Blueprint

11: A Game of Chance

"Whatever Astrid told you, she's lying," Amari said hurriedly, his hands fidgeting.

"Looks like she did quite the opposite," Jharvelle replied as Synelis again rose from his hiding place, "She told me you were plotting against the kingdom and trying to sell your blueprints to a high elf. And, by the looks of it—"

"No, no. That's not true. See," Amari settled himself next to Synelis, who was eerily silent, "he did some bad things. That much is true. But he's not a Wallendian spy, and I'm not a Wallendian shill. I'm only hiding him because I know he'll be killed, and I don't think he deserves it."

Jharvelle arched an eyebrow, her face steadily softening before she let out a quiet sigh. "Shit, Amari. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because Astrid was listening," he replied, quite desperately, "You know how she is — know better than I do, at least."

Jharvelle looked contemplative, clasping her hands together. It almost wasn't fair how she could threaten them both; she had no weapon, no defense. She was just a woman in a dress. But neither would dare to hurt her, and Amari even regarded her as a friend. She had more power than the both of them.

"I... do," Jharvelle acquiesced, taking a deep breath. "But I also know she's trying to help you, Amari. Sure, she's brash sometimes, but if we told her what was really going on, I'm sure she'll understand."

Amari wasn't certain of that.

When Astrid entered his room, demanding he tell her where Synelis was, she had hurt him. That was the first time Astrid had ever laid a harsh hand on him. She'd slapped him, tossed him on the bed, hurt him. Amari wasn't sure he'd ever feel the same about her.

"No," Synelis began suddenly, an unexpected break in his silence, "no, you don't get to tell him that. I was there when that woman stormed in here and started interrogating him, hiding under this bed just like when you came in here. And you know what? Vuric didn't listen to reason then. Why would she listen now?" Synelis stood up and Jharvelle took an uneasy step back at the same time. "You know what? That woman couldn't care less about Amari. All she cares about is being right."

Amari blinked, startled by the readiness with which Synelis defended him.

"First of all," Jharvelle hissed, "you don't speak of Captain Vuric that way, elf," Amari didn't appreciate how she said the word as if it were an insult, "and second, are you suggesting that you care about Amari? That's rich."

"Considering he's the one person in the whole of Isle Verborne trying to keep me from the gallows right now, yeah. Yeah, I do care about Amari. I care quite a bit more than you lot seem to." Synelis folded his arms.

Jharvelle frowned, shaking her head. "Amari, come on. Look at this from my perspective. Of course I don't want this man to die if he didn't do anything wrong, but do you really think Astrid does? You don't know her like I do."

Amari shifted uncomfortably, looking down at the floor. "I don't know, Jharvelle. I—I don't know."

There were a few more moments of silence before Jharvelle sighed. "I won't tell Astrid."

"Thank you," Amari said quickly, "thank you, thank you. Thank you."

"I should be the one thanking her," Synelis mumbled. Jharvelle didn't seem to notice, but Amari did. Amari noticed lots of things.

As an inventor, it was Amari's duty to dwell on the details; to meticulously craft each working part, each little cog. He'd always been good at noticing the finer details. When it came to people, though, he was awkward; his love life had always been something of a turbulent ride, his attempts at jokes often fell on unamused ears. He always thought he was just doomed to misunderstand and doomed to be misunderstood. Now, though, as he watched Synelis—watched each little movement, each sigh, each twitch of the eye—he felt as though he finally understood someone. He could feel Synelis' fear through his cocky facades, he could hear every uncertainty in his brave voice. He understood Synelis, and he'd not known him for even a week. He didn't understand it.

"Well," Jharvelle began, "If I'm to trust you," she shot a less than pleasant glance towards Synelis, "I need the whole story. Tell me everything that happened. No secrets."

Amari took a heavy breath, settling himself down on the bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Synelis.

"It started weeks ago," Synelis began, "there were rumors about a set of blueprints that could build a flying machine. And I—stupidly—thought, that if I were to get my hands on them, I might become something of a famous thief."

"You got your wish," Jharvelle interjected, "the whole kingdom's looking for you."

"Yeah," Synelis sighed, "kind of a stupid wish, huh?" He shook his head, "but, anyway, I watched Amari for weeks in his laboratory. He had such a specific schedule that I was sure I was in the clear when I broke in. But, for the first time in all those weeks, Amari had stayed after hours, and he was sleeping on the blueprints."

Amari felt a slight pant of discomfort at the notion of Synelis watching him, but he supposed it only made sense for a thief to case the joint. "I remember," he said, "I woke up to you trying to take them."

"Exactly," Synelis agreed, "I didn't do a great job finessing the blueprints, so Amari here woke up. We had a bit of an altercation, I may have... erm, taken him hostage—"

"You dog!" Jharvelle yelled all of a sudden, "how dare you! Look at him! Amari, remind me why we don't want this guy dead?"

"He was scared," Amari said, standing up. "It was his only option, Jharvelle. Astrid would've killed him on the spot, were it not for the danger he put me in. I'm not angry about it."

"Oh, oh, I get it. It's one of those illusions. You got in his head—"

"I did not get in his head," Synelis hissed.

"Oh, sure! All Wallendian spies know those kinds of illusions. I know what you are. Don't even—"

"Enough!" Amari yelled, a break in his typical timid nature, "...Enough. The long story short is, Synelis made a series of stupid choices in the face of fear. He took me hostage, mislead the guards, and then he—well, he got very upset. He started telling me he didn't want to die, and—"

"Oh, Amari," Jharvelle clucked, and Amari was already sick of being interrupted, "you know as well as I that you're just soft. Listen to reason, Amari. This man broke into the royal palace, stole from the royal inventor, took said royal inventor hostage, and, by the looks of you bandages, wounded you, too. He deserves to be punished for that, Amari."

"Not with death. And your father would give him death."

Jharvelle frowned, but she didn't protest.

"Listen," Synelis said, folding his arms, "princess, do you feel me in your head right now? If I wanted to get my hooks in anyone's head, wouldn't it be yours? From what you just said, Amari would already be amicable enough to help me without magical coercion."

"That's... a fair point," she acquiesced, "but I don't trust you, high elf. Not a bit."

"I'm not saying you have to trust me. I'm just saying I'm not quite the bastard you think I am."

Jharvelle huffed.

"I will leave you, Amari. I'll do what I can to keep Astrid off your back until he makes his escape. But after," she narrowed her eyes, "I never want to see his slimy face in Isle Verborne again, understand?"

Synelis gave her a curt nod.

She turned and made her way out of the room, closing the door perhaps too harshly behind her.

"For what it's worth," Amari began, clearing his throat, "I don't think your face is slimy."