“Certainly. My father is most amenable to whatever preparation is required for you to put on the very best performance possible...with the exception of moving it outside.” She smirked slightly at the thought of even walking into the room to make such a request from her father. Blue eyes met hazel and that definitive twinkle was mirrored in the princess’ own gaze. “A disappearing act.” The smirk turned into a true smile, previously a rather rare occurrence on her otherwise somber countenance. Well, rare before she met Isidor.
“Yes, I think it would be quite a feat to make a princess disappear, especially on the eve of her trials.” A quick peal of laughter exited her lips at the mention of actual magic. It bounced off the marble in the hall and was certain to have met the ears of lingering guards. “Real magic. What a preposterous notion. Most courtiers, of course, know better. They’ll be trying to figure out what mechanism was utilized to pull off the trick. It will have the whole lot of them quite entertained for the evening.” The princess stopped their stroll and for a long moment, she kept her gaze firmly on the troupe leader, searching her face. The princess in her knew of the transactional status of their relationship. She understood the importance of professionalism and keeping this a strict working relationship. Yet, as ridiculous as it sounded, she was more herself with this woman than she had been with nearly anyone else besides the alchemist. It stung, just briefly. “Of course, is there any method of payment in particular that you prefer to accept?” The king’s steward would obviously be paying them in gold but beyond that, Alaiscina needed to know the easiest items to sell quickly and without suspicion. She did not have much actually silver and coinage to her name. With Briery’s reply, Alais made her pleasantries and took her leave. She found herself wandering the hallways of the castle, pacing to allow her mind to go through its own steps.
As she wandered, she paused and would take a step again, until she found herself outside Isidor’s workshop door not once, but twice. She fumed at herself for her body taking her there while her mind was consciously focused on other matters. Swallowing, she took a soft step towards the door and then backed away. She focused her attention on her feet and ended up closing the door behind her in her bedroom.
The days passed and Alaiscina purposely avoided Isidor. She made sure that she took routes that she knew he would not travel and kept mostly to herself, claiming to be readying herself for the upcoming tests. The morning before the performance, the princess received word that the troupe would be coming to begin preparations on their stage and she wanted to have some insight from the princess. It was not a request that would draw any abnormal attention...especially perhaps Lucaine’s. She possessed a terribly annoying ability of being around when she was not wanted. Staring at herself in the tarnished mirror, she found her skin to be clear with just a hint of natural pink on the apples of her cheeks. Her gown was simple by princess standards. It was shift-like, not clinging to the curves that hid beneath. She was not as proficient at showing off as Lucy.
Arriving in the central hall, she saw the troupe setting up. Delvin was rummaging through some chests, clearly under the direction of the fiery, short one whose name initially eluded Alais. Cwenha. She strode over to them, weaving through practicing musicians and small acts that would precede The Missing Links. “Ms. Frealy. Pleasure to see you again. I hope the funds that have been provided thus far have more than covered the expenses of such a grand stage.” Her eyes flickered over to the others and she did not fail to notice the disdain that oozed from the other acrobat’s every pore. She moved her attention from the pale haired woman to the brunette. Alais’ face was all smiles, though tension hung in the faint lines around her eyes from lack of sleep. “A messenger arrived that you wanted to go over a few things together. I think we can speak...freely in soft conversation with all the noise that is occupying the hall at this time.” Castle servants flitted back and forth like twittering hummingbirds in an effort to make the hall presentable. It was relatively organized chaos and provided a steady hum of din to keep certain conversations quiet.
Briery Frealy and the infamous Missing Links had promised a night that no one would forget; and they always delivered on their promises.
Thanks to the manpower on behalf of Lautim, Delvin, and Rycen, the troupe had managed to erect an elaborate and eye-catching stage in shades of purples, yellows, and oranges over a span of a mere twenty-four hours. Bold, sparkling painted letters bore their namesake on a while draped across the front of the stage, which took up the expanse of a good third of the room where the performance was to take place. A trapeze supported on heavy, steel poles spanned just a few feet from the high ceilings above the stage, and at the very center, toward the back, was a box. Ornate and bearing decals, like the rest of their set-up, it was easily large enough to fit a person, but not as eye-catching as the trapeze or the swaths of glittering fabric, but anyone with an eye for sleight-of-hand and smoke and mirrors would have an inkling that it held untold secrets.
If this plan was to go off without a hitch, however, the ringleader was going to need everyone in on the details; especially the princess and the alchemist.
“Rest assured, your highness, the funds are more than sufficient.” Briery Frealy, once again bedecked in skin-tight gold, brushed the matter aside. It was still hours before the performance would take place; they would need the cover of nightfall to ensure success, and the sun still blared bright and offensive in the sky. It didn’t take a keen eye to notice the princess herself was restless and uneasy, eager to get this over with, but patience was a definite requirement. “We haven’t had the means to put together something as grand as this in quite some time. I daresay, we are prepared to put on a performance with a reputation that will exceed the boundaries of this kingdom.” She grinned; of course, people would catch wind of a princess who quite literally disappeared. Unfortunately for the Missing Links, this meant they would have to stay clear of any and all land where word of this would reach, for quite some time. “But let’s not waste time. We’ll have to let you in on some secrets in order to make you part of the ‘magic’, after all--ah, good. Now we’re all here.”
Briery nodded over Alaiscina’s shoulder, where Isidor entered. He and the princess hadn’t exchanged words in a week, and he hadn’t sought her out, for fear of her wrath. As a result, no one had laid eyes on the introverted and elusive man. He looked pale, and like he hadn’t managed to find sufficient sleep since their last meeting. “Master alchemist; good of you to join us. I trust you are in the know that you will be doing more than just running away, this evening?”
Isidor said nothing, but pressed his lips together as he fished something out of the pocket of his waistcoat. It was a small vial of… well, it could have been anything. Clear enough that it resembled water. But in an alchemists hands, even water wasn’t just water. “Forgive me for expressing my doubts… but if your plan requires this,” he held up the vial, between his thumb and forefinger, “then I fail to see how we are any better off trusting you than we would be if we were to simply up and run, right now.”
“Run? You?” Rycen snorted from nearby, within earshot of their conversation as the illusionist touched up some paint on the stage. “No offense intended, my friend. But those bird legs won’t take you very far. And if her highness is going to be bedecked in something as elaborate as what she is wearing now… you’re gonna need the head start we intend to provide.”
“Alaiscina, my dear, your job will be much easier. See this?” Briery put a hand on the princess’s shoulder and gestured to the tall, purple and gold box in the middle of the stage. “This is how you disappear. It is quite simple, actually; the bottom gives out to a trap door. The stage is hollow, underneath, so you will need to crawl toward the back until you reach the servants’ door; it will be left open. Cwenha,” she gestured to her sullen, silver-clad companion, “will be waiting for you. Whether or not anyone sees you, you will run the expanse of the hall, where you will meet up with your friend, here, whose presence will not be nearly as missed--no offense, of course, dear Isidor.”
The alchemist frowned. “I don’t believe a single one of you when you say that.”
Briery paid his displeasure no heed, and went on. “From there, Cwenha will accompany you as far as the stables. She is fast, you should know, and you are just going to have to keep up. Since you’ll be taking the servants’ route, you shouldn’t encounter any trouble, but if you do, she’ll have your back. Right, Cwenha?”
The tiny, blonde woman scowled, clutching her elbows like an indignant child. “For you, Briery? Sure. But not for them.” Her fierce blue eyes met Alaiscina’s with a challenge. “As far as the stables. After that, I don’t care a lick for what happens to either of you.”
“How reassuring…” Isidor mumbled, nervously adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his straight nose. “So, we’ll be out in the open… and then what?"
“You keep running.” Briery said, as though it were obvious. “Run until you have cleared the premises of this palace. Take the route that leads toward the southernmost gate of the town proper. Your brother will be awaiting you, there, if you make it that far. And if you run into any trouble…” She gestured to the vial in his hand. “Surely that will ensure that no weapons touch you.”
“It won’t mean anything in hand to hand combat; but yes. Steel won’t touch us.” The alchemist confirmed with a sigh, before pocketing the vial. However, he wasn’t so concerned with steel harming Alaiscina; she was too valuable. This fail-safe was mainly for him. “And when we reach the necromancer?”
“The rest is on him to see you safely out of the Hilofen empire. And in the meantime, the rest of us will buy you time.” Brierly smiled sweetly. “My routine has never failed to captivate an audience. We’ll make them wait until the end of the show to ‘reveal’ their princess… who will have mysteriously not rematerialized in that box. And that is when we will have to make our break for it, and leave this lovely stage of ours behind. Remember,” her hazel eyes turned steely and hard, and the ringleader’s smile faded. “Our necks are on the line, too. Moreso than yours. I believe the words you are looking for are, ‘thank you, Briery’. So.” She clapped her hands, eyes darting between the pale alchemist and the uncertain-looking princess. “Any questions before we finalize the details for our grand show?”
