I shouldn't know you, but your eyes told me,

Unspoken shadows lost in your lips.

11th ☾

Lies and Deceit

"Are you really coming to that ball?" Wilson asked, as I was starting the fire. We had set a camp in the forest located outside Wykeham Castle, and the night was starting to settle in. Wilson had been following me all day, repeating the same thing.

"Yes, I am. Anthony's plan," I replied.

"Why do you have to do that? We can just barge into the king's library and get those records," Wilson said, worry settling in his voice.

"We can't actually do that because there are tons of guards out there. The contents of that library are even more costly compared to those treasures we have stolen," I said to him. Even if I talked Lancelot into it, I wasn't sure if I could succeed in getting inside.

"But then you could get caught. What if the king's guards recognize you?" Wilson demanded.

"They won't. It has been six years, they won't even have a clue," I said, adjusting the fake mustache he had made for me. I wanted to console Wilson and assure him that it would be all right.

"Even Bryce and Anthony didn't come unscathed from our last mission," Wilson pointed out.

"They're fine now. This is why we have Janshai," I replied.

"I don't like this. I really don't like this," Wilson said in frustration.

"Hey," I said, placing a hand on his sturdy arm. "Relax. I'm capable enough to handle myself."

"From the same person who almost killed you? Twice?" Wilson said in a high voice.

I shouldn't have told him that story. "I'll make sure he doesn't do it thrice."

"Look, just make sure that you won't let that prince know who you really are and see the seal on your hand. Nothing more to do if you and Bryce and Anthony wanted to do this. But they can't force me to stay here and do nothing. I will come," Wilson said. By this time, he was aware of my entire story, as well as the presence of the seal. Bryce and Anthony had permitted him to know, concluding that we needed one more person to help keep the secret of the magic seal that I was carrying. This was also the reason why he easily got scared when it concerned my well-being.

"I won't let him know, okay? The prince won't even have a clue that I am the fugitive that the kingdom is frantically searching for," I said, slouching down as I took a seat near the fire.

"I'm just worried about you," said Wilson in a low voice, turning his back against me and letting out a plentiful sigh.

Placing a hand on his back in comfort, I said, "You're not crying, aren't you?"

He sniffed.

"It's going to be alright."

"It's just that... I've seen it all," Wilson said, his voice broke off. "My wife and child taken away and get killed in front of my eyes. I don't want that to happen again with you. I've watched you grow up."

"Okay, I understand that. I'll come back alive. I promise."

"Very well, just come back safely," Wilson said, regaining a smile. "Let's get you ready for the ball."

"And I've got the perfect dress for that," said Bryce as he appeared from the woods, intruding into the conversation. I instantly noticed the burgundy gown in his hands.

"Where did you get that?" I asked, keeping an eye on the dress. It had been quite a while since I last wore one.

"We got you a dress courtesy of the Duke of Merillain. Quite nice, huh? Put it on." Bryce threw the dress to me. "Try it. Twirl with it. Dance with it."

"Twirl with it. Dance with it, Miles," I imitated Bryce, goofily moving around with the dress.

"Go deeper into the woods. Change there. You will be late, Miles," said Wilson, dragging me away from Bryce, who was laughing along with what I was doing.

"Okay, I'm going," I replied.

"I'll bring the wig later. Go get changed," Bryce added.

When I was at a distance, I checked to see if anyone else was around. The road leading to Wykeham Castle was on the other side, but you could still hear the carriages as they trod their way to the ball. I removed my working clothes and slid the gown over my body. I pulled up the sleeve and adjusted the dress. After a while of futile efforts with regards to tying up the dress from behind, I realized that I could really use some help around here.

I walked back to the camp. "Wilson? Are you there?"

"Are you finished?" he asked back.

"I sort of need help with the dress," I said to him.

"Coming," Wilson replied from afar. He appeared shortly after, asking, "You need help?"

"Sorry to be asking you to do this. Apparently, there is no other female soul around here. I managed to tie the ones below, but I can't reach the top," I told him, apologetic.

"It's no problem. You are like my daughter, Miles," Wilson replied, tying the ribbons on the back of my dress. After he was finished, he pulled a pair of satin gloves on my arms. They were the same color as my dress. "Here are your gloves."

"I feel like I'm cross-dressing now. The gloves look very ladylike," I said, quite mirthful about my attire.

"You have been cross-dressing half your life. When we succeed on putting an end to this kingdom, you'll get back to your normal life and dress like a lady instead of a man," Wilson said, smiling gently.

"I always wanted to go back to how things used to be," I admitted.

"I know you do, Miles. I know you do," Wilson replied. "Here, give me your moustache. It doesn't suit you anymore."

"The dress looks lovely," I said, removing the moustache and handing it over to him.

