[r. Simply] I move the stars for no one [18+]

For the first time in his quiet existence, the introverted and unsociable Isidor Kristeva was seeing fit to put his life on the line--and for another person, at that. Following his brief albeit urgent audience with Alaiscina, the young alchemist did not sleep a wink that night, weighing the pros and cons of the decision that he had made, since it was one that he could not revoke. Not for knowing what he knew now, that being that the princess’s--yes, no ordinary noblewoman, but a princess’s--life was in jeopardy as a result of cultural superstition. Not for knowing that it may somehow be within his power to make a difference.

Early the next morning, just as he had begun to doze, Isidor heard a knock on his door, which he reluctantly answered in his rumpled nightshirt that fell just past his unclothed knees. Alaiscina had sent for him--meaning she was taking this seriously, and had some degree of faith that he could help her. This both inspired and terrified him simultaneously. He knew nothing about this kingdom or its surrounding area, did not even know where they might be able to retreat. What if he let her down? What if, ultimately, he sent them both to their demise?

Either way, he wouldn’t know until he tried.

Ignorant as to whether being out among the people required a different form of dress, he clothed himself as he normally would, in a plain white tunic and trousers, and followed the attendant down the stairs and through corridors, and outside to where a two horse-drawn carriage awaited them. The princess had not yet arrived, and reluctant to make awkward small talk with the driver, he kept out of the man’s line of vision and awaited Alaiscina patiently. When at last she arrived, she looked as though she was ready for a casual day of shopping and running errands. He had to admit, she was a fine actress, betraying nothing about the true intentions of their day trip.

For fear of other ears picking up on their conversation, Isidor sat in relative silence with the princess during the short carriage ride into the village proper, where at last they were let off at what was clearly a marketplace. The streets ran rampant with vendors, customers, and of course the occasional charlatan. No sooner did he step out of the carriage did he begin to feel that crawling discomfort that came with being among a crowd. Being near Alaiscina made it tolerable, but by no means enjoyable. And his nerves were by no means placated when she steered him in the direction of a place that looked as though a princess (or anyone with a modicum of respect for themselves) should be found… or an esteemed alchemist, for that matter.

He had to give Alaiscina credit, though; her handmaiden most certainly would not be following them into a place like that. Isidor took a seat across from her, only to have her flirtatiously reach out and urge him to take a seat next to her instead. It was all part of the cover, he knew, but that wasn’t even to prevent the flush of crimson that blossomed on his otherwise pale face.

“Drainage tunnels… that certainly does not sound pleasant.” Isidor wrinkled his nose and furrowed his brows thoughtfully. “But if those are the only unguarded exits, we may have to suck up our dignity and make due. The important part is getting out safely; not emerging smelling like roses.”

“Drainage tunnels? Well that is certainly the very last place I thought I’d find you.” A voice all too familiar to Isidor interrupted their conversation, making his hair stand on end. “Actually--no, I stand corrected. The very last place I expected to see you is a place like this, and with a woman on your arm. And a noble on, at that.”

Without asking permission, the speaker took a seat across from the two at the table, wearing a smile that did not inspire trust. Similar to Isidor, he had dark, inky tressed of hair that fell partially into equally dark eyes. He was dressed in a smartly-made, deep violet overcoat with cuffs and a collar lined with gold threat, and looked as though he could be a young duke, seeking a dalliance or two with no regard for his own reputation. Whatever color tinted Isidor’s face drained, immediately, and he tensed from head to toe. “I don’t recall inviting you to sit with us.” He said tightly, lips pressed into a firm line. “I haven’t an inkling as to what sort of business you might have in a kingdom that would burn someone like you at the stake, but you are not welcome to meddle in my business.”

“Is that so? Well, then might I advise you keep your voice down. Truth be told, I wasn’t even trying to listen. And like yours, my business is my own.” Dark eyes flicked to Alaiscina, who wore an appropriately confused and curious expression. “I know you are ill-educated in basic manners, Isidor, but the polite thing to do would be to introduce me.”

Clutching his hands into fists, Isidor didn’t even reach up up adjust his spectacles as they slid down the bridge of his nose. His voice was taut when he spoke up. “This is Vitali.” He said, without looking at Alaiscina. “Necromancer and all-around trouble maker.”

“And, your brother by blood.” The necromancer added, with a satisfied grin. “Don’t try to escape relation, dear alchemist. You can act as high and mighty as you please, but the fact remains that we fell from the same tree.”  

“And I believe he was just leaving.” Isidor added hastily, challenging his brother with a glare. But Vitali was no moved by the unspoken threat.

“I could, of course. But I am under the impression that the two of you are looking for a way out of this place--am I wrong?” Of course, he wasn’t wrong, and he knew it. “Much though I am sure it pains you to admit it, Isidor, I could be of assistance.”

“One side is lightly guar-” Alais was cut short by the strong voice of another man arriving at their table. Crystalline blue eyes turned from Isidor’s face to the new arrival and then back again. With a confidence that was unmistakeable, the man sat across from them. The princess resisted the desire to squeeze the back of Isidor’s arm that she had used to pull him towards her side of the table. Slowly, she slipped it down into her lap and clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into the flesh of her palm. It was something she had always done to resist stooping to Lucaine’s level.  He had pinpointed her status within a degree or two and that unnerved her. 

Her attention returned to their new companion. The dark depths of his eyes made her uncomfortable and at the same moment intrigued her. She found herself looking directly into them, for a moment too long. Alais leaned back against the bench she occupied with Isidor. Her thoughts raced as she attempted to determine how to play the situation with this uncomfortable arrival. Slowly, she pressed one nail and then the next more firmly into her palm, allowing her to think more clearly.  Isidor bristled and his tone was quite unlike one she had ever heard him use. This man must be someone that Isidor truly despised. 

[i]His brother. [/i] The necromancer. Quickly, her interest overshadowed her concern. It took the majority of her royal training not to lean closer to inspect the man that could utilize magic. Swallowing, she released her balled fists and rubbed her palm beneath the table with her other hand.  This was Isidor’s hated brother and he was a man that could get them out. He was offering them freedom. He was offering her the ability to live past her next birthday. She would be free of her father, free of the confines of her name. She no longer needed to be Her Royal Highness Princess Alaiscina Carenza, doomed heir of the Jendryng Dynasty. 

She could be Alais. She could be with Isidor, learn from him- be his pupil. She could be an alchemist. She could work in a brothel. She could work in a kitchen. She could do or be anything she wanted. She did not need to be a fated twin. The royal’s mind raced down the trail that his proposal had made. After all, what plan did her and Isidor really have? What hope did she really have? Isidor was talented in many ways, but espionage and escape were not two of his fortes. As quickly as hope flared to life in her eyes, it was replaced with a wary glance at Isidor and then refocused on his brother.

The expression on his face was nearly a smirk, as his self-assured nature oozed from his pores, so palpable she could nearly taste it. The feeling she got around him nearly muddled her senses. She was drawn to him because of the power he possessed, a power she craved and had craved since she was old enough to think. On the other hand, merely looking at him made her skin crawl in the most unpleasant manner. He was so opposite his brother - it was as though Vitali had gained all the charisma, the confidence and, though she was loathe to admit it, the charm that his brother lacked. However, she could already feel that something was off about him - like a lack of true empathy. 

“You offer your assistance, necromancer.” Alais put on her sultry east voice, the one she had been trained to utilize against other nobles for the purpose of achieving her goals. “How altruistic of you.” Her expression changed and she almost hated to act this way around Isidor, afraid he would see what she had been molded to become - the side of her that her father had made. 

“Or is it?” She stifled the hope that had welled up in her breast. “I get the oddest feeling that you are not the sort of man to do someone a favor out of the kindness of your heart.” The hope crept back up and made itself known. “And what even gives you the impression that you are the one that can whisk away the king’s most valuable possession?”

Alaiscina was that after all. She was his possession and she was terribly valuable. If she escaped, it would make him look weak in the eyes of his people. Twins were abominations and to have one slip passed him - his own daughter - that would be the biggest feat of all. Vitali may talk a big game and he may possess magic, but her father was the ruler of quite a vast kingdom. 

Isidor was too late to warn Alaiscina to step back, to turn away before the offer was made. Don’t engage him! He wanted to scream, but for fear of drawing unwanted attention, remained silent. The alchemist did not relax, however; particularly for fear that the princess, for all her good intentions and her experience in negotiating, might make it worse. For there was no real negotiating when it came to the necromancer, Vitali Kristeva. Everything, every deal he made was ultimately for the benefit of his gain--and at any cost to the fool who was duped into shaking his hand.

“He doesn’t know altruism,” Isidor said at last, not once taking his eyes off of his brother. “Nor kindness, nor selflessness. He knows his own gain, and he knows how to manipulate others into thinking they have something to gain by bargaining with him.”

“Harsh words, Isidor. Especially considering that you haven’t an inkling as to what I can offer.” The necromancer tsked, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back against the wall. In their dark corner of the den, only dimly lit with candles and wall sconces, the shadows that played on Vitali’s face gave him the appearance of someone who was as powerful as he was sinister. “Though to answer your question, your Royal Highness…”

The necromancer’s dark eyes drifted from his brother’s mistrustful face to that of Alaiscina’s. Hers was a face that not only mirrored Isidor’s wariness, but also reflected uncertainty, curiosity. And… maybe, just a little bit of hope.

“Believe me when I say that I have neither the intention nor the interest to whisk away a noblewoman from her tyrannical family. As my brother so eloquently mentioned, my very being here is a bit of a risk, on my part. Word has it this kingdom is not kind to magic users. However,” the corner of his mouth curled into a grin, “I may have some valuable intel and even more valuable connections that may be able to assist you in your aspired exodus of this place.”

