The Thief King

48 | Storm and a knife

"I still do not see the point of this," Logan said, his hands pressed under his armpits and his breath coming out in white puffy wisps before him. "Could we not have waited until morning?"

There was a derisive snort behind him from one of the guards. Only two accompanied his and Gemima's expedition, disguised, but nonetheless armed and prepared for attack. Their heads twisted like corks in a wine bottle—back and forth. Back and forth.

It had been an exceptionally long day. Just a few hours ago they had danced at the Moon Ball where couples were still likely spinning and toasting. Although frivolous and both acts Logan would usually avoid vehemently, he saw a certain appeal to both at this given moment, walking the streets of his city in the wee hours of the morning.

"I fear we would be too late if we were to wait until sunup." Gemima's voice was muffled in her fur coat, but the determined joy was not. She saw this whole fiasco as an adventure and not for the dangerous risk it truly was.

Leaving the palace in the dead of night, in the middle of a snow storm and so soon after a hanging was positively idiotic, not to mention suicidal. No, they had to turn back. Immediately, before they ventured too far into the Lower Sector.

"Gemima–"

"It's important for the people to see that you care for their well-being," Gemima continued. "And to know that power and grace come hand-in-hand."

"Yes, but–"

"And if we are to show them true grace, and do something of true importance for them then we need to know what their needs are. Besides for the obvious of course."

"Besides for the obvi...Gemima, I feel it my duty to remind you of the dangers we face outside of the palace walls."

"Your duty?" she looked at him over her shoulder, a strand of golden hair escaping from her hood. "Your duty is to your people, Your Highness."

"Yes, but as I have pointed out there is little to do for them in the dead of night, would you not say?" he raised a hand. "Before you begin your argument about time and the like, I remind you that very little is accomplished when one is dead."

"Was your only wish in accompanying me tonight to convince me to abandon my plan?"

"Frankly, I cannot reason why I accompanied you, Milady. If I were to think on my decision for an extended period of time, I'd conclude a moment of insanity commandeered my lips, yet I still think it the wisest choice of action."

"So you accompany me so as to avoid a sleepless night worrying if your honor escaped a storm and a knife?"

"My honor has nothing to do with it."

"Honour is what motivates men, Prince Logan, not all honor is found in a sword or in blood. Sometimes it is also found in the heart and in what is right, which is why tonight is so important. Your family's honor is at stake if nothing is done. If no action is witnessed then your people will think you cruel. Dishonourable. Unworthy to rule. How far do you wish their hatred to go before they rise up and show you?"

"Gemima the city is–"

"I was at the market today, Logan. I heard the talk. I heard their words. They are miserable."

"Winter darkens the hearts of all men."

She threw her hands up in the air and scoffed. "Perhaps visiting the priest would be good for you. It may yet be just as informative as a book."

Logan shook his head, shaking off a particularly violent shiver. "I'm not arguing the state of the citizens' morale. I know it is low. The taxes are high, the living conditions appalling and the crime frightening, but if one aims to solve all problems, one ends up solving none."