THE LIGHT OF A'LEST

CHAPTER 10

     The bowl of abysmally cold porridge slammed into the iron rods of the cell and ricocheted off some gaudy drapes before finally coming to rest on the rug. The chunky contents of the bowl splattered across the guard's shoulder and ran down his impeccably kept cloak before settling into a rather neat pile beside his boots. "Oi! Let me out of here, you crinkly-faced son of a pig!" The grisly guard winced, released a low, inaudible grumble, and shook his leg but held back any retort. Kara shifted from the edge of her bed and began looking for something else to throw. Weeks had passed since the cliffs. Weeks, stuck in this room. Weeks, with no word from the outside world. Enough was enough. The next several hours were spent hurtling every curse she had ever heard at the smug-looking guard before finally settling into a heap on the edge of the bed and sticking out her tongue. "Breakfast was wonderful, by the way."

     "That's not helping," Zander replied.

     Kara began chewing the inside of her cheek. "Remind me again how staring out the window helps anything?" The boy said nothing. Just continued to stare. "Right. This"—gesturing to the porridge on the floor— "makes me feel better." Zander looked down at his bed as she finished and rubbed at the back of his neck before glancing back out the window. The scent of ash was growing heavier in the air, and a red glow was on the horizon. Even the air above the cliffs seemed to shimmer. Kara rolled her eyes, thinking this was going to be another one of those evenings where she paced holes in the floor while her mostly mute cellmate stared out the window. God this sucks! 

     Zander's meek voice broke the awkward silence. "What happened to us up there?"

     Kara turned and felt the frustration pool into her cheeks, filling them with heat. "Oh, I don't know, I was out for an evening stroll, minding my own affairs, when along comes some stranger harping about murdered guards. Now I am stuck in a royal prison." Zander recoiled, not because she was goading him but because he could find little fault in her logic. Was he a prisoner now? He'd spent the last week replaying that fateful night in his head before arriving time and time again at the same conclusion. The chief's son didn't look like he believed him when he explained just finding the guard. Did they think he had killed the man? Then why was she here? Kara scoffed and gave up waiting for him to respond, throwing her back into the plush confines of her mattress and staring up at the ceiling.

     For reasons beyond Zander's understanding, or perhaps it was just the weight of the loaded silence between them, he recalled his last conversation with Appy. Her craggy voice echoed in his mind: "Make friends." Irony hit him like a hammer. Weeks had passed, and he had only just now worked up the courage to speak to the girl he now shared a room with. Sure, she spent every waking moment berating the small host of guards posted outside their cell, but given the circumstances, who could blame her? "I am so bad at this," he murmured. "I'm sorry for getting you into this."

     The girl's auburn eyes narrowed, then rolled. He winced and returned to his window. His thoughts returned to his grandmother and his all-too-recent attempt at a proper introduction. Steadying himself with one hand, he hoisted his legs over the edge of the bed. Rising to his full height, he tottered there for a moment, then fell face-first to the floor. As motes of dust billowed up from the cracks of the overly waxed floor, a snorting cackle of laughter began echoing through the room. 

     "The man of my dreams." The girl across from him chuckled as his muffed voice arose.

     "Name's Zander, and yours is?" 

     "Kara. Kara Kalin."

     Kara began searching Zander's eyes for any hint of recognition but found none. As he shuffled back onto his cot, she took note of his amber-hued eyes. His skin was a few shades darker than hers. A bronzed olive. His hair was a sun-bleached blond on an otherwise brown undercoat. He had a small array of freckles under his eyes and an odd mole or two, but aside from that, he was handsome. Well, as handsome as a poor farm boy could be, anyway. As her eyes wandered across the taut muscles in his arms, she caught herself and changed the subject. "So... what's to come of us then, Zander?" Zander stared at the stiffening pile of porridge beside the door. "I have no idea, but you should try to eat something."