“And what is in it for you?” Isidor demanded, tearing Vitali’s attention away from Alaiscina. He did not like the way he looked at her; like she was yet another prospect, another opportunity to further his own agenda, and at her expense. He would not let her be a victim of his brother’s amoral nature. “I know the deals you make. I know what results from them.” He narrowed his eyes, hands gripping the edge of the table so hard that his blunt fingernails began to make indents in the soft wood. “I won’t be your victim. And I’ll be damned if I let Alaiscina be your victim, either.”

Vitali remained nonplussed by his brother’s accusations. He neither confirmed nor denied how he spoke to his character; he didn’t need to explain himself. “Ultimately, Isidor, it is entirely up to you whether you wish to have dealings with me. However, do you not find it just a tad ill-mannered to speak for your companion?” The necromancer expelled a long breath, looking rather disinterested as he direction his discourse toward Alaiscina again. “As I was saying, I have no inclination to see you out of this place; what? You cannot fault me for my honesty.” He chuckled quietly. “However, it must be serendipity that we should all meet here, at the same place, at this given time, for a few close acquaintances of mine just so happen to be in town. And it just so happens that they might just have what it takes to fulfill your wish, your highness.”

“Notice how you don’t say friends; because you have none.” Isidor muttered; although, he was one to talk. His only real companion happened to be sitting next to him. But it was still more than Vitali had, or deserved.

“Friends are often more trouble than they are worth.” Vitali brushed the insult away like dust from his sleeve. “Tell me,” he eyed the two, contemplating, calculating, “Do you happen to have an affinity for the circus?”

Did they not have something to gain for utilizing Vitali’s assistance? Thoughts raced through her mind that were nearly too jumbled to be coherent. Isidor had promised to try to get her away from her murderous family, but what hope did they really have without outside help. After all, she was a princess. Her skills rested in negotiation, languages and the subtle manipulations of court. Isidor was an alchemist. His talents centered on utilizing the quiet comfort of a laboratory and exploring scientific principles in solitude. Neither of them were well versed in escape attempts and subterfuge. 

Seemingly irritated eyes wandered over their new companion, though she was more intrigued by his proposal than she would allow herself to portray through her demeanor. Confidence flowed off of him, accompanied by the haughty cross of one leg over the other. Gods, the pair of brothers could not be more of a contrast. His use of her royal title made her lips twitch and her eyes harden but she did not move.

“As large of a risk as it may be for you to step foot in the Hilofen Empire, necromancer, I doubt that the risk outweighs the reward.” Isidor’s harsh words about his brother during their picnic adventure had not fallen on deaf ears. As drawn to the idea of magic, of power, as the princess was, she was sitting beside a reminder of what Vitali really was. [i] His help--if you can even call it that... it always comes with a price. Often ones that you do not realize you are not truly willing to pay, until it is too late[/i]. Alais was not about to bargain away one cage to put herself directly into another one. She may be young, naive at times, but she was not a fool.

As she watched him, she refused to tear her eyes from those of the necromancer. Alais watched him like a predator watched prey, calculating and cautious at the same time. All great hunters were intelligent enough to know when their prey was dangerous and the heiress was quite aware that she was sitting across from the most dangerous individual she had ever encountered. Of that she was certain.  As Vitali prattled on, weaving a web of words to trap them, Alais remained silent.

The look in his eye as he questioned her caused her skin to prickle, wanting her to dig her nails into her palm again. Resisting the urge, the princess was prevented from responding by. Bar maid who had finally decided to meander over towards them. She took their order, yet Alais was confident that it would not be delivered promptly and likely would not be what she requested - mulled wine. “Beyond a passing fascination, I do not particularly give a thought to the circus.” It was a small a lie, but she did not particularly want to give any additional ammunition to the necromancer.

“Circus or not. Close acquaintance or people under your thumb.” She leaned back against the bench and crossed her hands in her hand. “I care not about intricacies at this moment.” Sharp blue eyes were those of a royal, a potential heir to the kingdom, if fate had allowed her to be something else.

“What do you want in exchange for your assistance with our...hasty departure from the empire? For I have the distinct feeling that you don’t trade your particular services for monetary gain, though such funds could be arranged.” Isidor was about to protest, she could feel it. To preempt his words, she reached out and placed a gentle hand on his leg. It was a subtle movement, but Alais didn’t care if Vitali saw it. Her fingers tightened just slightly against the fabric of his pants and then she released it, returning her hand to her lap.

The barmaid brought their drinks and surprisingly the mulled wine was quite good. She took a deep sip, and wiped the excess from her lip with her pointer finger. “Name your price, necromancer, and I’ll see if it is worth the exchange.” Alais was not willing to put Isidor in any additional danger than they were already in and she was not going to escape her prison to indenture herself to another maniacal man.

“Necromancer?” Vitali’s eyebrows elevated in surprise at the princess’s cavalier use of his practice and occupation to address him. He turned his dark eyes on his brother, lips parting in a wide, amused grin. “Either my name has become infamous in the Hilofen Empire, or you’ve told her about me. Considering nary another person has so much as turned their head in my direction… I am keen on assuming the latter. I’m flattered!”

Isidor flushed visibly, a parasympathetic response to the tension in the air that caused a shade of rouge to blossom on his chest, creep up his neck and into his face. “You came up in passing, and believe me, nothing amicable was said with relation to your name.” The alchemist muttered, stiff as a board from the shoulders down. He couldn’t possibly have sat any straighter in his seat if a rod were keeping him upright.

“Oh, of course not; I wouldn’t expect any different,” Vitali waved the matter off with a hand. “It just warms my heart to know my dear brother is still thinking of me, after all--ah, about time.” As the tavern wench approached the table to see about fetching them food or drink, the necromancer turned his body to face her. “Some of your finest ale for this table--especially for him.” He pointed a thumb in Isidor’s direction. “My brother is experiencing something of a hard time. Whatever you see fit to calm his nerves.”

As the maid departed to fetch them their drinks, Isidor, whose face had yet to lose its rouge, muttered, “I do not imbibe of alcohol. Well… not in your company, at least.” Like Alaiscina, his eyes never strayed from Vitali. A half second was all it took for the man to get one up on you. He refrained from mentioning the wine he had partook with the princess not too long ago, for frankly, it was none of his brother’s business.

Vitali did not seem to care either way. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, and it was clear his attention was not reserved for the alchemist, who already mistrusted him, and for good reason. He’d piqued Alaiscina’s interest; and her word was what mattered. Because if he knew his brother at all, Isidor might protest, but in the end would concede to whatever his lady friend wanted; either because he had a certain affinity for the princess, or because he hadn’t the spine to put up a reasonable argument. “Depending on how badly you want to take your leave of this place, your interest in the circus may just take leap,” he commented, sounding almost bored. When the bar wench returned with two steins of dark amber ale, and a glass of wine, he took a generous sip. As if urgency didn’t matter; as if Alaiscina and Isidor did not need a plan now, and did not need to act on it sooner than later. If they wanted to feign disinterest, then so could he.

But of course, Alaiscina was not disinterested. She was desperate; he could see it in her eyes and mannerisms, and even if he hadn’t overheard snippets of their prior conversation, Vitali--unlike his hermit of a brother--could read people well enough to deduce their intentions. A slow smile curled the corners of his mouth when she asked him to name his price.

Predictably, Isidor drew a sharp intake of breath, clearly about to protest, but something stayed his words. Vitali could not see Alaiscina’s hand on his leg to note the way her touch cut off his words before they could take form, but he had the distinct feeling that something about her strong will overshadowed his own, weaker resolve. Whatever existed between them, be it friendship or something more, the princess had power over the Alchemist, and it extended beyond her title and bloodline; and she didn’t even realize it.

“If it is worth it.” The necromancer snickered at her words. “If only I had a coin for every time I heard this. The fact remains, Your Highness, that you are clearly in a desperate situation with few other options; otherwise, given what my brother has likely told you, you would not be hearing me out. So I can guarantee you right now, short of me asking for the remaining years of your life to tack onto my own--which, rest assured, I haven’t any current interest in--my bargains are always worth it.” Leaning back against his seat, he looked thoughtful. “As for compensation for my services…”

“You will not involve her.”

Shoving his untouched stein out of the way, Isidor slammed his fist upon the table so hard, it nearly upset all three of their drinks. His face was no longer flushed, but pale. His eyes, though… There was something Vitali had not witnessed, before. And he could not put his finger on what it was. “This was my idea. I convinced Alaiscina she must leave. So any deal you make, you make with me; not with her. Are we clear?”

The necromancer arched an eyebrow, though did not look at all displeased. While Isidor expected him to argue, surprisingly, he agreed. “As you wish. In exchange for orchestrating a way to see you both safely out of the Hilofen Empire, I ask this of you, dear brother.” Vitali leaned in, folding his arms on the table. “At an indeterminate date and time, I will come to ask a favor of you. It will be one that is within your realm of possibility, and will not involve the forfeit of your life. But those are the only details I can promise.”

Isidor’s throat felt dry, and his heart hammered against his chest so hard that he began to feel light-headed. Never in a thousand years would he have guessed he’d become beholden to the single person he despised the most… but Vitali was right. They were desperate, short on viable options. And Vitali had showed up just at the right place, at the right time; when they were at their most vulnerable. “Fine.” was all he said in response, glaring daggers into the untouched stein of ale sitting before him.

