"Thank you, Menelanna."She stared at the key, even rubbed her thumb hard over it like a worry stone.
A tiny crease formed between her brows. The'ara wanted to ask her about Chezlar, if she really believed his story about being a Lord of Time, Messenger of the Fates. The prince thing she didn't dispute. In any port town, princes could be found for a copper a score... usually the sons of something that rhymed with score. For truth, some of them were probably authentic, but the only land they had claim to clung to the bottom of their boots and usually dusted off upon the next doormat. So surely Menelanna and the others humored Chezlar.
But he didn't seem to be out of his wits, nor one of such needful arrogance to fabricate such a tale. So why, then... would he do so? There was a calming energy about him when The'ara told him about Shale. And the fact that he almost touched her, but reconsidered his actions. That's not the actions of one who was deranged. That's the sign of a man who is very well aware of his surroundings, one sensitive to the feelings of others. Which made him a good man. And that deepened her curiosity for him.
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