1. Riggs #2
“Don’t play dumb.” Riggs tsked. Everyone in their village knew who they were.
“Just surrender already.” Riggs didn’t want him to surrender—not to him, at least. He knew Killian liked taking down fugitives.
The last time Riggs took down the bounty, Killian scolded him for a week.
Which, in Riggs' opinion, was a little dramatic. Like c’mon, would it kill him to live a little?
Killian practically begged him to join his ridiculous bounties.
The least Killian could do was thank him.
Killian preferred to wait and watch, always a step ahead of their target. He knew Killian was counting the seconds. Last hunt, Killian counted eight hundred seconds, and the fucker bet two gold coins they could beat that time today. Riggs chuckled, knowing he was well over that time.
Riggs slowed as he eyed Killian, crouched behind a bush. Seeing Killian had the rest handled, Riggs stopped completely, admiring the beauty of the thick, overgrown forest surrounding him. This was his favorite part of Aldmoor.
I need to spend more time here.
Riggs fixed his gaze on the heavens and observed the dark clouds floating across the expanse through the small gap between the trees.
“Would you look at all the shapes in the sky?” His lips curved into a smile, watching the fluffy blobs pass.
One looked like a pirate fighting his enemy, while the one next to it looked like a giant worm eating its prey.
“Let me fucking go!” the man shouted, interrupting Riggs' peace.
“Riggs, grab his satchel and search it,” Killian demanded, never taking his eyes off the squirming man below him.
As he obeyed, the humid, calm wind kissed Riggs' face.
The direction of the breeze told him another storm was headed their way.
He hoped it would clear, and soon, because he was already uncomfortable and in desperate need of a change of clothes.
Pine needles crunched beneath his boots as he approached.
Riggs whistled. “You really know how to take ’em down, brother.”
Killian growled, baring his teeth. “What’s your name?”
“You got the w-wrong guy,” the man stuttered, looking between Killian and Riggs.
“There’s a lot of shit in here,” Riggs noted as a cold, hard object brushed his fingertips. His stomach fluttered as he pulled out a jewel. His lips curved, the facets catching the light. “The missing jewel.”
Killian unsheathed his sword, pointing it toward the fugitive. “You are the guy we’ve been looking for.” He growled, “Stand up!” Without breaking his stare, he jerked his chin toward Riggs. “What else does the piece of shit have in there?”
As Riggs reached into the satchel, he watched the man struggle to stand. Riggs fought back his smile, schooling his features into neutrality, knowing he was the reason for his hardship.
The thief’s gaze jumped between the satchel and Killian’s blade. “P-please don’t look in there!” he pleaded, backing toward the tree.
Riggs smirked. “Just a bunch of junk.” His expression faltered, eyes widening. “Wait a minute…” He pulled out what looked like a letter. “Oh shit. We got a love letter.”
“Don’t read that!” the thief begged.
Riggs roared with laughter. “Get a load of this guy.” He waved the letter and grinned.
“Of course I’m going to read it.” He tucked the satchel under his arm.
“Who does he think I am? A mouth-breather like himself?” His eyes narrowed on the red wax seal, and his mouth turned to cotton.
“Uh, Killian… There’s a royal crest on the wax seal.
” His stomach twisted as he examined the two lion heads roaring side by side.
He knew that symbol and who it belonged to.
The Kingdom of Dagon. His heart thundered. What is the thief doing with a letter from the Kingdom of Dagon?
“Read it, Riggs.” Killian inched the sword closer to the thief’s throat. “I asked for your name.”
“Conwell!” he cried out, his tone dripping with fear.
Riggs snorted. What a pussy.
Killian’s brows furrowed. “Conwell what?”
“Conwell Creswell … Please, I’m innocent.”
Riggs ignored them, breaking the wax seal. He glanced at Conwell, and scratched his head. He found it strange the letter was unopened.
By decree of King Gabriel and Queen Lorelei Zavatorri, a reward of riches is hereby offered to any who finds and returns Princess Elora Zavatorri. The very fate of our kingdom depends on it.
“Killian, you may want to read this,” Riggs urged, heart racing.
Killian snatched the paper, his gaze never leaving Conwell.
Motherfucker almost tore the letter. “Careful, Kills.” It wouldn’t be the first time Killian ripped a critical document with his rough ass hands.
Riggs scanned Conwell, and winced with the amount of blood pooling around his pant leg. Got him good. Riggs grimaced, nodding to his injury. “You should get that looked at.”