To say that Alais felt Isidor before she saw him would be a lie and she tried her best to hide the subtle changes that happened at his approach behind her. She suddenly stood rigid, as though Maester Orcini’s etiquette rod was pressed against her back once more. Her face flushed and her right thumb ran slowly across the tips of her fingernails, one by one. No doubt the thieving acrobat saw it. It paid to be observant in her lines of business. The princess shifted her weight, turning a brilliant and false smile to the alchemist. She could never be certain when her twin lurked around a corner, peering and searching for actions to use against her.
Bright blue eyes darted from the ringleader to the illusionist to her own dress. She would be extravagantly dressed on the eve of the tests. No expense had been spared to render her and her sister visions of beauty. Alaiscina’s machinations to avoid her fate were well thought out, considered from every angle that her political mind could devise. If she was going to risk others lives to escape, then she would take every possible precaution to ensure those individuals made it safely to their destination. “Do not fear,” a gentle smirk graced her lips partially for show and partially true, “I have just the right attire for such a momentous occasion.” Attention fixated on Briery when her warm hand rested on Alais’ shoulder, explaining the details of the stage and Cwenha’s forced help. The ferocity with which the other tumbler stared at the princess would an intimidated anyone who had not grown up with Lucaine as a sister. The brunette merely cocked her head and met her gaze. A desire to be liked, to win over this other woman, blossomed in the heir’s chest but she forced it down. Another time for such trivial matters.
Curiosity drew her attention to Isidor, who she had pointedly been ignoring since his arrival. She scanned the contents of his hand and then raised her gaze to his face. How did such a liquid work - to protect him from steel? He had never discussed such possibilities with her in their studies. He had never so much as dared to mention it in her presence. Alaiscina had thought him an open book and that had drawn her to him from the beginning. Now, she could only wonder. What else could he be hiding?
Before Alais could respond with her gratefulness to the troupe, she heard the characteristic cadence of her sister’s steps rounding the pillar just behind them. It was far enough that her twin would not have heard a word they were saying but not so far that she could slip away before Lucy approached.
“Sister!” Her voice was full of mock endearment. “This must be the unparalleled talent of the Missing Links.” She swept up beside Alaiscina with her skirts swishing gracefully against her twin’s. Bright blue eyes turned to Briery. “My dear sister has spoken of nothing but your performance in town since she saw it with the alchemist.” At the mention of the suspected paramours, Lucy smirked in Isidor’s direction. She had not failed to notice his presence. “It will be such a treat that it is one of the final things performed before the rites.” While Lucaine had the tact to tiptoe around her meaning, everyone could easily decipher the coded text. The last thing she’d enjoy before her death, that is.
Alais cut in before Briery would have a chance to say anything. She trust them, with her life apparently, but not with Lucaine. “It is going to be quite the show but I should not have bothered them to begin with but I couldn’t resist a peek at the stage. They are quite busy with their preparations and all of my questions have been addressed.” She looked pointedly at the head tumbler, taking her hand in her own. She gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for agreeing to such a unique performance. I am certain it will astound us all.” With that, she gave the troupe a way to leave her sister’s scrutiny. A few light steps of her own were taken away before she addressed her twin. “I am surprised at your attendance. You usually do no deign to visit among the commoners.” Lucaine took the bait and followed after her sister, leaving the performers behind. Tension settled itself in Alais’ stomach and she lured her sister multiple feet away from the others. They spoke briefly, exchanging veiled barbs before a servant came to fetch her twin away for some task or another.
When she turned, Isidor was just finishing a cursory look at the stage. Their eyes met and she could not feign that she did not see him standing there. The unease inside of her only coiled tighter into a thick knot. Swallowing, she moved back over to him. While Lucy had departed, she did not doubt that a little fly buzzed about. It would not do to have their suspected dalliance in question. It was a brilliant cover for a number of their nefarious activities. Anxiety displayed through the slow way she moved her thumb from her pinky to her pointer finger and back again. “You have been busy.” She motioned quickly to his pocket where the vial resided, but clearly indicated something more. He had not sought her out in days. Their preparations were important, vital and clearly took priority. Yet that did not stop the voice in her mind nagging at all the other reasons he may have for avoiding her. Had she been too strong in her anger? Had she been too forward in the alley, pressing their body’s together? Had it taken the charade too far?
“Have you had any more contact with your brother? Any idea where he will have us go afterwards?” She inquired, pushing the nagging thoughts from her mind for now.
A performer (and fellow deceiver) by nature, Briery’s intuition was sharp enough to know a fiend when she saw one. Even if she hadn’t been previously aware of the nature of the curious relationship between Alaiscina and her twin sister, there was something in Lucaine’s eyes that betrayed her intentions. An evil eye, she’d once heard it to be called. It was safe to say that this woman wasn’t fooling a single person in the room. But the ringleader knew well enough not to let on, and to improvise with what she had.
“Our only wish is that we meet your expectations, Your Highness. It is nothing less of an honour to be asked to perform for the monarchy of the Hilofen Empire.” Briery curtsied, offering an easy smile. And that was all she deigned to say. Alaiscina seemed to desire a sense of control of the situation, and in all fairness, she knew better how to deal with her notorious twin sister than anyone else in the room.
The other members of the Missing Links took their ringleader’s cue to depart the premises for the time being, and followed Briery out, their preparations more or less complete, save for a few minute aesthetic details. Even Cwenha managed to mask her dogged, boiling ire toward anyone of royal (or otherwise affluent) status with an angel-sweet smile. No one would have guessed she’d sooner run Lucaine through with one of Devlin’s knives, and let her bleed out slowly.
The mass exodus of performers and royalty left the alchemist standing awkwardly alone in the now deserted room, before a stage where the most notorious show of “magic” would shake this monarchy’s foundation permanently. Isidor reached into his pocket, feeling the reassuring glass of the vial against his fingertips. And all that will do si protect us--protect me--against steel… He thought dismally. He had never had to run for his life, before. He had never had to fight, for himself or for anyone else. Just what had he gotten himself into, and what was he up against? The lethal blonde acrobat might oblige her ringleader and guide the two of them out, when the time came, but what of the possibility of being attacked? Would the woman named Cwenha shrug her shoulders and watch as the rest of this plan fell apart, for whatever grudge she held against royalty? No. She won’t fight for us; but she’ll do it for her ringleader. To get her out of my brother’s debt… He wasn’t sure if he was right; but he had to believe that much, or else he had nothing.
Isidor looked up at the very moment Alaiscina returned. He hadn’t expected to see her again so soon, to be honest; they’d done a fine job of steering clear of one another for the past week. Of course, if they deigned to escape together… communication was necessary. “Busy? Yes, I have been. Not because of this; though.” He withdrew the vial in question for her to get a closer look, since her curiosity was obviously piqued. “This is just a solution that dissolves impure metals. In case any of your family’s guard happens to come at us with steel. And, yes, it will also work on the weapons I’ve already enhanced for your father. Needless to say… I may not have put the full extent of my efforts into that endeavour. Anyway, It is by no means something to rely on; just a leg up, in case we need it.” And, with any luck, they wouldn’t.
“And I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but no. I haven’t heard a word from Vitali. But the deal was made, and if I know anything about my brother, it is that he always comes good on his end of a deal. I never thought I would hear myself say this, but… Vitali is not what concerns me. He will come through. Whether these circus folk do, however, is another guess entirely.”
Isidor was his own form of jittery, in the wake of what was about to unfold in the coming days. Tiny, red, half-moon imprints dimpled the palms of his hands, a sign that he’d been digging his fingernails into the soft flesh frequently over the past week. His leg jerked, even in an attempt to stand still, and his eyes wandered. Ultimately, did he have faith in his brother, in this plan? ...in the end, did it really matter? I’d rather die knowing I tried to make a difference than to live, haunted by the possibility that I could have made a difference.
“As for where our destination might be… you are asking someone who spent the past decade and a half, working in a secluded tower. I think it goes without saying that you have a better idea of this kingdom’s surrounding areas than I do.” The alchemist sighed, and raked his fingers through his hair. “For all I know, Vitali will abandon us in the middle of uncharted land; there is no telling how his own spin on ‘helping’ us might manifest. But as long as it is far from this place… we will play the rest of it by ear.” That was, of course, assuming there would still be a we, when all was said and done.
Alais did not fail to notice the way he twitched and fidgeted at the mention of his brother. Perhaps it was just the stress of it all, instead of just the idea that his brother may not come through for them after all. Fortunately, the princess did not exhibit her anxiety in a traditional manner. Hers was much more of an internal pressure. It pressed itself heavily against her chest, forcing out her breath at odd moments. Now was not one of those moments, thankfully. Concerned blue eyes followed the movement of his fingers through his hair, watching as it immediately disobeyed him and fell back against his forehead. The thought of him with his hair slicked back in the court style flickered through her mind. Having seen him weeks ago in proper dress attire had been enough to make her smile but the sight of his hair tied and slicked back would have made her giggle. Perhaps one day…
“Ideal.” She murmured, smirking slightly and then dissolving into a laugh at the idea of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with the alchemist. “We’ll survive just long enough to die of starvation...or thirst. In the desert. Alone.” Voice punctuated the words. She pursed her lips in thought, looking at all of the hustle and bustle behind her momentarily before returning her attention to him. “It would be rather comical to escape one death for another that is possibly even more painful.” A shrug, before she moved on to a different subject.