Alais watched their exchange, merely raising her eyebrows when he ascertained that they had discussed his existence before. The alchemist’s brother knew how desperate the pair of them were - especially after Isidor had given her hope. Long ago she had squashed any notion that she would be able to flee from her fate, until him, until his promise. Now that she had the slightest whiff of her freedom on the air, she couldn’t stand the idea of not doing everything she could. Was a deal with a demon really a fate worse than death? She could make the bargain and deal with the consequences of her desperation later.

Vitali’s smirk made her want to reach across the table and slap him - no - punch him square in his arrogant mouth.  Princesses did not punch, however, and she merely kept her expression as neutral as she could manage at the moment.  To her, a bargain was well worth it for a chance, any chance, to live, so long as she wouldn’t be in Vitali’s service for the remainder of her life. Money and whatever was in her power to give him, she would, barring anything that put Isidor into further danger. He had already risked too much for her and she knew the well of his hatred for his brother ran very deep. 

As she contemplated all that she could offer him in exchange, a tremble of the table and the sloshing of ale drew her from her thoughts. Alais’ eyes tore from the necromancer to look at her companion, shocked. The amount of passion Isidor just displayed was the most emotion she had ever seen from him. The closest she had seen to this level of feeling was when he had denied her request to let her die. That night paled in comparison to this. 

Alais expected him to immediately refuse his brother but he acquiesced. No amount of royal training prepared her to keep the surprise from her features. Light blue eyes stared at him, she felt the burn of his pain and the heat of her fury at the same time. How dare he take on another burden in an attempt to help her escape?! Incredulously, she kept her gaze on Isidor until Vitali expressed his pleasure at the arrangement. Wild, angry eyes flashed at him, ready to cut him to ribbons if she but possessed the ability to do so. “No.” She turned back to Isidor and said it again, more firmly. “No.” Again, her attention shifted to the man across the table from them. “Your deal is with me. It is my life. It is my decision.” Yet the ferocity with which Isidor stared at his mug silenced her - for now - at least in front of the necromancer.

The princess was quite used to getting her way (ignoring the part where she was destined to die at her sister’s hand, that is.) Alaiscina pursed her lips for a long moment and pushed her mug aside. She had lost all desire for food or drink. Isidor’s deal had turned her stomach sour. “So what is your ingenious plan then?” The bite in her voice difficult to overlook. “I take it that it has something to do with a circus troupe.” Alais would have words with Isidor later. Alais would have words with Vitali, in hopes of altering his bargain with his brother, later. Now it was time to plan. The time they possessed was limited, indeed, with her birthday drawing ever closer.

“My twenty-second birthday is swiftly approaching and each day the noose grows tighter. “ She resisted the urge to run her fingers against her clavicle, where it stopped at the hollow of the throat. “The celebrations will begin in a week’s time, culminating in the tasks that will discern which body has the right to our fractured soul. I do not know how much you know about my particular predicament but I can surmise that you do not care much for such details concerning the why of it all. At this point, neither to do. I do, however, want to know the how. No one knows the castle like my family does. I do not want an escape plan that only ends in our capture...and death.” Pale gaze did not waver from Vitali’s dark ones.

Neither men appeared particularly fazed at the princess’s outburst, or her vehement objection to the arrangement of their current negotiation. If Isidor was moved by it, the alchemist was already too tense, sitting rigid as a board in his seat, hands clasped into tight fists on the table while refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Vitali merely waved off her words with a flippant gesture of his hand. “You did ask me to name my price,” he informed Alaiscina, absently inspecting his nails, as if they were more entertaining than this conversation. “You did not ask me which of you would pay it. Frankly, as I am the one providing the service, and the two of you are working together, it is only fair that I decide who I will collect from. But… my brother has never exhibited such a biting sting to his stubbornness, before.” His dark eyes shone, with curiosity and mischief. “I haven’t the heart to turn him down, since his own heart seems so intent on being in my debt. In any case…”

Those dark eyes drifted to the sullen and stiff form of his brother, who refused to return his gaze. “I feel a renown alchemist has more to offer me than a runaway princess. No offense intended, your highness.”

“Enough of your gloating.” Isidor finally snapped, looking up from his untouched ale. His pale face was somber and serious, but did not portray a sign of weakness. He knew better; Vitali smelled weakness like a predator smelled the blood of its prey. “Let us hear this ‘plan’ of yours, and we will decide if you are worth our time. Forgive me for not feeling convinced that a spur of the moment strategy you thought up in the last fifteen minutes, since discovering us here, might not pan out.”

The necromancer folded his hands on the table and shrugged. “Spur of the moment strategy is precisely what has kept me alive. I’m sure I needn’t remind you just how many people want me dead… and counting.”

He was right; Isidor couldn’t refute that his brother was a master of thinking on his feet, for better or worse. “We’re listening.”

“How long do the two of you plan to stay in town, tonight? Word has it, a traveling entertainment troupe is preparing for a show, this evening. I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with them, and they are by far the craftiest and most resourceful people I’ve ever encountered. Not only would they be able to provide an adequate distraction, but let’s just say, their sleight of hand is superb enough to make people disappear…” The corner of his mouth curled into a half-grin. “And it just so happens that their ring leader owes me a favor; one that I do not mind collecting on your behalf. I would be more than happy to introduce you to the Missing Links, before your departure.”

Much though he hated to admit it… Vitali might have been onto something. “Good timing, considering the celebrations that are to take place in a week.” Isidor mused, sounding about as defeated as he did relieved. “What is your plan, then? Distract her father with acrobats and fire eaters while the princess runs, in hope that no one notices?”

“On the contrary; you both would be part of the distraction.” Vitali shifted in his seat and took another healthy swig of ale. His stein was almost depleted, but if he was at all feeling the dampening effects of the swill, he did not show it. “Of course, we would need to discuss the details with the performers, themselves. But it would not be the first time they’ve drawn an audience’s eye to one thing, while orchestrating something entirely different behind the scenes. Let’s just say, the money they earn from their shows isn’t quite enough to feed the lot of hungry mouths.”

“So they’re not only circus entertainers, but criminals?” Isidor balked. “And you’ll think they’ll agree to help us?”

“Criminals is a harsh word. They work hard to make ends meet; I’d call them survivors. But, yes--they are in my debt. This will be the favor I call in. If, of course, you agree.”

Isidor didn’t want to agree; he didn’t want to be in Vitali’s debt, living his life under the umbrella of fear of never knowing when his brother would call no him to collect. But even less did he want Alaiscina to be beholden to this wretched man; or, worse, to not act at all, and accept her fate. “Only if we have your guarantee that the two of us will make it out alive, and to safety. Away from the Hilofen Empire and its monarchy.”

“You have my word.”

“And what is that worth?”

Vitali’s gaze settled on Alaiscina again, and he smiled. “Her Highness’s life and safety, evidently. Finish your drinks, and I'll introduce you to some new friends.”

Internally, Alais prepared a slew of words that would be most unprincess-like coming from her mouth. Isidor would be on the receiving end of quite the tirade when they were alone later this evening. For now, she stifled her desire to tear into the Kristeva brothers. They may be polar opposites but they had one thing in common at this moment - Her Royal Highness’ wrath. The slight against her caused her to narrow her eyes at Vitali but her lips remained firmly pressed together as they spat back and forth at each other like angry kittens. 

The princess nodded her agreement and cast her eyes at their beverages. Isidor was unlikely to touch his drink and Alais’ desire for her mulled wine had passed. She didn’t reach to touch it but rose from the bench she was occupying, clearly of the mind to move on from their current location. The barmaid cast her a quick glance and she did draw the gaze of a few patrons.  Despite her drab garb by her standards, she still shown like a diamond in the rough amongst those that frequented this establishment. They moved towards the door and she did not fail the notice the way Vitali moved so fluidly, so self-assured. 

“I will have to get back before long- my guards will not permit an overnight stay and it would be obvious that something is amiss if we tarry too long.” She cast a glance over at Isidor. “Perhaps a bit longer in order to meet your...colleagues...but then we will have to return. My sister is suspicious already and has nothing better to do with the time we have left together than to make my life as miserable as possible.” Alais tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Exiting, the death-fated woman looked cautiously from one side to the other before following after Vitali. He strode about the city as though he wouldn’t be burned alive if her father learned of his visit to the empire. They wound through the streets of the capital city almost to the point that she felt a little lost. On their walk, she did not bother to say one single word to Isidor. Anger still raged hot in her heart and continued to flame with each step she took, gaze burning a hole into Vitali’s back. 

Yet, part of her was excited - a part she was vehemently attempting to squash.  To meet a circus troupe and criminals, at that, had piqued her interest. Alaiscina had never met a criminal specifically. They had been sentenced to death by her father’s hand and she had silently waited at Lucaine’s side as the verdict was handed down. Some were blatantly guilty and some were less so, but her father was uncompromising in his rules. The only time he had made an exception was not drowning Alais the moment she was born. He regretted that weakness, she was certain.

Finally, the necromancer stopped and blue eyes took in the area just beyond him. There was a large open space meant for entertaining the masses, providing a reprieve from the drudgery of city life. A tent was set. It was painted with abstract patterns and colored, though sun faded and worn. Excitement flashed in her eyes, momentarily quelling her anger at the alchemist. Alais bit her lip and moved back Vitali. A small crowd had started to linger at the edge of the tent. There was a man sitting at the entrance to the tent, picking dirt from under his fingernails with a knife.  The look on his face was of trained disinterest, but Alais distinctly noted that his body was only meant to appear that way. Mainly because he looked up the moment Vitali drew close.  He was slender, what would be classified as too skinny by Hilofen standards. The man’s expression remained the same, except for the slight widening of his eyes at taking in the necromancer’s slender form.  He rose slowly, spinning the knife in his hands with delicate ease. “Ya wanta see Frealy?” After Vitali’s response, the knife wielder nodded grimly and slipped inside the tent.

