2412 Strilaxis 18, Jyda

Reeca hunched over a glass of ale, hoping her hood covers enough of her face. After letting Jered Axilia pass uneventfully, she had to try her luck and start asking around.

She found a circular tavern that reeked of sweaty tucked somewhere in the slew of circular buildings in Depandes. She ignored an array of stares from Brownies who were seated inside, getting their morning doses. The brownie behind the counter gave a visible shiver before smiling with uncertainty. Reeca pulled her hood lower.

She flipped a small kalta dryde at the countertop. The versallis glinted silver as it rolled across the splintery wood before slowing to a stop by the bartender's hand. Reeca stared at the coin as the bartender picked it up, turned it towards the sunlight, and tucked it in his apron. There goes the last of her money.

A wooden mug of translucent, sanguine liquid presented itself in front of Reeca. She wrinkled her nose when the whiff reached her nose. Ugh. Stale. She took the mug and strode to the shadiest part of the tavern—the west corner which was void of windows. Good.

She settled on the chair accompanying a lone, rotting table. Her eyes began taking in details, thinking of how she would escape should the poachers track her here and decided to take revenge.

Three hours had passed.

Brownies have trickled in and out the tavern. Reeca watched them stroll by. She had to pick her target carefully if she had to stay hidden. Someone who was used to a lot of strange and unfamiliar things, who wouldn't scream at the first sight of her. Sadly, brownies were not known to possess those qualities.

Her fingers pulled her hood lower. She slumped in her chair. Her drink remained untouched. Let it go stale a bit more. She didn't care even though it cost her a fair amount of versallis. Her thoughts swirled along with the ripples in her drink.

Reeca frowned at her face being reflected in the boorish liquid. It wasn't enough that the poachers escaped. She wanted them dead. They managed to track her once. Who's to say they wouldn't find her again? Those charlatans wouldn't settle for failure.

Reeca dropped her gaze at the trail dimension and sat upright. A sharp curse blew out of her lips with a hiss. How foolish of her. She forgot to hide her trail! Rhys would never let her hear the end of it if he knew about this.

Reeca plucked a ring off her finger, studying its engraved swirls signifying the Narfalk crest. When she and Rhys ran from the castle, they didn't have time to remove any of their Royal costumes. Reeca still had the dress she wore in prison the day she underwent the Council trial. It's what composed most of her cape and the padding of her bark armor.

She turned the ring here and there, remembering all of its details as well as the events that flashed into her mind that came with it. Her fingers twitched. Warmth flowed through her veins and heated her skin as her magic surfaced.

A cloaker was one of the simplest weavings out there yet many would kill to have one. Reeca and her brother had made quite a living selling them to ordinary people in the course of their stay on the harsh, Umazuran streets after being banished from Arcole.

It's not that they wanted to aid fugitives or people who were running from the law. They've resolved that they were just doing it to survive and now that they have enough to at least last them a few years, they have pursued a different road.

Which Reeca wasn't sure to be any better.

A sigh heaved off Reeca's lips. It's no use to scour the trail dimension for Xanthy's trail given that Reeca had given the Virtakios a cloaker before they parted ways in Cardina. If Reeca started to regret that, this would be the perfect time.

The ring flashed faint blue as her magic seeped into the metal. She slipped it back to her finger and peered at her trail. A flash of color slowly faded, a color that Reeca knew all too well would lead trouble to her. She closed her eyes, leaning back into her chair which gave a small creak. Her hands twined together atop her stomach.

"This ain't the best place to get wasted, young lady," a voice mumbled.

Reeca's eyes snapped open, her magic blazing on the surface. Her senses registered a man with a thick cape made of skicea pelt covering almost all of him except his dark trousers tucked into knee-high boots. His belt was barely visible through the cloak but Reeca caught a glimpse of two daggers sheathed at the right hip.

