Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Alfrie
Ihate this place.
I have to jog to keep pace with the soldier as he races through the dark streets of the nearby village.
It’s far too loud. Too crowded. And too much like home.
My home before Lanray. It’s too much like a memory I’ve worked tirelessly to erase from my mind.
A child screams into the night, and I’m thrust back to my village.
Back to that day. Terror and crying surround me.
Towering flames and the stench of death heat my skin and threaten to engulf me. There’s screaming…so much screaming…
“Hey, watch out!”
I snap back to reality when a small ball from the street juggler smacks me right on the side of the head, and I nearly get run over by a group of dancers with bangled bracelets, tapping tambourines above their heads.
I duck into an alleyway to avoid them then race back to the street so I don’t lose my guide.
He’s several feet ahead of me and appears to know exactly where he’s headed.
I focus on the uneven cobblestone streets, keeping my head lowered to ignore the merry chaos surrounding me, and follow the soldier down a dimly lit side street.
We leave the crowd behind us on the main thoroughfare, and I heave a sigh of relief.
I jog a few steps until I’m striding next to him. “Where are we going?”
“Groble’s Tavern.” He doesn’t look in my direction and his stern expression is unwavering. His jaw is set and his arms are stiff as tree trunks at his sides. I get the feeling that he’s used to this game of cat and mouse. And that he hates it.
The street is empty, and a few rats scurry around our boots as we approach a run-down structure at the end of the road. The windows are bright with candlelight and faint sounds of jovial music and laughter grow louder as we draw near.
The princess’s guard stops just outside the door, and he stands straighter, rolling his shoulders back. He glances back at me with a wary expression. “I must ask that you wait here. If your prince is inside, I’ll collect him.”
“Absolutely not.”
He sighs, his lips forming a tight line. “Then, I must ask for your discretion on what you will see here.”
“Wha—”
The soldier doesn’t wait for my line of questioning and opens the heavy wooden door to the tavern.
I can see why he requests my silence. The tavern is a cesspool for cretons and drunkards.
It’s definitely not where courtiers would find themselves.
Which is why I immediately know that I will find Leer here.
He loves getting into trouble and pretending to be anyone but himself.
Especially when I’m here to pick up the pieces when things turn to shit.
I sigh and follow the soldier into the bar, fighting to get through the crowd of dancing Fae.
One female grabs me by the arm and pulls me close to her as she sways to the obnoxiously loud music.
She rubs her thick body against my chest, and I pry myself from her grip and stumble backward into a huge mountain of a male.
He looks livid. I hold my hands out in front of me in surrender and sidestep out of the path of the imminent danger of his fists.
“Come on.” The soldier grabs my elbow and guides me to the back of the tavern. “Please. Just try—” His lecture is cut short, and he clicks his tongue as he looks toward the bar. A flicker of hurt clouds his features but he quickly masks it before marching over to whomever he sees there.
I follow him over to a petite female with long and flowing dark brown locks that cascade freely over her smooth umber shoulders. She’s quite beautiful, but something tells me she may already be spoken for.
“What the hell, Emlyn.” The soldier stands with his arms crossed and he tenses his jaw as he eyes the girl with sheer annoyance and disapproval.
Clearly inebriated, Emlyn sets down her beer stein with force and throws her slender arms around his neck. “Alix!”
Alix. Okay. I finally have a name for the guard I’ve been following around for the past half an hour.
I watch their interaction, perplexed. His large arms lift slightly and hover over her tiny waist as if he wants nothing more than to wrap her up in them, yet he’s standing so still he might crumble like a stone beneath the weight of her embrace.
After several uncomfortable moments, Alix takes Emlyn by the wrists and removes her arms from his shoulders.
“What are you doing here? Is Zara here? Gods, Emlyn! It’s your duty to make sure she shows up to things, especially a royal dinner where she is supposed to be meeting a prince of another court!” Anger darkens Alix’s eyes, but his exasperation doesn’t seem to affect Emlyn in the slightest.
She simply shrugs, and belching loudly, responds with “I am My Lady’s maid.
I go where she goes.” She lowers herself into a sort of bow, sweeping her arm in front of her.
She tries to sit on a bench next to the bar but topples onto the floor, laughing loudly.