“Well,” Alais began, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and tossing a glare at Vitali, “it seems like they are thrilled with your arrival. I’m glad we’re in such revered company.”

Inside the tent, Delvin wound his way through some of the equipment to find the leader of their little troupe. He had only tacked on to their ensemble a short while ago, but long enough to know that if a dark-hair, dark-eyed and highly arrogant fellow arrived that it could only mean trouble. “Someun’s here to see ya and ya ain’t gunna be thrilled ‘bout it.” He shoved his knife into his belt, ceasing the anxious spinning he had been performing as he walked. Slender fingers looped around the make-shift suspenders holding his trousers aloft. 

Alais was right; the alchemist had no inclination to finish his beverage, or even touch it, for that matter. Beyond the fact that he just didn’t have a taste for alcohol, it was thoroughly unwise not to have the full capacity of your wits about you when dealing with someone who possessed the notoriety that Vitali did. Any slip up, any instance where he might miss the most minute detail might prove to cost him dearly--and he had already accumulated innumerable debt in the last half hour.

Wordlessly, and already feeling numb, he slid out from the booth, behind Alais and his brother. Vitali reached into the pocket of his violet overcoat and dropped a few coins on the table, and grinned at Isidor’s confused expression. “Surprise--drinks are on me, tonight. In exchange for the riveting conversation, of course.”

The necromancer led them out of the tavern, and deep into the belly of the town proper, towards a large, open space that looked ideal for hosting entertainment. Not quite situated in the center, but rather off to the side, was a large, colourful tent, nearby which three separate caravans had parked in dingy alleys to keep out of the way. Already, Isidor felt his gut twist with discomfort, and they hadn’t even encountered anyone… It was a big enough ordeal to function around ordinary citizens--and royals, at that. The thought of interacting with criminals--and not only interacting, but putting his life and Alais’s in their hands--was nauseating.

Vitali approached a man in possession of a somewhat menacing looking blade, and Isidor knew well enough to remain several feet behind him. “Beg your pardon,” the necromancer began, “We were hoping to see your ringleader, if she is present. If she isn’t,” something sinister flashed in Vitali’s eyes. “Well, it would be in her best interests to make herself present, sooner or later.”

The knife-wielding man put up no argument, and in fact, seemed to be expecting such a question to come from such a stranger. Vitali lent an easy smile to the princess’s comment. “Nobody likes to face a debt collector,” he said, as they were led inside of the tent.

The inside was a mess of props, costumes, and colours. Another man, tall and lanky and dressed in sparkling green, looked up from a deck of playing cards he was shuffling, and seemed to tense at the sight of the necromancer and his entourage. Isidor wasn’t surprised; this was both a common and an appropriate reaction to the necromancer’s presence. Like the Grim Reaper, he always seemed to appear when you least expected--or wanted--it.

Beyond the props and technical equipment, seated among an array of costumes, stood two women: one clad in a short, silver costume, small and so fair-haired her locks almost appeared to lack colour entirely, and the other taller and clad in a glimmering shade of gold, brunette locks haphazardly bound at the back of her neck. Both were barefoot, and appeared lean and almost startlingly thin, and the cloth wrapped around the arches of their feet and around their palms suggested their place in this troupe: acrobats. Except, one of them was more than just that.

The brunette stopped her task of adjusting the back of the silver-clad woman’s costume at Delvin’s approach. With one glance at the necromancer, it was difficult to determine how she felt; her eyes and face betrayed nothing. The same couldn’t be said for the pale-haired woman, though.

“Who let you in? I don’t care what you think we owe you.” She snapped, taking some bold steps forward toward the necromancer. “We are working; we are preparing for a show. You aren’t welcome here.”

“Stand down, Cwenha.” It was an order, albeit a gentle one. The brunette nodded a quiet ‘thanks’ to the knife thrower, before folding her arms and facing off her unwanted guests. “She is right, though; we are busy. Whatever your business, make it quick.”

“A pleasure to see you again, too, Briery Frealy. You and your troupe appear to be faring well.” Vitali was far too used to vitriol for her words to garner a reaction. He briefly turned his attention to a shimmering gown hanging from a line drawn across the top of the tent; like the ring leader was herself not worth his attention, despite that he’d sought her out. “I’m afraid I’ve rather a long story, and ‘quick’ may not be possible. Depends on how quickly Her Highness, here, can spin her tale for you. But in short…”

Finally meeting her eyes, Vitali took a step forward and boldly placed a hand on her bare shoulder. “I’m here to offer you the opportunity to relieve yourself from my debt, and rid yourself of that pesky mark on your hand--on the condition that you will agree to help these two lovely individuals find a way out of a tough situation.” Stepping aside, he gestured to the two in his entourage. “May I present Her Highness, Princess Alaiscina, whose father rules the land upon which you tread, and my own dear yet estranged brother, Isidor. Renown alchemist, though not much of a conversationalist. And this,” he craned his head to flash his brother and his companion a smile, “is Briery Frealy. Talented acrobat, pickpocket, and ring leader of his jolly band of entertainers.”

Taking a step back from the ring leader, he situated himself between the two people in question, laying unwanted hands upon their shoulders, in turn. “But I will let them tell their story, as I cannot do it justice. Go on,” he said to them, “she won’t bite. But, well…” Vitali raised an eyebrow at the woman Briery had addressed as Cwenha, who appeared hot in the face with barely contained rage. “She might.”

Vitali made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on in when he referred to himself as a debt collector. Isidor was in his debt. One could only guess what terrible price he would extract from his brother when the proper time came. Alais had a sinking feeling that, while necromancer would want something, he would also make it a task difficult for Isidor - physically or morally. As she considered this, she followed the knife thrower and the brother into the tent. Immediately, she was drawn from her thoughts at the brightly colored props and general air of talent that filled the air. Bright blue eyes darted around, attempting to process and store all that she saw. While the princess had been privy to a number of skilled acts that were drawn to the castle, she had ever been permitted such a behind the scenes glance into the lives of a circus troupe.

Delvin merely nodded his close-cropped head at the barefoot woman and took a few steps away. However, he did not resume his post outside of the tent. Instead he took a seat nearby and brought out a different knife that Alais had no idea where he had stored it. She eyed him for a moment longer as he resume picking imaginary dirt from under his nails. The look of disinterest played across his face but the princess knew better. The fire of the blonde startled Alaiscina at first but made her smile. Good. At least they weren’t afraid of Vitali. Though, she wondered if they should be. As much as she longed to explore the space they occupied, she turned her gaze back to Vitali. It was not wise to turn your back on a viper.

At her introduction, Alais inclined her head that the brunette. It gave her a quite moment to take in the lithe form of the woman - one she envied. Muscle rippled beneath the shimmering fabric and her hair shown as though it was spun of mink fur and gold. However, the moment Vitali placed his hand on her shoulder, she sidestepped and did not make any attempt to hide that she was repulsed by his touch.  She did manage to keep the shiver from visibly running down her spine and positioned herself where she could see both the necromancer and the acrobatic leader. “Pleasure, Miss Frealy but please call me Alais. Princess is what I am trying to avoid,” she snapped her gaze over to Vitali swiftly before returning to address Briery. “So formal titles can be dispensed with.”

Before spinning her tale, Alais licked her lips. “There is not so much to tell as he lets on,” careful to keep the bite from her tone when she referenced Isidor’s brother. There was a time and place to speak her mind to him and now was not it. “I am not familiar with the depth of your knowledge of the Hilofen Empire, so do not hesitate to interrupt me if I am boring you with details you are acquainted with.” For the first time since they left the tavern, she cast a glance over as Isidor and then Cwenha and finally Briery again, flickering over the knife thrower in the background. 

“Magic is forbidden within our borders. It’s a long-standing law dating back to an attempted coup by a magician but,” she waved a hand, dismissing that particular story, “ultimately many superstitions have developed from this ban. Twins are just one of the taboos. One soul in two bodies is an imbalance, unnatural and henceforth, magical. The second-born is always killed - drowning, abandoned to the elements, suffocation.” Alais shrugged, as though at this point she might wish that it had happened to have kept her alchemist from entering into a devil’s bargain. “I’m a second-born twin. My mother...” The princess faltered, just slightly, before continuing. “My mother had sway over my father and so bought time for us, though at this point a half-life seems crueler in a way. On our twenty-second birthday, next week, my sister and I will compete in a series of tests designed to determine which body, which mind, is more suited to carry the whole soul. At which point, I will be murdered.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. Alais had accepted it long ago. It was only Isidor who had given her a spark of hope.

“I cannot beat my sister and so I will die.” Pressing her lips together, she gestured to Isidor. “He has convinced me that it would be in my best interest to attempt to escape, with his assistance. And it is so fortuitous that Vitali stumbled upon us...” The last sentence held both a touch of sarcasm and truth to it. For how else would they have been able to slip her guards and flee from her fate? “There will be celebrations for our name day, of course, and perhaps with some assistance from you - should you be willing -“ crystalline eyes flickered to Vitali momentarily, “we could escape. I could give you access to the castle, add you to the list of entertainers performing for the ceremonies. You will be monetarily compensated by the Royal Treasury, additionally. 

Delvin did not look up from his seat but ceased the rhythmic movement of his blade. “Might be fun.” He added in his small comment before returning his attention to his knife, which he now decided was a bit too dull for his liking. Alais raised an eyebrow at the knife thrower’s idea of a good time but did not say anything to him particularly. Imploring, she turned to Briery. 

“Would you be willing?”