“Would you,” a sigh slipped through her slightly parted lips and she attempted to start talking again. A stutter and then silence. Once parted lips mashed together. “I’m certain you have things to prepare for before tomorrow’s big finale with the Missing Links. I should put the finishing touches on my own packing.” She would have no satchel to bring, just everything she could hide beneath the bustle of her skirts. Alais dipped a small, respectful tilt of her head in his direction. He was too far below her station to warrant a curtsey. “Until tomorrow, alchemist.” The princess took her leave, heading towards the corridor when an invisible thread that connected the pair tugged tightly at her heartstrings. Alais jerked to a halt, paused and then turned back to him. “Unless you would meet me tonight? On the east balcony before midnight?” She did not bother to keep her voice low. Lucaine already suspected and fueled the rumor that they had a romantic element to their relationship.
Alais didn’t wait for his reply, merely met his eyes and then departed the way she had been heading beforehand. She returned to her chambers and dismissed her maids on the pretense that she would be practicing for the events of the following day. Instead of practicing the lute or the difficult motions of traditional Hilofen dances, the princess produced two knifes with sheaths that would strap to her thighs. She laid small gems and gold trinkets beside them that would fit on the inside of her leg in a small casing so that they could be sold for money for herself and Isidor. She would be wearing some on her hands and around her neck in the typical extravagance expected of tomorrow but these would be less traceable. She then arranged with a servant to prepare the final payment to the Missing Links and carefully instructed them to pay them beforehand. The amount that her father had agreed upon was more than enough compensation, in additional to the wealth she had already given them.
That night she was not required to dine with her father or the multitude of guests that had been flocking into the city and to the castle gates for the last four days. It was to maintain the excitement around the trials. Her father would parade her and Lucaine first thing in the morning. It began at dawn with archery, where Alais was superior, but only in archery and music – she failed miserably to her sister in all other feats. She tried on her gown as best as she could alone, making sure that her chemise would be able to hide the breeches and shirt about her waist to be ready for them to run. Shoes were going to be difficult, but she had some light slippers that she could secure against her stomach. Her maids came in to bathe her after a private dinner in her chambers of which she ate little. They brushed her hair for nearly two hours until it shone with a golden light amongst the brown and plaited her lightly down her back. She dismissed them as midnight approached. She dressed herself in a soft spun yellow gown. The festivities were occurring along the grand balcony and western corridors. The eastern would be comfortingly silent…except for the alchemist’s present, Alais hoped.
Staring out at the darkness of the city beyond the eastern balcony, she could see faint flickers of torchlight here and there as people moved about but nearly everyone was slumbering soundly as the moon hung high above them. She could make out the mountains in the distance, topped with white speckled by moonbeams and wondered about the Faerie. Graceful fingers delicately brushed the iron-bound gold bracelet at her wrist, the only adornments she wore tonight. She kept it on always.
“Desert?” The alchemist blinked, alarmed at the possibility that hadn’t crossed his mind. “Is there… even desertland within a thousand miles of this kingdom?” If it was a stupid question, then he wouldn’t know; he’d already confessed his ignorance of general geography. What’s more, is in the moment, he couldn’t even tell if the princess was joking, or if it was a liable concern. “If it is any consolation… and I realize it isn’t any consolation, given how ill I’ve spoken of my brother--but I cannot see him leaving us for dead unless it was of some benefit to him. In which case it would not make any sense that he would be making an effort to save our lives. Wherever we end up, I want to believe it will at least be somewhere habitable…”
Isidor watched the array of emotions cross her face. Anger, fear, sadness, hope, all tangled up in the crease of her brow and the marionette lines by her mouth when she frowned. She began to say something to him, something that appeared to be a request. But as soon as the words crossed her mind, she appeared to have second thoughts. A part of him wanted to ask about his thoughts; but as usual, cowardice got the best of him. “Of course, Your Highness. Until tomorrow…” Until tomorrow. When my worth and capability will finally be tested…
Dropping his anxious hands to his side, Isidor turned back from where he had come, knowing the weight of Alaiscina’s obstinacy, and her reluctance to change her mind once it was made up. He hadn’t anticipated hearing that change of heart to take voice so soon; it startled him to a stop. “The… east balcony?” He parroted the words so that they registered, and craned his neck to look over his shoulder. No, this time, he was certain she did not appear to be joking. “...if that is your wish, Your Highness. Before midnight.”
It wouldn’t have mattered, whether or not their final rendez vous would’ve occurred, that evening, because sleep was about as elusive as his freedom, as things currently stood. While he should have been preparing, mixing whatever elixirs he could that would benefit them in the days to come, hiding weapons in his clothes, or packing what few belongings he could manage to smuggle out of the palace, he spent those precious hours pacing. Staring out the window. Staring at the wall, at his reflection in the mirror, and instead of preparing and being proactive, he was worrying. Isidor Kristeva had never feared for his life, before; not really. Not even through the rigorous and abusive training he’d suffered at the hands of his late mentor. This was new territory to him, and he would be forced to put to use skills that were not only underdeveloped; they were non-existent. The young alchemist was certainly not a fighter, and it remained to be seen if he was even a survivor.
Perhaps it wouldn’t have settled as such a terrifying burden on his shoulders if it weren’t only his life that this trial by fire threatened.
Unlike Alaiscina, it wasn’t exactly part of Isidor’s routine to look presentable, and the only fine clothes he’d been provided with were reserved for the festivities on the morrow. Whatever the princess’s reasons for wanting to see him one more time, when it did not appear they had anything further to discuss, was beyond him. But he had seen the desperation in her eyes as keenly as her anger; and while it remained to be seen whether or not he could come through for either of them when it really mattered, the least he could do was oblige her, now.
“I… oh. I apologize… should I have donned something more formal?” Isidor was taken aback by Alascina in her golden gown for more than one reason, but the most obvious was that fear that crossed his face. That familiar concern that suggested he had no idea what was going on, or as to the nature of their meeting. He’d had his money on the possibility that she simply wasn’t through with making it clear just how angry she was that he’d gone into his debt to his brother on her behalf. Now, he was clearly second-guessing that assumption.
Scrambling for something to do aside from look startled and confused, in his simple black trousers and loose white shirt (attire that would’ve been perfectly acceptable, alone in his tower, but perhaps not so much in the presence of royalty), the alchemist reached into his pocket and produced another vial, similar to the one Alascina had noticed earlier. “Here. To help you sleep tonight. Assuming you’re going to have as much trouble as I will…” He placed the vial of pale liquid into her hand. “We’ll need to be rested for tomorrow, no exceptions. Take it only if you need it; it will put you out fast, for a few hours…”
Just as he withdrew his hand, the princess was quick to grab it right back. Pale moonlight brought out something that hadn’t been obvious before, against his alabaster skin. Intricate runes etched it the palm of his hands, like delicate, silver scars; similar in nature, but not identical. Of course, he anticipated her accusation before it passed her lips. “No--no, these have nothing to do with my pact to my brother.” Isidor corrected her assumption in haste. “They’re part of my craft. Make me capable of doing what I am able to do as an alchemist. I’ve had these marks for a very long time… brands in their own right, I suppose. To this day, I’m not sure they were at all worth it, considering what it cost to acquire them. But…” He looked up from his palms to meet her eyes. “Certainly, you did not ask me here tonight to talk about something so trivial. Tell me what is on your mind, for we may not find another opportunity before the Missing Links’ performance, tomorrow.”
It felt like time slowed as she stood there alone and at the same time she had only waited seconds before he arrived. At the sound of his voice, she had turned and took him in slowly and then all at once in his simple attire. A smile curled the delicate corners of her unadorned lips. “No, this…” she waved a hang down at her gown, “was about as simple as I had.” The sudden ridiculous realization startled a laugh from her. Alais knew then that she may never wear something some fine as this soft yellow gown again in the entirety of her life. If it lasted beyond the morrow, that is. Bright blue eyes looked down upon the vial of pale amber liquid. She took it delicately, raising it closer to her gaze so that she could see how it swirled slowly within the confines of the glass. Gold wound itself with brown but the sight of the glimmer on his hands drew her attention. Instantly, fear leapt into her chest and nestled down deep. Vitali had branded him.
Isidor was astute enough to sense her immediate distress as she pocketed the vial in the folds of her skirts and grasped his hand in hers. She ran her fingers along the moonlit inkings in his flesh as though if she pressed too firmly they would injure him further. It fascinated her, momentarily distracting her from the purpose of their meeting. She would have liked to examine him further, how high up did the markings go. Did he have them elsewhere? The idea made her blush and she released his hand as though burned.
“Something so intricately done hardly merits being called trivial.” Alaiscina responded, keeping her voice as level as she could. It never failed to baffle her at what he thought was simple and what he was fascinated and confused by. They were two very different people brought together by happenstance, ready to take steps on a journey they could never turn back from. Darkness cloaked them at the railing of the balcony, enfolding them in its embrace. Light was provided only from the torches hanging within the corridors a few feet away and the shimmering, inconsistent light of the moon above.
