Shadow Betrayal: An Assassin's Story

8 - STABLES, HORSES AND SHENANIGANS - 8

'The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.' - Sylvia Plath

I got bored so I wrote another chapter. I'm also pretty sure that an onion forces you to cry over it's dead body.

Enjoy!

*****************
Kaemon's POV:

 "This is heaven!" I exclaim, stuffing another bite of the creamy deliciousness into my mouth. It's so good, I swear angels are singing in the background. But just as I'm about to savor the moment, I choke.

Tears stream down my face, and I'm coughing like a foghorn. I brace myself for Raven's usual sarcastic comment about my idiocy, but it doesn't come.

"Raven?" I glance around the bakery, hoping she's hiding somewhere, maybe behind a stack of pastries or the counter. But she's nowhere to be seen.

Where is she? Did she leave me here to die alone in a bakery? I'm an absolute fool! How did I not notice she wasn't with me?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I mutter to myself, as if scolding my own reflection in a mirror. "Stupid Kaemon, always stuffing your face and never paying attention."

I try to regain my composure, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand and hoping no one's staring at me like I'm a drama queen. As I stumble toward the door, still half-choking on pastry crumbs, I mentally prepare for the inevitable lecture from Raven about my complete lack of situational awareness.

As I burst out of the bakery and back into the bustling street, my heart pounds not just from the lingering effects of the pastry but from the sudden realization that I've lost Raven. My gaze sweeps the crowd, searching for any sign of my beautiful companion.

"Raven!" I call out, my voice cutting through the hum of the city. Heads turn and curious glances follow me, but I ignore them. My focus is solely on finding her.

I weave through the throngs of people, my urgency making me push past street vendors and curious onlookers. My heart skips a beat every time I catch sight of someone with a similar silhouette, only to be disappointed.

I can't help but think how her presence always adds a spark to even the most mundane moments. The way she moves through a crowd with that effortless grace—it's something I never knew I could miss so much until now.

"Raven!" I yell again, the name echoing in the street as if it might somehow summon her from the chaos. But the crowd is relentless, and she remains elusive.

My frustration grows, mingled with a worry that feels oddly personal. It's not just about losing a friend—it's about losing someone who makes everything seem just a little bit brighter.

"Raven!" I shout again, my voice growing hoarse with frustration, but there's no response. Panic begins to claw at my chest. Where could she have gone?

Then, my eyes catch the imposing silhouette of the castle in the distance. Of course—she must be heading toward the castle. I should have known. With a surge of renewed urgency, I dash toward the grand structure, weaving through the crowd with a newfound determination.

**********
"Get out of here, you brat!" I'm thrust roughly onto the sidewalk, landing with a jarring thud that knocks the wind right out of me. How rude!

"Please, my friend is inside!" I gasp, struggling to catch my breath and push myself up.

"We don't care. Now get lost, you pale freak!" The guard's insult hits hard. I know I'm pale, but calling me a freak is crossing the line. I shoot him a glare, but he returns it with equal hostility. Frustration bubbles up inside me, and I force myself to turn away, stomping off in anger.

I turn a corner to escape their line of sight and lean heavily against the nearest wall, my heart pounding with a mix of anger and worry. What now? I have to find a way in, to get to Raven. I can't afford to just give up.

As the anger swells within me, I grab my left wrist, squeezing it tightly. The pain is immediate and sharp, and I let it wash over me, grounding me in the present moment. My scars burn with the pressure, and I use the sensation to focus my thoughts. I need to stay calm, stay sharp. Raven needs me to find a way inside. There has to be another way.

**********

I found a way in! Just an hour earlier, while searching for an entrance to the castle, I stumbled upon the stables. As luck would have it, they were in need of a new stable boy. So guess who's now proudly sporting the title of stable boy? It's a pathetic title, sure, but finding Raven is way more important at the moment.

The stable master, a burly guy with a face that looked like it had been chiseled from stone, was showing me the ropes. And if I'm being honest, I was barely listening. My mind was too preoccupied with finding Raven. Maybe once I locate her, I can convince her to ditch this mission and run away with me. Screw what that old bastard in Darkshire thinks—if he can't find us, he can't do anything about it.

"So, kid," the stable master growled, his voice like sandpaper. "You're here to work, not to slack off. These horses don't take kindly to laziness."

"Got it. I'll make sure to give each horse a pep talk and maybe a motivational speech," I said, grinning. "You know, 'You're the best horse in the world, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.'"

The stable master raised an eyebrow. "This isn't a motivational seminar. These are horses. They need proper care. Mucking out the stalls is crucial."

"Mucking out the stalls, huh? I thought that was just a fancy term for 'getting to know the horses on a deeper level,'" I quipped.

The stable master wasn't amused. "You muck out the stalls to get rid of waste, not to make friends. And remember, if I see one piece of straw out of place, you'll be mucking out the stalls all week."

"I'll make sure every piece of straw is in its rightful place," I said with a mock salute. "Maybe I'll even write a letter of apology to the straw for any distress it may experience."

"Just don't make me regret hiring you," he snapped. "Now, get to work. Start by cleaning out the stalls."

"On it," I said, already picturing myself as the 'Stable Boy of the Year'—an award I'm sure I'll never actually receive. "Do I get to name the horses, too? I was thinking 'Mr. Whiskers' for the one with the most impressive mane."

"Name them whatever you want," the stable master said, his patience wearing thin. "Just don't waste time. The horses don't care if you give them a name. They care about being fed and cleaned."

"Understood," I said, trying not to laugh. "No grand naming ceremonies, just good old-fashioned horse care. Got it."

As he walked away, grumbling under his breath, I glanced around at the stalls and horses, trying to keep my focus on the task at hand. But truth be told, I couldn't help but chuckle. Here I was, pretending to be a stable boy, all in the name of finding Raven. And once I did, I'd be ready to ditch this ridiculous role and make my escape.

For now, I was stuck with the title of stable boy, but at least I could entertain myself with thoughts of turning the stables into a sitcom. And who knows? Maybe I'd get to enjoy one more bit of fun before I found Raven and made my grand escape.

************
A bit of shorter chapter but it was just an insight to what's going on inside our resident idiot's head. 
Hope you liked it.

Word Count: 1245