Chapter 2
Kaelun
I pull the dark scarf a little higher over my face without moving from my position hidden behind the pillar, caressed by shadows. As I crouch lower, they gather as if crowding close for comfort. The night sky is clear and cloudless.
The elaborately carved door of the mansion I’m watching opens, and a servant steps out to hold it for his master and mistress.
The lady lifts a hand to brush her fingertips over the carefully arranged hairstyle piled high on her head, fiddling with one of the ridiculous ornaments sprouting there.
Her husband slides on jeweled slippers and holds his wife’s hand while she puts on her own.
He looks around. “Where is our chair?”
The servant shifts uncomfortably. “I am sorry, radiance. There was an obstruction in the street. It is waiting around the corner.” He gestures to the narrow alleyway I blocked earlier to prevent the men carrying the chair from getting to the door.
I smile.
“What do you mean? We must walk in the muck of the street?” The lady looks aghast, like she’s never walked an inch on her own two feet. She probably hasn’t.
“Come, my dear. It is only a short way.”
I curl my hand around the stone in my pocket and count three breaths. Then I toss it over their heads so it bounces off the walls of the alley, setting a neighbor’s dog barking.
“What was that?” The lady huddles closer to her husband. “I have heard the streets are full of brigands lately.”
Her husband gestures to the servant. “Go and see that we are not about to be attacked on the way to the chair.”
The unfortunate man hurries off, leaving the door unguarded, just as I hoped he would.
One more stone draws their eyes to the alley, and I make my move.
Slipping out from behind the pillar, I tiptoe on silent feet and sneak inside the mansion.
The riskiest moment is here where I must pause to slip the dirty rags off my feet and wipe my footprints from the marble hall, covering my tracks.
I work quickly, tucking the dusty fabric into my belt and hurrying on. I breathe a sigh of relief when I make it into their large bedroom undetected.
I gaze longingly at the fat ruby pendant draped across a golden hanger at her dressing table.
Too recognizable. There are plenty of gold chains and earrings, bracelets and rings that can be melted down and sold so my trip is not a waste of time, but I could eat for the rest of my life on what I’d make on that ruby if I could take it.
With a sigh, I stash my stolen gold and climb out the window just in time to avoid the servant who comes snooping around, checking each room. I hear them enter and wait until the footsteps move away again before even letting out my breath.
Digging my fingers and toes into little holes in the masonry, I clamber onto the roof and make my getaway.
The streets are busy tonight, filled with wealthy theater goers, people selling tiny glass trinkets, spun sugar vendors, and beggars. Stray dogs dart between the food trolleys, and heat rises from the bricks, even though the night air has grown almost chill.
I leap to the next building, scrambling a little to get my balance before running and jumping to the next. It’s easier to travel this way, less risk of being caught. A life spent on the streets has taught me a few useful skills.
I’m making my way across town to the jeweler by the river who will melt down the gold for me and share my takings. Smoke and steam rise from the chimneys of the bathhouse, but my attention is caught by shouting from below.
“Were you born yesterday? What nonsense is this? Women do not enter the men’s baths. Everyone knows that.”
I huddle down into the shadow of a chimney rising from the bathhouse roof to watch.
A burly man with a face covered in stubble and a gold cuff on his upper arm shakes a shapely woman who cowers in his grip.
Her long hair is unbound and flows down her back, glistening like a river.
Her figure is all curves. Hips for days and a narrow waist She has on the most delicate silk slippers I’ve ever seen, and she looks as out of place as a giant red boil on a prostitute's bosom.
She’s none of my concern, though. I’m about to turn away when she slips from the man’s grip, and instead of running, she glares at him in outrage. “How dare you touch me? Do you not know who I am?”
Oh, so I was right about her. Is she some rich man’s daughter who accidentally took a wrong turn and lost her maid? I wonder how much he would pay to have her back again.
I’m already sliding over the gutter and dropping to the ground when I hear the smack of flesh on flesh as the bathhouse man slaps her.
She gasps and clutches her face. Time for me to intervene here before things get really heated.
Rushing over, I wrap my arm around her. “Velara, there you are! You know you shouldn’t go wandering off alone.
” Turning to the man, I give him an apologetic smile.
