Out From the Shadows

Chapter 18

Why is she so darn stubborn? Its not my fault Almarie slapped the queen, at least, not exactly. I do regret stealing her letter and never giving it to its rightful owner. It could have made a difference, but we will never know that now. The past is the past and there is nothing to do now.

Right after Almarie stomps out of my room, leaving a trail of steam in her wake, I head over to my shattered bookshelf, hopelessly in ruins. With no way to repair it, I shed my anger on it instead with my fists and feet. Each crack and tumble of books lightens the weight on my shoulders from our earlier argument. All the wood is broken up with books jumbled up in the mix and father bursts open the door, irritation littering his face with wrinkles.

"What are you doing? People are downstairs and they think there are animals in the house!" He spots the bookshelf, or rather what used to be one, and he puffs out his chest with a long, trembling breath.

"I won't pay for a new one, if that's what you are expecting and you better fix yourself up," he turns around to leave, but stops himself short. "Oh, before I forget, come downstairs once your room is clean; our visitors would like to speak to you, so don't lollygag."

I don't respond, but let him leave with a bang of the door while I begin to stack the strewn books neatly beside my bed. When they are out of the way, I retrieve a broom from the storage closet down the hall and sweep the wood chips into a corner for later pickup. The broken planks are tossed into the storage room as I put the broom back to its rightful place. During the cleanup, I can't help wondering who is downstairs, though I have a really good guess.

My idea pans out as I round the corner of the stairs and catch the royal symbol on the arm bands of a few men. My steps attract their attention and I take my time to draw out the moment, to steady my heaving heart.

"Hello gentlemen, how may I help you this fine evening?" I articulate my words and pick up my formal tone and words. I had retired them when around Almarie, but father would throw a tantrum if I wasn't proper at the moment.

One of the guards, with shaggy strawberry-blonde hair and goatee, and I think I remember his name being something like Joe, stands ahead of the others.

"Sorry to interrupt your evening, but we are looking for Almarie Weathers. We have some information telling us that she was here earlier, in your room specifically. It would mean a lot to the queen if you told us where she is so we can question her."

Damn those snoopy good-for-nothing maids and their gossiping. Who else would have the guts to tattle, all for a pay raise?

"She left a few minutes after arriving and I have no idea where she is currently. If I can help in any way, please ask me. But you are only going to question her, correct?" I can't believe how even my voice is and how innocent I sound. Like a child saying he isn't the one who stole the candy or help a fugitive. Is that what she is now? A fugitive?

"You are correct Mr. Lakers."

"You may call me Ashton while we search for her. I do have another question, though. Is Almarie in trouble?" My sincerity is real, surprising me after such cruel words had come out to her.

"She isn't wanted yet, but it is a top priority at the moment." Joe nods his head, his calm tone not matching the words coming from his mouth.

"Is there a difference? That you are hunting her but she isn't exactly a wanted fugitive? Mr...?" I inquire once again.

"Joseph is fine. We just want to find her before she hurts herself."

"What gives you the idea that she would harm herself?"

I have no recollection of her saying that she did anything life-threatening.

"She jumped from a balcony last night, without even knowing what was below. To her luck, she made it into the pool by inches."