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koryandrs: To be honest, the book's not as actiony-angsty as this…thing…whatever it is…but thanks for being here for me anyway. I appreciate it.

And that's it.

I feel as if this fandom is dead…

Disclaimer: I don't own PA.

Lyrics from 'Babel' by Mumford and Sons.

Press my nose up to the glass around your heart

I should've known I was weaker from the start

You'll build your walls and I will play my bloody part

To tear, tear them down

Well, I'm gonna tear, tear them down

Sometime during the night, which was spent on the ground on the outskirts of the bandit camp, I tried to roll over onto my side. I was awakened by a tug on my leg and, irritated, I sat up and examined it. Someone had tied a rope around my bare ankle and the other end was fastened around the wrist of none other than the infernally annoying Shade, who was sleeping next to me (not in that way, by gods — we were both still fully clothed and a good foot away from each other!).

I picked up a pine needle from the ground and poked his ear. Nothing happened for a few seconds until, without opening his eyes, he said, "What?"

"I have to go," I told him.

"Go where?" He did not yet open his eyes.

I looked up at the dark sky. "To go."

"Just wait until morning."

"I can't."

"That's too bad, then."

I sighed. "Okay. I didn't think you'd appreciate me going here with us in this arrangement, but…"

He said nothing. I think he sensed that I was just trying to annoy him.

So, feeling somewhat defeated, I lay back down and fell asleep again.

Morning was no better. This time I really had to go, and Shade had had strict orders from Dan to not let me out of his sight. We worked it out, though — he gave me a longer rope and allowed me to go behind a cluster of trees and shrubs.

"If Dan told you," I told him irritably as we walked back to camp, "that I have to wear a rope until he feels like I'm independent enough to walk around without a leash, then I'm afraid that kidnapping a prince is going to be extremely difficult for both of us."

"That's not my problem," he replied without even looking down at me.

He then stopped and began to untie the rope around his wrist. "What are you doing?" I asked, more to irritate him than anything else.

He didn't reply, only dragged me over to a pine tree and began fastening it around a low branch.

"Hey — wait a second!" He ignored me entirely and began walking away. I was furious now. "You get back here right now!"

He waved to me as he strode towards the fire in the center of the camp, where the bandits were dishing out breakfast.

Irritated, I plunked (really, that's the only word for it) down on the ground and folded my arms. "YOU BETTER GET ME SOMETHING TO EAT TOO!" I screamed, once again more to be annoying than anything. I take pride in being as annoying as I can.

There was a burst of laughter from the central camp. "Hey, Shade," I heard one of the men say, "your wife wants something to eat."

"Shut up," I heard Shade reply over the snickering of other bandits.

He did come back with food for me, though. Only a small bread roll, an apple probably stolen from the apple tree groves they had passed through further down the mountain, and a metal cup containing water drawn right from a nearby stream, but it was good fare considering my circumstances and no more or less than the other bandits.

That was when, halfway through my apple, that I realized Shade had been carrying only one meal.

He sat next to me now with his legs crossed and head down, saying nothing and doing nothing except looking at his hands. I felt something unfamiliar bite down on my heart as I looked down at the tin cup and the half-eaten apple in my hands, and remembered the roll that I had so selfishly devoured.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound coolly aloof yet mildly considerate at the same time (not an easy task). "Want some?" Awkwardly, I held out the apple and the cup.

He glanced up at me and for a frozen second, we locked gazes. Then he broke the contact and focused back down at his hands. "No thank you. I'm not hungry."

So I took back the apple and nudged him with the cup of water. It was probably his, anyway — I couldn't think that any of the other bandits would have given up their cup to make sure that a thieving, shoeless rat would have something to drink. Looking up somewhat shyly, Shade accepted the cup, whispered an awkward "Thank you" and then flashed me…was it a smile?

I'd like to believe that it was.

After breakfast, the bandits packed up and we began our hike up the mountain. It was a nice day if not a bit chilly, but the mountain's breeze felt good on my face. Had there not been a rope around my ankle and a swordsman at my side, it would have been the perfect day to run. I have always loved to run. It makes me feel free. Burdenless, perhaps — like my past had never happened. Like I was not a thief, but was meant to fly.

The sparse trees began to thin, and soon they were gone altogether. There was no longer the ground of leaves and dirt under my bare feet, but rather dust and sharp rocks. I was not used to mountain hikes, but I grit my teeth and kept moving. The problem wasn't traction or balance or anything — I had long since mastered moving shoeless — but the feeling of rough pebbles on the toughened soles of my feet was irritating not to mention somewhat painful.

The sun had passed its zenith by the time Dan called for us to stop. An advance scout had found a cave, an old quarry probably, and Dan decided that it was time to halt and rest. Sixteen men and one girl filed into the abandoned mine shaft, which was unusually wide and had more than enough space for all of us.

