by Kayla Maya
From her vantage point, Bryn could see down the hill towards the small town of Skeg with the sterling castle looming over it like a mountain. She could see the grass growing finally, no doubt relishing in the sunshine. She assumed without her constant raging emotions, and the weather was able to catch up and grow like it was supposed to. She also noticed that the trees were starting to bloom flowers, which meant fruit for the poor to collect eventually. Bryn felt a pang in her heart, knowing that Skeg was doing better without her. Well, weather-wise, that is. She was pleasantly surprised that she was able to control her emotions a whole lot better, no more constant anger or loneliness, no more rain. While her emotions had gotten under control, she could still feel the electricity coursing through her veins, signaling her magic.
Bryn turned around as North yawned like a cat, mouth wide open and arms pulled over his head, back arched as he made a noise. She giggled, trying to cover her mouth with her hand, so she wasn’t being seen. North snorted, sitting up to scratch his head and yawn one last time before smacking his lips together. Anderson was also awake, already standing in the corner, buttoning up his shirt. Bryn caught sight of his well-built chest and instantly flushed. While average, Lord Anderson was still attractive in a different sense.
“We’ll get something quick to eat before we head out.” North stood, grabbing a shirt from the chair at the table. “Bryn, there’s a change of clothes I’ll bring you before we depart. You’re Lady Illyea now, which means you need to be in your finest. Why don’t you do your makeup while Anderson and I go and retrieve your clothes and something to eat?”
Bryn pouted. “I hate makeup.”
“You really don’t need it,” Lord Anderson told her. “But all royals wear it regardless so, chop-chop. Daylights waning.”
Bryn pulled up the seat to the table, groaning when she saw that a mirror was stationed on the top with some makeup supplies that Olga no doubt packed for her. She opted to go with some light browns to complement the bright day. Placing the last touches on her eyeliner, Lord Anderson appeared with a dress flung over his arm and a plate of scrambled eggs and what appeared to be French toast. Bryn’s mouth watered at the sight of the food, the dress was all but forgotten as she nearly tore the plate from Anderson’s hands. He quickly sidestepped her, holding the plate above his head. It took everything in her not to try and jump up and down to grab it.
Sucking in breath to calm her nerves, she said, “Alright, give me the dress so I can change.” Lord Anderson handed her the dress, placing the plate of breakfast on the table before he departed, leaving her alone in the room once more. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
The dress was rather long, but with her boots, it made it look like it was made for her. The dress was summer rose, with sleeves that reached down to her wrists. It was a rather formal dress that lacked luster enough for a royal to wear, but Bryn knew she had to keep her appearance. After glancing at herself several times in the mirror, and deeming herself almost royal-like, she grabbed the plate of scrambled eggs. Now it was time for her hair. It was naturally straight and silky, but she used some old ideas that her mother once taught her to change her hair. It took her about fifteen minutes, but after heating a rag, she was able to curl her hair to perfection, each raven strand spiraling like it was done in a top-notch salon. Lastly, she applied some lipstick with a small but hesitant smile.
After finishing her plate, she walked out of the room to where North and Lord Anderson awaited by the steps. North was dressed in as much finery as Bryn. He had a well-fitted tunic, tucked into his dark pants. His cloak was midnight black, and the hood pulled away from his face for now. His crow necklace was gone, replaced with a crow broach that had a golden chain that held the cloak in place.
Lord Anderson was just as attractively dressed. His attire was similar to North’s, except his cloak held a broach of a bull, one leg propped up, and head turned to the side like he had stopped on a dime. His hair was gelled to spike up in the front, and his hoop earring on his ear was nowhere to be seen. Bryn assumed royals weren’t allowed to have such finery like that marring their features, so to her, it made sense. She couldn’t help the way her eyes kept wandering towards North and her obvious attraction to him. Her face flamed in embarrassment when North turned to stare at her himself, his eyes going wide as he saw her descend the steps of the inn towards them.
