A/N: Phew, holidays now! (for two weeks) so I might have a few updates…but I dunno, this story is blockin me X( so dunno how far I'll go with it, but I'm really hopin I'll finish it off, coz I do like it! Some chaps are plain…well, stupid, but eh…the idea's not too bad I guess *cringe*  I split this chap in half, coz it was way too long…and if there's horrible mistakes and such, sorry, I didn't have time to edit :( blah, hope you guys like it! Oh, and don't be too surprised if the relationships turn out like –nothing- you'd expect ;) *hint hint Kaye* but then again, they might…ya never know…

I was trapped.

The guard sneered and began to take taunting, slow steps towards me, the buckles on his boots making a scrutinizing noise with each step. The look he gave me was non-too-friendly. In fact, it was every bit nasty…but I knew I could not do anything then to bring more trouble to myself. So I held a composed pose, in the corner.

But as soon as he stepped an inch too close, my defence went up; eyes squinted and fists clenched tight. Seemingly automatically, my knees bent, ready for an attack.

The guard noticed the change and snorted disgustingly, stopping a few inches away from me. 'Dun' be scared,' he drawled, licking his lips. 'I've met girls like ye…I know what ye want.'

'I'm sure if you knew what I want,' I hissed, 'you'd be miles away from Tortall by now.'

He snickered again and lashed out, but I blocked him and threw a punch at his face. The fight was pointless, to me. The guard wasn't very good without his weapon, once I'd kicked them away, and soon he was fighting with unthoughtful rage rather than skill.

The anger did help him though; when he'd locked me in a tight grip from the back, I inwardly cursed myself for lack of concentration. Taking a deep breath, I rammed the back of my foot deep into his toes. His grip immediately loosened and I pulled away, turning around to kick his bent down face. That was that, and I was about to make my escape, when the other guard who'd went off to get some lunch ran into the room, having heard the commotion.

I stopped in my place and counted to ten before turning back around and sitting back on the bed, my gaze distant as I heard the guard growl angrily and drag his painfully recovering partner out of the room. Both threw me spiteful and trouble-promising looks as they left.

The door locked, the sound seemingly four times louder than ever before.

I shuddered as what could've happened hit me and I thanked God for the self-defence classes I'd dragged myself of to nearly every day of my life back Home. Turning to the closed up window, I shivered. I gotta do this now, I thought grimly, and my eyes quickly flickered to the candles burning at the two back corners of the room.

Nodding determinedly, I brought them to the window sill, setting them up neatly and waiting for my heart to stop racing wildly. When it finally went back to beating to a normal pace, I held up the candles in each hand, and watched the flames lick at the ends of the grey, thick and firm material that was strapped from the top of the window, to the bottom. A prison curtain you could say. Soon, but rather too slowly, the material was half consumed by the brightly-flickering flame, and I prayed to God the guards wouldn't burst into the room if the burning smell carried outside the door.

When the last bit of flame quenched its hunger into the rough material, I squinted my eyes as the bright sun hit my face, momentarily blinding me. I couldn't believe it had been days since I last got out of this hellhole of a room!

I looked back at the wool near my door and grimaced. I couldn't just ask for rope, could I? I had to go asking for something stupid like wool! Of all the things to ask for…!

Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I began to braid the wool into strong and thick plaits. Strong enough to climb down sills from.

Humming myself as I worked, I knew by the time I'd finished with the wool, and climbed out of the room, the guards would have nodded themselves off to sleep, or went off for some afternoon tea.

I was safe…for now.

*                        *                      *

By the time I was half-way down the demented, woollen rope that ripped the skin of my palms and blistered them nastily, the boys in the practice yards had spread the word of a girl climbing down a window.

Just what I needed!

Attention.

Shit, shit, shit!

I knew I was panicking…my heart was beating harder than it ever had even while I'd watched Silence of the Lambs, and that was definitely saying something. Trying to reassure myself that I'll be fine, I just needed to go down a bit further didn't calm me down…at all. The idea of having to get down was hard enough without having to deal with the fact that I didn't have a clue of where to go or what to do once I was down there!

Find Atkin, what else? the fearless part of me said.

No way! Too much trouble, just run off somewhere safe! was the common-sense reply.

