The Truth-Teller Of Estrella

Chapter 6. The Empress' Nephew

Kicking off her shoes and with her dagger pressed into her hand, Aleta ran past the last bushel of roses and into the clearing at the neck of the bridge. She did not stir as her skirt caught on the thorns of a fairy rose, causing a slight rip in the iridescent fabric.

"Aleta!" Orius screamed, running behind her. He was close, but as Aleta peered behind she noticed his sword still in its scabbard.

She had reached the bridge center, the water rushing wild and feral under her, when she noticed there were no guards at the end.

Unusual. She thought to herself, weary as she slowed down. She was expecting a struggle, to be forced into a brawl with the palace guards.

But there was someone there, a lonesome figure at the end of the bridge. Aleta focused on their slow movement.

"Letty — stop, come inside!" Orius belted, his voice drenched with concern as he caught up to Aleta a few steps away.

But her eyes remained fixated on the figure ahead. She would rather take her chances with the person on the bridge. Besides, it was a more fortunate fate than the images she had conjured of her struggling and outnumbered at the gate.

If Orius hadn't drawn his sword already, he would not. And the figure... maybe... maybe I can take them. She thought to herself as she ran.

Aleta ruffled the hem of her dress, slipping her weapon into its holder. Then, swift like the river under her, she dashed toward her childhood friend, her hands pulling his sword out of its holder. This was it, years of practice with Orius as a child, and then with her father out in the barn, proving practical and handy at last. She disappeared into the darkness ahead. She was running towards the figure.

As Aleta approached, her breath heavy and her eyes wild with determination, she could see it was a man, draped under the hood of a tattered and heavy weaved cloak. By the time Aleta reached him, her hands moving for a sharp swing, he had unsheathed a broadsword, formerly slung across his back.

Her first thrust was blocked, the metal vibrating with impact. She pushed forward but the man evaded once more. This was not a careless palace guard. This was not a kind, shocked friend from her childhood.

With each clash, Aleta could feel her breath shorten, hindered by the ribbons and fabric Padma had used to imprison her body beneath her clothing. Was this why the Empress requested her to wear this? To not only doll her up for her visitors and guests — but as a way to control her, to keep her ladylike and restrained.

"Careful." Orius called out from behind. "We used to train together and if she's anything like she was then..."

She was cornered, driven back against the stone walls of the bridge. And Orius — he was warning the man in the cloak.

"She's as good as me." Orius finished, still standing feet away.

"Let me go!" Aleta screamed, her voice drenched in desperation.

The man did not back down, nor did he respond.

She charged him once more, attempting to break free, and to keep moving forward. But with a pivot he disarmed her, and Orius' sword hurled away, landing at its owner's feet.

"Stop, it's her!" Orius called out to the man.

Aleta froze, her eyes focused on the man's hands as he fastened his weapon away. Was he letting her go?

But the mysterious man had no plans of letting Aleta run out of the Glass Palace, not like this. He stepped forward, his arms closing in to grab her — but she had one more trick up her sleeve.