door to the room where her father was meeting with the riders.

She yanked that door open in time for all three of us to hear the lead rider’s voice speaking.

“…so we’re on a quest to find the prophesied once and future king.  We had reason to believe he might be here—or that you would know where to find him.”

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