Coward. Roald wouldn't even hesitate.

It's called playing it safe…

So you're safe and others die? Oh that's very heroic!

I'm not trying to be heroic!

I shook my head violently to clear the inwards battle. And what a battle that was…stupid vs stupider. Common sense against out-there Heroic. Definitely not something I wanted to listen to while I was hanging 10 feet off a building. I just hope if I ever decide to end my life, those certain two parts of me won't be arguing…

The rope tugged, and I bit back a scream as I was swung sideways and nearly crashed right into wall; my right hand slammed against the concrete wall as I fought to keep balance. My head spun and I had to fight back the bile that rose in my dry throat. I looked up reluctantly, but there wasn't a leering guard hanging from the window, ready to hack the rope.

I frowned, and then looked down.

Oh shit…

I was caught between climbing back up or just jumping right off and dying an interesting death of a cracked skull. My eyes watered as a strong wind blew and blew at my hanging, shivering figure.

'Get down!' Roald hissed from below.

Don't trust him…

I clenched my teeth as the battle re-ignited. 

Of course you can trust him! How many times has he saved your sorry butt?

So what? Not like he cares about you anymore.

Liar.

Right back at ya.

I was about to laugh hysterically at how childish my inner thoughts were, when this time I knew the tugging was coming from above. I didn't need to look up to see it was a guard; the loud cussing was enough proof. Taking a deep breath, I continued my path down to half-a-second-of-freedom.

The rope swung wildly as the guard attempted to tear it up, but I'd made sure it was too thick and tight for that. I screamed this time as he twisted the rope, sending me to sway uncontrollably from side to side. But each time I brought up and pushed my palms sturdily against the wall and rebounded roughly, jeering my teeth with every swing.

I could hear Roald cursing darkly and moments later, I heard him shout something up at me. Sounded like a command…well of course. Princes should get used to commands. They receive and deliver a lot of them, don't they? Special little things. Gotta listen to their King daddies and pay close attention to their commands, or else they're bad, bad princes!

Listening closer, I heard him say let go of the rope.

I was about to call him something rather unappealing when I looked up to see the guard slowly descending the rope…obviously he didn't like heights much, but that wasn't stopping him.

Gasping, I looked down at Roald, saw his impatient and extremely worried expression, and closed my eyes. Great, so I gotta die to keep things happy?

Just trust him…he's never done anything to hurt you.

The stubborn, pessimistic side of me for once in my entire life remained quiet, and for a moment, I felt the pressure unload…totally disappear. A heavy weight lifted off my shoulder, and any trace of a headache, any sort of ache, subsided quickly and then completely vanished. It left me feeling light and careless. At peace, really…

But then the moment ended and I was letting go of the robe as the guard went for a swipe at me.

Maybe hell isn't as bad a place as they make it out to be, I thought glumly, as I plummeted down.

Feeling a vibrating thud, my head went into daze-mode, and my eyes were streaming with tears, but I never opened them. The rest of me was numb…way too numb for movement, so I knew I was most definitely dead…or maybe death wasn't the worst thing that had happened.

I opened my eyes to expect flames and a spiffy little minion of evil guiding me to Evil Headquarters, but what I saw was Roald's face, upside down. 'Eh…what're ya doin hangin' from the wall?' I mumbled, hand flying to head as I rubbed it with a grimace. It felt as heavy as a bloody planet.

But he just shook his head and laughed, then he mumbled something and I flipped right around, landing on the cei--…oh alright…floor. So I'd been hanging in the air? I certainly didn't feel any wings on my back. Definitely never will be angelic enough to get to be an angel.

So what gives?

As soon as my heat hit earth…gravel, whatever, Roald took my hand and dragged me into a sprint away from the building. We took corners and hallways as I heard the guard swear odiously at our backs. I had to laugh madly, the passing of four days worth of unreal events crashing down on me as I shook my head again and again. I couldn't believe all this…stuff of stories had happened to me…

To my side, Roald now had an angry and solemn expression on his face as he ran smoothly, not puffing hysterically like I was. Grimacing at the exercise I'd have to do to get back into the right fitness level if I came out of this ordeal alive, I nearly crashed into a wall as Roald halted abruptly.

