A/n: I was going to make this chapter longer, but then I thought I'd cut it off here since I haven't updated in a while and I shouldn't keep you all waiting. ^.^ Okay, I know I've said this before…but seriously…in the next chapter Rory and Tristan will meet. =D yay!

Chapter Eleven Uncovering Hidden lies

Tristan's head was spinning, and his heart was pounding in his chest. He felt cold sweat break out all over his body, and he exhaled slowly, trying to squash down the feeling of impending dread that was growing slowly in the pit of his stomach.

Someone was trying to kill him.

The thought echoed in his head over and over again, but he met it with only numb disbelief. Looking down at his hand, which was resting lightly on his bedcovers, he lifted it slightly and saw that it was shaking…trembling even.

Trembling with fear.

Frustrated at himself, he tried to suppress his emotions; tried to ignore the rush of adrenaline and the way his heart was thudding in his throat. To distract himself, he ran his hand through his blonde hair, messing it up properly. Angry thoughts ran through his head. He didn't need this, on top of everything else!

Reaching across his bed roughly, he furiously grabbed is tough, lumpy pillow, ready to throw it across the room for good measure – but froze in his tracks, his eyes fixed on the spot where his pillow had been.

"Shit!"

The pillow dropped to the ground with a dull thud. Tristan started slightly, but didn't look away, his eyes locked on the far side of his bed. In the exact centre of the spot where his pillow had been, was a dagger, slim but sharp. It glinted maliciously in the faint light of Tristan's bedroom. The dagger's hilt was imbedded inside his hard mattress, so that only the blade immerged. The blade was pointing directly upwards. Numbly, Tristan bent down and picked up his pillow, turning it over. Sure enough, on the other side of the pillow, were puncture marks where the blade had cut through the thick material. Closing his eyes, Tristan tried not to imagine what would've happened if he had lay his head on his pillow that night. It would've been instant annihilation.

Opening his eyes again quickly, he scanned his room for any more potential dangers. Even though he found none visible to the eye, he was still not satisfied. Someone was trying to steal away his life! Could he ever feel safe again? Probably not.

"Okay, calm down Tristan," he told himself quietly. "What would be the most logical thing to do?"

Tell someone.

Tristan didn't need anymore prompting. With his worries still fresh in his mind, he opened the door and started nervously towards his mother's sitting room – but not before adjusting the sheath of his sword, so that the hilt would be ready to pull out if …something unexpected were to happen.

Tristan's footsteps were sharp and brisk, and echoed in the empty corridor he was walking through. His eyes shot left and right, on more than one occasion he considered unsheathing his sword. But somehow he managed to keep his instincts in control until he reached his mother's sitting room. The door was slightly open, and two people were conversing inside - his mother … and Marcus.

Normally Tristan would have strode right in the room angrily commanding Marcus to leave ignoring the exclamations from his mother. But today was not a normal day. Tristan had a strange hunch that what was being said would be of great importance to him. So quietly, Tristan bobbed down on the other side of the door, and pressed his ear lightly against the cold wood.

"Marcus, I do believe you're going a little too far," his mother was saying. "Hiring someone to murder him is a little to the extreme!"

Tristan froze, and a new wave of dread swept over him. Could he trust no one?

"Marietta," Marcus said patiently in a controlled tone. It took Tristan a moment to realise who Marcus was talking to – he had called Tristan's mother by her first name. "I didn't hire someone to murder him. I hired someone to attempt to murder him. There's a difference."

"And if that someone succeeds?" Tristan's mother asked sharply.

"I wouldn't know. The crown would go back to you, probably," said Marcus in his confident, yet slightly calculating tone. Tristan wondered how his mother could be so composed when discussing her son's death.

"Well, I don't see the point in it all," his mother retorted. Tristan had to wonder whether Marcus had bought her over to his side yet or not.

"The whole point, Marietta, is that we can't rely on Tristan to do everything I ask anymore. I told you about what happened that day when the thieves came to steal the crown jewels. The bloody kid defended them! Furthermore, he tried to fight me!" Marcus' voice now had a mad quality in it that Tristan had never heard before. There was a long silence, and Tristan waited for what his mother was going to say. He knew that her comment would be the deciding factor in how the conversation would play out.

