Chapter 4: The Outcast and the Princess

  Lady Chiryl Shiratius woke with a shudder from a nightmare that had haunted her sleep well into the day. She gasped, realizing it was already high noon; the sinister plot of those strangers from the previous night must already be halfway to fruition. But her surprise deepened when she discovered she was no longer huddled beneath the table. Instead, she lay upon a heap of musty straw in the corner of the room, draped with a thin, foul-smelling hemp blanket.

  Chiryl panicked. Had she been discovered? Had she been taken captive? But no—her limbs were not bound. She tried to rise, but her strength had ebbed away with the feverish sweat that soaked her skin.

  "So, you’re finally awake?" someone said, entering the room with a steaming bowl. "Drink this ginger water. It's good for the chills."

  "Who... who are you?" the Princess asked, recoiling in confusion.

  "I should be asking you that!" the young man said, placing the bowl on a small, sturdy shelf near her makeshift bed. "When I came in, your feet were sticking out from under that table cloth. You caught a nasty fever from the rain, so I moved you here."

  "Then... this is your home?" Chiryl asked hesitantly.

  "It is," the young man nodded. "I had... business last night and couldn't make it back. I didn't expect someone to try and squat in it after only one night."

  He sat down beside her with an air of nonchalance, utterly oblivious to the noble status of the girl before him. With her exquisite face streaked with dust and her fine garments caked in grime—without even straw sandals to cover her feet—no one would have guessed she was a princess of the realm.

  "I’m Aeron. And don't bother asking for a family name; I don't have one. I've been an orphan since I was a babe, raised by an old uncle who couldn't read a word," he said bluntly. "Now, who are you? And why were you here?"

  "I am Chiryl Shi—hmm, just call me Chiryl," the Princess replied. "I... I was passing by when the storm hit and sought shelter. I thought it was abandoned..."

  "Abandoned?" Aeron furrowed his brow. "Well... it certainly looks the part, haha. I don't have the coin to mend this place. Since my uncle passed, it’s only grown worse. I usually leave the door unlocked since there's nothing worth stealing, but at least it keeps the rain out. Now, drink that before it gets cold."

  Chiryl nodded, taking the bowl. She couldn't help but smile at his face, which was so darkened by soot that only his coal-black eyes—filled with an unyielding spark of life—remained clear. She took a long draught, the warmth dispelling the phantom cold and the hollow ache in her stomach. Regaining a shred of strength, she tried to stand again, but her legs swayed.

  "What's the rush? You've only just survived a fever. You need days of rest before you go anywhere."

  "I have urgent matters to attend to!" Chiryl insisted, her voice trembling but firm. "Matters that concern all of Lorencine!"

  "Haha!" Aeron burst out laughing. "What could a girl like you have that’s so urgent? A wedding to get to? Stay put. I'll go find your family and have them fetch you. You'll only end up face-down in the dirt if you go out like this."

  "No!" the Princess cut him off. "They won't believe you!"

  "Then what am I supposed to do?"

  Chiryl searched for anything that could serve as a token. She remembered the necklace she wore—a pendant bearing a shimmering sign of forest spirits. She unclasped it and handed it to the stranger.

  "Take this to the Grand Commander of the Royal Guard. Tell them there is a plot to assassinate the King and the Mantorian envoy. Tell them to double the guard around the envoy's retinue," she commanded.

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  Aeron flinched as if doused with ice water. "Are you mad? Lying about such things is a sure way to lose one's head! I won't do it!"

  Chiryl exerted her remaining strength to grab the youth by his collar, whispering fiercely: "You must! This concerns the very survival of our nation! The people of Infregterin want us at war with Mantorias. We cannot let them harm the King."

  "How... how could you possibly know this?" Aeron stammered, caught between belief and doubt.

  "Last night, the assassins themselves met here to escape the rain. You don't think I crawled under that table for fun, do you?" Chiryl’s voice was sharp. "Don't waste time, Aeron. Do this, and I promise you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams."

  Aeron hesitated. But looking into her sincere eyes and feeling the weight of the rare stone pendant, he could not refuse. He placed the necklace around his neck and stepped outside, locking the door behind him.