'What…now?' I puffed, grateful that I wasn't aching, merely puffed out.

But what I was, was very numb.

Roald looked me over, with an expression clearly stating I wasn't worth the trouble he'd gone to, but then sighed and shook his head. 'We…you've got to get out of here. The guards won't search here…for now. So you can just go. Mirthos, Reem…what is wrong with you? You didn't have to drag everyone into this if you so badly wanted some action in your life…Look, just—I'll help you, but you…oh Gods. You gotta—'

'Yeah, alright,' I interrupted, absolutely hating the look of pity and uneasy he directed at me as he looked over his shoulder expectantly. 'I'll be fine—' not that you care, 'so just…go.'

I turned around and stalked off, but he trailed after me, and in three steps, he was in front of me, a hand outstretched to stop my angry steps from carrying my any further.

'What?' I snapped.

'I'm going with you,' he whispered after a moment of hesitation, smoothing back his hair with his spare, shaking hand.

I rolled my eyes and pushed his hand away, but stood still. 'You don't have to force your prince-in-shining-armour duty out on me. It'd be such a waste. And I'm not some pretty little innocent and close-to-death princess waiting for you at a castle of some sort. Just go live a happy, normal life, alright?

'I'm a big girl. I can more than take care of myself.'

Roald remained quiet for a bit, and then smiled grimly. 'You're not a princess,' he began, 'but what you are is close-to-death, in a castle of 'some sort', and this is my sort of happy, normal life. With you in it.'

I knew I should have felt some sort of happy fluttering in my heart, stomach, wherever. But I didn't. All I felt was the migraine in my head, signalling the need for a Panadol…unfortunately Tortall didn't supply it.

'Roald, a Prince can't be involved in this sort of thing,' I whispered. Well, whatever this thing is anyway…an assassination case? Whatever.

'Then I won't come as a Prince,' he replied stubbornly. 'I'll come as a…a friend. If not guide. You realize you don't know where we are right now.'

I cursed. 'Yes, I do.'

'And who around here do you trust to get you out of here and to safety?' He raised his eyebrow expectantly, not betraying a look of triumph.

'The guard coming to get me?' I guessed, smiling.

I got a whack on the arm for that, so I rolled my eyes. 'Alright! You…happy? But that doesn't mean—'

'Oh yes it does…now. Time to start doing some serious talking. Follow me.'

I made a face at his back as he turned to lead me into some secret place of some sort, me totally unaware of where we were and where we'd end up. For all I knew, he could be leading me to a gaol, or something worse.

Something worse always crept up on me anyway…

After two hallways and one hidden door leading to…well, here really…I looked around to see a rather large room, with a bed, desk, sofa and a door leading to some other place totally unknown to me.

'What's in there?' I asked as Roald closed—locked the doors. Magically, I supposed.

He turned to look at the door when he finished. 'Supplies,' he said. Then, 'Food,' as I looked at him questioning. 'Weapons, clothes…necessities.'

'I'm guessing for a siege?'

He nodded grimly and sat back on the bed, sighing.

I felt bad.

Real bad.

Rotten was the word.

I'd dragged him into this…in a way.

Well, he had dragged me into this room, but I'd unconsciously dragged him into this by getting closer and closer to him. So practically, this was sort of my fault. No, I take that back, completely my fault!

How could I be so stupid? Going after someone probably trained like Atkin and thinking I could hunt him down and lock him up in jail? With no evidence? No nothing?

'I'm sorry,' I blurted, collapsing into the chair near the desk.

Roald sat up. 'What?'

'I got you here…got us here…if only I'd just stuck to my business, instead of butting into everyone else's—'

'Reem, what are you talking you?' the Prince demanded.

I looked up and frowned. 'Atkin.'

'And you're apologizing because…?'

'I got us into this!'

'Oh?' Roald drawled. 'Yes, you're right. So should I start screaming at you for all the trouble you've caused the both of us now? Sorry, I'm a bit busy for that…saving our lives and all.'

I grit my teeth. 'Smooth, Roald. Very smooth. Couldn't have possibly made me feel any better!'

'Stop feeling sorry for you…and me. I can take care of myself,' Roald snapped, shaking his head impatiently. 'Now I don't know what you had in mind to do after you got out of your room, so if you find any error in my plan, just tell me. Alright?'

