KINGSLAYER

♕ 4 | 6 ♕

Act 3 Chapter 46
JAYLAH

The next day was spent putting as much distance between us and Westyard as possible. There were no open attacks nor sightings of Draven worshippers or Daggen's men, but I hardly slept a wink of sleep that night, feeling as though eyes were boring through the curtained windows. Alexander ruthlessly mocked me for keeping the bejeweled box underneath my pillow but I felt unsafe with it any more exposed. Not to mention the lingering fear I had that he would be the one to steal it from me. The words the seer told me had not left my thoughts since. There is a deceiver in your midst...

Since the entire day of travel was focused on covering as much ground as we could before the sun set, Alexander's thievery lessons were temporarily postponed for both the smaller cities we passed through. But as we went, I caught several situations in which a theft might be viable—a distracted mother chaperoning her three wild children, a merchant standing several yards from his stand on a break, smoking a cigarette.

To entertain himself, Alexander was rattling off more minor things to look for in a mark in fast Oceanic. The more his information sank in, the more I felt as if the way I viewed the world was shifting ever so slightly. I let my gaze hang on people longer, especially when they thought no one was watching. I made a point of looking for the nearly imperceptible tics in their expressions, their tells, even. It was troublesome to strain for such things while I knew Alexander was so accustomed to reading people like books. Which I found delightfully ironic, because he was still an awful reader.

But today was a new day. That meant it offered new challenges—a pattern I was unfortunately becoming very accustomed to.

The sun was still low in the brisk morning air when Alexander said, "I hope you remember all that advice I gave you the other day, because today is going to be your first real theft."

"Were the stolen ink pens not enough for you?" I cocked my head. "I suppose not, considering you would barely have any use for them anyway."

"Yeah? You think you're very funny now, but that humor will get you nowhere when you have to stick to the guidelines I give you today."

"Oh really? I seem to recall a certain someone saying charisma can get you places much easier than violence." I feigned deep thought. "Refresh my memory, who was it?"

"Laugh all you want now, but someone like you certainly can't be charismatic enough to get people to simply give you the things you want." He shrugged. "Let's face it: you're nothing but talk."

"I do not remember much talking when I bested you in my chambers." He gave me a wicked sidelong glance, purposely intensifying the double meaning of my words to paint me as the uncouth one. "Give me the mark," I continued, ignoring him completely, "and I will make a second attempt."

Alexander's humor dissipated as his voice dropped. "That man coming up. See how his right pocket hangs with a strange weight as he walks? Likely a coin purse, by the looks of it. Bring it to me."

Needing no more prompting, I altered my path ever so subtly to place myself near the target's until we were parallel enough to perhaps brush shoulders as we passed each other. Pretending to notice him as he neared, I offered an offhand smile. His mustache twitched upward as he returned it and I promptly looked down at the street before me, keeping his pocket in my peripheral vision. Women were generally regarded as weaker and daintier in Paragonia; the demure look I painted over my features would hopefully blend me in with the rest of the unimpressive female population to him. No one expected a fragile thing to be brimming with poison.

I kept my head down as his shiny black shoes came into my view. With my elbow stuck to my side, I let my fingers skim the inside of his coat pocket. A note of alarm went through me when the pocket was much deeper than I anticipated. The tips of my fingers skimmed the prize. The single note of alarm heightened to a symphony when I was too slow and my wrist caught on the lip of the pocket on the way out.

The man turned in horror. I whipped around, determined to protect my identity as much as possible, wrenching the thing from his pocket. It was a coin purse after all, I realized as if half in a daze. He was yelling for nearby help, but I was already running down the street, the coins jingling merrily in my hand.

I spun around a corner, well aware of the crisp-suited soldiers hot on my trail. Alexander was at my side once again. Rage set in as I saw the jaunty tip of his smile. Did he know I was not yet ready to take on such a heist? As we ran down a thinner side passage canopied by laundry drying over arcing strings, I debated kicking him down and letting the soldiers do what they wanted with him.

There was a stitch in my side, so I slowed ever so slightly. Huddled on a series of front steps was a group of older street urchins with hungry eyes. A few of them turned to watch us. There was a girl with plaited hair and brown skin. To the unassuming eye, she could have been me.

They spread ever so slightly to accommodate us. The shouting of the pursuing soldiers had not set in for them yet. As we went by, I slipped the coin purse into the pocket of the only boy with a jacket. All the others were dressed in thin, worn clothing.

Alexander seemed to know what I did, because he stopped once we passed behind a series of columns before a public building. We had no time to discuss what happened because just then, the soldiers reached the pitiful group of street urchins, speaking rapidly in their native tongue to the newly panicked children. Peeking out from behind the column, I watched as the soldiers forcefully searched them for the stolen purse. Behind me, Alexander simply listened.

When it came to the jacketed boy, of course the purse was revealed. Shouts of confusion went up amongst the urchins when the soldiers held it high in the air. The boy was handcuffed and arrested, as were a few others when they protested the unfairness of the situation. I kept my eyes on them, even when the stubborn fighters were shoved to the ground to be chained. Their hollow faces laid against the cobblestone, eyes squeezed shut.

The scene was over too quickly. Better them than us, I assured myself as the police left with their prisoners. At least the children would be fed in the days jail time they were punished with. And we were free to go.

Though he looked as if he might say something more barbed, all Alexander said when they were gone was, "Some selfless leader you are proving yourself to be."

My attention still trained on the spot they used to be, I replied, "Remember what occurred the last time we were arrested and tell me you would rather be in their place. You seem to have a better chance of being caught as an escaped slave than a mercenary."

"Oh," was all he said. Gods, how low he expected me to be.

I turned away, facing him. "I still am unsure what actions to take with you after we reach the City of Luck. And as much as I detest you, if I hand you over to the authorities, it will only be because you are the infamous Deathrender."

At that, Alexander's mood lightened a bit. "Well then," he said, taking a few causal steps back. "Let's forget this shit. I need a drink."