Whatever her motivation, be it curiosity, or the threat of what Vitali might do if she refused this favor, Briery listened to what the princess had to say. It wasn’t her troupe’s first time, visiting the Hilofen Empire; maybe their second or third, but after a while, all towns and kingdoms began to look the same, so she couldn’t be sure. However, she had always known to take note of those that had taken a hostile stance against magic or anything magically inclined. For these places were both the most dangerous and the most profitable. They had to tread lightly, but oh, did citizens such as these drink up the entertainment. How they marveled at her and Cwenha on a tightrope, swinging through the air or detangling themselves from aerial silks. They adored Rycen’s sleight of hand and Delvin’s deadly precision with his knives. And Lautim, larger than life as he was, had never failed to be a crowd pleaser.

But the people knew it was not real; it was all smoke and mirrors, and that was what kept them safe. What the ringleader of the infamous Missing Links traveling circus had not so much as dreamed of was the danger that these very citizens were in, all as the result of their own deep-seated superstitions, the ones in danger. And even more ludicrous--members of the royal family were not even exempt from that, as Alascina’s story very clearly exhibited.

As Briery pondered, however, Cwenha stepped forward. The anger in her eyes blazed like sapphire flames, but… they were not directed at Vitali. Not anymore. Instead, she looked directly at Alaiscina. “Fun? To you this is fun?” She asked Delvin, but did not look away from the princess. “Only when the privileged began to realize loss to they try to appeal to the scum under their feet.” Her words bit like acid, enough that it took Isidor off guard, and he cautiously stepped back--and she wasn’t even looking at him. “You live your life in your palaces and your gowns and your five-course meals, and don’t give a thought to the starving people beyond those safe walls. Or what they have to do to find shelter, or pay for a meal… but you see perfectly fit to ask them for help when you are out of options.”

“With all respect, Miss, this was not Alaiscina’s idea--i-it was mine.” The alchemist stammered, unable to stand by without assuming some accountability. “And not even this, specifically. Coming to you… it was my brother who put the offer on the table. We only agreed out of desperation."

“Of course you did. This demon feeds off of desperation. And makes us stoop low, so low, when he comes to collect.” Cwenha looked away from Alaiscina, from all of them. And, as if realizing her temper was getting the better of her, she pushed past the princess and the alchemist, and took her leave of the tent entirely.

The entire time, Briery Frealy did not bat an eyelash. “You’ll have to forgive her. Cwenha was emerging from a dark and painful place when she found our troupe.” She explained, with neither surprise nor remorse. “She hasn’t much sympathy for the privileged, and for good reason. I may be able to change her mind enough to lend a hand; give her some time.”

“Does… this mean you will help us?” Isidor’s voice was barely above a whisper; he was too afraid that their luck would turn, should his hope ring too loudly.

The ringleader didn’t answer right away. Not before looking directly at Vitali. “A number of us have narrowly escaped imprisonment and death for lesser crimes than this. If we are caught, we will all be tried for kidnapping, regardless of whether either of these two say. What insurance can you give us that we aren’t throwing our lives away?”

“Really? The infallible Missing Links need insurance?” Vitali chuckled and spread his hands. “If you want my opinion, I would be highly surprised if anyone were to catch you. You’re the type who learns from their mistakes and becomes stronger for it. Consider it a compliment I am hedging my bets on you.”

Briery didn’t move or respond. She waited for the words she wanted to hear.

Finally, Vitali heaved a sigh. “Well, far be it from me to let down my brother and his friend by not playing fair. If you can perform the distraction and maneuvering needed to shepherd these two out of this wayward kingdom, I will buy you time to save yourselves. You’ll get away with your lives and your money. You have my word--and that, as I am sure you know, is not something I give lightly.”

“Make sure the monarchs pay up front, and I’m in.” Another voice piped up behind them. The man clad in sparkling green, shuffling cards between his hands, flashed Briery a wide grin. “C’mon, Frealy. You know we won’t be leaving this place with full pockets. And if this gets us out of debt? It’s practically a gift.”

“Nothing that my brother offers is a ‘gift’.” Isidor couldn’t help but add, but his imploring eyes were on the ringleader. “We will do whatever we can to help. Just tell us what you need.”

Briery rubbed the back of her neck. Her agreement in taking part of this was clearly not out of willingness; it was out of defeat. “Well, the first thing we’ll need is an idea of our stage. Tell us what we need to know about our surroundings; and we will figure it out from there. A week…” She paused, looking contemplative, then nodded. “A week should give us enough time.”

If Delvin was at all concerned by the venom in Cwenha’s words, his face did not show it. He merely lifted his eyes from his current task before returning them to his blade once more. Alais noted it and wondered if the blonde was prone to dramatic outbursts from time to time. And while the words did not sting the knife thrower, Alais was more than a little wounded by the spitting tone the acrobat threw in her direction. For a moment, she thought to respond to her, but Isidor beat her to it and blue eyes merely blinked slowly as Cwenha stormed off in what could only be characterized as a huff. At Briery’s apology, the princess merely inclined her head. “I won’t force someone to assist us, no matter who is puppeting this whole affair.” She directed the words at Vitali but remained focused on the ringleader. 

They agreed, with a little added incentive from the necromancer. Alais dared not show her hope nor her excitement, but it blossomed in her chest so broadly that it threatened to suffocate her. Never had she come so close to escape, to life. The deed was not yet accomplished and the princess took a slow breath as a man approached, clad in a shimmering green. Her eyes watched the speed with which he shuffled cards and his smile set Alais at ease. “Payment through the royal treasury should not be a problem and I can provide additional...monetary benefits after we are safely away.” The armoire filled with her finest gowns and a number of bejeweled necklaces would do the trick. They would make more money than they had ever had before...at least, honest money, that is.

Devlin rose and meandered over with a nonchalance that even Alais envied. It was the same calculated carelessness with which her sister strutted about and something that the second-born could only mimic on occasion. It was hard to be confident when everyone whispered about you behind their hands and pointed their gnarled fingers when you arrived. Alaiscina may have all the airs of a princess and the authority, but her confidence was lacking in comparison with other royals. Devlin stood a foot behind the slight of hand magician and stowed his knife visibly away. His fingers twitched at the idea that he might just have to kill someone to ensure their safe departure from the castle. 

“A week.” Alais echoed, her stomach twisting into knots. Her birthday was a week and a day away. If there was even the slightest delay...she’d be dead before they could get through the gates. It had to work, however, and so she put on her best facade and nodded. A few brown strands had escaped their pins and brushed against her cheek and neck. “The performance will be in the receiving hall. It is large enough for your troupe and any particular stage you would erect yourselves. They won’t permit you to perform outside,” she looked the little gathering of people over. “My father despises the heat and humidity of the afternoons here.”

“It would be beneficial, in my opinion - though I am not remotely expert on such matters -“ Alais said, looking at Briery, “for you to come and see the space for yourself beforehand. I could arrange that within the next two days. I could show it to you myself...perhaps,” now her methodical, highly studious mind began to work and run through all of the scenarios, “yes,” she added for a moment, her gaze clearly unfocused, her mind elsewhere. Shaking her head, she recentered on the acrobat. “Yes, Isidor and I will say that we saw you all practicing tonight and I was so captivated that I just had to have your perform for the celebrations. It will not be difficult to add the Missing Links to the list of entertainers. The king may be cruel, but he would not deny me this, not with death lingering just behind me. In two days a guard can come to fetch you.” Alais turned towards Delvin. “Though I am afraid they will not permit your particular skills in the hall. Weapons are not permitted in the presence of His Highness.”

Devlin shrugged and raised his hands. “They won’t find a knife on me.” While he didn’t give any indication otherwise, Alais had the distinct feeling that he would make it past her father’s guards with a number of pointy objects concealed on his person. It made her smile, just barely. 

“If that works for you, Miss Frealy, then we will see each other again soon. I fear I must be getting back now or they will suspect something is amiss. I can only keep up the ruse so long.” She referred to the show Isidor and Alais played for the courtiers but did not name it directly. It was their secret, of sorts, and having Vitali know it explicitly would sully it, in her mind. 

“An indoor show.” Briery nodded, attentive to the details Alaiscina chose to share. By the furrow of her brow, Isidor had a feeling, however, it wasn’t what she was hoping to hear. “That will certainly be limiting. We’re not entirely equipped for the indoors, but if the ceilings are high enough and the vicinity is spacious, we can probably make it work. We will need room enough for trapeze and a highwire. And that is only for the show. The rest of it… I cannot say until, as you said, I’ve seen it for myself.” Turning an eye to the princess and the man who was allegedly the necromancer’s brother, she asked, “How fast can you run?”

The young alchemist swallowed, mouth agape without words to come out right away. “I…” He cleared his throat and straightened the collar of his tunic. “Personally, I don’t make a habit of… running. I really couldn’t say.”

“Well, my advice to you is to make a habit of it. Prepare your body and your mind for the worst case scenario.” The ringleader advised; and while his skills in reading affect and countenance were abysmal, it didn’t look as though she was joking. She averted her hazel gaze from Isidor and settled on Alaiscina. “Even if all goes well, you’d better prepare to run hard and fast at a moment’s notice. There is only so much finesse that an escape such as this can promise, no matter how well we might distract your father and those in his employ.”

Rycen ceased his bored shuffling and tucked his deck of cards into an inner pocket of his shimmering, green coat. “So not only are we performing for the reigning monarch of this place, but in his very home?” He let out a low whistle. “This is gonna raise the bar for us, you know. Performing before royals? Paid handsomely? I might get used to it.”