I nodded somberly, relaxing back against the chair. He wants to help…and he's not yelling. That's good…I hope.

First he asked me a few questions.

'The reason,' I began in explanation to his "why-were-you-arrested-in-a-deserted-inn", 'is I got a…um, note. I thought it was from you…but obviously it wasn't.'

'What did it say?' Roald asked.

'Something like "meet me at the Baywolf Hurtling at dinner"…so anyway…once I got there, from the look of the place, I knew it wasn't good news.' But I trusted you. 'Atkin popped out of nowhere and then…disappeared. I looked around and saw a bag. The note caught my attention so I read it, and then took it for evidence.' Sure, evidence against you, smartarse! 'I was about to check out what was in the bag, but then someone knocked me out.' I grimaced at the memory. It hadn't been a gentle bring-down. At all.

Roald nodded absently and sighed. 'Do you remember, when I—we eavesdropped in the guests' wing?'

So that's where that was? 'With that old-ish man?'

Roald shrugged. 'Probably. Well, they weren't talking about what they were meant to be talking about.'

I raised an eyebrow, unsatisfied. 'What were they meant to be talking about?'

'Rice,' he replied.

My expression clearly stated I thought Roald was going mad. 'Rice?'

Roald nodded absently. 'They came as elected headmen of the main farmlands, here to do business with the King. About rice.'

'Rice,' I repeated, even slower this time.

'Yes.'

I shook my head. 'Now that's an incredible coverup if I've ever see one. No one'd expect the rice-lords, would they? O Mighty Rice Lord, hear my prayer! Grant me seasonal r—'

'Reem!'

I made a face at Roald's warning glare. 'I'm just tryin to lighten the mood here,' I grumbled. God knows what sort of self-pity I'd get myself into if I thought too hard…

'So?' I prompted the Prince, sitting up straighter now that I saw the edgy expression on his face.

'What?'

'What were they talking bout?'

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, clearly thoroughly exhausted. Of what, I was yet to perceive. 'Dealings.'

'Yeah?'

'Yes.'

'And?'

'What?'

I clenched my fists. 'Mind being specific, Roald? That would definitely help with the whole scheming we're gonna have to do if you'll finish your side of this fucked up mess.'

He didn't even blink as I threw all my unconcealed anger at him, merely stared at me blankly. Strangely calm. 'They've got gangs…Atkin isn't even the leader. Merely a look-out. He was placed in the Palace to keep the real brains behind the plotting posted about the on-goings there…he actually grew up in the Yamans. A brute and disliked noble with great connections—in favour of his parents, of course. His parents were originally Tortallans, but they moved to the Yamani Islands once Atkin's father got some sort of job dealing with the less powerful end of the Royalties. Atkin was barely two when they did the move. 

'His parents sent him off to train as a page, him being their only son, they wanted him a tough and powerful Knight…Atkin was more interested in his parent's business, so that's what became his side-line job.

'When he got in contact with the wrong end of the client connections, he got a bit too interested. What he dug up was a rebellion, within Tortall…and the "headquarters" are strangely back in the Yamans. He's been aiding them ever since, bringing in the money and support…

'From various…sources, I've heard that Atkin's movements have been tracked by Tortallan spies ever since he became a squire…probably got overconfident and slipped up here and there and didn't bother to cover up. Now when Atkin realized he was never going to be anything more than a petty look-out, he wasn't too pleased. Hence the kitchen incident.'

I frowned at him, the information seeping into me as I digested it overly quickly, hoping to formulate a plan right that instant from gathering the simple recourses. 'I never did understand that kitchen incident…' I mumbled, hinting at Roald to further explain the latter.

He complied reluctantly, maybe even dryly. 'The…package he obtained from the kitchen was a gift from his fellow cronies. A sort of…warning.'

My frown deepened.

The boy with him…the crash…sound of bones breaking…

A silence held and thickened as I tried to add up everything and come up with a sane and helpful conclusion.

'It was the evidence that was used against you,' Roald went on quietly.

It came crashing down.

'They want him out, don't they?' I breathed. 'Is…is that what you heard that time in the corridor? When they were meant to be discussing rice?'