“I was thinking about the Faerie, before you arrived.” She abruptly began a conversation that was not that one he prodded her about. “And magic. And then I wondered how different my life would be if my mother had lived. I thought then about Lucaine and how strikingly different we are, despite the fact that we are duplicate souls.” She spoke languidly, as though they might have all the time in the world to discuss possibilities. “And then I thought about you.” The finale word left her nearly breathless.
“I did not want us to go into tomorrow with…” A stutter. A pause, much like before. She swallowed and turned away from him slightly so that the side of her face was bathed with moonbeams, revealing the faint remnants of the blush from her rather inappropriate thought. “I did not want you to go into tomorrow thinking I was still cross with you. I was too hasty to accuse you of making a bargain with your brother and concealing his mark from me. You are not one to lie. Everything that you have done…” She trailed off again, turning her face back towards him. Alaiscina’s eyes shimmered as though tears threatened but she was too proud to ever let them fall. Emotion tightened her voice but she continued. “I will never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for me, what you’re doing for me, though I will spend my life trying to compensate for it. “
The world seemed to fall even more still, carving out a moment in time just for them. “I wanted you to know that I trust you entirely, Isidor.” She took one of his hands in one of hers, using her thumb to trace the markings she had been made aware of so recently. Alais held his gaze with her own for a moment before scanning his face, hesitant about something. It hovered in the air between him, a flint’s spark ready to ignite a fire. “I did not want this journey to begin with you having any doubts about my feelings.” And she raised herself onto the balls of her feet, catching his mouth with hers. Her free hand slipped around the curve of his jaw, thumb resting in front of his earlobe where her other fingers snaked through his hair.
Isidor’s gut reaction upon the princess mentioning her wistful thoughts of what she referred to as “Faerie” was, unmistakably, panic. Had nothing he had mentioned back in the woods, that dine day when they’d had a picnic, resonated? Was her current situation which endangered her life leaving her feeling so desperate that she was romanticizing being taken by Them? “Forgive me for saying that is nothing to daydream about, your Highness.” Worry lines creased his brow, and his eyes immediately refocused on her delicate wrists. To his relief, she was still wearing the bracelet he’d crafted for her. Iron was certainly not a failsafe, but it was at least a deterrent. “Please don’t think for a moment that I cannot understand you wishing yourself away from this place and its circumstances, but…”
It wasn’t just Faerie that was on her mind, it seemed. The alchemist trailed off and let her finish, let her speak her words aloud in case it helped clarify them for her. He was not much one to offer advice, but at the very least, he could listen. Perhaps that was all she needed, right now; someone on her side. Someone safe, who could listen. He could do that. Isidor could not guarantee his usefulness to anyone in any given number of ways, but he could do this…
...at least, that was what he thought, until the words registered. And then I thought about you. Heat crept up his neck and reached Isidor’s moonlit face. All this time--for the past week, in fact--he had assumed that she was angry with him, and was resolute to stay that way for as long they were in one another’s company. But something had changed, between this afternoon and now. Alaiscina had evidently depleted her healthy supply of anger, and she was left with the realization that cooperation and camaraderie might well be the only thing preventing them from untimely death. That had to be it, right? It couldn’t be… it couldn’t be that she meant something more…
“I… no, of course, you had just reason to be angry with me.” The alchemist argued gently, the crease in his brow softening. “I went directly against your wishes to negotiate with my brother. Were our roles reversed, I know I would be just as livid. I understand…” Her genuine outpouring of apology should have brought something with his extent of social fear a modicum of comfort; but on the contrary, it only burdened him with guilt. She trusts me… she doesn’t think Vitali and I have actually entered into a pact, as of yet. On one hand, he had not outright lied to her: the marks on his hands had nothing to do with his brother. But it was what he hadn’t told her that haunted him. That just above his hip bone, concealed carefully by his shirt and high-waisted black trousers, was undeniable proof of his debt to the necromancer. “Please, your Highness, the last thing I wish is for you to feel indebted to me. I am not helping you out of expectation for repayment; I am doing this because you do not deserve to suffer the fate your father has laid out for you. I believe… you are something capable of bringing a lot of light and good to this corrupt world. It would be detrimental to lose someone such as yourself…”
He hadn’t realized just how strongly he meant those words until he spoke them. How, now that he’d come to know Alaiscina, the idea of quietly returning to his tower in the woods following her demise was… not something he wished to bear. Not when he was no longer so sure he could return to that quiet corner of the land, alone, forced to live with the fact he could have done something to prevent her death… “Alaiscina,” he spoke her name instead of her title, the softness of her palm warm against his own cool hand. But her name was about as far as he got before her lips captured his own and stole his breath away. Isidor’s body at once stiffened and then slackened, so terribly unsure in how to react. The ruse--of course, this had to be part of their ruse! To paint a picture of their affair so as to deflect any suspicion that they were conspiring… Except, they were alone. There were no spectators, above or below, as the majority of palace patrons and guests were busy making merry at the other end. It was just the two of them, the proximity of their bodies, the rawness of their truths, both revealed and hidden.
And it was impossible to have doubts about her feelings. The trouble was, he had no idea what to do with his own.
Isidor had never kissed another being in his entire life, if his memory served him. It had always seemed like such a foolish and faraway notion that he’d hardly spared a moment to consider what it might be like, or how he might fail if he ever found himself in such a situation. He’d easily have thought he’d make an ass of himself; but there was no thinking required, as it turned out. Just the movement of their lips, the feeling of Alaiscina’s hands on his face, the warmth of her skin as his own hands found her neck and came to rest gently on her shoulders. You could be dangling false hope before her, that dark voice of guilt prodded at the back of his mind. You haven’t saved her yet; you only want to. She’s put her life into the hands of an amateur.
“...I haven’t saved you, yet.” Those words found a place in his voice, and on his lips, when at last he slowly and reluctantly pulled away. Colour had found its way into his cheeks and had spread down his neck, disappearing into the neckline of his white shirt. Guilt and trepidation sparkled in his dark eyes. “I haven’t saved us. You are thanking me, but I’ve… I’ve done nothing as of yet. Let me come through for you, first. Maybe then… maybe…” Maybe what? You will earn the right to deserve her, when you are still deceiving her?
The voice won. Isidor’s shoulders dropped, and he looked away, ashamed. “I’m sorry. I’m not… very good at this. At any of this…”
The hush of her name exiting his lips only fueled her. Since discovering who she was, he had not addressed her by anything other than princess or highness. It had formed that barrier between them, along with the anger that she had felt towards him over Vitali’s bargain. All of that melted away at the gentle weight of his hands on her shoulders and his response to her mouth. This was strikingly different than their first kiss, the rushed pressure of his mouth on hers in a show of affection meant for an audience. It had been over before she realized it had began. This kiss was initiated by her, for no one but him. Warmth spread down her neck from his fingertips to race along her spine. The sensation was remarkable and over when he withdrew.
Dark brows came together, a crease forming at the top of her nose. Had she done something wrong? She thought…she thought he had responded favorably at first. Had she imagined his mouth working against her own? Had it just been her imagination? Had she misread him so utterly that she had now irreparably damaged the relationship that they had? Alaiscina’s thoughts raced faster than a falcon diving after its prey. Crystalline blue gaze searched his face, uncertain of the emotions that lurked behind his eyes. The fated princess slowly let her hands fall away from him, lingering her fingertips against his for a moment before drawing back completely. Alais did not move while he spoke, just merely looked him over as he uncomfortably stammered through an excuse, a reason why they shouldn’t or couldn’t. Licking her lips, she pressed them together delicately to prevent herself from interrupting him.
She followed his line of sight and remained silent for multiple moments. Alaiscina was sure it made him uneasy, but she was thinking how best to phrase what she was feeling now. The stars twinkled above them, winking at the people below and at the moon. The snow dusting the tops of the peaks of the mountains shone in the faint light but she tore her attention from them to him. She brought his face towards hers, turning it so he was forced to meet her eyes. “You’re such a fool, Isidor Kristeva, especially for the man who is undoubtedly always the most intelligent in the room.” She murmured, smiling at him gently.
“Do you really think that my feelings for you stem from your plan to rescue me, that all of this,” she motioned between them with her free hand, “is because of tomorrow? I am grateful for it but I’ve wanted to do that before you found out who I was, before your brother arrived, before the Missing Links became a part of the plan. In the garden…our picnic…” The fingers against his chin left to brush a few dark strands of his hair off his forehead, returning to her side. “I’m thanking you for believing in me, for seeing that I might be worth something more than a title
“But before…”Alais’s fingers touched the underside of her lower lip at the memory of his mouth’s warmth, “it was because you see me.” Confidence came with the territory of being the second highest courtier in the land. Now, however, now doubt slipped into her mind. He was an intelligent man. Certainly he must know his own mind, his own emotions. He may not feel what she felt. She may have forced it on him and now he was too kind to tell her otherwise. “I…I am sorry if I took too much liberty just now, if you don’t feel the same. I thought that you might, that you did. I thought you might.” It was the princess’s turn to stammer along. She stepped back from him, heart thundering
“Thank you for the vial.” She planted her hand gently against the pocket in the folds of her dress. “It is the only way I will be able to sleep tonight, I’m certain.” Alais was flustered and she found it easiest to fall back on routine. A slight curtsey before she turned to go.
