The Thirteenth Wanderer

No one knows where they came from. No one knows who they are. Myths and legends were made about them; they were called angels and demons, and only I know the truth about them. They are wanderers. Beautiful and cruel. I belong to their prince—he is my guardian and my master. He has taken hold of my entire life… but not my heart.

"Waited at the tall black doors, catching her breath. Don’t go into him out of breath. Don’t give him a chance to see fear, excitement, or worry. No feelings. No emotions. Not the slightest hint of weakness.

The aides and advisers sat at the table, at the head, leaning back against the high backrest—he. Of course he knew of my arrival; the guards reported as soon as my foot touched the first stone on the threshold of the Tower.

— My prince— I approached and bowed, pressing my open palm to the left side of my chest.

— I’m glad to see you, Diana. — He reached for me without even standing up. Displeased? Why? I obediently kissed the stone on his finger. The ruby burned my lips.

— What news have you brought today?

— I found the gifted.

The aides exchanged glances, stirred. And he rose. I flicked a glance at his body. Dark trousers, a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves. A multitude of silver chains on his hands and neck, rings… I looked down.

— Are you sure about that?

— Yes, my prince— I straightened and looked again. Still from the bottom up. Lander is a head taller than me.

— Where does he live?

— In the Alps.

— How did you meet him?

— By accident. The observer noticed indirect signs. He reported to the one who watches that region—and then that one told me."