"What do you want from me?" His mother finally said shortly, and her voice wavered slightly. Tristan froze, and listened for Marcus' reply.

"Your cooperation and discretion," Marcus replied smoothly. "If and when your son is killed."

Tristan didn't wait for his mother's reply. He got up and ran down the corridor blindly, not having the faintest idea where he was going. Behind him, he heard his mother shout out, "Tristan! It's not what it sounds!" Tristan shot his mother a glance of pure disgust and kept running. He didn't know where he planned on heading, all he knew was that he had to get out of the castle, and quick. Down the stairs, left, right, left, straight ahead, he turned smoothly as he ran, not needing to slow down as he came across corners. He knew this castle like the back of his hand. Left, forward, down two more flights of stairs, left, left again and then out the back door of the kitchen hand's dormitory. A few more paces away from the door and he stopped, and viewed what was around him.

Miles and miles of green pastures riddled with small white flowers lay ahead of him. It would take half a day just to cross it on foot. But Tristan didn't have a choice. He took off, as fast as he could, running across the fields but making sure to hug the natural line of trees that spread from the castle to the mountains beyond.

He had barely run a mile before he caught side of a wooden carriage moving away from the castle, on the other side of the line of trees. It was being drawn by two black horses, and seemed to be empty. Tristan dared to be hopeful – maybe he could get a ride from whoever was driving the carriage. Tentatively he walked through the trees and stepped out into the open, motioning that the driver come over to him.

Tristan saw the carriage's pace quicken towards him, and felt relieved that in a few minutes he'd be sitting on the back of a carriage, travelling far away from the castle, from Marcus, and from his mother.

But as the carriage approached Tristan, it did not slow down. At first Tristan thought that perhaps the driver didn't see him, or didn't want to give him a ride, but then it dawned on Tristan that the carriage was coming straight towards him. It was trying to run him over!

"Damn! Damn you Marcus…" Tristan muttered, and took off through the trees back to the castle. He didn't seem to have any other choice if he wanted to stay alive. Sprinting across the ankle-deep grass, he heard the horses and carriage immerge from the trees behind him. The castle got closer and closer, slowly getting larger. He could almost the door to the back entrance. Hearing the sound of a horse rearing directly behind him, he turned and with horror saw that the carriage was right behind him. Without time to realise the immorality of what he was doing, he unsheathed his sword and pointed it upwards. A horse reared again and Tristan was ready. He moved quickly and with a flash of sword and a flash of blood the horse lay dead on the ground. The carriage, unbalanced by the dead horses' weight, tipped over. Tristan quickly wiped his sword on the grass, sheathed it and ran the rest of the way to the back entrance to the castle.

Opening the door, he was glad to find only a few servants were in the second kitchen. They stared at him, surprised, but said nothing. He was the King, after all. Making his way back up to his bedroom, he unsheathed his sword, ready for anything. Strangely enough he was unhindered and got to his room without any trouble at all. This made him even more suspicious. Opening his bedroom door slow enough to be cautious but fast enough for it not to creak, he saw that someone was inside. Not wasting anymore time, he jumped into the room and pointed his blade to the figure's throat. It was the Duke.

+ ^ + ^ + ^ + ^ +

Jess sat down on the dusty floor of Luke's hut, and obligingly drank the wooden bowl of warm soup that was given to him. It tasted good, so he sipped it slowly, wanting to make it last as long as possible. He had learnt, in the thieving world, that nothing good ever lasted long, so it was best to make the most of it while you could.

The door of Luke's hut creaked open. Jess looked up to see who it was, his instincts softened by the tasty soup. It was Rory. Her face was pale and tearstained, and her blue eyes were rimmed with red. There were smudges of dirt on her face and on her palms, and she was shaking.

"Rory, what's wrong? What happened?" Jess jumped to his feet, his bowl of soup forgotten, spilt on the ground. He put one hand around her shoulder as if to pull her into a protective hug but she flinched at his touch and moved away.

"Don't touch me," she said, her voice shaking. "Just leave me alone,"

Jess just stared at Rory, unsure of what to do. He had never seen her like this before, and it scared him. "Rory, what happened?" he asked again.

The air hung thick between the two, the atmosphere tense. Rory and Jess stared into each other's eyes, Jess' eyes confused and questioning and Rory's eyes hurt and angry. Jess couldn't take the fierceness in her stare – he looked away first.