“Please excuse my sister. She’s not altogether there.
” I twist my finger near my head just to make sure my message penetrates his thick skull.
His eyes narrow. “Your sister?”
“What are you talking about?” The woman tries to break from me, but I hold her still.
Lowering my voice, I whisper into her ear. “Play along unless you want to lose an eye.”
Thankfully, the woman is smarter than she looks. “Papa, do not be silly. I am not your sister. I am your daughter.”
The man folds his arms across his broad chest. God, he looks like he could tear me apart. I hope I don’t have to fight him. “You do know the penalty for a woman entering the men’s bathhouse.”
“Of course, sir. But please be kind. She isn’t well.”
The woman twists in my arms and reaches out to something invisible beside us. “Oh, mama, what a pretty dress.” Now she’s overdoing it. I wish she’d stop, but I can’t say anything.
Instead I pat her shoulder. “Come, Velara. We must get you home.” I throw another pleading look at the guard, who only shakes his head. There is now a queue of men waiting at the door, and thankfully he turns away.
I drag the woman into the next street before I let her go. “Are you lost?”
She brushes at her tunic. When she finally looks up, her big brown eyes draw me in like quicksand. Her long dark lashes make them look about three sizes larger. “Lost? No. Why would you say that? I am perfectly fine.”
She speaks with the cultured accent of the very rich. I can just about feel my pockets growing heavier. “You didn’t look fine back there. Not to worry. I’m here to help.”
She pulls her arm away. “You have been very helpful. Thank you. But now I really must go. May the sun shine gently upon you.” She turns to leave.
I leap into her way. “Wait! These streets are dangerous. You might not realize. Let me call you a chair.”
“No thank you.” She tries to get around me.
I’m too quick. The look on her face tells me I have about one more second before she screams. “Then I guess you know the stall that makes the best spun sugar in the kingdom.” It’s a guess. She’s a rich girl out alone, but she doesn’t seem scared. She probably should be.
Her mouth drops open, but then her full lips curve into a smile. “The best? That’s quite a bold claim.”
“Well perhaps you would care to test me.” I drop an elaborate bow, and when I straighten, her smile is bright.
“Perhaps I would.”
Still got it. I grin as I lead her through a back alley and out onto the main thoroughfare, talking about this and that.
Vendors yell to catch people’s attention, and the crowds press us closer together again.
She even smells good, my rich girl. Like spices and exotic flowers and fancy oils.
I’ll charm her into leaving me with a tip yet.
I wonder what her story is and if I can coax it from her.
I lead her to my favorite stall, order the spun sugar, and even dish out the extra coin to have sugared petals sprinkled on top.
I hold out the stick, and she plucks a pinch from it and sucks it from her fingers.
For that whole moment I’m not thinking about anything except the way her lips wrap around her delicate fingers.
A man with a deeply etched scowl on his face walks past, bumping me when I don’t get out of his way quickly enough. I hardly stumble. I hardly even notice.
Rich girl gives me an odd look. Coughing, I look away, stealing my own piece of sugar and trying not to think about how her lips would taste now, coated with sweetness from the treat. “Well, what do you think? I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Perhaps.” She smiles. “I need to try more.” She reaches for the stick.
Laughing, I hand it over and watch as she demolishes the whole thing, licking each finger afterward in a way that’s highly distracting.
By this point we have wandered down to the river, and I take a seat on a nearby bench, staring down at the pathetic trickle of water below. “So apart from sampling spun sugar and peeping at men in the bathhouse, what are you plans this evening?”
She perches next to me, close enough that I feel the heat from her thigh, though we’re not touching. “Just walking mostly. I do not um… I do not get out much, into the city, and it is beautiful.”
“It is?” I look around, wondering what she sees in the dried up river, the wilting gardens, the refuse, and the stray dogs.
She turns to me, and there’s no way the smile on her face is false. “Oh yes. All the people and the noise and excitement. Wonderful.”
I scoff. “Wonderful? It’s something. I’m glad you like it anyway.”
There’s a pause while we both look out over the river.
Rich girl laughs. “You made it sound like I was spying on the men in the bathhouse.”
“Weren’t you?”
She flushes, but she doesn’t look away. “Well, it was an honest mistake, but once I was inside, I could not help but look.”