"And so are you. Your Ma and Pa would have been proud," Wilson replied.

Bryce arrived shortly after, carrying a wig in his hand. "Enough with the drama. I could hear you two crying all the way from our camp. And here's your new hair, young lady."

I put on the light brown wig on my head, curling it down a little as I placed it sideways and let it loosely hang on my right shoulders. "Where did you get this one?"

"From the wife of the Duke of Merillain," Bryce informed me. "Apparently, she's fond of changing the color of her hair. They're our sponsors for the night. Generous people."

"Oh, before I forgot. Here are some berries. I saw my wife do this a lot," said Wilson as he put some berry extracts on my lips.

"What is this for?" I mumbled, tasting the sour taste of the berry.

"I don't really know. It's supposed to make you prettier," Wilson replied with a shrug.

"Man, no one could recognize you looking like that," said Bryce, shaking his head.

I trusted his word for it. "Hope so. Say, do I really not resemble the twelve year old me? You know, when you guys first took me in?"

"The bratty girl who slept a lot and did nothing all day?" Bryce rubbed it off.

"Sure. That girl. Who else?"

"You had a remarkable long, fiery red hair, Miles. I remember it well because it brought out the green in your eyes," Wilson replied.

"And now it's all brown. Nope, not even a resemblance," Bryce said.

"We're going to be late. Are you guys ready yet?" asked Anthony, who was leaning against an oak tree nearby. He was wearing a padded shirt, velvet pants and Viking boots. Anthony looked dashing, but those words of compliment towards him would not escape my mouth. He would accompany me inside the castle as my escort, saying that he wanted to confirm something himself.

"Ready to go," I said.

With furrowed eyebrows, he asked, "Is that Miles?"

"Our young lady. Look how grown up she is now," Bryce said to him.

"Here's the plan," said Anthony dismissively, handing me a scented paper. Lavender. "I've got the invitation here. Just do what you can to get inside the king's library. The number of guards there will be light during the ball, because the king needs to be heavily guarded. Take in mind that it will be better if you go with Prince Lancelot. You won't be suspected if he is with you."

"I'll do my best," I told them, feeling something revolting in my chest upon the mention of his name.

"We'll just be outside if you guys need some help," said Bryce.

"Let's go then," said Anthony.

The stillness of the night made my heart tremble in my chest even more. This would be the first time that I would see the king face to face.

As we were getting near the dirt road leading to the castle, I saw a carriage waiting for us. Doubtful, I asked, "Are we riding on that?"

"We have to. I forged our invitation and it said that you were one of the daughters of the Duke of Merillain, Lady Millicent. I'm your escort, Vince. We're distant cousins. Stay consistent with the story," Anthony gave me a briefing.

I nodded.

When we boarded on the carriage, I saw my reflection in the glass window. The darkness enveloping the night made the image clearer. I pulled a smile on my face, replacing the scowl that I usually carried with the boys around. Truthfully, I didn't know what I was expecting from this mission. It was all in a blur, and I functioned because someone was telling me what to do. My thoughts were unclear, mostly overclouded by the unexplainable heaviness in my chest.

Bryce and Wilson were driving the carriage. They were heavily disguised. We couldn't risk Bryce getting recognized by the guards, since he was still the most wanted thief in Incantasi.

Inside the carriage, Anthony and I didn't talk throughout the ride. He kept on tapping the edge of his seat, bothered. This had started after we looted Wykeham Castle recently. I thought his mood would improve in a day or two, but it didn't.

And because Anthony and I weren't really on any speaking terms, I readily avoided having a conversation with him. Deep inside, I only wondered what could possibly be running through his mind. I speculated if what he wanted to confirm in the castle was the same thing that was troubling him.

Half an hour passed and we arrived at Wykeham Castle. The ball had already started. Sparkling lights endowed with enticing music filled the place. With careful glances, we parted ways with Bryce and Wilson. Everything went according to plan. Anthony showed the guards our invitation, and we were guided inside.

"The nephew and daughter of the Duke of Merrillain," the guard announced as we walked in.

I took a deep breath. When we were a few steps away, I asked Anthony in a hushed voice, "What if the real Duke of Merillain is here?"

"He won't," Anthony replied. "I put a sleeping potion in their lunch. It would last until tonight."

"So that's where you went," I said. My eyes searched the entirety of the ballroom. I was overwhelmed, and I tried not to let it show. The key was to be one of them.

The closest I'd been to festivities was when we were in town while the townspeople were having a feast. And yet, this was different. It was far, far more exquisite. Majestically grand. I couldn't believe I was even witnessing this with my own eyes.

The mood was festive, and all the attendees were having a great time. There were a lot of dancing and drinking. Chatting resounded all over the room.

"Look to your right. I think that's your prince sitting beside the king," said Anthony.

