One Night

Chapter Twelve

Zayen

A woman steps out of the shadows behind the thief, barely visible in the darkness. She has a strange muzzle on her face which muffled her words. For some reason, I want to be in this cage, stepping in between the two of them.

This thief keeps getting herself into deeper trouble.

Anyone who is willing to make a deal in this place is never willing to trade fairly. They will always ask for too much.

"You. It's you." The thief steps closer, and I immediately want to reach through the bars and pull her back. How could she possibly know this muzzled woman?

"Who are you?" I deepen my voice, hoping to come off as intimidating. She can't clearly see my guard clothing, or the weapons at my side, so my tone will have to suffice. "How can you help, when you are in the same situation as her?"

The woman, frustrated, tries to pull the muzzle from her face but it does nothing. The only reason I can see any movement of hers is because part of our training is fighting in the dark.

I sigh. "Come to the bars. I will cut it for you."

Either this woman has a foolish amount of trust, or she does not care for her life, because she steps closer to me and allows me to lift a weapon to her face.

"Do you think this is a clever position to get yourself into with a stranger?" I ask, even as I lower my weapon.

The muzzle clatters against the floor. When she finally speaks, her voice is gentle and melodic. "You do not need to question my intelligence. I know what battles I can win. The fact that you are down here says that you value something that I have access to." She turns to look behind her.

Is she talking about the thief? "You think I value her? I'll hand you my blade and you can cut her throat, if you wish. Watch if I flinch."

The woman assesses me for a while. "Hmm. So what you said, about wanting to help her, it was a lie?"

"No, I will help her. That does not mean I like her, nor does it mean I will bargain with a stranger for a girl I do not know. So if you were to threaten her life, it would make little difference to me." That is the truth. I don't like liars. I don't like thieves. She is both.

The thief steps forward. Her voice sounds forced, unsure. "What's your name?" She puts a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Is your stomach alright? I saw—" Her breath shudders. "I don't know what I saw. Why would they . . . ?"

"My name is Akilah." The woman lifts a hand to her stomach, where the wound must be. "You ask why they would harm me. The answer is simple. Human beings are selfish, designed to always want more, especially the ones in power.

"Where are you from?" The thief asks. "What do they want that badly? They had a tray of weapons to hurt you. Have you been here—?"

It's moments like this that the thief shows she is no royal. She does not have a way with words. "How will you help?" I ask, instead.

I can't see the thief's expression clearly, but I'm sure she is glaring at me for interrupting her. It doesn't matter, because I don't have a lot of time down here. Another guard could come down here at any time.

Akilah, tortured and captured, still stands tall. "I am from Aleamiq. The real Aleamiq. The Hakeem wants something from my home—a stone that will grant him what he desires most. He could only offer me materialistic things, money or gold or pretty dresses. All things that mean nothing."

The thief scoffs under her breath. It must be hard to swallow those words, when she has grown up with very little. Money only means little to those who have an abundance of it.