That makes me laugh. “And did you like what you saw?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Most of them were old and withered.”
“Ah! Well morning is the time to go if that’s your purpose.
That’s when all the buff young men visit.
That’s when I go.” I curl one arm around to rest my elbow on my knee, showing off my muscles.
Luckily there are none of the muscle-bound men who frequent the bathhouse gym in the mornings here for her to compare me against.
She gives me an appraising look. “I shall keep that in mind.”
There’s another pause in the conversion, and she licks the sugar stick until I have to take it from her so I can think.
“You were right about that,” she says. “It was delicious.”
“Of course I was.”
She laughs. “Are you always so arrogant?”
“Me? Arrogant?” I fake hurt in my tone. “Well what about you back there at the bathhouse?” I raise the pitch of my voice to mimic her higher one. “Don’t you know who I am?”
To my surprise, she colors and looks away. “I am not sure what I was thinking.”
I study her face, but she refuses to look at me again. What is she hiding? “Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“You’re not from here, are you? You sound like you’re from the palace or something.”
Now she looks around, her eyes wide and frightened. “How did you know?”
I almost let my jaw drop open. And then I cover my surprise. “It’s obvious,” I say casually, hoping she’ll say more.
“It is?”
“Oh yes.”
She sighs. “Well here I was, thinking I could spend a night of freedom and no one would know who I am.”
Wait. I tip my head to one side. “And who are you exactly? Just to be clear.”
“The solha.”
I just about choke on my own spit. The solha! Not a chance in hell. And then I realize she’s messing with me. Teaching me a lesson for acting so cocky.
I slap my forehead, laughing. “Oh, that was mean. God, for a moment there—” I break off shaking my head. “Serves me right.”
She looks confused for a moment, and then her smile returns. “Yes it does.”
I’m still chuckling. “Alright, oh, Light of the Sun, you got me good. So what’s your name, then? Your real name?”
She just looks at me, her expression unreadable. “Yalina.”
“Ha! Named after the solha?” She wouldn’t be the only girl our age to be named for the heir to the throne.
“Something like that.” She looks away, and I wonder if I’ve upset her.
“Hey, don’t be mad that you couldn’t fool me. I’ve been running every scam you ever heard of since I was eight. If it’s any consolation, you almost got me.”
Her laugh is weak. “Thanks.”
“Well, I’m Kaelun. It’s nice to meet you, Yalina.”
Her smile returns as she meets my gaze again.
“It is nice to meet you too, Kaelun. Really nice.” She gives me this look like she’s about to tell me something important.
The kind that has her leaning forward. All of a sudden, she sits back as if she changed her mind.
“So how did you come to be such a master of deception?”
“I’ve been on my own as long as I can remember. I guess I used to have a family, but whoever they were, they’re a long lost memory. That’s OK, though. I can take care of myself.”
“Really?” Her eyes widen. “You live all alone?”
“Sure.”
“Wow. What is that like?”
I hesitate. What I really want to say is ‘lonely’. Instead, I settle for, “free.”
She nods. “So what do you normally do in the evening?”
I stretch my arms and fold them behind my head. “Whatever I want. The city is my garden. At this time of night, though, the view from my window is pretty amazing.”
“Is it?”
“It looks right out over the river and toward the palace,” I boast. “Best view in the city.”
She’s quiet for a while, and I watch her out of the corner of my eye. She’s probably regretting even talking to a street rat like me.
I’m about to ask her about her home when she sighs. “It is getting late.”
“It is. Do you have to go home?”
“I am not ready to go home yet.”
I’ve been slouching back on the bench, but now I sit up, heart pounding in my chest. It’s stupid, and she’ll say no, but I’m not ready for her to go home either.
What I want—what I really want—is to spend more time staring into those big brown eyes and seeing how many times I can make her laugh.
“Do you… do you want to come back to my place, then? It’s nothing much,” I say quickly.
I almost regret asking, only she won’t say yes.
But her face lights up. “Can I? I would love that.”
I swallow, but my mouth is still dry. Stolen gold forgotten in my pocket, I stand and hold out my hand to her, and she actually puts hers in mine. “It’s not far from here. Come on.”
This might be the best trick I ever ran. Let’s just hope I can pull it off.