Feelings? Were they talking about feelings, now? Because that was one area in which Isidor was most definitely not well-versed, and he didn’t even know where to begin. “I… I don’t really know what I thought,” he breathed, most definitely feeling like the fool she accused him of being. “I know… I felt you were kind to me, especially compared to the others inhabiting this palace. But it didn’t occur to me… What I mean is, I thought your kindness stemmed from your upbringing. Or because you felt dreadfully sorry that a misfit like me was dragged out of his safe and secluded tower in the woods, only to find himself in exactly the opposite of what he would consider a comfortable dwelling.”
Unfortunately, all that Isidor Kristeva had to offer then and there was his own embarrassing honesty, when it was more than obvious that Alaiscina was looking for… something else. Perhaps, someone else. Someone who she wanted him to be, or some ideal that she believed he might be able to live up to… But the truth was, the alchemist was nowhere near being suitable for someone like her. The princess deserved a prince with armor and a sword, who was adept in using pretty words and as capable of being soft as he was fierce. Someone intuitive enough with people and emotions and and understanding what it meant to be human…
And he was exactly the opposite. Weak and uncertain, not even a survivor, let alone a fighter. His ineptitude wasn’t even something alchemy could cure.
He had disappointed before, and they were only in for more disappointments in the days to come, provided they survived the next twenty-four hours. But here he was, already, disappointing her yet again--and not for what he said, but for what he did not say, because he did not have the words. Even if he had them, he wouldn’t know how to deliver them…
Isidor watched as she stepped away, her hand on the vial he had given her, looking as though she were second-guessing everything between them that had led up to this point. And all because of what? Because you don’t know how to love, that chiding voice cackled at the back of his mind. That voice always sounded identical to Vitali’s. You don’t even know how to like, to get along. Better to leave her disappointed now, than to lead her feelings on when you wouldn’t know what the hell to do with them.
Maybe that voice was right. Maybe he didn’t know what to do with his own feelings, let alone the way Alaiscina might have felt about him. But… there was nothing to say that couldn’t change. Or that he couldn’t change.
“Wait.” He was almost too late to call out. The princess has just reached the threshold of the doors, with one foot inside, by the time Isidor found his tongue. “Just… wait.”
She did wait--which only threw the alchemist more off guard, because he hadn’t expected her to. Now that he had her ear, he was obligated to fill the uneasy silence that had settled between them. He didn’t have words; but he had to try. One way or another, this evening needed some closure, or else neither of them would be adequately prepared for what was to come tomorrow. “You’re not wrong. You didn’t… take liberty, as you say. I don’t… it isn’t that I can’t reciprocate whatever it is you feel for me.” One hand wove through his hair, while the other made to push his spectacles up the bridge of his nose--as if exhibiting two nervous tics weren’t enough to display just how difficult this situation was for him. What was worse, he wasn’t even wearing his spectacles, at that moment, which only made him come across as all the more ridiculous. “I knew I wanted to get to know you when I met you. And not only because you were kind to me, but because I was intrigued by you, and how you so differed from everyone else in this gilded prison. And I could hardly believe it when you seemed to wane to get to know me, in return. The thing is, your Hi--Alaiscina, I am not good at getting to know people. Because I am not good at talking to them, or being around them, or knowing just what it is that they might want from me. I am not good at being a friend, I suppose you could say, let alone… let alone anything more than that.”
Being so bold as to actually take a step forward (which was no easy feat), the alchemist tried to find the courage to meet Alaiscina’s everblue eyes. Instead, his own dark irises sank to stare at the tips of his black boots. “You have to understand… before this--before you, I lived my life alone in a tower. I’ve gone weeks without speaking to another soul, and have fared just fine in isolation. Because prior to that, my only company was that of my mentor, whose idea of kindness was to allow me the occasional full meal and adequate rest between excruciating bouts of his tutelage. I did not miss the wretched man when he died; I welcomed the silence and the isolation in that tower. Not bearing the presence of people who asked too much of me became my comfort, however dysfunctional that might sound. So this--all of this, for me, is uncharted territory. And it’s terrifying, because I never know if ever I am being too much, or not enough. I don’t have that intuition; I was never given the opportunity to develop it. So…”
Forcing his gaze to rise from his feet, Isidor made perhaps the boldest gesture he’d ever considered, and took Alaiscina’s hands. “You’re right. I did--and I do believe in you. I see you. But now… I’m afraid I need you to believe in me. Because I’ve never been so terrified in all my life of what failure, on my part, might lead to. If tomorrow, we escape and survive…” He hazarded a sheepish smile. “When I am no longer fearing for our lives, I… I’d like to try and grow as a human among other humans, instead of a hermit. If… you can give me a chance.”
The first time she heard him call out for her to halt, Alaiscina thought she had imagined it. It must be a trick of her mind, what she wanted him to say but surely he had not. Isidor was typically not so bold, but he had surprised her before. She heard it again and new it could not be her imagination. She paused on the threshold back into the castle. Delicate shoulders tensed, barely perceptibly. Awkward tension covered then like a thick blanket, before she took soft steps to turn around. She placed a hand against the column leading inside. Blue eyes glimmered in the faint light of the moon while the torches illuminated her from behind, a halo of bright beneath dark hair. She kept her gaze trained on him, listening carefully to each word his spoke and taking in the nervous habits.
Then the alchemist met her eyes and her brows rose. She cocked her head slightly to the right. His hand gingerly grasped hers and already raised eyebrows rose higher. Disbelief flickered across her face. Isidor Kristeva, hermit and alchemist, had managed to surprise the princess more in the last few weeks than she had ever thought would be possible. At first she had been drawn to him because of his simplicity, his dependability and his lack of desire to enhance his social standing. Now, now she was pulled towards him like the waters to the moon because of a whole new set of reasons. He was kind, passionate in his own way and willing to be adaptable.
“I would very much like to be a part of that growth.” Alais smiled. She dropped her hand from the doorway and brought it up to brush back some of his hair again, that had come back towards his forehead. “If you’ll have me that is. The choice is as much yours as it is mine.” She drew back, but slowly, letting him know it was not because she disliked his reaching out to her. The princess examined his face and the smile that found itself on his lips. “Tomorrow…I am so afraid of what will happen tomorrow.” A little shake of fear entered her voice that she attempted to swallow. The emotion stuck in her throat and she exhaled slowly to expel it. “I am afraid of you getting caught. I am afraid of you dying with me. I am afraid of what my father will do to the Missing Links if he finds out about them.” She looked away for a moment, back out at the night.
“I am also afraid of what happens if we make it out…” Alaiscina pressed her lips together in a hard line, so firmly that when she released them they were visibly swollen. “I don’t have any particular skills.” A nervous laugh, filled with dread. These were things she had considered extensively over the past week. While she had attempted to occupy her time with preparations, the weight of her fear still nestled firmly in her chest. She made a slow exhale and shook her head. “A problem for another day. One step at a time, hmm?” She smiled again, the plastered court smile that she had used for longer than she could remember to hide what she truly felt. It would be cruel to burden him with her fears in addition to his own. “You don’t have to save me, you know that, yes? From this moment on we look out for one another but don’t feel any obligation to protect me. We do it together. One step at a time.” She shifted, resisting the urge to kiss the lips that had given her a embarrassed smile. One step at a time. Alais told herself.
“I will see you in the morning, alchemist. Thank you for meeting me.” She gave his hand a squeeze and a gentle smile, tucking her fear into the center of her body. She slipped away from him and into the dimly lit halls. She made a direct path to her bedroom. She laid her dress onto her bed, carefully selecting the vial from her pocket, and climbed into the covers. Heart pounded and her mind raced and she examined the amber liquid before swallowing it down. As it warmed her from the middle outward, Alais thought of Isidor, faerie and what lay beyond the castle walls.
The follow morning came upon him all too fast--and he wasn’t sure he’d so much as managed to sleep a wink during the night.
Isidor had contemplated taking a vial of the same substance he’d given to Alaiscina the night before, but ultimately, paranoia had one out, favouring safety as opposed to rest. What if someone had overheard them on the balcony? Or at any other point in time, when they’d been discussing their grand plan of escape? He had seen the armed guards at the palace on the daily, and none of them looked as though they would refuse an order to kill him in his sleep for directly interfering with royal affairs.
Consequently, this left the alchemist exhausted and disoriented the next day, yet somehow still buzzing with nervous energy. He didn’t even think to eat after he woke, leaving the tray the servants had delivered for him completely untouched. Even if he’d found an appetite, he wasn’t sure the knots in his stomach would’ve permitted him to keep anything down for long. Well, the knots and the butterflies, after the discussion that had taken place between him and Alaiscina just hours before… He could still feel the ghostly pressure of her lips against his, from time to time, and it frightened him. It frightened him because it distracted him, and today of all days was the day he needed to rely on his infallible ability to focus, to remain awake and aware and to get him and the princess out without losing any skin.