“Only if you are a fool. Whether or not this goes as planned--if we devise a plan--we won’t ever be able to come back here. And it will be imperative that we lay low for a good amount of time, afterwards.” Briery looked around the room, at the necromancer and the two people in need of aid, at the knife thrower, the magician. “Be sure they don’t find knives on you,” she said to Devlin, but followed up with, “and be sure that you don’t go in there without them. There is only so much Lautim can do to hold off offenders, if it comes to that.Your aim could come in handy.”

Isidor glanced around, wondering whom the ring leader was referring to. He came up short. “Are… there are more of you?”

The acrobat smiled lazily, folding her arms across her gold-clad chest. “There are always more. Some come, some go… some come back. Lautim has been with is from the beginning. But you won’t find him in here; his height would never clear this tent.”

“Well, if we are finished making arrangements for the time being, I’ll be taking my leave for now.” Vitali piped up, casually rolling his shoulders back. “But we shall all be in touch, I am sure. For now, I’ve other business to attend to within this lovely empire. Don’t bother looking for me--you know well I’ll find you, instead.”

He did not wait for dismissal before he turned, making for the entrance of the tent. The ring leader’s voice stalled him temporarily in his tracks. “And what about your promise, necromancer?” There was an edge to her voice that hadn’t been there before. One that made Isidor believe this woman was far more dangerous than her lithe, golden-clad form let on. “We’ve agreed to help--at your request. So what about this?” She proceeded to unwrap one of her hands, letting the strip of fabric fall carelessly to the ground. The alchemist’s stomach turned at the sight of what looked like a rune, carved into the flesh of her palm, raised and pink and shiny with scar tissue.

Vitali paused, awarding her a simple glance over his shoulder. “If and when you are successful in this endeavor, then rest assured, that will disappear as if it had never been there.”

He saw himself out without another word, leaving Isidor and Alaiscina to remain among their new allies by circumstance. Though it was none of his business, surely, he couldn’t help but ask, “...why? What would drive you to bargain with that monster?”

Briery retrieved the strip of cloth from the floor, and wound it around her hand once again. “The same that has driven you to put yourself in his debt,” she said simply. “Our lives. You should go, now. Don’t stir any unnecessary suspicion within your circle this coming week. Plans like this are at their most successful when no one is suspecting anything.”

Alais nodded solemnly at the ringleader’s instructions. While physical activity was not as readily available for a princess as it would be for a prince, Alaiscina could ride harder and faster than her sister and she could dance until she was blue in the face. Practicing would be difficult...but she could run circles around her chamber after dismissing her maid if necessary. Anything to escape the hell that awaited her by her family’s already bloodied hands.  Rycen’s interruption made a small smile play on the heiress’ lips briefly, before she contorted them to press firmly against each other.

Devlin cocked his head at Briery at first, before revealing a wife smile. “Of course. And I never miss.” He cast his glance at the princess and held her gaze for longer than was comfortable for the royal. She turned her face away, focusing on Briery herself. Devlin began producing knives off his person as though out of thin air, magiced to existence by the flick of his wrist. It was all Alais could do not the stare at them all when their talents were on display. She was lost in thoughts for a multitude of quick moments before Briery’s terse tone drew her attention. Bright blue eyes ran over the brand on the acrobat’s flesh and she knew what it was, how it must hurt. Her father had branded multiple individuals throughout Alais’ life. Even now, just looking at it, she could recall the putrid smell of burning flesh and the infections that would occasionally result after. 

She turned her face away, not even watching Vitali’s departure.

“Understood. I will send someone to fetch you in a few days time so that you might explore the performing room. “ Alais’ tone took on its economic edge, the one she had been trained to use when planning and executing arrangements. “I hope that you understand that I do not ask for your assistance lightly and the bargain with the...with Vitali was not struck lightly. If there had been a way to avoid your involvement, I would have chosen that first.” She pushed up her sleeves, revealing the iron bangle given to her by her only, true friend and a number of other simple chains. She unclasped two of them. One was a fine, thinly linked golden strand - resplendent in its simplicity. It had been her mother’s. The other was thicker and less flexible. It was inlaid with small gems of different sizes, as though the artist was using the scraps her had lying around. A gift from Lucaine one year. “Take these. Do not sell them until we are well outside the empire. They should...cover some of the debt owed to you for your help.”

She held them out and dropped them carefully into Briery’s hand, the one without the brand. Nodding her head, Alais bid them farewell before exiting their tent and winding her way back towards the street that the guards were no doubtedly growing anxious on. Before breaking through the dark alley into the better lit street, she turned to him. “Do not think for a moment, alchemist, that our conversation regarding this matter is concluded.” Her tone was sharp and quite unlike the one she unusually addressed him with. Anger lurked behind her eyes. Yet the princess would have been an actress in another life, perhaps even a high end courtesan, for she has been hiding herself behind a mask most of her life. Stepping into the street, she grabbed his arm. Her face changed immediately, into something soft and less foreboding. Bright blue eyes sparkled as she let out a stifled giggle. She drew him close to her and spun on her heels. Out of the corner of her gaze, she spied one guard. He straightened when he finally saw her. Alais rested her back against the shop wall and drew Isidor close. Her eyes searched his face and even now, she thought about how similar and so different he was from his brother. Raising herself on her toes, she brushed her lips against his jaw. Her breath warm and still smelling faintly of the brief sip she had of mulled wine. After a second, she made evident eye contact with her guards and slipped from between the wooden wall and Isidor’s body. A furious blush erupted across her cheeks and she made a show of straightening her dress.

“Come on.” She murmured, her tone belying the exchange they had just had. The carriage ride was quiet, but despite her current issues with the alchemist, she made sure that her maid noticed the quick, flirtatious glances she threw at Isidor. Their arrival at the castle was swift, as was her departure. She bid him a good afternoon and was whisked by her maid off to prepare for the customary family meal. The dinner passed like many of the others, a silent Alais listening to the schemes and plans of her family.

“How was your trip into the city?” Lucy inquired, focusing on her twin as though just remembering she was present.

“Quite agreeable.” Alais responded, brushing a crumb from her sleeve.

“Oh, I am sure it was.”

“Yes, for I saw a troupe perform and their skill is beyond any I have ever seen here in the castle. It just surprised me that we are not able to procure such talents. Especially with the upcoming celebrations.” Alais said, meekly. Her father turned his attention to her and frowned. 

“Have we not provided extraordinary entertainment for you, daughter?” King Ferant nearly snarled.

“Of course,” she inclined her head in apology, keeping her gaze on her sparsely eaten food. “I merely thought their skills unmatched.” Silence enveloped the table as, Alais sipped her wine. “I even met the leader of the Missing Links. Quite fascinating.”

“Perhaps, then, since you had already made their introduction, you might like to have them for the ceremony.” Her father proposed and the princess resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. The ceremony would be too late. She needed them before, the day before her demise.

“I thought we had the Bard from the Outbound playing for the ceremony. His music would be...the most appropriate for the occasion. I would be most unhappy to see him displaced.” She met her father’s steely gaze. “Perhaps the night before, to have a final night of revelry before the ceremony.” At her words her father seemed to consider, looking at Lucaine. Lucaine shrugged, flippantly, as though it would not matter one way or the other. She knew her twin’s life was forfeit. Her father nodded his agreement. “Excellent!” Alais beamed as though he had just given her a great gift - her father loved being praised. “You won’t regret it, I’m certain. I will reach out to their leader this week with our request.”

The remainder of the meal was a blur and she found herself in her nightdress, alone in her chambers. The foremost thought in her mind, now, was of Isidor and the terrible bargain her had made of her behalf. She would make him see reason. She would make him talk to Vitali, to have the bargain be made with her directly. It was her life after all. It was hers to bargain with. The more her thoughts swirled, the more the anger bubbled up again. Oh, she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

And the next morning, she was on her way to do just that. After dispatching a servant to the Missing Links, Alais was hurriedly walking down the hall to the alchemist’s lab. Without a knock, she tossed open the door and slammed it behind her. Fortunately, due to the nature of his craft, the rooms beside were unoccupied. “What in all the levels of hell were you thinking when you made that deal with him?!”

Oops. Somehow double posted and I don’t think I can delete it. 

The ringleader of the Missing Links did not hesitate to accept the jewelry on Alaiscina’s behalf. She looked over the bracelets with appraising eyes; one was most definitely more valuable than the other, but both would fetch a good price when pawned, nonetheless. “Indeed. These will cover some of the debt to be owed.” Briery agreed, and slid the bracelets onto her own slim wrist for safe keeping--but just for the time being. She was not fool enough to traipse around sporting the princess’s jewelry; likewise, she also was not keen on tucking it away in their safehold with the eyes of outsiders to see precisely where she had placed them, in case they decided they wanted them back, and felt fool enough to steal them. Even Lautim, Cwenha, and Devlin had not yet been let in on the secret of where the valuables and money were kept: trust, after all, was hard earned. And for now, only Briery and Rycen--the originals of the troupe--were privy to that delicate information.

“Know that my troupe and I are risking our lives to save yours, your Highness.” Briery mentioned, just prior to the royal’s departure. “Keep that in mind when it comes to repayment. Certainly, your life might be priceless, but ours? There is most definitely a price attached.”

If Isidor had been tense before, he was in no way put at east by Alaiscina’s tone when they exited the Missing Links’ tent. “Your Highness… I am by no means trying to disrespect you by my decision,” he began, fumbling for words. Confrontation was not his strong suit, but by consequence, neither was apology. He never owed the words to anyone because he was so content in keeping to himself. This was new, uncomfortable territory; it all was. “You don’t understand what it means to be indebted to that man… what he might ask of you. I do know; I understand him more than any of his other victims that he tricked into forming a bargain. So I stand the best chance of finding the loopholes…”

He wasn’t sure she was hearing any of it, if his words were even registering. There was too much anger in her eyes, something he had never witnessed before. Those pools of calming blue now raged like an unforgiving sea, and… frankly, he did not know what to expect. Certainly not what she did next--pressing a kiss to his jaw, for the benefit of onlookers to play up their ruse. It might not have taken him so terribly off guard, had Alaiscina not suddenly become this unpredictable, flammable being.