“You look—” Lord Anderson’s voice caught, at a loss for words.
“Stunning,” North finished for him. “Absolutely stunning.”
“As do you,” Bryn said and then instantly backpedaled. “I mean. The both of you.”
Lord Anderson turned towards the door, offering his arm for her as North walked to the door to glance outside. Bryn looped her arm through Anderson’s, allowing him to lead her from the inn and directly out into the sun shining day. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to allow the sun's rays to hit her face, smiling at the breeze that caressed her face, musing her hair. She couldn’t help but love this summer weather, especially in Skeg since it so rarely got any sunshine because of her. There was a carriage waiting on them, both Apollo and Lumiere were strapped to the carriage. Apollo neighed in greeting, pawing at the ground and swishing his tail back and forth. Anderson held the carriage door open, allowing Bryn to walk in and sit down at the bench, and he took the one opposite her.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Lord Anderson asked.
The carriage jolted, making Bryn stagger in her seat. She was not accustomed to riding in a carriage. She glanced out the window, watching as the trees and terrain whizzed by. It was weird being in a carriage instead of a horse, mainly because she had never ridden in one ever before. Bryn couldn’t help but be in awe at everything that she was learning in such a short amount of time. It would never have happened if she hadn’t accepted being part of Sister Grace’s group of religious nut.
“It is,” Bryn replied. “Really beautiful.”
Lord Anderson sat back, arms behind his head and leg crossed over the other. He appeared so relaxed around her, being himself rather than being someone he wasn’t. “There are some ground rules I should warn you about,” he told her.
“Such as? Wait, where’s North?”
“Behind the carriage like all guards are supposed to do. He is our ‘private’ guard, so he follows us constantly. Mostly you though since you’re the one no one really knows about, so they are going to be very suspicious of you. Lay low for a bit. Oh, and the most important thing to remember is this: don’t talk to the king or queen unless spoken to directly. Understand?”
“Why can’t I talk with them?” she asked.
“Because they are fickle people. They are also rulers who rule the entire land you are on right now. Meaning, anything you can or will say will result in your execution and mine as well. So, don’t be reckless. You may talk with their son, the prince, but only if he finds the time to approach you because his mother, the queen, hates any and all women around him that she herself hasn’t picked for him. Just try to remain low and gain their trust slowly so you can grab that mask and be done with this place. I’d like to be back home in a timely manner.”
“I understand. I mean, I don’t like it at all, but I’ll do it because I want to get in and out to be with my family. Or at least, give them the life that they deserve.” She sighed. “It shouldn’t be long now. It doesn’t take too long to get there.”
As soon as she said that, the carriage stopped, and North’s voice echoed through the window. Lord Anderson opened the door and walked out, motioning for Bryn to follow him. At first, she was energized, kind of excited to meet royals if not a little hesitant. If anything, despite hating the royals, she couldn’t help but to want to get to know them. To meet them and learn their ways of life. That way, she could destroy them from the inside out. She was the best thief in all of the five kingdoms. So, she was told, so this should be an easy job. She raised her hand in front of her face, the sun shining in her face. Too bright for her to see anythin
g in front of her. In fact, she was so blind she nearly fell off the steps and onto the ground. She would have if it weren’t for Lord Anderson’s strong grip on her arm.
Regaining her balance, she stood beside Anderson, her heart hammering in her chest as all the royalty Bryn had ever seen stood right outside the castle steps. They resembled ants to Bryn, the way they soldered about to and fro, laughing and talking with one another about trivial things. Being in front of so many royals made Bryn’s inner thief squirm. Instinctively, she tried to crouch, but a firm hold on her arm prevented her from crouching. Lord Anderson’s gaze was intense, almost speaking to her to act like a royal, remembering that she wasn’t Bryn, the Raven Thief, but a wife named Lady Illyea. She straightened her spine, offering a smile to anyone that passed by her. A very heavyset royal made his way towards Bryn and Anderson, Bryn’s mouth clamped shut as she inspected the man coming their way.