Last evening had been their last chance to work out details, to clarify how this plan was to unfold--much of which relied on the Missing Links and their competency. Both Alaiscina and Isidor merely had to make sure they were in the right place at the right time. But had they worked out every last detail? Was he supposed to be in audience, or hidden, while Briery performed her ‘magic’ and made the princess disappear? And would it appear too suspicious to don his travel boots with the fine tunic and waistcoat he was expected to aware to the event? Would it make it obvious that he intended to run? And would Alaiscina really manage to get far in a pair of dainty slippers?
As the hours passed, the alchemist’s feet grew colder and colder. Soon, the spectacle would take place, and the performers would put on a show that no one in this empire would ever forget. Perhaps they were the only people who knew what they were doing; and just maybe, they could provide him that last bit of guidance he needed.
The stage was set, and grand hall was going to begin to fill with people within the hour. Servants were milling about, securing final details on the decor and banquet. Among them were the performers, all five dressed in shimmering metallic outfits as they tested the tightrope and other props for last-minute durability. Both Briery Frealy and her hotheaded blonde counterpart were clad in what almost appeared to be scandalous gold and silver that clung to their bodies like a second skin, leaving very little to the imagination. Of course, the attire was built to maximize flexibility when performing aerial feats, but it was enough to bring a visible blush to the alchemist’s face when he caught the ringleader’s gaze.
“Ah, good sir; I’m afraid we are about an hour before our performance begins.” Briery greeted him with what looked to be a warm and polite smile. “Am I to assume you will be part of the audience? Then let me assure it, it will be worth the wait.”
“Ms. Frealy…” Isidor began, but the ringleader clamped a hand on his shoulder like a vice, and her smile went tight.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, Alchemist, but do not blow our cover.” Her voice cut like a knife in Isidor’s ear. “Get out of here. Come in with the rest of the audience. Don’t look familiar with us.”
“I just need to know… when the princess ‘disappears’...”
“You will be present. And you will make a fool of yourself, distraught that I have made her ‘disappear’. This will be before anyone knows she is actually gone; you will then convene with Cwenha where we discussed yesterday. That is all I am telling you, because we are looking suspicious enough as it is, right now. I won’t risk the safety of my troupe for your lack of confidence.”
She was right, of course. Isidor let out a sigh. “One last thing. Alaiscina… have you seen her today? Where can I find--”
“Do not go looking for her. Do not leave any reason to cast suspicion. Just know your cue to lose yourself at her disappearance. Now get out.” At the drop of a hat, her bright, professional smile returned, and she spoke at a reasonable volume when she called after him, “A pleasure to meet you, sir! We always look forward to speaking with our fans. I hope you enjoy the show!”
She’s a natural, Isidor thought with dismay as he did as Briery asked, and left the Missing Links to complete their final preparations. If only I knew how to deceive, so well… He would have to learn--and he had an hour to think about just how he was going to go about that, because the day had come, and there was no more time to ponder. I do it, or I don’t; I pass, or I fail. There won’t be any in-betweens.
Once again, he thought of Alaiscina, and the ghost of their kiss on his lips. I won’t fail.
The day dawns just like any other day, except Alais’ servants woke her earlier than usual. Weariness clouded her vision and slowed her mind, but only for a few moments before the pressures of the day weighed down upon her. Adrenaline began to course through her veins, pumping more and more with each breath she took. There were preliminary trials today, the ones that were not suitable for an audience. It was something her father and his mistress and all the court lords and jesters had devised over the last years of her life, from the moment her mother had passed from this world. Today there would be the trial of music, lineages and mathematics. Her father had thought it most appropriate to display their musical talents for the court but it had fallen out of favor in order to allow dance and archery to be included tomorrow.
She started into her own eyes in front of the tarnished mirror that adorned the vanity in her room. Two female servants plaited her hair, forming a crown about her head with half of it, leaving the other half hanging down her back. They slowly began to use a heated iron from over the fire to curl the strands into thick ringlets. As she stared, she examined herself and felt older but looked the same. How could she look the same when she felt so terribly different? She looked like the heiress she was. Crown set on her head as, a thin silver circlet around the plait. As she contemplated her own internal changes, the servant bustled about, reading her dress and pushing large diamond earrings through her ears.
Alaiscina did not remember standing and turning away from the mirror. Her mind settled on Isidor and the Missing Links and Vitali. All of the possibilities swirled within her thoughts as they tightened her corset around her. It was the tightness that drew her from her reverie and she faked a sob and dismissed them. She had nearly missed her opportunity to finish dressing herself. Hastily, once they had all exited the chamber, the princess tripped herself again and pulled on the breeches just below her knee. Wrapping a cloth around her breasts, she secured it before pulling a thin shift over and tucking it into the brown cloth of the pants. She strapped the knives to her thighs and tucked the hidden gems to supply them with funds away. A bit of food managed to be secured beneath her skirts and she pulled them back up and set the corset back in place. She tightened it as best as she could before beckoning her handmaidens back inside.
They did not seem to question her when she gave a few mock sniffles and dabbed at her eyes. “I might need someone to refresh my linger and darken my lashes.” She said it in a soft voice and one servant moved to take her face and began to fix the makeup Alaiscina had purposefully smudged to sell the charade. Once she was suitable, she was ushered to small chambers where a few lords and her father waited. Her father and Lucaine. Alais inclined her head when she saw them and the proceedings began. First she recited the histories of the dynasty from beginning to present. She contemplated adding her own name at the end, just to spite them but that would have drawn unwanted attention. Lucaine proceeded to recite the same, but more swiftly and more articulate than Alais. A smug expression held on her twin’s face and she kept her eyes downcast to keep herself from smiling. Even if she died in the escape attempt, her family would never have seen that coming. Exhaling slowly, she proceeded to be questioned thoroughly and harshly in mathematics. It was never her strongest subject, but nonetheless she only missed two compared to Lucaine’s three which undoubtedly made her sister irate.
Music was to conclude their trials of the day and then everyone was to sup before the presentations of the artists and the performers. Lucy perfected the lute and its notes filled the hall, causing smiles and soft expressions on those of the audience. It was beautiful, as much as Alais wanted to hate it. Then it was the fated princess’ turn to play. She had learned the lute and the harp and could even pass her hand at the dulcimer. Today, however, she picked up her vielle. It was well worn but she had the strings freshly strung and the reed well broken in. She set it to her chin and inhaled. As she exhaled she pulled the bow across the strings and silence surrounded her. Alaiscina played until tears rolled down her cheeks. It was her mother’s favorite song and one her father had banned from court since she died. She had learned it from an old journal of her mothers and scoured records until she found the notes. Over and over she would practice this song until it was ingrained so deeply in her memory it must have been imprinted upon her very soul. Blue eyes did not witness the way her father’s knuckles went white or the slight fear at the corner of the other lord’s eyes. When she finished, she merely curtsied and excused herself.
The princess made sure to eat so that she would be full when they made their escape. It would be a great inconvenience to die from starvation after fleeing her death at Lucaine’s hand. She made light conversation with someone here and there but they mostly avoided her. She was the plague and they did not want to catch anything from her while she was still infectious.
The time came for the performances and she was seated at her sister’s right hand, who sat on a slightly raised dais by her father’s side. It was a final slight, as if they meant to torture her emotionally until the very end. Musical acts and other acrobats performed but Alais only searched the crowd for Isidor. She found him, in the crowd. He was looking at her and their eyes met. Their gaze was held briefly before Alais looked away. It was time. The Missing Links made their introduction to the thrill of the crowd and even Alais clapped vigorously as their sparkling attire dazzled the audience.
The act was astounding, tumbling and knife throwing and feats that appeared to be magic but not so much that they would attract the king’s unwanted attention. Briery asked for a volunteer and many people began to murmur and step forward. She put on quite the show, considering and considering until her eyes rested on Alais. “Perhaps our patron would do us the honor of allowing us to make her disappear.” She heard the words and smiled. She turned her eyes towards her father. It was always appropriate to request his permission for such a thing. His darker eyes met hers and her frowned, considering. Alaiscina did her best to look at him pleadingly, lightly pressing her lips together in hope. A slight nod of his head and their plan was taking off. Rising, she pressed herself off her chair and made her way to contraption that they had devised. The princess did not recall all the words that were said as she stepped inside. She did not recall the feeling of being enclosed. She did not recall the jolting sensation of being slipped away, transported from one location to another.
From captivity to freedom.
Once there, she waited. What is Cwenha did not show? What if she never met up with Isidor? What if…what if. Alais inhaled slowly, trying to calm herself, waiting for Cwenha to arrive. As she did so, she began to undress herself. She unlaced her corset, contorting her body at angles she never had to free herself of the confines as quickly as possible. She left the dress in a heap, fixing her knives and jewels and food in their appropriate places.
