"Next time, I'll replace that lizard with what's yours," Drayce warned, his gaze sliding down Arlan's frame.
In a knee-jerk reaction, Arlan's hand dropped as Drayce uttered 'what's yours,' prompting him to retort, "Do you want to find out tonight, or would you rather wait until you meet someone who values their life?"
Drayce responded by sitting down on one of the chairs, positioning his sword to the side, and simply fixating his eyes on the prince. Arlan did likewise, taking a seat beside him.
No longer needing to ask, Arlan resolved to disclose all he knew. Leaving his friend in suspense wasn't wise; Arlan was certain Drayce would risk invading the Third Princess's tower for answers, risking havoc.
Truth be told, Arlan was surprised by Drayce's patience, considering King Armen had previously barred them from said tower.
"I heard it through Lenard, likely from his betrothed, Second Princess Meira. Supposedly, a witch cloaked in black entered the palace seventeen years ago with an infant. The guards and servants, unable to detain her, watched as she requested an audience with the king. King Armen agreed to a private meeting. The content of their conversation remains unknown. The witch departed, leaving the infant with the king; by the next day, King Armen announced her as Abetha's third princess."
"Her mother's truly a witch?" asked Drayce.
"Nobody confronted the enigmatic woman directly, but witnesses deemed her the most hideous person ever seen. Her body bore terrifying black scales, her hands reptilian, complete with long nails and scaly palms. Her presence instilled dread. Once the baby was introduced as a princess, acceptance was the only option. Regardless of her mother's status, she belonged to the Royal House of Ilven, hence among Abetha's rulers. King Armen's silence on the baby's witch descent sealed people's beliefs."
Drayce absorbed the details. "Ever laid eyes on the Third Princess?"
"Never. But rumor has it she, like her mother, is scaled, which cements her witch reputation. She veils half her face; none have glimpsed it. They say she's as fearsome as her mother and thus conceals herself."
"Scales?" Drayce echoed. He recollected the young woman he had saved, her bare forehead belying the tales.
"She's not fully scaled like her mother, with scales limited to her forehead and hands. That's what they say. Maybe it's her human half," explained Arlan.
Drayce's mind returned to the veiled woman, recalling her scaleless forehead and hands.
"That's it," Arlan exhaled, facing Drayce's severe look.
"You've forgotten nothing?" Drayce's hand rested on his sword hilt, a silent alarm to Arlan.
Arlan felt perturbed. "I'm not speaking from fear. I solely aim to prevent you from wreaking havoc in that tower."
"I'm all ears," Drayce insisted.
"Her eyes – they say they're violet, confirming the witch theories for many."
At last, Drayce released his sword, content with what he heard.
"Remember, this is hearsay from Lenard and others. Its veracity is questionable," Arlan smirked.
"Fear not, I'll investigate and report back," assured Drayce.
Arlan, frowning, stood. "You're not seriously considering that tower?"
"We must respect a lady's privacy, shouldn't we?" parried Drayce.
"Indeed, so cast aside that thought. We depart on the morrow; let's be civil," Arlan cautioned.
Drayce remained silent, returning his sword to the rack. "You don't plan to share my bed, I hope."
"The thought never crossed my mind."
With a scoff, Arlan exited, though he suspected Drayce harbored some reckless scheme.