I forcefully tilted my head to the direction he had pointed. Holding back my breath, my eyes landed on Lancelot first. He was sitting at the king's table, swiveling a cup in his hand. The emotions on his face were different from what I'd seen before. His stance was riddled with caution and detachment.

With quickened breaths, I prepared my mind to see the face of the one sitting beside him. This was the first time that I would lay my eyes upon the enemy. Sitting on his velvet throne and embellished with a golden crown filled with flamboyant gems, King Henry was observing the crowd. He was a man with eyes as dark as the midnight skies. His tousled raven hair was as devious as the scorn on his face.

My parents' murderer.

I trembled in place, clenching my hands in anger. Conflicting thoughts flooded my head, and it was hard to prevent myself from acting foolish, enough to try slaughtering the king—here and now. I had come armed, but the weapon I possessed would do no harm to this evil tyrant. With quivering lips, I held back the bitter tears.

Fixated on the anger surging inside my chest towards the culprit of my parents' brutal murder and the one who had caused pain to every single member of our group, I didn't realize the blue eyes that were looking right at me.

He faintly called, unsure, "Miles?"

When I leveled my head down and took my eyes away from the king, I saw him standing in front of me. I tried to control my emotions, but I couldn't pull all of them back right away. This was a mission, and I had to do my best. As much as I wanted to dwell on this despair that took over me, I couldn't do it. I couldn't grieve about my parents' death. I had to let the rage burning inside me subside.

"I'll take my leave," Anthony whispered to me, before disappearing in the crowd.

"Lancelot," I finally said when I was certain that my voice wouldn't break halfway, batting my eyelashes. Caspar taught me techniques to attract a man. He was more than willing to share his expertise with me after we asked for his help. He said that men were mostly attracted with physical beauty, and it was the only way to gain a his attention.

"For one person, you sure are full of surprises," Lancelot said evenly, observant.

Continuing the use of that cheery voice, I replied, "I thought we were already clear with that one."

"Are we?" There it was—the evident sarcasm. There was something hidden inside those eyes. Withheld anger?

I was starting to doubt Caspar's ways. It wasn't working. It was, like, Lancelot and I were back to the first time we'd met. From what I remembered, we had parted in a friendly manner the last time I'd seen him. What had changed? Was it because I was dressed up like this and acting in this manner?

"Is there something wrong?" I asked.

As if on cue, the orchestra started a mellow tune, and the dance floor became filled with people. Lancelot and I were oddly standing on one side, unmoving. Nobody was saying a word, but none of us was letting go of each other's eyes.

When I couldn't take it anymore and figuring that people were already dancing around us, I'd decided to ask him, "Do you want to dance?"

"Do you?"

Impatience took over me. "What is your problem?"

"Let's dance," he brashly replied, but offered me a hand.

Confused, I took his hand. As our hands were interlaced together, his grip tightened. Guiding me to the center of the floor, we had caught everyone's full attention. All of them were looking at the prince, more importantly to the girl he was dancing with. Whispers formed into words. All eyes were upon us.

This made me feel vulnerable all of a sudden. I had lived my life out of the people's eyes. And now, they were all looking at me.

But even if that was the case, I was more bothered why there was no smile on Lancelot's face. No hint of familiarity from the person who recently helped me.

It was a slow dance, yet Lancelot and I kept our distance. Nobody taught me how to dance, but he skillfully led me that my feet barely had the chance to create a mistake or two.

Feeling uneasy, I couldn't even look at him in the eyes since we started dancing. When he had noticed this, he put a hand under my chin, lifting my head. I had no idea what my face looked like. But I clearly felt my heart racing inside my chest.

"Why? Isn't this what you wanted to happen?" he asked.

My eyes widened. "What?"

We stopped from dancing. With betrayal in his voice, he told me, "I thought you were different, Miles. I thought you were not like them."

"Like what?"

"Like every other girl in the room. Someone who only sees me as an opportunity. To gain lands. To obtain power," he said in a whisper.

"It's not what you're thinking," I tried explaining.

"Aren't you? You even dressed up as a man. Why? To make me feel like you weren't going to do this? To make me trust you. Foolish. I even thought you were really from a shipwreck. It was all staged," Lancelot kept on saying.

"It was not. Did I even have a choice where the sea would drag me?" I said back.

He stared at me. "Prove it."

"Prove what?"

"Forget it. Tell me, what do you really want? What do the bandits wanted from me that they sent a girl to entice me?"

"To... what?" I was left with no words.

"You're just like them," he finally said.

His accusations made me livid, even though what he was saying was partly true. It was what Bryce and Anthony wanted to happen. I didn't know where my anger was coming from. I said between clenched teeth, "You don't know what you're saying. We're closer to being strangers. Do not readily throw your accusations to me."