Roald nodded somberly, and got up. He started pacing the room, betraying the calm and controlled expression his face held. 'Reem…he's our source.'

'To the rebels?' I asked softly, thoughtful.

'To the rebels,' Roald confirmed grimly.

'You have a plan in mind, don't you?'

Again, he nodded, less reluctantly and more stubbornly. He stopped his pacing and turned to look at me with abounding sincerity and concern. 'Reem, you can pull yourself away from this…I can….help you get away from Tortall. You can live a—'

'Normal life?' I cut in grimly, shaking my head sadly. 'I gave up on ever believe any life can be a normal one the day I found out the truth about life.' Life is full of lies, and nothing but. It's a spiral of hate, selfishness and inequality. Nothing can be normal if you chose to take a different path to that your fellow race takes…

The Prince slipped his hand in mine and squeezed affectionately, but try as I might, I couldn't feel any spasms of joy at his touch. Absolutely nothing but sincere gratitude that he actually cared for me. As a friend. I didn't know whether to be thankful, or guilty.

'Well if you want out, at any time…just tell me,' he whispered, stroking my cheek.

I nodded and looked away. 'Even if it's in the middle of an operation of some sort? While I'm holding a knife at Atkin's throat?'

Roald smiled. 'I don't promise not to inflict horrible harm to you, but yes. Quit this…operation at any time.' When I nodded with a tart smile, he got down to business. 'I don't promise complete success with this plan, but I've gather enough recourses about Atkin to help us along…Now I know you don't think you have any sort of magic, but I know you have a special ability, if I can just get you to…'

And our plan went on from there. I grew more interested with every confident word that came out of Roald's prominent mouth. He held the gaze of a powerful and sharp man…his very expression told of perceptive qualities, and his stance exposed his strong leadership capabilities.

The fact that he was a Prince added to his influential traits, and gave him a hell lot of an advantage.

  

*                        *                      *

'Ready?' Roald whispered, as I tucked the dagger into its sheath at my side. I couldn't properly wield a sword, so I hadn't bothered with that…I'd just stuck to a trusty dagger. And my self-defence experience. I nodded at him as he prepared himself. We stood outside Atkin's (coincidentally also Roald's) room, me dressed as a page. Roald didn't really need any disguise.

First Roald knocked, but no reply came, so he sighed and opened the door. He stepped in, me waiting outside as a conspicuous "bodyguard", ready for any sort of suspicious behaviour.

But after a moment or so, Roald popped out with a scowl. 'Not there?' I asked with obvious disappointment.

He shook his head. 'All his stuff is gone,' the Prince informed me grimly. 'His clothes, his books…everything.'

I cursed colourfully and bit my lip. What had I expected?! An easy way out? Yeah, tough. So time for Plan B. 'Let's go then!' I snapped, more to myself, and we immediately headed off out of the Palace, me trailing after Roald as a lowly page would.

*                        *                      *

I stood outside the inn, again waiting for Roald's signal to get inside. My arms were crossed over my chest as if defiantly, and my face was twisted into a scowl, putting off anybody who got the idea to talk to a strange-looking page. If they figured I'm a girl, they'd probably wonder if a new girl had been allowed to become a Knight…and Gods knew how it'd turn out after that.

But fortunately it wasn't as busy and crowded outside as it was inside the inn. So there weren't too many busybodies outside, waiting to pick out a victim among the crowd. Thankfully…

Blanking my face, I forced my mind to clear of thoughts as I attempted to gain control of it. I had to practice, if only for a few seconds, so I didn't completely destroy my chance out of this mess by not being able to control my own thoughts. Or others' for that matter. I had to put a grip on these "special powers" I had. They probably had a name, but Numair had never mentioned it, so I had to stick with special powers.

Shaking my head from the crowding thoughts, I went back to trying out a little experiment. My eyes roamed the nearly-deserted street until I found a middle-aged homeless woman, looking expressionlessly into her empty money-platter. But I changed my mind, knowing if I did go that way, it'd just be wrong. The woman had probably had enough to deal with without having a panicking teenaged reject reading her mind.