"Why should I tell you?"

Mitch sensed that this was serious. He got to his feet, and Richard followed his lead. "Rory," Mitch said, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Why are you so angry at Jess?"

Jess was openly confused, and approached Rory carefully. "I don't understand," he said quietly. "Was it something I did?"

"You lied to me!" Rory yelled out, and shoved Jess away from her. "You knew about what happened to my mother and you didn't tell me!" Then with the strength and agility that she had attained from thieving, she moved forward and slapped Jess's face – hard. Jess stood frozen for a moment, and then moved a hand up to touch his cheek softly. It stung, but not as much as his heart. He understood why Rory was angry, and what was more, he knew she had perfect right to be.

"Rory – "

"I don't want to hear it, Jess. You had your chance and you didn't tell me. You lied. How can I ever trust you again? I hate you." Rory choked on the last three words, and then collapsed into Mitch's strong arms, crying. Jess felt like crying himself. His best friend in the whole world hated him. His most loyal companion. The…the girl he loved.

"Rory, listen – " Jess said, his eyes despairing. His heart felt heavy in his chest and his hands were cold with sweat and tears. His own tears.

"What is going on out here?" Luke said, coming out of his bedroom. "You got two wounded men in there, and yet you find that no reason to…" Luke stopped dead when he saw the scene in front of him. Rory moved away from Mitch and turned to face Luke. Suddenly she was overcome by a huge wave of exhaustion.

"Did you kill my father?"

All eyes were fixed on Luke.

"Well, you see it was – "

"Did you frame my mother?"

The silence was almost unbearable. Then…

"…Yes."

Jess looked at Luke sharply, and Luke gave Jess a look in return. He nodded once, slowly, his eyes fixed on Jess, and Jess seemed to understand. Rory, however, took no notice of this exchange.

"Let's go," she said, her voice wavering, and turned to leave, her brown hair falling about her shoulders and shadowing her face.

"What?" Jess exclaimed, and moved forward, grabbing Rory's wrist thoughtlessly. Since when was she making the orders, anyway?

"I don't want to stay here anymore." Rory said firmly, and pulled her hand away from his. "Don't touch me."

"We can't leave!" Jess said incredulously, speaking loudly to cover his hurt at Rory's last statement. "What about Charles and Jon?"

"I don't care!" Rory said, knowing that it wasn't true. "I just can't stay here."

"We can't leave!" Jess shouted.

"Then I'm leaving." Rory yelled back. There was sudden silence, where the two just stared at each other. Neither of them ever saw this moment coming.

"What…?" Jess said softly.

"I quit, I don't want to be a thief anymore. I'm leaving."

"You can't leave," Jess whispered. He stared at Rory in disbelief. "We're your family." He moved to take her hand, but Rory recoiled, and Jess looked away.

Mitch turned Rory around to face him, his broad hands on both her shoulders. "Don't go," he said.

"Yeah Rory," Richard chimed in. "We cant do this without you. We need you." Rory looked at Richard, and Jess saw doubt in her blue eyes.

"We all need you." He said. Rory's gaze then turned to Jess, but now her expression unreadable.

"I wish I could trust you…but all your words are lies anyway," she said bitterly.

"Don't go." Jess pleaded.

"I can't stay."

"How about if we go with you?" Mitch said, and Jess looked at him sharply. Could this lead to rebellion? Jess was tired of people going against him. Did they all dislike him? No…it was just Rory who hated him, he reminded himself moodily.

"I said no."

Richard spoke up. "Jess is our leader. Simple. We have to do what he says." He gave an apologetic look to Rory. "There's nothing else we can do."

"I wont let Rory leave alone." Mitch said firmly. Jess felt a pang of jealousy. Since when did Mitch care so much about her?

"But Richard is right. There's nothing you can do. I'm your leader." Jess hated pulling rank, but the situation was starting to get out of control, and that was always bad, especially amongst cut-throat thieves.

"Unless I challenge you." Rory said coldly.

"What?!" Jess said, genuinely surprised and caught off-guard.

"I challenge you." Rory repeated slowly. "For your title. We will duel."

Jess stared at Rory in shock as she stated the deadly words of combat challenge. He exhaled slowly, and had no choice but to accept, or die on the spot.

"We will duel."