The man’s hair had thinned out completely; what little strands were left appeared to be combed straight to try and cover up his entire bald head. His mustache was bushy, with rather large muttonchops along the sides of his face. His nose was short, the tip of it a bright cherry red like his cheeks. His suit was neatly pressed, his belt nearly hanging off his frame as he sauntered over, stopping before Lord Anderson and giving him a firm, yet shakily handshake. A portly woman followed in his wake, huffing as she wiped the sweat off her brow. She wore a lemon-yellow dress, her short grey curls bouncing as she tried to keep up with her husband.
“Mr. Portly!” Lord Anderson exclaimed, gripping the man’s arm. “It’s good to see you again.”
Bryn couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the man’s name. Mr. Portly? Who on earth would name their child thus? She gave a subtle shake of her head, lowering her eyes so as not to focus on the heavyset couple before her. Instead, she inclined her head slightly so she could hear what their conversation would be.
“It is good to see you too, Lord Anderson. How’s Boreal? Is it still breezy like usual?” Mr. Portly laughed out loud, almost making it sound like a hilarious joke. Bryn rolled her eyes inwardly again. He seemed to notice Bryn then, offering her a small smile and a firm nod of his head. “And who is this lovely creature?”
Lord Anderson placed an arm around Bryn’s shoulders. “This is Lady Illyea, my wife.”
“A wife? You’re joking? Last time we talked, you boasted about how much you enjoyed being a bachelor! To think a woman would steal your heart a few months later.”
They talked for a bit, mostly about nonsense and political affairs, while Bryn tuned them out as she inspected several royalty milling about. She couldn’t help but notice all their expensive objects that ranged from hairclips down to the finery of their outfits. She noticed another carriage pull around behind theirs, a guard opening the door and holding out his hand. A slender, feminine hand reached out to place their hand in the guards, the long white painted nails seeming like diamond teeth. Bryn watched as the girl stepped out of the carriage and into the street. Her icy blonde hair was done in ringlets, with half of it plaited up. A few strands ran rampant, laying around her oval face. Her pink dress was rather short, almost befitting the woman who sold themselves on the streets. Her backside was almost seen just by stepping out of the carriage. Her breasts were also larger than normal, almost busting out of her top. Her gloved hand brought out a fan, opening it up to cover her mouth and nose, only her green eyes could be seen. She noticed Bryn delicate brow raised in question.
“Oh great,” Mr. Portly snorted. “Lady Harlot is here.”
“It’s Lady Hailey,” the girl’s eyes narrowed, opening her fan to give him a sweet smile. “It’s nice to see you can still feed yourself rather than your starving city.”
Mr. Portly opened his mouth to retort, but Hailey had already replaced her fan over her face and walked up the stairs to the castle. Bryn giggled, ignoring the glares and the sneer coming out from the other royals. Even though Lord Anderson tsked her, he still held a small grin after hearing what Hailey had told Portly. Anderson bid the Lord and Lady goodbye before he offered Bryn his arm. She looped her arm through his, and together, they made their way into the castle and away from the outside world.
CHAPTER TWENTY – THREE
The inside of the castle was magnificent. Bryn never imagined what the inside of a castle would look like. She had some various ideas as to what it would like, but this far surpassed her expectations. The floor was all marble, with a single long red carpet that ran down the length of it to where a white marble stairwell led up into the air that broke off in the middle—one to the right and the other to the left. Several large pillars held up the foundation, where four small pedestals rested on either side of the pillars, each one holding a different set of flowers and foliage. The walls were bare on both sides, save for the large portrait of the royal family. The king was standing tall, holding a scepter with a blood-red orb resting on its top. He was dressed in finery, and a fur cape draped over his shoulders. One hand rested on his wife’s shoulder; the other Bryn could assume was his son.