The young alchemist did not attempt to make conversation with the irate princess during the carriage ride back to the palace, for fear that he would only worsen the situation. There was a point at which no words existed to ease the burden of anger, Isidor wasn’t certain whether or not Alais had reached that point; and he was afraid to find out. No sooner did they part ways at the palace that he took a quiet evening meal in his bedchambers, and retired for an early night, his heart still racing for everything that had unfolded: a plan that had suddenly gotten so out of hand, and so unpredictable, he wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking.

But he was not alone in his dreams, that night. He knew he must be dreaming, for he could not quite perceive his surroundings. Out of the corner of his eyes, something appeared to be manifest, but when he tried to focus on what was straight ahead of him, his dark eyes were only met with blackness. He’d have preferred to dwell in that void, alone and confused, to sharing it with the individual that visited. “You really don’t have an imagination.” Vitali, who was as clear and as real as he was, stepped forward from beyond the blackness, hands clasped behind his back. “Your mind can’t even decide what it wants to see, so it settles on nothing. Do you not dream in colour, brother?”

“How are you here?” Isidor demanded, frantically looking for ways to wake himself up. But there was no cliff from which to throw himself, no weapons with which to end his life in this dream state. He was stuck--trapped, until sleep let him go.

The necromancer shrugged. “What is sleep but a small death? Anyway, we are blood; I can find you whenever I choose. You cannot hide from me.”

“And just what is it that you want? Is it not enough to torment me in the waking world, that you cannot even allow me a night’s rest?”

“Believe it or not, Isidor, I have far better things to do than laugh at your social ineptitude. If you are, in fact, serious about our bargain,” he raised a dark eyebrow and extended a hand, palm up. “I am here to see that we seal the deal.”

Isidor looked at his brother’s palm; pale, pristine, wanting. The mark on the ringleader’s hand had not escaped him, earlier; that ugly rune carved into tender flesh, raised and pink and jagged. He swallowed hard, but his throat felt terribly dry. “Do you intend to mark me?”

“Of course. How else can I ensure your loyalty? Consider yourself lucky I am able to perform it through a dream state.” The corner of the necromancer’s mouth twisted into a cruel grin. “Something tells me you’d faint if I took a ceremonial dagger to your flesh, the way I did the ringleader’s. Talk about a tough lady--she didn’t even flinch! Though I am sure I cannot say the same for you. So then,” Vitali stepped forward, hand still outstretched. “Do we have a deal, or am I wasting my time?”

“You can’t.” Isidor blurted, clenching both hands into fists. “Not… on my hand. Not where she can see.”

Understanding dawned on Vitali’s features. “Ah. You fear the wrath of the princess? I will say this is rather unconventional, but rest assured, dear brother, I will ensure your promise is not visible to her Highness. I cannot imagine you ever disrobing before her, after all.”

Before Isidor could say a word in response, his brother clasped his hand, shaking on a deal--and the young alchemist surrendered to pain. Biting and stinging and burning, traveling from his hand down his arm, enough to bring him to his knees. But Vitali would not let go. The last thing Isidor remembered were his brother’s eyes, cool and curious and satisfied, before he opened his own, and sat upright in the light of early morning, panting and panicked. A sheen of sweat had settled on his brow, and immediately, his eyes went to his hands. To his great relief, both of his palms were smooth, pale, and unmarred. Was it possible that Vitali’s magic had not taken effect?

As soon as he stood from his bed and faced himself in the mirror, his hopes for such a fancy were dashed. Sure enough to the right of his lower abdomen, was a rune similar to Briery Frealy’s that looked as though it could have been carved into his flesh and healed on contact. So this is it, he thought with dismay. He’s right; I can’t hide from him. And he has made sure of it.

As much as the young alchemist tried to reassure himself that everything was under control, and that he couldn’t offer his brother much beyond his skills in alchemy, in any case, the dream had left him shaken and out of sorts, that morning. Hastily throwing on a tunic, he left for the small office the palace had allotted him for his work, but found that his productivity was severely lagging. He couldn’t concentrate on the weapons before him, whose properties the king had demanded he change to make them unbreakable--something not entirely impossible, but far easier said than done. And any hope of completing this task today was lost the moment Alaiscina burst into his office like a hurricane.

“Keep it down!” He hissed, wincing at the sound of the door slam. “You’re going to attract unwanted attention if you are not careful.” She did not seem to care, and a night of rest had done little to subdue her anger, it seemed. “Listen, I know that it looks bad; it is bad. There is nothing good about bargaining with my brother. But right now, we have a week to prepare to get you out of here safely, and if we waste it wondering why we ever wanted to pay the price, then all of it will have been for naught. If I have to make a deal with the necromancer, then I would at least have something positive come of it.”

Isidor exhaled a long breath, and leaned on the desk in front of him, palms flat against the wooden surface. “One thing at a time. Let us focus our energy on making this plan a success, and then deal with my debt. Just because no one has found a way out of them before does not make it impossible. I promise I will look into it as soon as you are safe, but right now,” he looked up from the desk, peering at her through his angular spectacles, “you are my priority.”

“Since there is nothing good about striking a bargain with your insect of a brother, then why would you do it? Why would you make a deal with him?” She snapped back, careful to keep her voice low in case Lucaine had one of her little birds twittering outside in the hallway. Blue eyes grew dark with her rage as she attempted to keep her voice level as she continued. “It is my life. It is my deal to make. You’re already risking everything by even starting us on this path, with the mere idea of escape. I won’t let you go through with it. It’s my life. It should be my deal.”

Alais took in the way he leaned over the table and her gaze shifted to his hands. She took in his words, remaining silent for a surprisingly long amount of time. His eyes met hers over the rims of his glasses and they quelled the tempest inside of her, for now at least.  The princess had never been anyone’s priority - not in the way that one would one to be the center of another person’s attention. Her twin had made her miserable for the sheer pleasure of it, but never had she been the sole recipient of someone’s attention in a positive manner. Swallowing, she released her hand she hadn’t realized she had been clenching.

A soft exhale of breath and she closed some of the distance that remained between them at her spectacle of an entrance. “Let me see your hands.” She demanded, with all the authority of royalty. Her voice was stern, but not harsh. It commanded and held with it an expectation of acquiescence on his part. Not that she waited particularly long before taking his hands one at a time in hers. She inspected them like she might have a element for their alchemy. She ran her fingers over his palm, feeling the deep ridges and callouses brought from his work. Then the next one.  The relief was emanated from her was palpable and she sighed again. “Good. I won’t have him brand you. We’ll have him release you from the bargain and I will take it on myself. It is the very least I can do for you, after all that you have and are planning to do for me.” Alais realized she had still been holding one of his warm hands in hers and she released it, taking a few steps backward under the pretense of taking a seat on the available wooden stool.

“I have sent for Briery and I am certain that she will arrive either this afternoon or tomorrow to inspect the space. They are performing the night before the final ceremony,” a pause, as now the idea of dying made her sicker than it had in years. Hope could do that to a person. “I think it best if you are not present when I escort her about the hall. That would draw too much suspicion from Lucaine, who will undoubtedly be present to interrogate the acrobat in her conniving way. “ Alais settled her skirts around her, playing with the lace that extended from the cinched area Amy her waist. 

“I will be exercising in my chambers each night - if I was to engage in such activities  outside it would certain illicit unwanted attention. “ Her mind raced over the conversations that her father had at the dinner table the previous evening. “And my father will likely be calling on you for a progress report regarding your work. I think he may even want a demonstration of the weaponry at some point during the week’s festivities. It would be wise to have something...positive to show him. His wrath is unwavering when stoked and beckons more direct attention.”

Alaiscina sighed, looking out the small little window that was in the alchemy chamber. “I’m not through being angry with you.” She said after a long, awkward silence. Piercing eyes turned back to him, examining his face. “But I can set it aside for now, to plan, so that we both don’t end up on the end of a pike, hanging above the castle walls. Do not think for a moment, however, that I have forgotten what you did and know that I will not permit him to brand you. I won’t allow you to take on a debt that would compromise you in any way. Do you understand?” All of her words were firm, unwavering but she did not know how false they were. Entirely oblivious, she remained, to the recently acquired mark on his abdomen, lurking beneath his skirt. 

“Why would I do it? You think I was happy about the arrangement?” Isidor challenged, taken aback. Wasn’t the ‘why’ in the inquiry obvious as the nose on his face? “It is as the ringleader said--it is as it always it. My brother preys on those in the wake of desperation. And we did not have a viable plan or means of escape from this place unseen, with a chance that the underground exits may be guarded. That was a gamble that we could not take. And--do not think this is a compliment to my brother, for he deserves none--but by the nature of the bargains he makes, he has to make good on his part. As much as a hate him…” The alchemist blew air from between his lips and clenched his hands into fists. “His word is guaranteed. He would not have sought out the Missing Links if he thought there was a chance that they would fail, either. So to put it simply, Alaiscina…”

He looked up from the rough wood of his desk, peering at her over the rim of his spectacles. “What is the point of saving your life, only to put it at risk indefinitely in my brother’s debt? That is why I did what I did; why I am accepting the debt. Because I do not want all of this to turn out to be for naught. Because I am not preventing you from losing your life at the hands of your sister, only to have it taken into the hands of my brother.”

