Temple Palace

Chapter 3: Tracer

At first he didn't understand where the noise was coming from. He could definitely hear someone in his room the minute he opened the door, a slow steady breathing. He scanned the dark corners, anywhere an intruder would hide; under the bed, under his desk, behind the doors, inside his wardrobe. Empty.

His gaze returned to the one place he didn't think to check. In plain sight.

She was lying in the middle of his bed, curled on one side. She had buried herslef in the thick blankets, almost hidden from sight. Her hood was finally back from her face, a few wavy white hairs fallen over her face. She had pale skin and rosy cheeks. Black eyelashes curved under thin dark brows.

Her natural hair colour must not be that light.

He hadn't meant to stay out that late. After Tek had left him in the Tavern he had had a few more drinks, it was expected of him. He got in a few fights, nothing too shocking.

He staggered up to the gate when dawn was creeping to find the base in a full caution drill, only it wasn't a drill. All the sentries were on full alert. The only thing that could make them this enthusiastic, was a raise.

And that was what it was. Any man that caught his Uncle's killer was promised a purse full of gold. A large fortune, enough to retire from military work and raise a family.

Not that it would help find the intruder, whoever did it was long gone. Paid killers rarely returned to the scene of the crime.

But here she was, sleeping in his bed.

It reminded him of an old story that his mother had told him when he was younger. It was about a girl with golden hair who broke into a families home and ate all their food, broke their furniture, and then jumped out of hiding in their beds and killed them. It was just a story, meant to scare kids, but you could never be too careful.

He pulled his dagger from its sheath with a quiet snick. The small sound must had warned her, two lines appeared between her brows a second before he pressed his blade to her neck.

Her eyes flashed open. 

They were nice eyes, icy, like her skin. Maybe icy was the wrong word. It was more like she had been in the sun for a very long time and her skin and hair had become bleached by it. And then her eyes had just... absorbed all the colour.

Her frowned down at her. "Did you kill my Uncle?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me." He pressed his blade a bit harder, so a thin red line appeared at its edge. She hissed in her breath at the pain.

"I don't lie," she stated. She had said the same thing before, but he had little belief in the statement. 

"If you didn't, who killed him?" She just stared at him, not leaving his gaze. "Who killed him?'

"Please, you're hurting me," she whispered. The line on blood had dribbled down onto his pillow. He relaxed his grip on the knife.

In a flash she rolled off the other side of the bed and stood there, holding her cut.

She was fast, he would give her that, but she was stupid. Stupid or ill-prepared. She had gotten away from him, but she hadn't pulled any weapons out, making him think that she hadn't bothered to arm herself before breaking in. Careless, very careless.

"The minute I yell, ten soldiers will come running." Her eyes flicked to the door, and then back to him. She was assessing the distance. "Don't try to run, they'll just catch you." She stood up straight and relaxed from her defensive stance.

"I'm not running."

"Who killed my uncle?"

"You don't want to know." She challenged him with those words. Obviously the answer was meant to shock him, but she wanted him to ask. She wanted to tell him, but she wanted to make it clear that he was the once forcing her to say it. 

"Yes, I do," he said slowly, inching closer to the door to block her getaway.

She swallowed and backed up until she hit the wall, her hand still on her throat.

"Tell me. Please." He didn't know why he'd let that please out, she was his prisoner and had to tell him. He didn't need to be nice to her. But, she had never hurt him. He swore internally. Who was this girl?

"It was the Chief Commander." 

All thoughts of trusting her left his head. 

"My father? That's it, I'm calling for the guards." Only he didn't, he stared down the small girl her had found sleeping in his bed. She had let him over take her, twice. In the alleyway she hadn't put up a fight either. Could she be telling the truth?

No, his father wouldn't kill his uncle. 

But she wasn't trying to run, and she hadn't run after he caught her last night. Was is some sort of trick to win his trust?

"I saw it," she whispered. They way she said it was like a little girl who witnessed the death of a parent, or a horrified child who had never seen anyone die before. She slid down the wall until she was crouching on the ground. 

"I don't believe you."

"Yes you do." She didn't look up from her lap when she said it. "If you didn't, you would have killed me already." 

Damn it, she was right. But why hadn't he killed her? She had broken into his home, killed a good friend, and then accused his father. Maybe it was because of the way she looked, curled up in that corner like a wounded animal. Or maybe because you think she could be right, said a darker part of his mind.

"I don't trust you," he stated, putting his blade away in a disagreement of his words.

"That's okay," she said meeting his gaze and getting up slowly off the ground. "I trust you."

"Why?" The way she said it, like she would always trust him no matter what, without a word of reassurance. "You don't even know me."

"Yes I do. I've always known you."