Lancelot laughed in disdain. Humorless. Mocking.

I finally entertained in my head the things that Bryce had reminded me about. He was also my enemy. Lancelot Wykeham slowly turned into a silhouette of the figure sitting on that velvet throne behind him.

A wretched king and his son.

Anthony was not in sight. He could take care of himself and hardly needed any help from me. We had to part ways and I'd just see him back in camp. This plan couldn't work after all.

Leaving the dance floor, I searched for another exit that only a few of the guests were using. If I couldn't ask Lancelot where the king's library was located, I had to make use of what I knew best.

Of who I was—a thief.

As I was walking away, a certain pain dwelled inside my chest. I couldn't possibly like him for me to feel this way, but a part of me was saying that I might have already fallen. The passing thoughts were there, but it was tainted by the circumstances that were beyond our control. We were both stolen by our dreaded pasts and bloodlines.

If I would have it my way, I wanted Lancelot to see the real me. I didn't want to make a fool of him. I wasn't this person. Twisted in lies and deceits, that was all we could ever be. Nothing more. Nothing that I should be fascinated with. I should forget meeting him. It was the right thing to do.

As I was getting farther away from the crowd, I realized that the number of guards became less. That left most of the rooms unguarded for the night. I'd noted that most of the guards were scattered in the ballroom, guarding the tyrant. I had memorized the map that Bryce and Anthony had let me see earlier today. The king's abode was far from where the ballroom was located. I had to carefully sneak my way around the castle.

Two guards were approaching from the other end of the hall, and I turned my footing towards the garden. There were also several guards in the garden, but they were not asking me to leave. It was easier to walk around the castle during occasions like this, especially when you were wearing an evening gown and looked posh. The guards were only watching me closely, instead of chasing me or forcing me out.

The full moon shone brightly outside; pallid light touched every corner of the spacious garden. Over the petals and leaves. Reflected by the water inside the fountain. I pretended to be walking around, catching some air.

"Care to let me know where you are going?" someone asked behind me. I thought it was the guards' footfalls that I'd heard, but it was Lancelot's. He had followed me outside.

I turned around to face him, eliminating any hints of my confusing thoughts. "I thought we were already done talking? Aren't I one of them?"

A pair of guards was watching us from a distance. Lancelot called their attention, "Go inside and lock the doors."

"But Your Highness—" said one of the guards.

"Leave us," Lancelot commanded them.

The guards were reluctant, but Lancelot's order was unmoving. They had no choice but to follow his orders. After the guards had acknowledged his command and left us, the castle doors locked behind him and we were alone by ourselves.

"Why didn't you hand me over? That was your chance. Wouldn't they have been pleased if you handed over one of the bandits who had attacked the castle? The one who was enticing you all this while," I said to him in a harsh tone.

"Don't make me," Lancelot replied.

Exasperated, I said, "Look, if you're already done judging me and saying that I'm here to seduce your or whatever it is that you're thinking, just let me be. Or you could order those guards to catch me. I'm ready to run when you do."

He messed up his blonde hair. "I don't know what you wanted me to think, Miles. Who are you exactly? Why do you keep on appearing wherever I go? What do you want from me?"

"I'm Miles. My fellow bandits and I thought that it might be a good idea to go under cover for the night and join the crowd." Lying through my teeth, I continued, "And no, I don't want you to do anything. I would have preferred if you didn't recognize me."

"Lies," he muttered, taking a step closer. I drew out the dagger underneath my dress. He had expected it. "Always prepared to take out a life."

"I grew up hearing stories that you could never trust people, not during the king's reign," I said to him, striding backwards, away from him. "At least I know that my blade is fighting for what is right. How about you? What is it that your blade's protecting? Your ruthless father?"

I expected him to be angry with my words, wondering if he would finally draw the line. But he took another step forward, standing right in front of my blade. "I know what my blade is protecting. You don't need to worry."

"Step back. If you attack me, I will have a reason to hurt you. I'm serious," I warned him.

"Try. If you think that my blade's against yours, do it," Lancelot said. But instead of the harsh voice he had been using to me earlier, the once familiar tone came back.

He was staring right into my eyes. A meager gap separated his face from the edge of the dagger that I was holding. Lancelot stepped forward, and I confoundedly moved back. The fountain was right behind me, and there was no other place to go.

"Stay where you are," I firmly said.

"What if I don't want to?" Lancelot asked me instead.

A thud resounded in the still night.

When he touched my hand, I dropped the weapon that I was holding. In a second, Lancelot took my face in his hands, drawing me closer to him. This wasn't the answer I was looking for. What surprised me even more was the way I gradually closed my eyes, holding on to the edge of his shirt. Dictated by something even greater than anything I'd ever felt before, the distance between us completely disappeared.