His wife was also dressed in a glorious finery. Her dress was form-fitting, the color of gold that a dragon would steal if they were real. Just like the kings, she too held a scepter with a red orb. A cape of white feathers draped over her shoulders. Her hair was blonde, pulled back so fiercely, a crown of braids circling the top part of her head. Her makeup was caked on, making her look ten times younger, but also made her appear to have a perpetual scowl. Their son resembled his father, straight down to the shoes. Except his eyes mirrored that of his mothers instead of his father’s brown depths. Bryn turned back to face the front, stopping in her tracks when she noticed that the king and queen were standing in front of the stairwell, their son absent from his perch, no doubt.
“Welcome.” The king held out his arms, only his eyes visible through his mask. “I hope you all had a pleasant trip. Tonight, we will celebrate my son’s twentieth birthday with a feast fit for a king.” He paused, waiting for the laughter to ensue. Several royals laughed while others giggled and nodded their consent of the king’s joke. “Followed by the party afterwards. I do so hope you all will attend the party, although I do understand that some of you all had a long journey here.”
Bryn was very confused. What coincidence would it be that she was sent here on the day of the king’s son’s birthday? Had the Order of the Crow known that it was time for the son’s birthday, so they sent her off early? If that were the case, then that meant Sister Grace had lied to Bryn about her performance with Olga about being readily prepared. Thousands of emotions bubbled to the surface, threatening to release and cause havoc on Skeg. She quickly stamped it down when she heard a thunder crack in the sky. Bryn felt betrayed. She wanted to end the heist at that very moment, but the voice in her head made her relent. Her family needed her, especially since Sister Agatha was the one holding them. Bryn jumped when Lord Anderson placed a hand on her arm, motioning his head.
“I’m sure you’re very angry.” Lord Anderson said when they were shown to their room. He sat on the couch, arm draped over the side and leg crossed at the knee. “I heard that thunder. Something tells me that the Order of the Crow withheld that teeny tiny bit of information to you.”
Bryn was practically seething as she paced the length of their extravagant room. The floor was all carpet, with three steps that led up to the sleeping area where a king-sized bed with matching covers rested. Golden drapes hung over the windows, and a single glass table was placed in front of the couch, the legs designed deliciously so that it was shaped like a dragon on its hind legs, wings pulled back behind it. There were three doors, one led to a balcony, the other no doubt the bathroom, and the third room Bryn could only suspect for something useless. It was a truly extraordinary room; one Bryn would no doubt ever set foot in once this was all over. She pinched the bridge of her nose to calm herself, counting down from ten before she spoke.
“Sister Grace told me that I was going early because of my ski
lls, she said nothing about being here during the king’s son’s freaking birthday,” Bryn sighed.
“And you truly believed her?”
“No,” Bryn relented. “I mean, I did, and I didn’t, to be honest.”
“Well,” Lord Anderson stood and stretched. “Better rest up before dinner starts. Our luggage should be brought in soon. I’ll have them leave it by the couch while you take a nap.”
“Um,” she glanced over at the bed. “We’re not going to…you know…”
“Sleep next to one another? No.” Anderson chuckled. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch. I’m modest enough to know not to sleep with or next to a woman who doesn’t want my company.”
“It’s not that I don’t like your company,” Bryn argued. “It’s just I’ve never slept beside anyone before.”
“I know what you meant.” Anderson winked, stepping outside the door with a smile. “I have a few friends I must go and see. I’ll come collect you after a while.”
Bryn tried to rest, but she kept tossing and turning as soon as her head hit the pillow. After a solid hour of tossing, she decided to walk around the room. There wasn’t much for entertainment, but she occupied herself by snooping and checking every crack and corner. If there was something worthwhile in here, then she would steal it and sell it later for coins to send off to her family. If it was one thing, Bryn understood. It was that she was the best thief around, and she sniffed out anything and all things sellable. She even inspected the third room to see what it was. It was a well-lit room with a vanity set that housed an old Victorian mirror, and of course, the top was littered with makeup. After finding nothing of value in the room, she decided it was time to go and get ready for the dinner.