Chapter 3

Dignified Lifeless Body

I would like to say that my life flashed before my eyes as the world tilted upwards and away from me. I would like to say that I found my purpose in life in that cliff-dive. I would like to say that I felt peaceful and happy as I embraced death with open arms.

But I wasn't. I was pissed off.

All my life, I'd trained and trained, only to be a terrible fire-bender and an average fighter. But that was okay because Izumi had that championship title in the bag from the moment he sneezed flames from his nostrils at age three. I tried my hand at being an artisan, but the nicest thing my mother, the kindest woman in the world, had to say was, "You have potential!"

I was so sick of being told that I had "potential"! Potential for what? Mediocrity?!

So here I was, falling to my death, never having accomplished anything note-worthy and never having reached that "potential".

My tombstone would read: Here lies Princess Kairo, Doer of Nothing and Hater of Cats.

No. NOT TODAY.

I clenched every muscle in my body to crunch my abs together and flip myself around in the air so that, instead of falling face-up, my stomach was now aimed at the ground. A scream of exertion rippled through my body as I focused all of my energy in an imaginary pathway from my lungs to my feet. I shoved my knees out straight in one rapid motion and prayed with all of my might to send fire through my feet.

I'll never know if it actually worked the way it did in my imagination, but thankfully, whatever burst of energy flowed from my legs was enough to propel me forward, back toward the edge.

And then I careened face-first into the cliff. What should have been a beautiful and miraculous save was more of a fantastically humiliating fumble. It did the trick, however, and I reached up just in time to grip the edge and cling to the rocks for dear life.

Then, to my everlasting surprise and relief, a pair of strong hands latched onto my arms and yanked me painfully up the side of the cliff and tossed me onto the ground. I just lay still there, face in the dirt, heaving unsteady breaths and somehow fighting irrational laughter at the sheer panic and ridiculousness I felt.

"Are you okay?"

I just laughed shakily. It was my only response.

"Is that a yes?"

When a little more feeling flooded into my arms and legs, I pushed myself onto my knees. I lifted my head with a smile on my face and an answer all ready to go for my helper—

When I actually caught sight of him.

"Cat?" I whispered furiously.

It wasn't my nemesis, the literal black cat from the courtyard, but the thief that greeted me, kneeling on the ground, still dressed in black and still masked. Turns out it wasn't my imagination as I was chasing him; he really was wearing a mask shaped like an ink-black leopard, ears and all, with ornate and subtle carvings of spots and swirls across the dark material. Two, tiny holes peered out at me through the mask.

He cocked his head to the side. "How hard did you hit your head?" He murmured and reached out to inspect my forehead. His hand came away red, and I remembered smacking into the rocks.

Then my face started to burn, both in embarrassment and in pain. It was one of those moments when your body is in enough shock that it doesn't register that it's injured until you see it and remember: Oh that's right, I'm broken.

"Ouch…" I muttered, lifting a hand to my forehead. The thief made a choking sound and I sharply looked up at him again, eyes wide. The choking slowly blended into full-blown laughter until he was clutching his stomach and bending his head to his knees, hollering. I stared at him, stunned.

With his head out of the way, I spotted a cylindrical pack slung over his back. The scrolls from the war room... Figuring this was my opportunity to snatch them back, I launched myself at the pack. Unfortunately, head injuries are disorienting for even the most graceful people. For the coordination-challenged, they are a disaster.

Not only did I miss the pack entirely, but I also ended up sprawled across this stranger's back and he toppled over onto the ground with a surprised "Oof!"

I fumbled with the fabric, tugging on the leather straps attached to his pack. He bucked beneath me and sent me tumbling off of him and back into the dirt (head first, naturally). I groaned as a sharp pain burst from my skull on impact. The world began to spin. I shut my eyes tightly and clutched my head, unable to get up from my undignified position on the ground.

If I wasn't in so much pain, I might have commented on how well this apprehension was going.

"What were you trying to do? Hug me?" The thief asked in disbelief.

I moaned. "I'm apprehending you."

He snorted. "Sure you are."

Without lifting my head, I pointed in his general direction and accused, "Those scrolls don't belong to you."

"They don't belong to you either," he quickly retorted.

I opened my mouth to correct him, but then closed it again thoughtfully. Did they technically belong to me? Or just my father? Did I have ownership over them by default? Or did they belong to the palace, like an old temple artifact?

The ache in my head skyrocketed under the weight of this train of thought and I moaned again, choosing to drop it for my own health and sanity's sake.

He sighed. "Well, now I've got a dilemma. See, I have a boat to catch, but I feel bad leaving you alone out here like this, with a questionable injury and even more questionable judgment."

"To be fair, my judgment was never great to begin with," I mumbled, clutching at my temples to keep my head from splitting.

He chuckled. "That doesn't make me feel any better." A moment passed in silence. He sighed. "I guess I don't have much choice. Come on."

Suddenly, I felt my body being lifted from the ground and I sucked in a breath as he folded me over his broad shoulder. Pain rocketed through my head. I gritted my teeth against a whimper that fought to escape me with every jostling movement he made as he slung me over his arm and back and started swiftly down the hill. Every part of me wanted to lash out and yell and struggle in indignation, but the pain in my head was rising to debilitating levels.

This time, I chose to listen to my aching brain instead of my boiling insides, and I told myself to roll with it. I would rest my head and save my energy for the right time to strike. I was determined to bring back those scrolls, and with any luck, I would bring back the man who stole them, too.

… Even if it meant being carried like a sack of wheat. If only Izumi could see me now. Princess Kairo, Doer of Nothing, Hater of Cats, Dignified Lifeless Body.