Moonlit Scales [rewriting]

Moonlit Scales: Three

M O O N L I T   S C A L E S :
Chapter Three

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I WAS RIGHT about the alarm. When seven o'clock rolled around, I was already up and changing into a pair of trousers and boots. Addison, as usual, was still asleep, and hopefully Piper was, too.

I snuck into the living room and lowered my bow from atop the mantle, every so often casting glances at Piper's bedroom door. After gathering my arrows, which were propped up against the fireplace, and tying my hair up into a woven twist, I crawled out onto the porch and into the bold morning sunlight.

I contemplated my two options. Should I keep my vow to Piper and not steal anything, despite our desperation? Or easily wander around in the back of an unsupervised market booth and slip a parcel of fruit, maybe some bread, up my sleeve?

Squinting into the harsh rays of the sun, I realized, sly as I was, the chances of returning home with a decent catch in this light were slim. I bent down to place my weapon behind a chair where it was generally unseen unless you were really looking. I'd come back for it later if I was unsuccessful.

Crossing the bridge that led to the town square, I tried not to act suspicious as I surveyed what the marketplace had to offer.

I lived a very provincial life in Porinse, a small town in the kingdom of Avalon. My family and I owned a local bakery just off the central plaza. As busy as the little village was, we didn't earn much, and what we did inherit went to the king. The countryside, however, made it worth living here. The way the mountains rose beyond the horizon, their peaks grazing the cerulean sky, and the lush grass swaying in the gentle breeze drew everyone in, depicting the epitome of peace. The only drawback was the dark castle that grew out of the hills, its sulfurous aura and depressing, dull exterior dampening the mood of our lively village.

The guards that spilled out of the wrought iron gates liked to reprimand us. They thought a sword, a shield, and a name made them worth something more because they carried them. Of course, I enjoyed disrupting their happy, stuck-up worlds as often as I could.

As I approached a jewelry stall, a stout old man with sunburned skin shoved an expensive blue necklace in my face, and I had to swerve him quickly to avoid bumping his arms. Every other merchant I passed threw their goods up my nose, expecting me to purchase them, but by this time I had gotten used to their habits and ignored them as best as I could.

I continued drifting along, greeting the more polite vendors, until I reached an empty booth overflowing with fish. I did a double take, afraid that my eyes were deceiving me. No one was manning the stall. Nonchalantly, I glanced around to assure myself that no other villager was watching. As subtly as I could manage, I reached up and snatched a sufficient trout, tucking it in the waistband of my pants. I didn't linger, and moved on to the next seller hoping I struck luck once again.

After a few more minutes of weaving through the bustle of Porinse, I had stolen the fish, some carrots, a ripe grapefruit, a couple of radishes, and a handful of celery root. Satisfied with my collection, I reveled in knowing that we would have enough stock of food to last us a week.

On my way home, I stumbled across another booth that wouldn't be tricky to smuggle from. There was a lanky young girl in charge of the various assorted vegetables, arranged by color. She was curled up in a chair, fast asleep. I couldn't help myself when I saw the potatoes that, when cooked the way Papa taught me, were to die for. I swiped one from the counter and was looking down as I stuffed it in my pocket when a voice cried, "Hey!"

My head snapped up to the offended glare of the little girl. I didn't even think about returning the dreaded root before my feet propelled my body to their own accord without first warning my brain. I was racing down the crowded streets, elbowing past confused villagers, though the majority parted for me.

"Stop! Stop her!"

Dread it! The guards were onto me now. What was it Piper told me about the consequences of stealing? My mind was in a haze, with only one clear purpose: Run.

Last time, about a month ago, I had been bound with ropes and hauled to the castle behind a grey feeble mare. The Royals themselves interrogated me, Ambrose seated to the left of his father, King Morgan, blatantly observing the event unfurling before him. I was supposed to be put to death, which could or could not have been due to my snide remark about having a ruler less intelligent than a donkey's rear end, when Piper came running in and pleaded for my life. This resulted in losing the meager amount of money our family had.

I wanted to laugh at the irony. Stealing then was the reason I was stealing now.

It wasn't long before they cut me off at the bridge, a man on horseback and three on foot, aiming spears at my chest. "Halt," boomed the tenor voice of whom I assumed was the chief of command, the intimidating one on the white stallion.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. Do you think I am going to move while I am surrounded by spears?"

"Return the potato, and everything you have illegally acquired," he demanded, his stale breath a slap on the cheek.

Return the potato. Somehow he made it so much more serious when he said it.

"Fine. I will give the girl back her beloved potato." The guards followed me at spearpoint—Was that really necessary? What was I going to do, start hurling the vegetables at them?—as I grudgingly shuffled back to that dreaded girl's booth.

I flashed the brat a sardonic smile as I placed her merchandise where I had found it. "Are you happy now?" I fired, facing the guard again.

"I'm afraid you'll have to come with us, Miss," he declared. Oh, not again.

"Excuse me?" If they didn't kill me, Piper would.

"You are to be tried for your actions," the horseman informed me with a bored look. I was rather insulted. I could make it harder on him.

I crossed my arms defiantly. "Get the prince." I wasn't particularly sure what that would do, but hopefully I could delay whatever punishment was headed my way.

The guard frowned. Before he could respond, a voice cut in. "It's okay, Jon. Let her go."

And then, who else but the prince himself came striding towards us, mounted upon his noble steed, with such a smug air of authority that I'd rather have been executed. He gave me a brief nod and the rugged guard released me.

I sneered at them as they galloped away, a final look of contempt from the guard, breathing a sigh of relief when I realized just how much trouble Ambrose had gotten me out of. I groaned. Now I felt as if I owed the pig, even if I refrained from killing him last night.

Kicking a pebble in frustration, I started making my way home for the second time today, praying that Piper wouldn't somehow learn of what took place just now. A mistake made is a lesson learned.