She reaches her hand up toward Alix. “Help me up, loyal guardsman,” she orders, with a false regality in her voice.
Alix only shakes his head and motions for me to follow him again. We walk away from Emlyn who's still on the floor, cackling and calling after him.
“Don’t you want to—” I start, motioning back to the female.
“No. If you only knew…” he sighs. “Just. No.” A deep frown creases his brow, and he barrels past me toward the back of the tavern.
I stumble and chase after him, slowing as he enters a washroom. I push myself flush to the door. “Uh—perhaps I should wait outside?”
Alix huffs and scowls at me. “It’s a secret entrance. Come on. We’re going underground.”
“Oh.” I watch as he presses his palms along the paneled wall until a board flips forward. My eyes widen as we descend a spiral staircase and enter an endless cavern blanketed in a thick layer of smog. It reeks of opium and sex, and I wave away a billow of smoke looming heavily in front of my face.
It’s crowded with all kinds of fairies, but the Royals are nowhere to be seen.
Alix moves to the bar and grabs the bartender by the shirt collar, yelling something into his ear.
The sound of music and talking is overpowering and I can’t hear a thing, but the terrified expression on the bartender’s face tells me that whatever Alix said wasn’t kind.
He stalks back over to me. “Remember when I said I need your discretion?”
I nod and he points past an enormous glowing tree.
My jaw drops.
There on the floor, in a far corner and shrouded in shadow, is Leer with a female straddled over him. Alix stares in horror and strides over, grabbing the female under her arms and easily lifting her from the prince’s lap.
“Alix! What are you doing?” She yells and tries to smack him away, but she misses his shoulder, obviously inebriated.
I walk over to Leer and take his hand, helping him up. I say nothing because there is nothing to say. This isn’t the first time I’ve found him in a place, or a situation, such as this. Usually it’s not with a princess, however, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.
I start to lead him out of the underground cave, and the princess calls after us.
“Alfrie!”
I turn, surprised that she knows my name. I open my mouth to respond, but Leer beats me to it.
“Yes?” He walks back to her and takes her by the hand.
What the hell is happening? I stride over to them, brow furrowed and put my hand on his shoulder. “Leer?”
“Leer? Who’s Leer? I thought your name…” The princess’s eyes dart between me and Leer, her brow pinched together in confusion. She pivots toward me, her long finger pointed in my face. “Wait, I’ve seen you before. Earlier at the ball. You’re the prince.”
I stare incredulously at both of them.
“Everything okay, Alfrie?” Leer gives me a wink in that arrogant way he has.
“Alfrie?” Her attention is focused solely on me now, her head cocked, and her face scrunched with uncertainty. Perhaps this would be easier for her to comprehend if she wasn’t in a cavern filled with opium smoke.
I must be affected by the drug too, because I’m suddenly finding it impossible to breathe as I gaze at the beauty in front of me.
Her hazel eyes shine like pure gold with green specks that glisten in the dim candlelight, holding me hostage.
Time stands still. She is…stunning. She stands there, dazed and staring blankly at me, and it’s as if a light surrounds her.
Her long white-blonde hair is unbound and flows around her delicately pointed ears and over her shoulders.
It shines like moonlight reflecting over a lake at midnight. She is. She is—
I shake my head, erasing the thought. She’s a princess and a brat, by all accounts. She’s also betrothed to Leer. My mouth goes dry, and I thrust my hands into my pockets to subtly wipe the sweat from my palms.
I clear my throat, hardening my expression, and place a hand on my chest. “Yes, I am Alfrie. You’ve been lied to.”
Her brow creases clearly still bewildered. “But—” She now points her long finger toward Leer.
“This isn’t too difficult, Your Highness.
” I wince slightly at my harshness. She’s completely impaired, and a touch of guilt bites me as confusion returns to settle over her soft features.
Then I remember I’m standing in an opium den attempting to wrangle Royals.
Perhaps, I don’t feel that bad. I glare at Leer. “Why do you always do this?”
Leer only lifts his shoulder, smugness seeping from him. He gently pats my cheek like the pet that I am, “Take care of this, will you?” He steps around me, leading the way out of the tavern as if nothing happened.
But I suppose that’s why I’m here. To make it as if nothing has happened.