So I looked about me for another victim and found a little girl humming to herself as she sat under the shade of a lonely tree, her shabby features striking innocence more than anything else. She held a doll in her hand, and pranced it about the grimy paved ground merrily, not a care of the poor state she lived in. The blonde bush of hair was sticking out of her matted head at odd ends, grimy and seemingly content with not having been showered in most probably over a week.

Perfect…

I closed my eyes and relaxed my posture, then drained my mind of any wonderings, doubts or basically any thoughts. The next step was to pinpoint my victim and…oh God, how was I supposed to know? I couldn't do things this way! I had to look at the girl, try to experience what she was going through; feel the emotions she's trying to express; wish for the same things she hoped for; expect the same things she predicted would occur…

Be as she was to understand what she'd be thinking…and finally hear what she was thinking.

Nodding unwaveringly, I opened my eyes and settled my eyes on the little girl. The doll was now on the floor, and she was yelling at her angrily, as if blaming her for something. So I rounded up feelings of anger and directed it at the doll. The anger sizzled as I thought of Atkin, of the racist pigs back home, of anyone that had caused me or my friends heartache…

Soon I felt intertwined with the girl's heated up sentiments…which gave me a surge of surprising bliss and hope. My gaze switched back to the girl and I tilted my head, trying to comprehend the strong and stubborn expression, trying to analyse ti and come up with an explanatory sentence of what she would be thinking. I looked back forth from the tight-lipped girl, to the discarded and disgraced doll…

I'd be thinking…bad dolly?

No…

I thought back to when I was a kid and tried to remember what it was like for me, getting angry at a doll and throwing it to the ground, and then yelling at it…what caused that anger? (Don't you just love it when your inner thoughts sound like a shrink's probing?)

Chewing on my lip, I thought carefully and very slowly.

I made a face as I came up with a blank. I couldn't relate to a kid of five…not anymore! But then…

Well, I suddenly thought, you don't have to think like someone to relate to them…you just have to understand them…so…

Resettling my gaze on the girl, I licked my dry and crack lips, and had another go. She was obviously infuriated with the doll as she kicked it around. I didn't have to bother using what I knew of my "powers" to get what the two keywords of her thoughts were. But I did anyway…

…"stupid"… "boring"

So the little girl was bored, and was blaming it on the "stupid" doll…alright. I glowered at the doll as the girl had, and cursed at it with simple kiddish talk. Stupid doll! Why you so boring?

I stuck to that mood of thought and tried over and over again to probe more than "stupid" and "boring" out of the girl's mind. Thoughts…I needed to read her thoughts…

After five unsuccessful and surprisingly tiring tries, I was ready to give up. Why in God's name wasn't it working? I wasn't asking much! Just the chance to…well, spy on other people's business? That sounded horrible, so I sighed and averted my eyes from the now-yawning girl. She was about ready to go home. For a nap probably.

That was when the Prince burst out of the inn, indicating it was finally safe for me to get in, the guards having cleared out. I nodded. My stomach growled, and that reminded me of food, which the inn would supply. About to turn around, I yawned just as the girl did…and suddenly, I heard it loud and clear.

"Hope mummy's made somethin' real special t'eat t'night…"

I gasped and shook my head, closed my eyes, and then reopened them. But the girl was gone…her voice had sounded so innocent, so hopeful…it saddened me. The sadness didn't last long though…it was overshadowed by pure ecstasy…I'd done it!

I'd read the girl's mind!

I'd led myself into her thoughts by…what had I done? I'd practically did what she'd done…yawned as she had. I was in the same thought-cloud as she'd been. She'd been hungry as I had…she'd been sleepy as I had…so all I really had to do was put myself in the person's shoes/position? Well maybe not necessarily, but keep the same frame of mind? Adopt their feelings and emotions?

It couldn't possibly be that easy!

But it hadn't been!

I can't always stay in the same mind frame as other people…especially if I couldn't see them! But I could guess, couldn't I? With Atkin, couldn't I just vent out my anger and place a scowl on my face, as he always did when he saw me? Or…

I sighed and shook my head, content for now with how far I'd come. I was grateful for at least having had a breakthrough, no matter how slight and possibly insignificant it was…

Roald was gazing at me strangely. 'You alright?' he asked softly, probably at my dazed expression.

I nodded and smiled. 'Yup, let's go.'

