Crown On My Head

chapter 12

Port of Souls                                                     Lacey

Me and Doorlan sit in the cafe having brunch. a shared piece of cake with a hot drink in the cold breeze which swept the port the night before. ii started at the ground where the boy had once lived. his blood was still visible to those who had witnessed it. now cover with slug and mud, as if he had never existed. Did he have a family? did he...

"don't think about it," I turn to doorlan who's watching Bomb walk to the door of the manor. watching the plan unfold. I don't respond to it. I rubbed my face where the blood had been. I also start to. Watch as bomb walks into the building as elegant as a flowers but as tough as nail. She flows with elegance as the embodiment of perfect.

what if we get caught what would happen. The guards would take us to jail, i. Would end up in my room caged and my wings clipped so I couldn't fly away. A shiver craws up my spin as if a finger has scaled its way up.

bomb had diced that the best distraction would be to draw him to the back room and toy with his feelings. A smile crawls onto my face as I remember the night before when she came to my room. She practised her flirting skills, with ease how her tongue talks gracefully and smoothly. Whisper symphonies in my ears.

I pick up my fork i had left on the table and lifted the last of the slice of cake to my mouth. Doorman had planned this, wanting it to go to plan I watched as he. Expertly diced a plan. It was simple but easy to mess up. I think he's testing how quick I think on my feet. Bomb had warned me this is how he tested her the first time. He knows thing he shouldn't and he plays that to his strengths. His advantages. It makes my skin crawl. The man sitting next to me could know who I am. I'm not know exactly how far it is from the castle. They know of me. Not my face. Not me.

From what I had gathered from this place the few days I had been here. They don't care about royal affairs, they are consumed by the streets. The pleasure house along the streets, the casinos that irked in corners. The gangs that fought also set daily in the sun and under the sweeping darkness. people of all walks of life converge, their faces etched with the stories of the seas. Some tales untold and others boast their treasures. Weathered fishermen, with calloused hands and salt-stained clothes, share the streets with wide-eyed travellers, their gazes filled with wonder and anticipation not knowing what could happen in a matter of seconds. Merchants barter and haggle, their voices rising above the noise of the crowd, while artists capture the essence of the port in vibrant strokes of paint only capturing where the sunlight shines.

Bomb has ten minutes before the plan was sent into action. She had until the horn of the boats sailed away to their destination away from poverty. They got no help form the royal hand. Speaking of royalty i reached into my bag, pulling out a letter after spotting a postman.

Rising from my seat so i. Don't lose him in the crowd, I grasp his shoulders. He jumps back as the sudden intrusion of his space. I hand him the letter to Lysander. He runs away before I can tell him where and a simple thanks. I walk back up to Doorlan who raises his warm drink to his lips concealing a smirk. I sit in my seat.

I turn to Doorlan, whose role is simple observation.