Her demand to see his hands all of a sudden caught him off guard, and he hesitated, before remembering that she would not find her brother’s mark upon them. Don’t worry, she’ll never find it, the necromancer’s words taunted him in his mind. But Vitali was right; she wouldn’t. In the meantime, she might entertain delusions of forcing Vitali to seal the deal with her, instead; ultimately, he hoped she just forgot all about this detail of their plan. Her energy was better used preparing for the upcoming week. “It could be years before he comes to collect; even better, he might ultimately forget about it altogether.” Impossible, that taunting voice laughed, but Isidor had come to the point of realizing he needed to placate the princess, lest they forget the reason for this endeavor: her safety. “We can figure it out later. And if not, you can be angry later; I won’t begrudge you that. But we are wasting our time debating who should be held accountable for what.”

She seemed to realize this, as well. Isidor nodded at the good news, that her father had given the go-ahead of Briery Frealy’s troupe to perform the night before the ceremony. This would give the performers ample time to plan the details of their act, in accordance to the structure and orientation of the palace. “Believe me--I have no qualms about keeping my distance from criminals,” came his flat response. The only reason either of them had to trust the lot was that Briery Frealy herself bore the mark of Vitali’s debt; one of which she surely wanted to rid herself. If she was as smart and clever as he believed, then that was not a goal she was likely to lose sight of, anytime soon. “As for your father’s expectations… for a man who neither condones or believes in magic, he sure as hell expects it of me.” The alchemist frowned at the broadsword, laid across the table before the two of them. Forged of heavy iron and steel, he was lucky he could lift it, let alone make changes to its physical and metaphysical properties. “He wants an entire arsenal of weapons to be yielded not only unbreakable, but as light as though they were hollow--all while maintaining the calibre of the weapon…”

Isidor shook his head and raked a hand through the inky tresses of his hair. “If I had more than a week, maybe I could pull together something feasible. But at this rate, if I am lucky, I might be able to muster something that will meet his standards… for a brief period of time. Long enough for us to escape before it degrades, and he realizes my ruse. It should be enough to keep him placated and allay suspicion until we are a safe distance from the Hilofen Empire.”

Just as he thought the princess would take her leave, she reminded him again of her sentiments toward his insistence on dealing with Vitali. For all he did not blame her for her anger, or whatever odd sense of betrayal accompanied it, it was beginning to try his patience. “When both of us find a way out of this alive, and you have your safety and freedom,” he said, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, “you will have the time and space to hate my decision for the remainder of your life. But as long as I have managed to give you a fighting chance, than to leave you to your fate in this twisted kingdom… then I can live my own life knowing I finally did something meaningful.”

The responses he made were valid to the point that it almost irritated the princess. Alaiscina did not come here with the intention on letting him getting away with his foolish deal but here he was, making logical arguments against her emotional ones. Sighing, she waved her hand, taking solace in the fact that his hand was just as unmarred as her. Alais had let her temper and her feelings toward him get the better of her. “You’re quite insufferable when you remain level-headed.” She cocked her head slightly and let the whisper of a smile ghost her lips. Blue eyes met his darker ones, taking in the ragged look at him for a second longer before moving back towards the door. “But fine, I will save all of my chastising and foul mood for when we are safely away from my father’s kingdom. You best prepare yourself for it. I will likely have nothing better to do than torment you.”

She turned her back on him and opened the door. Quick gaze darted out to see if anyone lingered in the hallway but they were fortunately alone for the time being. After a pause, the princess looked over her shoulder at the alchemist. “Hopefully it will be enough to satiate my father’s desire and give us the opportunity that we need. My talents are...” nonexistant “limited, but do not hesitate to call on me should you require anything over the next few days. I fear we might see less of each other for the time being.” With that, she took her leave, shutting the door behind her. Alais’ heart was pounding rapidly in her chest and she placed her left hand against it, taking a delicately slow breath. Her mind wandered as she walked back to her chambers, thinking of his hands of her face. As she opened her door, she froze. Oh no, this turn of events was quite unfortunate. She sighed and shook her head as though it might toss the thoughts out physically. It must be some sort of savior complex. She was merely grateful to him for helping rescue her. That was all. It was just manifesting as these feelings. Yes, that was is.

The princess spent the rest fo the late morning preparing a few things as best as she could. She dismissed her servants for the time being, feigning a headache. She packed a small satchel of necessities - breeches, cotton shirts, undergarments. She slipped two extra rings on her fingers. They had been a gift from the spice kings in the east. One was a deep ruby set with smaller ones around it. The other was a twisted gold band. As she just stored the satchel behind the board that comprised the head of her bed, a knock at the door startled her. Composing herself by sitting on the bed and scrunching her head as though it ached, she beckoned them to enter. The guard she had sent earlier stood in the doorway. “Mistress Frealy to see you, your highness.” Thanking him, she rose and followed him through the winding corridors of the castle to the great hall, where the Missing Links would be performing and...if she was unsuccessful, where she would be put to death.

Arriving, she saw the acrobat flanked by two guards. “Briery, how lovely to see you again.” The facade of near camaraderie was important, especially after the way that she spoke of them to her father and sister. “Thank you for taking the time to come see us and for your willingness to adjust your schedule to perform for our ceremony.” With a look of practiced annoyance, Alaiscina waved her hand dismissively to the guards. They withdrew only a few steps before she raised her brows at them. They retreated to the corners of the hall. Some servants bustled in and out, preparing and measuring for the big performances that were to come. The princess looped her arm through Briery’s in the appearance of friendship but more so that they could whisper together without being conspicuous. 

“You will be performing here. The walls will be lined with people but three exits are located about the room. The right, left and the rear. The rear,” she spun them as they spoke, inclining her head just so. “The rear would be unwise and it does not lead towards the sewage tunnels. The tunnels can be access going either right or left and down the hall.” Alais continued to chatter on about the logistics of the castle as though she were discussing costumes that the Missing Links could wear. She made sure to smile and laugh at appropriate moments before releasing the leader of the troupe from her grasp. “Is there anything else that you need? We can arrange for you to visit once more, as well. I know it is not ideal...and I know that your involvement was coerced but if there is ever anything you need that is in my power and ability to give, I will do it.” She reached out and grabbed Briery’s hand, cradling it between hers. As she did so, she pressed the two rings she had been wearing earlier into the criminal’s palm, certain that she would be able to stow them without anyone seeing. “In addition to the monetary commitment I have already pledged, that is.”

Briery Frealy’s arrival was prompt and punctual. As soon as she had been sent for via messenger from the palace, the Missing Links’ ringleader arranged for a horse to take her there that very afternoon. There was no glitz, glimmer, or sparkle upon her arrival, which was a sure sign that she knew exactly what she was doing. She and her troupe of performers hadn’t survived for as long as they had without learning how to blend in, after all.

Adorned in a far more modest gown than the form-clinging golden slip in which she’d been clad when they’d met, with her hair carefully curled and styled away from her elegant face, Briery looked as though she could have been part of the nobility. Such was another benefit of being in the business of performing; the skills were versatile. On stage, she was a wizard of balance, strength, and flexibility. Right now, amongst some of the most noteworthy (and dangerous) people in the Hilofen Empire, she was a professional business woman who knew just how to carry herself. Fortunately, the princess was also either well-versed in the act of saving face (or putting on an entirely different face), or she had been preparing for the ringleader’s arrival.

“It is an honour to be chosen to perform for you and yours, Your Highness.” Briery Frealy knelt in a curtsey, before the prying eyes of the guards, until Alaiscina dismissed them to afford a moment of privacy. Even then, privacy was not guaranteed: the palace was a vast structure with walls that echoed. They would need to be careful about what they said, how they said it, and what few details of the plan they chose to share.

Coming upon the space reserved for their performance, Briery took a walk around the perimeter, pressing her fingers to the walls and pausing every so often to take mental note of measurements and spacing. All she and her troupe would have to go on after today was whatever she managed to take it now, so observation was key. “Our shows involve a good deal of acrobatics. Aerial silks, rings, and a tightrope. We will be required to construct a makeshift stage here as a result--with your blessing of course.” She informed the princess, after circling the area about three times. Enough to commit what she needed to memory.

“Typically, we are more suited to perform outside, not within the confines of such a fine work of architecture as this palace. I am sure you understand; this is to maintain the… integrity of our show. And to spare any damage to your lovely home.”

As she turned, the princess pressed something into her hands: fine jewelry, by the looks of it, but Briery only barely glimpsed before it disappeared into her fist, and her fist into a satched that hung at her waist. “That should most certainly cover the expenses needed to construct our set. We will take a day before our performance, with your father’s permission, of course, to see that everything is rightly prepared. After all, it is imperative that no loose ends are left untied.” She didn’t feel the need to elaborate on just how important every link in the chain of their plan was; the princess was no fool, and she knew the stakes.

“Oh, and I was meaning to ask you: what is your level with comfort with regard to disappearing acts?” A glimmer of mischief twinkled in the ringleader’s hazel eyes, as she absently tucked a stray, chestnut curl behind her ear. “That is, in being part of one. Wouldn’t it just awe the audience to witness their princess suddenly vanishing from their sight? Of course, your safety would most definitely be ensured. All sleight of hand and clever contraptions; it isn’t as though we can do real magic.” She laughed, as if the notion were hilarious.

“Rest assured, Your Highness, my team and I are working on a performance that you and yours will never forget. We may take you up on the offer to return before the show--to give my troupe an idea of our space and how our stage will be set up. But we can smooth out those details later. In the meantime…” Briery casually folded her arms, and arched a delicate eyebrow. “I am sure that you will make this worth our while.” A friendly reminder that this was still a transaction--and that while trust was necessary, they were not friends.