“Riggs, I’m trying to read.” Killian muttered, “Keep it zipped, will you?”
Asshole.
Riggs threw his hands up. “Fine, who cares if he dies? Fuck ’em.”
Killian deadpanned. “Maybe stop sticking things where they don’t belong.”
Riggs flipped him off. He knew what Killian had meant.
At least he got some—unlike his celibate brother.
Killian pointed at Riggs. “Enough with the attitude. I’m not doing it today.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Riggs murmured, tracing dirt with the tip of his boot, whistling a tune to pass time. It appeared Killian needed to read more. Slow fuck.
“Riggs, come here for a second.” Killian glared at Conwell. “Don’t you even think about going anywhere.” Killian looked at Riggs. “This is huge. I say we find the missing princess.”
Godsdammit. Riggs side-eyed him. “Are you crazy? She has been missing for how long? Eight years now?” He remembered the day the Dagon guards kicked down all the doors in the village, looking for Princess Elora.
He stared out into the open forest. “She’s most likely dead.
It’s a fool’s mission. I say no.” Riggs crossed his arms, the seams of his tunic stretching.
A silent pause. “Plus, where would we even start?”
“We head to Dagon and ask around,” Killian said as a matter of fact, squinting his eyes. “What do you think, dumbass?”
Riggs scoffed. “Well obviously, but you know what I mean, it’s been eight years.”
Since Killian quit drinking, he had become driven for the impossible. Riggs knew he was acting on pure impulse. Knew it, but Killian’s gaze was bright with determination, and it made it hard for Riggs to object. He hummed, considering saying no, but ultimately, it was Killian's call—as always.
Riggs threw him a look that said, “Not a good idea.”
A bright smile spread across Killian’s face.
Oh gods…
It was rare for Killian to show any flicker of happiness, and Riggs refused to take that away. He would do this…for him. “Fine. But on one condition.”
“What?” Killian rolled his eyes.
Riggs said with confidence, “A bigger pay cut would be nice.”
Killian threw him a smug look. “Sure.” Then flicked his gaze to the satchel. “Keep searching. See what else the freckled fuck has in there.”
Riggs' face went blank. He knew the cheap bastard wouldn’t pay him more. Riggs reached further into Conwell’s satchel and pulled out a scroll. His eyes widened. A royal invitation stamped with the same royal crest as the letter, and the date stamped on it.
April 13th.
“Holy shit,” Riggs mumbled, “that’s today.”
Riggs beamed. “It’s an invitation to tonight’s masquerade event.” Riggs stepped forward. “We have our ticket to get into the castle.” He went silent, brows bunching. Things weren’t adding up. Riggs whipped toward Conwell. “Wait a minute… How did you get an invitation?”
Conwell simply blinked.
Riggs adjusted his stance, his boots sinking into a puddle. Dammit.
“What do you know about the missing princess?” Killian’s voice was a low rasp.
Conwell’s breathing faltered, sweat rolling off his brows. “I-I don’t know anything.”
Killian inched the tip of his sword at his throat. “Don’t make me ask again.” His voice was a lethal calm.
Blood trickled down Conwell’s reddened neck. “Okay! Okay. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just promise you’ll let me go,” he stammered, running his hands through his shoulder-length hair.
Killian’s eyes blazed with amusement, backing off slightly. Which didn’t surprise Riggs; Killian always played with his bounties, like a cat with a mouse.
“What do you know?” Killian asked.
“I know that the queen and king are desperate to find Princess Elora.” Conwell cleared his throat, squaring his shoulders, and continued, “I received an invitation to tonight’s event for further information.”
There was something about his tone that made Riggs think he was lying.
A twit like him had no business searching for anyone, let alone the princess.
The young man looked like he’d get himself lost in a small village.
Riggs stared at Conwell. “You stole an invitation.” He scanned his ripped green tunic and blood-stained tan pants.
“You were planning on dressing like that?” He angled his head, inching closer and taking a big whiff he instantly regretted.
“Don’t get me started on your stench; you smell atrocious. ”
Conwell swallowed hard. “I had arrangements for a change of clothes.” He lifted his tunic, and sniffed. His face turned ashen. “I am aware.”
Riggs arched his brow. “What do you say, we let you go and you tell us where those arrangements of clothes are…yeah?” He gestured to Conwell’s satchel, smiling wide. “And I get to keep the bag. I kind of like it.”