Martyred Soul

Chapter 12

The sight of the castle gates behind me fills me to the brim with satisfaction and a sense of freedom. The soreness in my calves and thighs have little affect over my eagerness to walk the three miles to town as fast as I can. I honestly do not even care that Simeon and Shae are tagging along. Whatever gets me out of the castle.

Reaching the fringes of town, one second we are the only three, the next one of thousands. Myriads of people bustle around us, sweep over us like a wave, and assault our ears. After the quiet, echoing halls of the castle, the city sounds like a hubbub for all things loud and—more often than not—obnoxious.

Why exactly do I love the city so much? I hate people, I should hate cities.

But maybe it's because of all the different smells and colors. Maybe it's because I can elbow myself through the crowd and nobody really cares. I can drop my pleasantry act and just get want to go. Everyone else does.

By the time we reach the market—in the town square—more than a couple of people take note of my royal accompaniment and his long-haired compadre.

Shae sighs quietly as the masses form a circle around us, all calling out to the Prince. I offer him my classic Burelle scowl, but all he gives me in return is a shrug. The people call.

"Fine," I tell him, backing up. "I'm just going to go check out the archery stand over there while you deal." I point my thumb behind my shoulder to the small shack halfway down the street, sporting hand-crafted bows and arrows.

"I'll come, too." Shae makes a move to follow, but Simeon grabs his arm.

"Oh no you won't." He gives me a level stare. "And we'll be watching from here, Burelle. Just a friendly warning."

I give him a fake "that's so sweat you care" look before saying, "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not going to bail." Then, I spin on my heel and rough my way through the growing crowd.

By the time I push myself to the outskirts of mobbing people, there's no way that Simeon can see me. There's just too many annoying people. But in this instance, they are my saviors.

I reach the stand with all of the bows and arrows. They're wicked beautiful. The craftsman should be proud. I run my fingers along the smooth wood of a green dyed bow. They curl around the top and trail down the string. I grab the bow and a single arrow. By the time the craftsman returns from greeting the lovely Simeon, they'll be returned.

I stalk off down the deserted street, then turn into a narrow alleyway. After a few paces, I drop the arrow. It clatters to the ground, shifting a few rocks.

Waiting, waiting.

Impatience waves through me as I through the bow down next to the arrow. The sound echoes down the alley...but nothing.

I sigh. Fine.

"Oh no," I gasp. "I dropped my bow and arrow!"

Slowly bending down, I hear what I've been waiting for.

Finally. A soft thud, muffled footsteps on gravel. Feet right behind me, shoulder width apart.

Grabbing the bow, I roll between his legs, jump up, and put the bow around his neck, the hard wood pressing against his wind pipe.

"Burelle," he squeaks. I snort in disgust, glaring at his dirty blond mop of hair. I release the bow and push him away from me. He stumbles over his feet before righting himself.

"What are you doing, Brett?" I hiss. I old out my hand and he returns the bow to me. I pick up the arrow and twist it around in my fingers.

"I saw you with the Prince." Accusatory. Brett doesn't know anything, the little pipsqueak of an assassin. He couldn't kill a fly. Well, maybe he could, if he ever succeed in catching one.

"Good for you, little boy." He balls his fists.

"When I tell Saraya that you're alive and with him, you're going to be dead."

My eyebrows raise. "I don't thinks so. Saraya needs me. If her next best assassin is you? Well," I laugh.

"Who would have thought that the great Burelle would end up in the claws of the Prince."

"Yeah, because the Prince really has claws. He fights like a declawed kitten." Yeah right. Simeon's as good as me. And I'm pretty dang good. "When you tell Saraya that I'm closer to the heart of the Kingdom, meaning closer to the heart of the King, she'll see where I'm going with this. Easier access to the thing I want most."

Brett cocks his head and puckers his lips. "So you're not with the Prince?"

I stare him straight in his sky blue eyes. "Of course. Not."

"Prove it."

An impatient sigh escapes my lips. I sigh too much. Patience is a virtue, but not one of mine. "Right now I have two decisions. One, I use this bow and arrow to kill you. Two, I let you go free and report back to Saraya. Now, if I were on the Prince's side, which do you think I'd choose?"

"Burelle! Bloody blades, Shae, she ran away!"

Brett stiffens and curls his lip at the voice of Simeon. "If you were on the Prince's side, you'd kill me right now."

"Then go." He hesitates. "Before the Prince gets here!"

I shake my head as he scurries off.

"Burelle? Burelle! What are you doing?" Twirling around, I face Simeon.

"I wanted to try this out," I hold up the weapon, "because somebody stole my old one." I give him a condescending look. My old bow must be in the castle somewhere. "You didn't think I ran away, did you? I gave you my word that I wouldn't."

Simeon opens his mouth and closes it again. "No. I just...I just didn't know where you were."

"You have got to see how this baby shoots." I string the bow, feeling the weight of it. I raise it up to eye level and aim. The string pulls back to my jaw, taut. As I let is snap forward, it shoots the arrow just how I imagined. It soars down the alley and embeds into the wood of a wagon about a hundred yards away.

Nodding my head, I lower the bow. "Beautiful, isn't she?"

Simeon takes the bow from my hand and scowls at me. Hah, my scowl is more menacing. "Burelle, you just shot an arrow into somebody's wagon!" So what?

"No one was on it."

"But now I have to pay for the repair, the bow, and the arrow. And I might as well get you a whole quiver of arrows."

What can I say? I always win.