Turning to look back one last time at the vacant spot under the shadowing tree, my smile widened and I sighed with satisfaction before stepping into the inn.

Roald came in a few minutes after I did, to keep it inconspicuous, just in case Atkin's cronies—ex-­­­­cronies were out and about. Which I'm sure they were. When he did come in, we avoided each other…not too obviously, of course. I slid him a bored look as the rest did when he entered, but nothing more. I just ordered a tankard of ale and gazed at it, looking as jaded as I could.

As we'd planned, he went over to the landlord and struck up a friendly conversation, which then moved on quietly to questions about a mysterious lad Roald was looking for. He owed him a fair bit of money, and Roald wasn't one to especially like overdue payments.

The landlord at first was reluctant to give out such "personal" information about a fellow guest, but when Roald prompted him with shiny coins, he forgot all about respect of privacy and told him there was such a person as described in the first room to Roald's left if he took that flight of stairs.

The Prince nodded his thanks and shut the now-bubbly landlord with an extra coin, then had a drink before going up to check up on our beloved Atkin. I looked at my drink purposefully, feeling sick now as I took in its seemingly grotesque, dark form…I couldn't drink that. Not now, not ever…not for some stupid scumbag who didn't know any better than not to interfere with royalties…

Throwing up seemed a necessity rather than a possibility then, but Roald's dominant plan stuck in my revolving mind and I found myself grasping the handle of the tankard…and then my lips touching the edge of it…

My hand shook, and I put down the tankard, pretending to swallow as I fought to gain control of the shaking. My gaze remained uninterested in anything but my ale. I was burning on the inside, memories of mum, drunk and crazy…coming home late and throwing tantrums…collapsed in her bedroom…empty bottles of vodka everywhere around the house…bills mounting up…money dwindling…

Oh God, I thought, fighting back the urge to sob as hard as I could.

I grit my teeth and turned to swipe a gaze around the crowded, noisy tavern. I could do this. I knew I could…I just had to relax. Get into the rhythm of things…forget my past for a while…

Yeah, that's worked so well for you the past few years, hasn't it?

I pushed back the negative thought and struck up a conversation with a drunk-looking tough sailor. His ragged features were a put off, his beefy muscles even more so…and his expression the most off putting of them all. Drunk and ready to explode.

'I've noticed strange things,' I barked to him as he blabbed more and more about his sailing-wise life. I had to put on the best guy voice I could muster, and really, I couldn't embarrass myself any worse. At least I passed as a squeaky teenaged boy. An excuse for the slightly-girly looks and pinched voice.

'I'd say so too, friend,' was the grunted reply as Ulnar, that was his name, slurped down some ale.

'What think you of it then?' I growled, taking the handle of my tankard again and taking a deep, silent breath before letting the strong liquid slide down my throat. I nearly coughed it all out, but I maintained my drunken pose for the sailor to go on with his rant.

'I dis…dislike all eese… h-hap'nins,' he whined. 'A fellow can't…can't…what's th'word? Oh yes…get druh-drunk… 'n' be left at peace 'nymore! Ye be,'—hiccup—'hunted down fer acc—accu…sations all day 'n' night! Can't get me a wink of sleep wi'out someone,'—another hiccup—'houndin' me wit' questions o' this  and 'at…they be searchin' fer blabbers! 'N' I sure ain't…o-one.'

I grunted. 'Course not! Who be they, friend?'

Another big swig of beer before I get a quarter-coherent reply. 'Them…fiends o' th'streets!'

'Gangs, eh?'

He nodded with obvious disgust and hatred. 'I know…I know all 'bout 'em! But I sure ain't one t'blab, see…yes…yes…'

'Would ye help a poor friend out then?'

The sailor nodded again, staring dizzily at his empty tankard. I bought him another and went on with my "request". 'I haven't been 'round long 'nuff…'n' ain't half as experienced as ye are…what do ye know of 'em so's I may per'tect m'self?'

Not very reluctantly as he'd thought he'd be, he described the different gangs…

Notorious Shaft (I didn't bother to ask why in God's name a gang would want a name like that) was the leading gang; the leader supposedly was as infamous as one could get. Not a single street rat, sailor or merchant was unaware to who he was. He was known as the Shaft. Obviously not too creative, but hey, that didn't stop him from, as Ulnar mentioned, destroying houses and stalls and such he thought conspired against the gang.

