The Mistborn and the Masked Brigade *mistborn fanfic*

Chapter 5--Thugs and Shocks

For the next few nights the princess left the castle.  She wanted space, a bit of time to think, to regain her sanity.  To plan and plot this jailbreak.  Timing was of the essence, who knew if they would move the innocent man to another prison now that he'd been sentenced?     

But no, that rock-headed boy had to keep following her. 

Not that she could hear him.

Or see him for that matter.

She knew he was there though.  Her copper told her as much.

And she couldn't be staking out a prison with a person on her tail.  Who knew what he'd do with that information?  Spread it around town?  Tell the authorities? 

She doubted the last one, but this stalker could do some major damage.

So she'd just been leaping around Elendel, trying to seem boring.  Maybe if Apondrea convinced him she was just out for a leap every couple nights, he'd go away.  He was apparently as good as running his mouth as he was a Coinshot.  Apondrea had to respect that. He was almost as stubborn as her

There was one detail she couldn't figure out though.  His ability to find her.  He was never there when she left the mansion, but without fail he'd find her in the first fifteen minutes.  It unnerved her more than anything else.

It nagged her.  Almost as much as her parents. 

Why did her parents insist she be as perfect as her three elder siblings?  They didn't slouch, they didn't make a fool of themselves in front of the other nobles.  They just cared about what sort of holding their father would give and what sort of power they could scrounge for themselves.  The important things, she supposed.  But not Apondrea, power wasn't her area.  People depending solely on you for their every need?  That scared her.  

The princess stopped to catch her breath on a nearby rooftop.  Her breath clouded in puffs, the nights were getting colder.  Soon it would be winter.  Thankfully, the seasons were mild in the Basin, but the nights would still grow nippier than Apondrea would like.

A scream cut through the darkness. 

It was coming from the street below. 

Apondrea flared her tin, trying to detect any nearby movement.  Was their a patrol nearby?  Help?  A single soul besides herself?

Besides a cat on a barrel farther down the alley, no.  And the princess very much doubted the cat was going to anything besides wash it's paw and look on skeptically.  Apondrea cracked her knuckles; a gesture she'd learned from a brawler in the shadier parts of town. 

She burned pewter and leapt down onto the street.  

A young woman was being accosted by a haggard looking man.   

"Please sir, I have nothing of interest to you."  She was glancing frantically down at the sharp piece of metal poised at her throat.   

"You make another sound wench, and you're gutted." The attacker said.

With tin, Apondrea could see the woman gulp.  The stray hairs that were escaping from her head scarf.  The very freckles that splashed across her crooked nose.  It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.  When to strike was the question....she fingered a coin in her hand. 

"Now," The man said. "You're gonna give me that key or you're never gonna see another dawn.  You got that?"

The woman whimpered, but said nothing.  The shank began to draw blood from her neck.