The floorboards squeaked under his weight as he pulled a chair from a nearby, empty table and dragged it across Reeca's. A furry hood covered most of his face but Reeca made out an outline of a beard. Lean face, too. Gloved hands reached for the mug of liquor she paid for. She didn't say anything as the man tipped the contents of the mug in four, huge gulps.

Reeca narrowed her eyes as the man laid the mug back on the table. Chatters rose around them but Reeca tuned them out. She narrowed her eyes, not a bit surprised to see that he had his trail hidden as well. What did this man want from her?

"Do you plan to speak or would you rather just stare at me?" Yellowed teeth shone through chapped lips, strangely complimenting the orange beard. "I admit I'm quite a hunk."

Reeca coughed. No, that's gross. "What do you want me to say?" Reeca crossed her arms as she maintained her laid-back position. Her Keijula accent was a little clipped. She jerked her chin at the mug. "I paid for that."

The man shrugged, tipping the opening of the mug to his face. His frown suggested that he couldn't believe that the mug was empty. "It's three hours old, so the taste is a bit stale and bitter," he inclined his head at Reeca. "Wasn't worth much if you ask me."

Reeca blew a breath. She didn't have time for this. "Is there something you need from me?"

The man chuckled, tapping the mug's butt against the table in a discordant pattern. "Nothing much, princess."

Reeca's stomach churned. There was only one person who ever dared call her that. She sat straighter as she leaned forward. "Lanas?"

The man lowered the hood to reveal a lean face with thin lips and large nose. His blue-black hair was the same as Reeca remembered—still messy as if a paulsare licked it. The orange eyes met hers after seven years.

He's Lanas, alright. Reeca knitted her eyebrows. He looks like a man now—far from the boy with missing teeth that used to play with her in the Palace grounds.

Lanas smiled, his teeth perfectly lined despite their yellowish tinge. "Your Highness, what are you doing in Depandes?"

Reeca lowered her own hood, hoping the flecks of blood on her face that she wasn't able to wash off weren't that reviling. Lanas blinked.

"You cut your hair?" he said. Reeca raised her eyebrows before chuckling. There was literally dried blood splashed on her cheeks and all he noticed was her hair? Amusing.

Reeca shrugged. "Gets in my way every time," she looked everywhere but at Lanas's piercing stare. "I haven't got the time to care for it during the journey, so...locks met sword."

Lanas shook his head. "Yours is the most beautiful in the kingdom! Even the Queen's isn't as golden as yours."

Reeca winced. Lanas's eyes widened. "Gods, I'm sorry. Wasn't thinking. Didn't mean to bring that up."

"It's fine," Reeca gritted her teeth before leaning back into her chair again. "What brings you here?"

Lanas copied her which brought out another creak from his chair. "Same as you," he splayed out a fist in her direction before shrugging. "Living life on the run."

Reeca nodded like she understood. Probably because she did. "Father banished you as well?"

"No," Lanas shook his head. "His Highness became paranoid lately. He thought everyone was after the throne and banished all his advisers. Father and I were driven out of the Palace. Our family was removed from the Seelie Court because the King made an appeal to Lanteglos. Now we live by what we can get. By whatever means necessary."

Reeca hummed. Lanas had it worse than her."How about some honest work?" She ran a hand over her cropped hair. "Rhys and I made a nice living selling cloakers."

Lanas's smile was both sad and bitter. "Not everyone is as good in weaving as you, princess," he said. "Father and I might have taken the bait years ago if only we could."

"How are you?" Reeca asked. It's a question she would rarely ask. She shouldn't worry about other people's problems but this was Lanas. As much as Reeca hated it, she was responsible for her father's harmful deeds to Lanas's family.

He sniffed but his eyes were void of tears. "I'm fine, though a bit tired and already an alcoholic," he wrapped his fingers around the mug yet again. "Father died months ago. Suicide. My old man couldn't take it."

Reeca closed her eyes. Her father had lost it. The Torlin dynasty has fallen. Long ago.

"I'm sorry," Reeca's words felt hollow from her lips. There's nothing she could do to help them.

