The Thief and Prince

Chapter 9: Bellamy's Bed and Breakfast

At daybreak, we pack our things at sunrise and spend a good portion of the morning cantering towards the disreputable town of Farnmoss. The open plains eventually lead us into a densely wooded area where Crispin has promised that the town lays just on the other side. Our pace slows as we are forced to dismount and lead out horses through the forest. Beside me is Crispin—whose dark eyebrows are furrowed together in thought—and I look over my shoulder to see Amiri and Laria bickering about something a few paces behind us—not surprise there.

Turning back towards Crispin, I realize that if I wish to know more about his sister, now would be the time to ask. Trying to think of how to bring it up, I study his gait, noting that each step is placed assuredly onto the pine covered ground. He wears a pair of tight fitting trousers and an equally dark shirt that compliments his hair, which now threatens to reach past his ears. Over the past month, we haven't really gotten a chance to keep up with any personal grooming save for the boys shaving their beards every now and then with a straight razor Amiri

He holds the reigns of his horse in his left hand while his right rests on the hilt of his sword that is attached at his waist. Suddenly, he glances over at me and looks caught off-guard, tilting his head slightly as if asking what I was looking at.

Raising my left shoulder, I chew on the inside of my cheek. "I was wondering what your sister is like? Considering-" I start, but he quickly cuts me off with a glare.

"Considering that you are risking your life for hers?" he asks coldly.

Instinctively, I want to lash out with my own icy remark but bite my tongue. His sister is in the hands of vagrants having who knows what done to her and our forthcoming arrival at Farnmoss has undoubtedly brought those thoughts to the front of his mind so I can't really blame him.

"I was going to say considering she will be traveling with us on our way back to Paevia, I'd like to know a little bit about her," I explain.

Crispin nods and purses his full lips, his face reddening ever so slightly from embarrassment. He loosens the grip from his hilt before rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Right, sorry," he begins, "Her name is Rose and is the youngest of the four siblings. Father loves her but..." he trails, searching for the right words, "Well he just doesn't have a bond with her like he does for me and my other brothers. I'm assuming that's why he sent me to retrieve her—and you I suppose."

My head bobs slowly, taking in his words. It's apparent that the respected royals have a few skeletons in their closets like the rest of us. "But why? And why call on us? I mean he says he was unable to have his troops retreat, but if I were king I'd call on my allies at the very least," I ask. I have no business meddling around in royal matters or their strategies—I was just curious I suppose.

I notice then that the dense forest is thinning out and if we wanted, we could even mount our horses, but for some reason I enjoy strolling along side of the prince, perhaps finally being able to pick through his head even if it's just the surface.

"Well, he specially choose you three because you are both skilled and expendable. Rather than paying armies whose men would only end up getting a small cut along with wasting precious time that can be spent on a battlefield, he'd rather split a large portion of coin on the three of you which would end up saving him money in the long run. He's also not one to throw away lives needlessly, he would much rather risk four lives verses two hundred," he explains.

Even his own son? What kind of father would throw his son's life away so easily? I'm not a parent of course, and might not be one for a long time if I ever even decided to have children, but I can't imagine my children being so expendable. Sure, from the outside on paper it looks better—four lives versus two hundred—but still, offering your namesake?