Kinda like Bush against alleged terrorist groups.

No real evidence, but hey! Who doesn't dig destruction?

The rest of the fifteen gangs around the city and villages were rather insignificant compared to the power N.S held, but they still had some control. I didn't realize how a single gang could have such a huge impact and dominate such a huge and diverse city…it awed me really. But I listened on.

N.S meet up every last day of every week, and report their slowly growing restrain and power over the large city and various villages. They've already influenced many conservatives and nobles, enticing them into their radical plans and dragging them in, until the nobles could do nothing but go along. Treason's very easily sabotaged, was the reason.

Where did they meet up? At this very inn. Tomorrow at midnight.

Before I could ask what the leader looked like, he fell head-first onto the bench and began the cycle of bothering everyone with his strenuous, loud snoring. I cringed and edged away, then swayed unsteadily as I got up, pretended to walk drunkenly, and carried myself out of the inn, where I threw up the ale I'd forced down my throat.

Atkin had left apparently, ditched all his stuff in his room at the inn, and left like the cowardly scum he was. I was enraged. But not too badly enraged. We didn't need him…well we needed him still, just not as much. We got info on the baddies…all we needed now was the proof to bust them and get me out of this jam. That's all. No heroics. No fighting. Just get the proof, get out, become a free woman again, and all is sweet. Roald had probably already taken care of Atkin anyway…he'd certainly taken long enough in the guy's room…must have kicked a whole lot of booty…

I couldn't stand my near-to-filthy room…it was small and musty. I had to get out, so I told Roald I was taking a breather, and stepped out of the inn the back-way. Gratefully sucking in fresh air, I sat down on a nearby barrel and relaxed. I let the wind blow my tangled hair away from my face, and closed my eyes. Carelessness overwhelmed me and for a few moments, I forgot I was, sort of, on the run, with no money, only a dagger for a weapon, and no friends to honestly trust but the Prince.

A yawn escaped me, and I felt extremely tired, so I slackened my muscles and just let go of the tension that had wrapped me for the last few days. Last weeks, last months, last year…last five years.

Memories of dad washed over me…his smile. His sweet, soft smile…the caring look in his eyes as he greeted me afterschool, ready to take me back home after a soccer match for the very junior juniors…always there for me. Always…

Mum pushing me down the stairs after she'd drank her last bottle of vodka…promising me she'd pay the bills…electricity being switched off…promising she'd be there for me…looking at the cheering crowd at soccer but finding no familiar, loving faces…promising to look after me…never any food in the fridge…promising to love me…a quiet house the never-changing greeting afterschool…

Khalil.

Amazing, loving smile…caring, adoring eyes…tingling belief in me…never-ebbing faith and love…astounding understanding of my fears, emotions and thoughts…undying l—

A hand clasped my mouth firmly, too firmly, hurting my mouth. Another hand was tightened around my waist, securing me in place. My legs were free, but they were dangling over the edge of the barrel. Fluent and uninterrupted movements ended with my hands being tied formidably behind my back.

'If you make a single sound, attract an ant's attention, I'll kill your charming prince so fast, you won't have time to utter a single fuckin' scream you loud-mouthed bitch.'

My blood seethed at the sound of that grating, nasal voice. I grumbled 'Atkin' into the kerchief he tied about my mouth, but my tongue hurt from the exhausting attempt, so I just shut up. Atkin pushed me off the barrel none-too-gently and I fell to the ground, head-first. Blood seemed to pump leisurely in my head and then it went completely numb.  Then spun. Then I blinked and groaned…and saw the Prince, unconscious and strewn behind a discarded barrel.

Atkin kicked at my stomach and swore fervently before turning to Roald and unsheathing his sword.

I shivered and felt myself bit by bit slip into bogus blissful unconsciousness, but not before I grit my teeth, took a deep breath, dragged myself closer, built the strength to push myself behind a full barrel, and then push it with all I could with the soles of my feet in the direction of the crazy noble.

'That's for fuckin' up my life three times the amount it was already fucked up!' I screamed throatily, and then slumped onto the floor…desperately praying the barrel had crashed into the anxiously anticipated place. Or person…