Princess Turned Barter

Chapter Three

Kyra

"All these knights have their guard down, I doubt they'd be sober enough to react to a punch much less a dagger in their side," I mumble to Darius, leaning in closely so he is able to hear me over the incessant chatter of drunken men. The table creaks under my weight, but no one notices us tucked away in the corner of the tavern's spacious room.

Our story began in this room, many years ago, and it looks much the same. Perhaps a few new tankards, although they are still mostly rotting and crusted from years of drinking. It is fitting that our story shall end here. Or perhaps it is the beginning of a new one, depending on how dark the tale turns out to be.

Darius slowly turns his head to face me, his lips curling back in disgust. "Must you always be so morbid?" He scowls and shifts in his seat, turning his body away from me.

I chuckle at Darius and his uncomfortability. It is a scary thing to think of death with such ease, but after so many years of being an assassin you tend to grow a thick skin and become accustomed to the kind of atrocities your intrusive thoughts thread into your head. I remember a time where, after a kill, I wasn't able to eat for days without being sick - or have the ability to sleep through the night because my thoughts were plagued by the face of the life I had taken. Now however, killing seems to be just as easy as riding my horse or drinking this cheap ale. I am able to speak and think of it as if it were a common tale told to me since I was a child. Mayhap that is the scariest thing about sharks, their ease through which they swim in the same ocean as shimmering clownfish.

The tavern has begun to quieten down, compared to the uproar we had stepped into earlier. There was one man who had gotten up onto a table and I had just about wanted to forget my plan and leave. Men now slur their words and stumble from their seats as the night comes to a close. Darius and I had sat here watching a specific table for the night, waiting patiently.

"Juliana is asking about you," Darius croaks, breaking me away from my watch.

I shuffle in my seat and turn my attention towards him. His eyes turn to small slits in his face, the blue barely escaping.

Darius clears his throat," What should I tell her?" He asks carefully.

"That I've been busy." I rasp, my voice suddenly very husky.

"Oh yes, very busy going rogue!" He chortles, but there is an edge to his voice that only those finely tuned would be able to hear.

We turn still. The quietened tavern seems to turn to listen to us, eyes forming on the backs of their nosy heads. My skin has begun to burn. There is an inescapable fire down deep inside of me, threatening to come out.

Darius whispers, as if he has noticed the attention too, "When will you return? You cannot avoid home forever."

The question lingers around me, broken and untouched from the months since he'd last asked. Return to the flowering hills, return to the beautiful setting sun over my farm's horizon. I could return to the smell of the neighbours roaring stove or the sound of trotting hooves outside. Or, I could return to the broken walls, the crumbling barns, the hungry faces  and the devastating groans that were once laughs.

Months have passed since I have last seen those desecrated buildings, those dirty tracks. My stomach twists, adding wood to my ever growing internal flame.

I shake my head, unable to provide the answers he is looking for - unwilling to, in fact. If I think about home, about what is waiting for me, I will become too distracted. I have to focus on the task at hand. I have to focus on why I am doing it, as well.

Darius, sensing my agitation, soon continues to survey the room. He keeps track of who enters and exits, while I watch our particular group of armed men. The dagger at my thigh feels especially heavy.