"What do they mine here?" I inquired of no one in particular.

"Linder," replied a bandit named Onor. "Royals love it. Only they're allowed to have it in their castles, and no one knows why. Expensive stuff, but heavy."

"Too heavy to steal?" I guessed.

"Yeah," said Onor. "Thing is, even if it wasn't, the Eskel people are too…" He searched for a word.

"Big," said Shade. I must admit that I jumped a little bit. I'd almost forgotten he was there.

"Exactly," said Onor gruffly, and he turned away to shake some pebbles out of his boot. No one told me what they meant by that.

Dan approached Shade and me just as he was having his turn at the water pump to drink. I'd gotten some already — "ladies first", they had said mockingly — but it was warm and tasted like rust. I knew that I was just the taste tester, the one that made sure the water was safe to drink. But I had been thirsty, so I drank it anyway.

"Hey," Dan said. "You two, get ready. You'll have to leave soon."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

In response, Dan tossed me my bag and handed me a very familiar dagger. I stared at him.

"Cut the rope," the bandit leader said to me. "You can't do your job tied up, can you?" Shade opened his mouth to protest, but Dan beat him to it. "If worse comes to worst, you have your sword. Use it." He stopped, then smiled slyly. "Anyway, I don't think she'd be all too willing to run away anyway…not if she was running away from this."

He reached into his tunic and pulled out a small leather pouch. It made a nice clinking sound as it dangled from his hands. My eyebrows shot up. It was a heavy bag, I could tell.

"Feel free to check it," Dan said, holding it out to me.

Almost reverently, I took the pouch and opened it. Inside were gold coins, and a lot of them, maybe twenty, thirty possibly. I dug out one from the bottom, put it between my teeth, and bit down — I recognized the softness immediately. This was real gold.

I put the coin back and returned the pouch to Dan. "I'm in," I told him with a smile, and bent down to cut off the rope around my ankle.

We set off shortly after, still at each other's side. Force of habit, I suppose. According to the map that Shade looked at once and never looked at again, we had six miles of winding roads to travel until we reached the "princess academy".

I'd settled for a begrudging indifference for my guard, and he still pretended I wasn't there. But, as we walked along the narrow mountain road, I realized that I found the silence awkward. I'd been alone for most of my life and the fact that it'd been maybe four years since I'd had someone to really talk to didn't help, so I didn't exactly know what to do.

"So what do you know?" I asked him.

He glanced down at me. I couldn't get over the fact that he was a good six inches taller than me. "About what?" It was annoying how his voice never seemed to show any emotion. I'm usually good at reading people, and it irritated me that I couldn't for him.

"You know," I said, "stealing. What do you know?"

He was quiet as he looked ahead and never stopped his pace. "I'd like to know," he replied, "what I don't know and you do."

I stopped walking and folded my arms. "Is that a challenge?"

He also stopped. "If you like," he said without turning around.

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Two could play at this game of mystery and indifference. "Then enlighten me, Shade. Why would you think that?"

"First of all," he said, turning on his heel and facing me with a scowl, "you're a girl too arrogant for her own good. Second of all, I am your elder and am much more experienced than you could dream."

So he was challenging me. "You don't know who you're talking to," I said, ice in my words. "How old do you think I am, exactly?"

"You can't be older than sixteen."

"I am nineteen, and don't you forget it," I said, straightening up to my full height, which still wasn't much. "I'd bet that you aren't past your teens."

Shade gave me what might have been considered a smirk. "Twenty-three."

That I had not expected, but I wouldn't let him know that. I raised my eyebrow again (an action that I regard as the perfect one for telling a person I am not impressed). "Oh, then, I'm sorry. I bow to your wisdom, o mighty twenty-three-year-old." I mock-curtsied, which was harder than I thought it would be because I have never learned how to curtsy and hence did not know how.

He rolled his eyes, turned away, and continued walking the direction we were supposed to be traveling.

"Hey!" I said indignantly. "Don't just walk away from me like that!"

He raised his hand and waved to me again, without stopping his pace. I cursed him, then jogged to catch up.

"Just remember, Thief," said Shade when I said nothing to him, "you were the one to strike first."

I was too embarrassed to shoot back or attempt at conversation again, so I punched him on the shoulder and said nothing more.

"Here," he said. "We camp here."

Confused, I stepped out. It seemed like some sort of clearing, a separate place of ground from the rest of the mountain. Then realized that it was a cliff, from which I could look down and see a large stone house on the edge of a lower cliff. Beyond the house was all of Danland.

Several good-sized boulders, pushed together like a wall, separated me and the void below our cliff, but the knowledge of such a void below alarmed me. I could almost see myself falling over the edge, my arms and legs flailing.

A scream dribbled down the air. It was not my scream, and at the same time, it was. It was the scream of a child.

