The Lost Princess

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Stealing the Key

Amara ran her fingers through her hair. It was still damp. She had just bathed after working in the barracks all day. She wished she could look forward to a relaxing night. But after what had happened at the tavern with the soldiers, she knew she had waited long enough. The time for diplomacy was over.

She heard footsteps down the hallway. The door opened.

"I see you've recovered from last night."

Her body went rigid, and she looked over her shoulder. Faleon stood in the doorway, dressed in a dark cloak. Her well-trained eye could see the knives he had carefully hidden on his person.

"What do you want?" she asked tersely.

"We are going to have to do something."

She glared at him. "I know. Any ideas?"

Faleon smirked. "A few."

Amara rolled her eyes. "Give me five minutes."

Soon the two were slipping through the quickly darkening streets of Taiman to the lower rings of the city.

"So what's your scheme?" Amara asked.

Faleon turned abruptly down an alley, and she had to quicken her pace to catch up.

"We are going to enact a plan to enter the library," he said. Faleon glanced over his shoulder. His metallic eyes reflected the moonlight.

Amara felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. She knew that look. "You didn't tell the others?"

"Of course not. But they'll come to accept it when the time is right."

They turned a corner. Faleon's gaze settled on a bar that was filled to the brim with people. Loud laughing and music poured from the windows. They paused in front of the building.

"I hope you're right," she said.

Amara stepped through the swinging doors and was transported back in time—back to Gaearost. This bar was nothing like the one she had visited the night before. This was a dangerous place, not welcoming to strangers. She could feel the cold suspicious stares. Men stood everywhere in varying stages of drunkenness. They rolled dice or knucklebones on tables, betting away their life savings. Here in the lower rings, the people were no longer just half breeds; some were men. Wanderers. Castoffs looking for another place to stay. And these people always had secrets to sell and debts to pay. Faleon's prey.

He peeled off from her, but not before whispering, "End of the bar."

Amara placed herself where he instructed. Leaning against the bar, she ordered from the man behind the counter. A cup was placed before her, and she turned to study the room once more. Faleon was sitting with some Taimanian men. They were throwing dice on the table and betting. After a while Faleon's eyes met hers in signal. She tipped her glass, swallowing its contents, and pushed off the bar, heading for the table.

"Ah, Amara, meet my new friends." He gestured for her to sit next to him. "This is Kane and Varrick."

Amara nodded to both men.

"Wait," said the one named Varrick. "You've been teaching my little brother, Liam, at the barracks, haven't you?"

Amara noticed Faleon tense. He had not anticipated her being recognized.

"Yes, I have." As she looked at the man, she realized he did bear a striking resemblance to his brother. The same build and sandy hair.

He laughed, his green eyes gleaming with amusement. "I am afraid my brother is completely infatuated with you. He speaks as if you were some exotic creature never to be found again." The soldier leaned over the table. "I see now he is not exaggerating."