- I want to talk to Arelato! Take me to him!
- One minute, Monna...
The guy froze, staring at one point. Miriel remembered the same look at Orshava in the circus when she thought she was a lying gypsy woman for a seizure. That's how they talk to Arelato, the fairy said. And exactly:
- Monsignor is busy now, Mona. I will pass on your request as soon as he is free.
Mirielle hummed. Monsieur? What is the title?
- Thank you, ma'am, I don't know your name. Or my lord?
On Remidey, the noblemen were addressed by the Lord and My Lady, and the commoners by the Maître and Monna. From first glance it is possible to define by appearance to what class the person belongs. But it is on Mercan, among people of another race. Who they have a noble, who the commoner, Miri did not understand.
Orshava, looking like swarthy, slanting commoners Remidei, behaved like a lady from Zapravska. The exotic appearance of Arelato would have plunged him into the stupor of the Remidian snobs.
The guy opposite Miriel looked like both of them, but at the same time had his own unique color. Silky black hair fell below his shoulders and framed an elongated face with high cheekbones. Only women wore such long hair on Remidea, but the Merkan did not look feminine. Even taller than Arelato; powerful muscles looked out from under a tight shirt. It seems that all the men dressed tightly here... Or only those who had something to show for it...
Any woman would have been jealous of the guy's eyes too - brown, big, beautiful, with long thick lashes, they looked calmly, as if from afar... They didn't smile at their full, clearly delineated lips, but their faces still seemed friendly and friendly.
Mirielle unwittingly fell in love with a man who seemed to be her new prisoner. And he answered with his pleasant singing voice:
- My name is Codorro, Mona Miriel. In the Order, we all speak to each other by name, without titles. You can also call me that.
- Okay, Codorro. Then you just call me Miriel. Better yet, Miri. Come in, let's talk while your monsignor is busy.
The Mercanian is embarrassed again.
- I can't, mon... Miri. Monsignor only ordered to appear at your call and keep you from escaping if you try to escape. To talk to you, to enter the room, you need his permission.
Miri has stomped on her foot irritably.
- Well, okay. Sit at the feet of your monsignor, like a cowardly sack. You can't even talk without permission. Do you also sit on the pot when he allows it?
Contrary to the fairy's expectations, the guy was not offended but smiled widely.
- During the battle - only in this way and in no other way. Because while I'm sitting on the pot, Doramon can tear the pot apart with me, the whole castle and the Order.
- Doramon?
Kodorro nodded and opened his mouth to explain, but got it.
- It is better to talk to the monsignor about it first, too.
- Yes, you are here and right around your monsignor like a mouse around a cat!
Codorro shook his shoulders.
- Otherwise, it can't be. The Order is dominated by discipline. Especially in siege time.
Mirielle was whipping up her grimace.
- I'm sorry," the guy said quickly. - I don't have to talk to you for so long and keep the door open. I will be back as soon as the monsignor is free to answer.
He hastily slammed the door. Mirielle snorted. Wow, how dignified he is. And yet he said something about it, despite his monsignor.
So, their Order is under siege. And besieged for sure by these mysterious Doramon ... Who are they? Country? A clan? Another Order? It is necessary to find out for sure. If she has to live under the same roof as the kidnappers, their problems will be her problems. It is better to know more about them.