Unlike Alais, Isidor did not take the right precautions to ready himself, that day, for what the evening would entail. And it was not for lack of trying. As much as he’d wanted to sleep, wanted to eat, the butterflies and knots all caught up in his gut prevented him from doing so, and by the time the evening rolled around, he was at once exhausted and hungry and nauseated from a mixture of hunger and trepidation. That left him with only the adrenaline in his veins to keep him going--and it would be enough. It would have to be enough, because he would not let Alaiscina down, if it was the last thing he ever did.
The alchemist was not among the courtiers of the palace; guests of rank and status who had been invited to enjoy what was supposed to be a ‘good time’. No, as someone commissioned to work for the king, he was seated far from the stage, and far from the princess herself, when at last the entirety of the congregation gathered to bear witness to the spectacle that was the Missing Links.
And what a spectacle they were! The ringleader, Briery Frealy, had promised not to disappoint--and she hadn’t. There wasn’t a single soul in the grand ballroom that was not completely captivated by the giant and his superhuman strength, the knife thrower with uncanny accuracy, the illusionist and his sleight of hand, and most of all, the two acrobats who tumbled and flew like graceful gold and silver swans through their air on their mobile trapeze. Even the king himself appeared to be bewitched, to some extent, although he tried to hide it behind his stoic frown. Isidor might even have found it in himself to spare a smile, if his eyes weren’t locked on the princess from afar. She appeared to be looking in his direction, but couldn’t be sure if she actually saw him among the courtiers. I won’t let you down, he thought, as if his good intentions could reach her across the room. He couldn’t let her down; not since they’d come this far, and were this close to freedom…
He wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed before Alaiscina was summoned to the stage, to take part in the disappearing act they’d furtively planned. Minutes had slipped past him, completely unawares, and now was the time to act. Now was the moment he had promised he’d lived up to, to wrench Alaiscina from her father’s hands and secure her safety. If the alchemist never did a lick of any good for the rest of his life, at least he could one day die knowing he’d saved a life--and one, he hadn’t realized until last night on that balcony, that mattered to him.
And just like that, Alascina is gone.
Whatever contraption the Missing Links had crafted for this sole event did its job. One moment, the princess was on stage, climbing into a human-sized box that eerily resembled an upright coffin, and the next moment, she was gone when the door to that box opened again. Regardless that Briery had encouraged him to make a scene in order to justify his absence, Isidor’s reaction was genuine. “Your Highness!” He cried, drawing eyes and faces in his direction, many which scoffed and snickered at his dismay. After all, it was just a magic trick; what sort of idiot got worked up over something so over-the-top unreal?
Isidor didn’t wait to be excused. He pushed past attendees unapologetically and scrambled out of the room, and down the long corridor, toward those reserved for servants alone. That was where he would find her. That was where Alaiscina was, and where Cwenha would be waiting for them, because that was the plan… and he had to trust in it. Please be alright. I’m on my way…
Meanwhile, no sooner had Alaiscina vanished and reappeared beneath the stage that a small, pale hand grabbed her arm from behind. “Come on. Let’s go find your friend; but if he’s not where he should be, then you’re going ahead without him.” The small, silver-clad acrobat hissed. The discontent of her job at hand was so plain on her face it could have been etched out of stone. “I hope you’re ready to run.”
From beneath the stage, the two women pressed themselves against the wall until they found a door that Briery had ‘woefully apologized’ that it would be necessary for the stage to cover, in order to put on a quality performance. That door led to the narrow servants’ corridor, where they were to meet up with Isidor before making a break for the stables. It was a perfect plan: everyone was preoccupied by the spectacle in the ballroom, and no one would be found in the servants’ corridors save for the servants themselves, who would not be of any trouble.
At least, that should have been the case. But no one had anticipated that on this night alone, the servants’ corridor--or this one in particular--would be patrolled.
“Your Highness.” A tall, burly guard frowned at the sight of Alaiscina and an unfamiliar blonde woman hurrying out the hidden door beneath the stage. “What is going on? Is this woman causing you trouble?” He placed a hand on the hilt of his sword and glowered at Cwenha, who looked about ready to retrieve one of the many knives she had strapped to her thighs, beneath that short, silver skirt.
“Excuse me--sir! Excuse me.”
All three heads turned at the voice of none other than Isidor himself, red in the cheeks and out of breath. He’d been hurrying to meet them…
“What do you want?” The guard scoffed, looking the pale, thin man up and down. “Aren’t you that alchemist His Majesty commissioned to craft better weaponry?”
“Indeed, yes, I am, sir. In fact, your blade…” He humbly nodded to the shortsword strapped across the man’s back. “There appears to be something wrong with it.”
“There’s not a damned thing wrong with it.” The guard grunted, and finally drew the weapon. “I don’t know what’s going on, here…”
Before he could finish, Isidor opened his palm to reveal a familiar vial, the contents of which he splashed on the guard’s weapon. The steel of the blade began to melt before their eyes, like snow in the sun. “What… what in the--!” The man gasped, astounded. Cwenha took that very opportunity at his distraction and drew one of her own small, lethal knives, and drove it into the meaty muscle of his calf. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would slow him down.
“Don’t say I didn’t tell you so!” Isidor hastily quipped as the man crumpled to the ground in pain, but not before Alasicina was grabbing him by the hand, and they were running for their lives towards the palace’s nearest exit.
Suddenly, the small acrobat was behind her. She jumped, startled, but had no time to contemplate how the angry little woman had appeared behind her without so much as a sound giving her away. The disdain carved into the woman’s face was evident but now was not the time that Alaiscina was going to attempt to win the hateful being over. She would save that for the future, if they made it out alive. Alais did not like being disliked by someone that knew so little about her. She followed her to the servant’s corridors and blinked several times at seeing…her mind raced to place his name. Jerard.
A curse caught in the tight knot of her throat. Surprised eyes flickered a deep blue at Cwenha and then her mask fell back into place, ready to talk her way out of this. If she could avoid his death, she would. It was not his hand that would kill her. It was not his laws that condemned her. So who was she to be the one that caused his life to end? Yet before she had to opportunity to work around this, she heard a familiar voice. Her heart leapt up at the sound and she turned to see him, dark hair brushing across his forehead. Then everything happened so quickly, she thought she saw steel melt like butter on warm toast. A cry of pain distracted her and she grabbed Isidor’s hand. “My apologies.” She called out to the guard as she took off after the silver-clad acrobat.
They raced through the corridors until they found the access to the lower tunnels that traversed the ground beneath the castle. The long narrow halls grew dark and damp. The smell was unmistakable. The stench of human waste and byproducts met her noise and she swallowed hard to keep from retching onto Cwenha’s heels. She kept a firm grip on the alchemists hand and made sure to follow Cwenha. They splashed through the muck, trying to keep to the side where the grime depth came up to just the ankle of her boots.
Finally, after what felt like an age in the dank of the tunnels, they emerged to a small opening. They’d have to pull themselves out one at a time. The metal bars that covered the openings into the stream that led to the river had long since rusted and were easily shoved out from their holdings in the damp ground. Alaiscina released Isidor’s hand and pulled herself through, caking her shirt and pants with mud. Well these are ruined. She chastised herself for being worried about her clothing when she should have been more concerned about them making out of this with her life. Cwenha kept silently leading them onward, away from the castle.
Alais cast a glance over her shoulder, falling behind the pair for just a moment. Her gaze took in the castle for one last time, or what she hoped would be last. Breaking her reverie, the escaped princess trudged after them, wondering when she would be able to bathe. Again, you worry about things like a princess. You are a princess no longer. Her lungs began to burn from running and her legs ached but she tried to keep pace with the clearly superiorly built circus performer. Finally, Cwehna slowed her unattainable gait and Alais buckled over, gasping for breaths to cool herself. Sweat dripped down her back and across her brow. There was a wagon before them with a driver waiting idly with her two mules. The princess looked from Isidor to the wagon to Cwenha. “Where is this going to take us?” She asked, wondering if it was part of the Missing Links portion of the plan or Vitali’s.
Everything that happened, from the moment he released the contents of the vial in his hand, was a blur to the young alchemist. Adrenaline alone kept him standing, and he could hardly feel his feet moving beneath him as Alaiscina grabbed his hand and pulled him down the unfamiliar palance corridor. At what point the corridor completely ceased to be a corridor, and gave way to a dank tunnel that smelled of mildew and mould, he couldn’t be sure. But it was around that time that the smell snapped him into full awareness; sharp and pungent enough that it forced his arm to cover his nose, and even that wasn’t enough to calm the churning in his stomach. Perhaps it was a blessing, after all, that he hadn’t managed to partake in any meals that day, because they certainly wouldn’t have remained compliantly in his stomach, trudging through that muck.