"Don't sweat it," Lanas waved his hand at Reeca's direction. His smile told Reeca all the things he wasn't saying. "What brings you to Depandes, of all places?"

Reeca mussed her hair. She leaned on the table. Thank the gods the conversation about Narfalk was over. "I'm looking for a friend."

Lanas raised an eyebrow. "You have friends other than me? That's new."

She rolled her eyes. "Surprising, isn't it?" she sniped before crossing her legs at the ankles from underneath the table. "I was hoping someone would help me find her."

"Looks?" Lanas prompted.

Reeca blinked. "Uh," she looked up at the dark, wooden ceiling of the tavern. What did Xanthy look like again? "Light brown hair."

"You're in luck. A third of the brownie population has light brown hair," Lanas grinned and scratched his beard. "You gotta be more specific than that."

Reeca clicked her tongue. This wasn't the time to be artistic! Still, Lanas might know something. She focused on the worn floorboards, remembering the time Xanthy recited all the shades of brown she could identify like an ode. Beige? No. Wheat? No. It sounded funny. Funny? Fani? Faki? Taki?

Reeca's eyes widened. "Khaki!" she snapped her fingers a little bit louder . Brownies whirled in her direction. She wilted and brought back her hood over her head.

Lanas chuckled as he smoothed his hair away from his face. "There, is it so hard? What else?"

Reeca brought her hands together atop the table. "Small, round face. A head shorter than me. Shoulder-length hair. Has an empty look on her face when she stares at something. It's a bit weird when she twirls her hair with her fingers..."

Lanas scratched his chin. "Hmm..." he pursed his lips. Then, a glint of recognition flashed across his face. "Oh, I know who you're talking about!"

Reeca's eyes widened as she leaned closer. "You do? Where is she?"

Lanas snorted, amused. "Oh, she's engaged to the Crown Prince," his answer made Reeca's eyebrows meet. What? "Didn't know she cut her hair. That's something new."

Reeca shook her head. That's impossible. She faced Lanas. "She can't have gotten engaged in two weeks."

"Anything is possible, these days," Lanas shrugged, throwing his hood over his face as well. "Why are you looking for her?"

Reeca frowned. "None of your business," She tapped her fingers on the table, her ears still ringing as she slowly digested the fact that Xanthy was engaged to a prince. Really? That clueless girl?

"Princess?" Lanas snapped his fingers in Reeca's face.

She growled and slapped his hand away. "Stop doing that."

"Fine," Lanas's hand dropped to the table. He looked around at the people around them before turning back to Reeca. "I'd advise you to be careful, though."

I'm always careful, Reeca almost blurted. She bit her tongue when her brain reminded her that she forgot to hide her trail just a while ago. Instead, she clenched her fists atop the table.

"Why?" she narrowed her eyes.

"There's a thief loose in the streets," Lanas leaned closer as if it's supposed to be a secret. "Wears a red cape like a minion of death. Breaks into houses like no one's business and when the guards catch up, the owners of the house lay sick, almost dead. There's been word that some of the earlier victims have already passed into Pidmena's embrace."

A shudder tore through Reeca's spine. Would her problems ever cease?

Lanas cleared his throat. "Worse, the thief isn't just targeting houses. He moves against commuting travelers too. I'd bet every versallis I have that he is scouting for victims even in daylight. Later at night, he makes his move."

Reeca forced her muscles to relax. "Where are the victims?"

"They're being sent to the Temple. Priestesses do their best to keep them alive, but Pidmena offers swift justice," Lanas's gaze hardened. "I don't know what the Palace is doing about this, though. So be careful."

Reeca nodded. "I will."

Lanas stood and stretched. "Well, it's a great talk, princess," he turned away from her. "I must get going. Gotta eat lunch!"

Reeca smiled. "I'm not a princess anymore, Lanas," she said. "Call me Reeca."

The man shrugged. "Eh, you're still a princess to me. That'll never change."

He winked at her. A minute later, he's out the door.