Knight of Thieves

Chapter 18

“You’re doing it wrong,” admonished James. They had only been working for five minutes, but Emberly was already plotting how exactly to murder James Heczah. A whole week! She could not continue this for a whole week! And to think she was only here because James was incapable of rational thought.

“No, I’m not!” she shot back. “You know, this would go faster if we weren’t both using the water. You wash and I’ll dry.”

“Why? So, I’ll do the harder work? No. You stick to your dishes and I’ll stick to mine.”

“Arran and I do this every night,” grumbled Emberly. “I know what I’m talking about.”

James rolled his eyes.

“I think it would be better if we did not speak to each other.” Emberly seethed. He spoke to her first. James’s jaw was set as though he were angry. She knew why he was angry, of course, and it only made her more irritated. Why did he have to make things more difficult? Nothing was ever easy with James Heczah.

“For the love of sanity,” Emberly finally broke out a few minutes later, the tension slowly killing her. “Will you just say it?”

“Say what?” the boy grunted, dunking a pot in the water. With so much force that the water jumped out and sprayed Emberly. She was right. Nothing was ever easy with James Heczah.

“I am not courting Princess Rosaline and I have no intention of ever courting her.” She could feel James’s eyes on her, so she continued. “And frankly, I don’t see how it’s any of your business. You did not want me with Olivia in the first place.”

“I don’t want to see her hurt,” said James, “and seeing you with Rosaline would kill her.”

“I’ve spoken with Olivia, she believes me when I say nothing happened.” James was silent for a moment as he considered his words.

“You don’t deserve my sister,” he said. Emberly rolled her eyes. Nothing Kyler did would ever gain James’ approval. Whatever her brother did to Heczah clearly left a scar.

“You could have just talked to me about it,” said Emberly. “Then, we wouldn’t have a week of this.” James was quiet for a brief moment. When he spoke again, his voice was soft.

“I have a temper,” James confessed, as though it were a secret he kept close to his heart. Emberly dumped a knife into the water, ready to clean it.

“You don’t say,” Emberly bit back dryly.

A chuckle filled the room but the sound did not come from Emberly nor James. Slowly, Emberly turned to find two tall men staring down at them. They had equally malicious gleams in their eyes. Scars on the left side on one side of the men’s faces, giving the impression someone had smacked him with a hot grate. The other man had a look like he had found his lunch.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said one of the men with the scars in broken Etruscan. They held up swords. Cyrans. “We were lookin’ for the prince’s room. Don’t suppose y’could point us in the right direction? We promise not to hurt you if you help us.”

“And if you don’t,” said the other man, “we’ll kill you.”

Emberly bit the inside of her lip. They think you work in the kitchen. They don’t think you’re a threat.

“We will never—“ James began, only to be interrupted by Emberly nudging James in the abdomen.

“If you promise not to harm us, we’ll show you the way, won’t we James?”

James looked at her in horror and betrayal.

“This one’s got ‘is head on right,” said the unscarred man, his Cyran accent filling his words. Carefully, Emberly slipped the knife into her belt, covering it with her shirt.

“Dern,” James said in a disgusted voice. Just be on my side this once, James, Emberly silently begged.

“These people are promising not to hurt us, the lowly servants of the kitchen, if we tell them where the prince’s room is. I would prefer to live, Heczah.”

James’ face contorted into a frown as though he were trying to discern her words.

“I’d listen to your friend there, mate. Wouldn’t want to lose your life for the higher ups, yeah?” The Cyrans were starting to grow impatient.

“They’re going to kill us either way,” James said to Emberly.

“Not if we help them.” Understand what I mean.

“I’m not going down without a fight and I’d never betray—“

“Just trust me and we’ll live through this.” She slipped the knife into James’s hand as she spoke. He blinked. Emberly turned to the Cyrans. “It’s this way, follow me.”

The Cyrans followed Emberly out of the room. James trailed by them, following after the Cyrans threatened his life. Emberly went the long way, going up and down as many staircases as she could in order to confuse them.

“We’re almost there,” Emberly said as they turned down a long corridor. Find a weapon, she told herself, regretting giving James the only knife she had. Find a weapon.

“Where are you takin’ us?” asked the scarred man, suspicion coursing through his words. She flew down the last few steps, entering the stables from the back.

“To the prince, like you asked,” Emberly returned innocently. It was the middle of the night, she needed the help she knew she would find. “He spends most of his nights in the stables.”

Her eyes scanned the room, searching for Stefan or Kyra. Someone was always there, where were they know. She glanced up to the loft, where the hay was kept. Stefan stood there, peering down at her. Their eyes met and he seemed to understand her instantly. She bowed low to the ground, a smirk on her features.

“Your Highness.”

“What game are you playin’?” asked the unscarred man.

James didn’t give her a chance to answer. He plunged his knife into the abdomen of the man standing closest to him, causing him to double over. Meanwhile, Stefan threw down a pitch fork to Emberly. She grabbed it, swirling around to face the scarred Cyran. He smirked at her.

“You really should have just helped us out like we asked.” He raised his sword in a high attack. Emberly met the attack, putting all of her force in defending the blow. She felt her stance shake against the weight of his attack. She pushed him away from her, giving him barely a moment to think before she swung the pitchfork at him. Should have kept the knife, she thought bitterly to herself as the Cyran ducked the blow, falling to the ground and rolling before climbing back onto his feet.

He lunged forward, his movements so quick, she barely deflected the blow in time. The sword bounced up, striking her arm, drawing blood from her. Anger surged through her.

“You will never find the prince,” she said in Cyran, trying to buy herself more time as she blocked, rather unsuccessfully. Pain throbbed in her arm. The man raised an eyebrow. Then, he smirked.

“You’re not a servant at all.” Emberly shook her head.

The man swung his sword around. The attack was high, but it came from an angle Emberly had little practice with. She held the pitchfork up against the attack, but the Cyran had the upper hand. Her stance crumbled before him, and Cyran knocked the pitchfork out of her grasp.

Emberly fell to the ground, nothing in her arms to protect her. Even still, she did not waver, not even in the smirk she sent the Cyran’s way. After all, she knew exactly whose stall she’d fallen into.

Feste reared his back legs, sending the Cyran flying across the stables, his sword falling out of his grasp as he did. “Thanks, Feste,” she said. She grabbed the sword and plunged it into the man’s abdomen. When she pulled it out again, the man spat blood. He laid on the floor pathetically.

Then, she whirled around, the sword firmly in her hand. James was still fighting against his Cyran. James managed to injure the man’s left arm, but he was clearly losing the battle. She lunged forward in the man’s distraction and pushed the Cyran sword into the man, causing him to fall as well.

“We need to tell the guards,” Emberly said.

“Dern—“

She did not hear his words as the pounding of boots echoed across the area. She glanced up to see the castle guards headed their way, following Stefan to where they were. Emberly smiled. She sank to the ground and leaned against Feste’s stall. Exhaustion poured over her as she watched the castle guards take the Cyrans away.