The cliff turned into a castle, the falling girl split into three, then they turned into a falling man, a woman, and a boy…

Father!

Mother!

Will!

Something like a shriek left my lips at that moment. Shaking in terror, I scrambled away from the boulder wall and in the process crashed into Shade, sending us both tumbling. I ended up on top of him in a very suggestive position, and after staring at each other strangely, we hastily got away from each other.

I tried to get as far away from the cliff edge as I could while still being on the cliff, then sat down and pulled my legs close to my chest. It was nice to have ground below me and I guess I just wanted to be as close to it as possible.

"You're scared of heights," Shade deadpanned.

My mouth dry, I nodded and rubbed my arms. The flickering image of my family had done nothing to console me.

He frowned, then made his way towards the blockaded edge and pounded his fist against the smallest boulder, which was easily up to his waist. It didn't move. He leaned against the largest one, which was taller than he was. This one did not move either. He pushed against the others with his booted foot. None of them budged an inch.

He turned back to me. "See? They don't move. You're safe."

I nodded quickly, but I didn't move. I felt safe here, but not by the boulders and the edge. I could feel and see the subtle slope down from my safe place to where Shade stood.

He sighed and rubbed his temples, exasperated. Clearly reluctantly, he made his way towards me and knelt next to me. I stared at him, wide-eyed and silent. Then, to my surprise, Shade held out his hand to me. Tentatively, I took it and stood as he did, and steeled myself as I followed him closer…to the boulder wall and the cliff edge. I stopped about five feet away and refused to move.

"Come on," Shade said. "It's fine. You're safe, Mari — " He cut himself off before he could finish the last word — a name?

I shook my head. I wouldn't do it because I couldn't.

He sighed again, then took my hand in both of his. His fingers were unsettlingly cold, but somehow comforting. Same were his eyes — difficult to meet as he looked straight at me, but with an alien kind of reassurance buried somewhere in their depths.

"Listen to me," he said firmly. "I am not going to let you fall."

"Are you going to push me, then?" My voice didn't sound as stable as I would have liked them to. But the words obviously hit home. Shade blinked, something I hadn't even seen before now.

"No," he finally replied. "I promise you, I will not let you go over that edge as long as I have anything to do about it."

I didn't want to trust him but at the same time, I did. I hated my fear and I hated myself for remembering, but I knew that the only way I could defeat the fear was by facing it.

I didn't yet know how I could defeat the memories, but it was all I could do to take one step at a time.

As this thought resounded, I found myself lifting my feet and stepping closer towards the boulder wall that separated me from the void. Shade held my hand until I wriggled out and grabbed his whole arm. I did not trust my legs. They shook too much to be reliable.

And then, there I was. Standing in the light of the setting sun and the molten gold sky, looking down at the academy and then at Danland beyond. It was more beautiful than I could ever describe. Beautiful enough to push back the fear, to wipe away the worry and the memories and the pain…

The fall breeze whipped my hair and my clothes behind me and brushed by my face, bringing a small, inadvertent smile. Slowly and gingerly, I let go of Shade and touched the boulder in front of me, finally leaning against it and leaning out. It was easily fifty feet down, maybe more, but I didn't care. I was safe. I was free, I could run, I could fly. I was not afraid.

For the first time in years, a real laugh escaped my lips.

Then I remembered the academy below me, and the princesses inside who were probably wondering where that laugh had come from. I could feel the blood rising to my cheeks as I shrank down behind the boulder. "Sorry," I whispered to Shade, who was still standing. His skin was a nice shade of olive in the amber sunlight.

He frowned. "Why?"

"I forgot," I told him. Then I sighed. "If they heard and know we're here now, it's my fault."

He was quiet for a long time. "No," he finally said. "I wouldn't think they could hear you at all. And it's not like they have an army ready at the house; the prince hasn't even arrived."

"What?"

He nodded. "You can see their caravans from here. They've camped over by that ridge."

My courage had fled, and I did not dare stand up to see where he was pointing. I just nodded and looked down at my dirty feet.

"What happened?"

I looked up at him. "What?"

He gestured towards the academy below us. "That," he replied. "When you screamed."

I returned to looking at my toes.

Shade coughed — another sign of his utter humanness that almost surprised me. "You…don't have to tell me. I can't think of any reasons you'd trust me, anyway."

I was going to say something snarky like "Good, because I wasn't going to anyway" until I recognized the bitterness inflected in the words. It was a vulnerable kind of bitterness. It made me feel almost sick.

"I had a life once," I whispered.

Shade looked up.

"And a name, and a family, and a home. Then…it was all taken away."

He was silent. Then he said two words, a name:

"Dante Laterza."

I looked up at him. He was gazing out at the sunset, his face set like stone.

"Bridget D'Arcy."

It was the first time I'd said my real name in ten years.

It was worth it to repay his small gift.

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