This is happening. This is it. The words recycled in his mind, over and over like a mantra, something to focus on so that panic and cold feet did not dominate his focus and reasoning. We’re running. We’re running and we’re going to make it. This is happening. This is it…
Mercifully, the trio emerged into the cool air of a summer evening a handful of moments later, breaking free from the cut-churning aroma of whatever had been in those tunnels. Up ahead, a mule-drawn wagon awaited them; something that could barely be considered a caravan, with only a cloth covering to offer protection from the elements. It was better than nothing; no, more than that, it was exactly what they needed, and nothing more. They had done it. They had emerged unscathed, uninjured… if not entirely clean. But considering what was at stake, and the fact that they’d been forced to rely on a group of strangers (and some whom clearly showed disdain for them) organized by his already untrustworthy brother, could they have realistically expected a more sophisticated getaway? Neither he nor Alaiscina were equipped to survive outside of stone walls; but it was a far more attractive alternative than dying inside of them.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’ve done my part on Briery’s behalf,” was all Cwenha told Alaiscina. No sooner had they cleared palace grounds, that the small, silver-clad acrobat looked up and ready to leave the two of them to their own devices. “All I know is the wagon is yours. So you can either wait here like sitting ducks for the palace guard to catch up with you, or you can take your damned chances.”
And she was gone, before either the princess or the alchemist could utter another word. Just them, the night, the wagon, and the palace in the background, which was still too close for comfort. “She’s right. We don’t have the luxury to stand around and consider these questions.” Isidor insisted at last, and grabbed Alasicina’s hand as he hauled the both of them into the back of the wagon. As soon as they were settled, it took off at a trot that seemed remarkably fast for a pair of mules.
Though he finally had a moment to catch his breath, sweat still trickled down the back of Isidor’s neck, plastering his white tunic to his skin and his dark hair to his face. His spectacles had somehow managed to survive their hasty flight, but had fogged up significantly, so he removed them to clear the lenses with a clean patch of his tunic. “Wherever this is taking is… whether this driver was provided by the performers or… or by my brother,” he placed the glasses back on the bridge of his nose and pushed a shaky rush of air from his lungs. “It will be safer than where we were. Are… are you alright? I’m sorry, I was too slow… if I’d acted more quickly, maybe I could’ve intercepted that guard…”
Cwenha’s curt goodbye left Alais fuming beneath her exhausted exterior. Perhaps if she had an ounce of energy left in her aching muscles, she could have found her voice to protest the acrobat’s abrupt departure. Instead, she stood there for a long moment, struck dumb by the events of the day and the uncertainty of the future. The princess never had an uncertain future. Until today. Swallowing, trying to force moisture down her parched throat, Alais climbed into the wagon with Isidor’s hand around her own. The contact was a comfort until it was gone.
Sweat poured down her back, making her light tunic stick to the wrapping around her breasts. She pulled her plaited hair up, allowing a muggy breeze to rush along her exposed skin. After a moment, she dropped it and withdrew pins from other parts of her hair. Making quick, but inelegant, work of the tangles, Alais pinned it all up at the back of her head. She felt strong, powerful, free. Until he asked how she was doing, if she was alright. Startled eyes turned to him, searching his face. “I…I…I don’t know.” She began, shakily. The princess felt elated and terrified. “I am so unbelievably…happy. There’s this knot of emotions in my chest,” she pressed her thumb against her sternum, rubbing it slightly as if it would loosen the tightness. “And I’m scared, so so afraid of what is going to happen to you, to me. I have never been so uncertain of the future in my whole life. I always knew where I would end up.” Watery gaze turned away from him, with a slight flick of her head. “The guard was not your fault. There was always a risk we’d run into them. It was a big celebration after all.” She smirked slightly, shaking her head at the idea of her death being cause for rejoicing. Bright gaze turned peering out the back of the slightly covered wagon.
Even though her eyes searched the landscape falling behind them, she failed to pick out a slender woman standing against the tree line in a gown that could only be described as a form of camouflage. The woman had short, straight hair that just brushed against the pronounced collarbones upon which the ethereal dress hung. Her eyes were golden, not in the way that brown can be golden, but pure molten gold. She hovered at the edge as the wagon bumbled along, watching with aloof interest. When the wagon was but a spot on the dusty trail, the women brought her fingers – no they were catlike claws – to her mouth and gently pulled at her lip before dissolving into the woods.
At some point the exhaustion tugged at her and she began to close her eyes. Her head lulled onto his shoulder. Despite an occasional bump or hole, the wagon moved along at a fair pace without disrupting her slumber. And slumber she did. They passed through small villages but did not draw any attention and when she awoke to the rising of the sun on the subsequent day, she blinked blearily and lifted her head off his shoulder. Using her middle finger, she brushed the sleep from her eyes and licked her dry lips. “I’m sorry, I must have dozed off. A bit of the black liner that she had lined her eyes with had smudged onto his shirt. She brushed at it and then giggled at the effort, taking in his full appearance. “I’m not certain if I have made it worse or better.” Catching sight of the sun in its position, her brow furrowed. “Did I really sleep so long?” As she moved her muscles protested, stiff with the exertions of the previous day, Alais winced. Just as she moved to stretch her arms above her head the wagon lurched to a halt and she went flying forward into him, sending them both sprawling onto the wagon floor.
Alaiscina groaned and pushed herself up with one arm, only to find she was laying firmly on top of him. It took her mind a moment to take everything in and a pink hue rose into her cheeks. “Sorry, I…yes, well, let me just.” She disentangled herself from on top of him and looked about. “Well we’ve stopped and I don’t think the driver plants on starting up again.”
“No… I understand. I’m… afraid, as well. I don’t think I have ever been more afraid,” Isidor breathed, taking his spectacles from the bridge of his nose to wipe off the fog on the hem of his shirt. He hadn’t realized he was shaking until he looked down, and firmly crossed his legs to cease the trembling, or at the very least, dampen its noticeability. “But where you would have ended up, otherwise… was dead. It is difficult to imagine anything more terrifying than death…”
He stared out the window, wondering if that claim really had any merit. Death was finite: no decisions to make, everything laid out for you, whatever you chose to believe in. But to leave your home--no, to run from your home in the middle of the night, and climb aboard a strange caravan intended to take you to an unknown destination… no. Alascina was right; the emptiness of death wasn’t as frightening as the creeping unknown of a future that neither of them had ever envisioned. The alchemist was only torn from his thoughts when something other than the passing scenery of nightfall caught his eye, beyond the window of the caravan. A woman stood at the treeline, seemingly watching them as they passed. He couldn’t tell for sure, from the cover of darkness and the speed of the caravan, but she appeared to be dressed regally--which gave him pause to start. Was she from the palace? Had she somehow managed to follow them, spying and reporting their whereabouts…?
The stranger beyond the window was out of sight before he could think too much of it. “...wherever we end up, and whatever happens,” he spoke at last following a long period of silence, replacing his spectacles on the bridge of his nose, “we have to believe that whatever awaits is more favourable than what had lay in wait back at that palace. On some level, you and I, we must believe that there is something better, right? Or else, why would we have taken such a bold risk?”
He waited for the princess to answer, but when none came, he spared a look to his right. Alaiscina, her head leaning on his shoulder, had somehow managed to fall asleep, despite the adrenaline rush of their flight, and the close call before that. The corners of his mouth managed to quirk into a smile. One of us should at least get some rest, he thought to himself, knowing full well that there wasn’t a chance he would have the same luck.
And he was right. Isidor’s eyes wouldn’t even budge closed for the remainder of the night, his gaze stuck as it was on the window beyond, on the lookout for… he wasn’t sure what, exactly. Anything, dangerous or otherwise, another sighting of that strange woman who had appeared very interested in the caravan… But nothing further arose from the darkness, and before long (had it been hours? It seemed like just moments ago, they’d been running through the corridors of the palace…) the sun was beginning to crest the horizon. The young alchemist shifted his shoulder ever so slightly, wincing upon realizing how stiff he’d become, sitting in the same position for all that time…
The shifting in his posture must have roused Alaiscina, for shortly after, she stirred and righted herself. “No need to apologize,” he replied, with an exhausted albeit genuine smile. “You needed the rest. I’m sure our flight is far from over; your father will search far and wide for what has been taken from him… although our feet aren’t moving, we are still running.”
Almost as soon as he said as much, the carriage came to an abrupt halt that nearly sent the both of them flying forward. Adjusting his spectacles, Isidor frowned, and listened. Silence surrounded them. “Well. I suppose now we will know how far my brother has paid the driver to take us… wait here.” Deciding it was far less dangerous for him to show his face than for Alaiscina to show hers, he rose to a standing position and cautiously exited out the back. “Ah… excuse me, sir? Is this as far as my brother has instructed you to…”
His words trailed off when he rounded the front. The pair of horses stood obediently in wait of further orders, but there was no rider upon the front seat. And as they were located in what appeared to be a field, to the left of a gran forest and with a village some miles off, it seemed, there was no possible way the driver could have vanished so quickly…
Perplexed and concerned, Isidor returned to the back of the caravan, and peeked his head inside. “You… wouldn’t happen to know anything about driving a caravan, would you?” He was ashamed to ask, but the man had himself never taken up such a task. He’d be lucky to know the first thing about commanding those beasts. “Our driver… seems to have ‘disappeared’. I cannot possibly explain it any other way, but you and I… appear to be alone in this, now.”
