The Princess and The Bandit

NINETEEN

* * *

In one clean strike, the messenger was dead headless on the ground. Alejandro doesn't take it lightly when he receives bad news. It usually means certain death to anyone who brings him news that does not favor him.

The snake pit, the house he made for his beloved pets, was burned and none of the reptiles he kept in there survived. His underground cellar of venoms, poisons and antidotes were also burned down to a pile of dark smoke. His men tried to go after the culprit, however they not only failed to positively identify the person but also escaped any chance of capture. Not to mention several men were also killed during the chase.

It was a disappointing loss.

He has a very strong suspicion of who might dare try to infiltrate his highly guarded camp and burn all of his dear pets, all of his deadly potions.

He is somewhat aware that his dear daughter made herself her own exclusive group of bandits. However, he couldn't pinpoint exactly which one of his way too many rivals is her actual gang. She is afterall his daughter, she might've ran away for ten years now but he was the one who shaped the first fifteen years of her life. Of course she'll have a knack for this kind of things.

This incident may have crippled his arsenal, but it's nothing less expected from the person he raised to become his most personalized weapon.

He has long anticipated her to defy him. He knew truth will crawl it's way out to her, it was just a matter of time. He has long hoped for the chance to once and for all put her in her place. Show her that she belongs nowhere else but on the filthy ground underneath his foot.

Let her come to me . . .

If there's one thing that came out remotely positive in this situation is that the arrows that killed his men has a distinct mark on it. The very identifiable imperial blue mark of the house of Jauregui. Precious arrows shot from the most intricate onyx bow.

A choice weapon he longed to have for truly he is an archer at heart.

Somehow, Alejandro almost felt proud that his only child managed to capture the person he and his men have been hunting for a while now.

He wonders how his dear daughter handles that particular situation. What possible ransom his daughter is looking for in exchange for the princess she's holding captive.

If she remains as vicious as he is, well then, it'll be a tight race between father and daughter for the most coveted prize of them all . . .

"Jelena!" He called out to one of his lieutenants, "Gather the new ones and set out to Arcade City. Wreck and burn anything and everything that's on your way. We will pay the Bunloaf idiot a visit,"

* * *

It felt like he was underneath a sand bag and a bunch of porcupines. His body felt heavy and his skin felt prickly and scratchy.

Shawn had lost sense of time but not his sense of smell. The air was thick of a pungent smell that he could not put a name into. It could be anything, but he couldn't bring himself to figure out what that smell is or why he's so itchy and sore.

Then, his barely conscious mind drifted to the missing princess.

Fluttering his eyes open, the first thing he saw was a billow of smoke. Puffy and gray and there's a woody skunk-like odor to it. He tried not to inhale it but pathetically failed because he needed to breathe. He tried to move but the prickly feeling on his skin dug much deeper.

"Oh! you're awake," he heard a soft voice.

The billow of smoke cleared up and was replaced by a dark thatched ceiling. He stared curiously until it was also suddenly replaced by a pale, slightly pasty skinned face, with bright blue eyes, narrow nose and pouty pink lips. A mop of curly brown hair fell over a smooth forehead and a smile stretched over the length of a chiseled jaw.