  "This would fetch a fortune..." Aeron muttered once he was clear of the dark alley. "Maybe I should just... sell it. I could tell her the guards didn't believe me and beat me away. Yes, that sounds like a plan."

  With that thought, he turned toward the city's largest pawnshop. But with every step, his feet grew heavier.

  If she was telling the truth... Well, war for a few years, what of it?

  But this is his country. Had it ever given him a comfortable life?

  But what of the children who followed him through Heratoris Square? What of the beautiful ladies who spared him a smile? What of the stray pup he rescued?

  "No," he whispered. He couldn't fathom grand concepts like "the nation," but he could think of the people he saw every day.

  "If I get a beating, so be it," he muttered.

  Aeron turned back, his soul lighter even as his steps grew heavy toward the palace gates.

  "What do you want?" a guard barked, blocking his path with a spear.

  "I have news for the Commander of the Royal Guard," Aeron replied. "Urgent news!"

  The two guards looked at his tattered, filthy clothes and burst into laughter. "Urgent news from the likes of you? Move along, boy."

  Aeron’s face flushed with anger. "Just tell him I'm here. I have something to show him that will prove my words."

  One guard hesitated. "Commander Richard is away on duty. Vice-Commander Ryan is in charge. If you truly insist, I will pass word."

  Aeron agreed. Half an hour later, he was sent sprawling out of the palace gates, his backside burning from the lashes of a cane. Ryan had ordered him beaten for "spreading malicious lies." But Aeron had no way of knowing the true reason behind the cruelty...

  "Are you certain?" the wizard Pentrius whispered to a tall man in gleaming armor in the shadows of a deserted alley.

  "I am positive. It was the Princess’s necklace," replied Ryan, the Vice-Commander. "I released him and have my men shadowing him. The Princess is there. Here is the address. My men cannot strike... you and your people must handle the rest."

  Pentrius smiled, pulling a heavy purse of gold from his robes. "Once we succeed, you shall have a high place within the Royal Army of Infregterin."

  Ryan grinned, his greed as vast as his ambition. "When will you act?"

  "Tonight, once we are certain the Princess is dead," Pentrius replied.

  "Does it still hurt?" Lady Chiryl asked as the sun began to set.

  "What do you think? Anyone would be hurting after that many lashes!" Aeron snapped. "That Vice-Commander... he didn't even recognize your necklace."

  Chiryl furrowed her brow in disbelief. "Impossible! Every member of the royalty possesses one!"

  "Wait... wait a moment..." Aeron stammered as the realization hit him. "You... you are royalty?"

  Chiryl sighed and nodded. "I am the Second Princess, daughter of King Berian Shiratius."

  Aeron fell backward, forgetting the pain of his wounds. "Absurd! The Princess is in the palace... how could you be..."

  "There is no time to explain, Aeron! You must carry me to the palace at once!"

  "No! Not until you explain everything!" Aeron insisted. "Princess Shiratius is famed as the fairest bloom in the West. If you are her, then how..."

  Chiryl’s eyes flashed with sudden fire. "Are you implying that I am... not beautiful?!"

  "Look at your face!" Aeron countered. "It’s like... a pot of soot."

  Chiryl realized she was indeed coated in dust. "Water! Bring me water, now!"

  Aeron fetched a basin of clean water. Chiryl washed away the grime, and as the water turned murky brown, her peerless face returned to its former glory.

  Aeron stood frozen. It was as if he had stumbled into a paradise of blooming flowers. Chiryl offered a clear, radiant smile.

  "Do you believe me now?"

  Aeron nodded dumbly. His heart raced, and he realized he would do anything for her.

  Aeron’s shoulders trembled as he felt the arms of the fairest blossom of Lorencine wrap around him. Her breath was warm against his neck, making his legs feel like jelly. He was in the throes of a fever—not of sickness, but of the god of love.

  Carrying a princess, Aeron never dreamed his life as a petty thief would take such a turn. But his joy was extinguished the moment they stepped out of the house.

  Blocking both ends of the alley were four men in black robes, their long blades drawn.

  "Surrender, Princess," one of them said. "We promise to make this quick."

  "Who would dare kill a princess?" Aeron’s voice shook.

  In response, a glint of steel flashed from the sleeve of the masked man, and a sharp dagger flew toward them...