Chapter 5

I felt awkward in my out of place culture, unfamiliar with the traditions and normalities of such a foreign setting. I picked at my stew, thick meaty chunks floated among soggy carrots and peas. The scent was thick of stock and aged vegetables yet smelled heavenly to my desperate taste buds. My shaky hands lifted the wooden spoon to my chapped lips, dry flakes threatening to peel with the slightest disturbance. The broth was viscous, packed with salt and spices I couldn’t place, the meat was tough yet flaky once chewed. My sore jaw cracked and lurched at the sudden intrusion, warming up as if a rusted machine. Picking up my ale, I took a deep gulp before I let out a long sigh. 

Cassian cocked his head keeping his eyes focused on mine. Deep amber captivating and unique, small specks of gold surfaced in the morning light that scarcely reached our far placed booths. They were a deep-set brown as he leaned back into the darkened corner, his stare making me feel vulnerable as if he could hear what I was thinking. Gulping down my anxiety along with my stew, I cleared my throat and wiped my palms on the seat of my pants. I averted my eyes from Cassian’s glare, burning like hot coals, irises seeming to sparkle like embers. Lifting my eyes to the center of the pub, its contents did not share the same warm look, hard, cold eyes boring into me. Although I was sitting in the corner, I was the center of attention.

I turned back to Cassian to see his gaze soften, harsh lines from age and stress melting into freckled, tanned warmth. His face now displayed genuine concern, and a subtle upturn of the corner of his lips made me feel an odd sense of comradery. He then scoffed as a scruffy Satyr from the bar sauntered over to our table, hooves clicking on the finished wood floor. The Satyr slapped his bristly hand next to my drink, rattling the table and splashing what little stew remained in my bowl.

“Hey there, dollface,” the Satyr said. I grimaced at the pet name, sweet words reminding me of the shameless guards that stained the corridors of the castle. He smiled showing crooked teeth that had a yellowed tint. His left hand snaked up my back to twist into my hair, fingers coiling around the white blond curls. His face was so close to mine I could smell the fish on his breath resisting the gag that rose in my throat. 

Cassian spoke up from across the table. “I saw ‘im first. Bounty’s mine.” His voice was gruff and low, implying a lack of negotiation. The air is thick all around us like smoke in my lungs mixing with the burning sensation of the ale in my chest. Cassian then crossed his arms and settled further into his chair, making himself comfortable in his confidence, his eyes cold, harsh contrast to the looks of affections he gave me moments before. Cassian grunted fed in annoyance, clearly accustomed to the harassment. The Satyr grunted and scratched the whiskers on his scruffy chin, then he examined the gunk he had collected under his nails.

“I don’t ‘fink that you have much of a choice,” the Satyr responded.

“I suppose all the way out here you haven’t heard the news about the border, not that your pea brain could retain much anyways.”

“Oh, I’m not kicking you out because you’re human, but because you have my prize.” His gaze shifted over to me, his hand still twisted in my hair, slightly pulling causing a low sting to my scalp. His nails scraped over the sensitive skin causing an uncomfortable shiver to run through me. Liquid courage fueled my continued protest, as I began to note all exits. The one I came in, one behind the counter, and countless windows. Finally, the Satyr’s words sunk in, Cassian was human. My eyes darted between the two, there was no time to think of it now, but when I looked over to see Cassian’s rounded ears and facial features I realized what he said was true.

“Look,” I interrupted. My voice was shaky but I straightened my back trying to look taller than I really was. “How about I walk out of here alone, and you guys settle your differences, hmm, without me?” There was not a blink of an eye or a batting of an eyelash, the room seemed still around me. The same question was on everyone's mind, including mine. Was my fate set? My date with death loomed over me like a shadow cast from the lid of a casket at a funeral.

I cocked my head to the side and cracked my knuckles because it made me look tougher. Or so, I thought. Cigarette smoke envelopes my face for the second time and my nerves finally snap, I’ve really had it with this Satyr.

“I was here before you, buddy. I’ve been at the bar drinking quietly most of the night. I don’t know what your problem is, but it’s only you that seems to have one.” Cassian said calmly.

“We didn't mind you when you didn't have the biggest bounty across the whole Frontier. I don’t care bout a’ybody else, but I don’t want you here. Clear?”

Steel-toed boots rub out the cigarette he pushed from his lips, ash sifting into the cracks of the paneled floor.

“We’re not clear. Maybe we should step outside and review the information again.” Cassian stood from his chair and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back.

Beads of sweat rolled down the satyr’s rosacea laden, full cheeks and he seemed inclined to take the beatdown out into the cool winter air.

“We can take this out back.”

Cassian nods at the door behind the counter, likely leading to the alley at the back of the bar. The Satyr extends his arm for Cassian to lead. Two steps into the dark and I hear the door click behind them. Thick bolt sliding into place, locked from the other side, perfect. It was time to run.

Behind me I could hear the commotion, a bang rattling against the wall, windows shaking from either man being shoved into it. Throwing the front door open, I stumbled down the stoop steps in the opposite direction of the tousling two. The late  afternoon air was cold in my lungs as my breath steamed the air in front of me. I slid over the gravel streets that led towards the outskirts of town, after having a proper meal after so many weeks, I felt much more able to make good distance. 

Loud shouts echoed behind me and I turned to see an angry Cassian burst out from the bar. He looked pissed, his brow furrowed, staring down the block as I didn’t waste time to turn the corner. The gravel tapered off to dirt as the path led into the uncharted terrain that capsulated the small mining town. I weaved between trees, occasionally slipping on the fallen pine needles that created a blanket on the forest floor. As I ran I felt relief pump through my veins as gasp after gasp of fresh air filtered through my lungs, free at last.

My relief was short lived, air knocked from my lungs as I was tackled from the side. Strong arms caged my sore ribs, landing on packed muscle instead of the rocky ground as I was pushed to the floor. 

I groaned and coughed as I struggled to take in a new breath, the arms circling my torso held me in place, preventing me from escaping a second time. 

Cassian rolled us over, his looming face covered in both his own and the Satyr’s blood. His weight on my chest was a comforting press rather than a harsh pin. “You still want to try and say no to me, sweetheart?” He asked, voice husky. I shook my head, my face inches from his, the metallic smell of blood wreaked in the stuffy air between us. His amber eyes stared me down with such intensity, the gold ring surrounding his pupils like halos reflected in the golden-hour light. 

It felt like hours as we lay on the piney floor, cushioned by the needles in the chilly air. Cassian grunted and pulled back, snapping me out of my stupor, his once overwhelming warmth was gone, replaced by stale air. He stood above me, reaching out his calloused palm to help me up, “Come on princess, I don’t plan on losing you again.”

We walked along the main road that snaked back through the bustling chunk of the town, but quickly turned into a dimly lit alley. He stopped before an old door that had splintering wood peeling from the edges and flaking paint in the shapes of sigils I didn’t recognize. Avoiding the sharp wood, he carefully knocked his back knuckles on the door. He hesitated between knocks creating a pattern. After a few short seconds, the door slowly swung open revealing a rather short Halfling. I say rather short because most halflings were short, but this elder’s height barely came to Cassian’s waist. 

She looked up at Cassian and, squinting her eyes, observed his bloodstained face and cloak. She sighed and opened the door fully, apparently dissatisfied with his appearance. He shuffled forward, jerking his head at me as to usher me behind him. I limped through the opening, ducking under the door frame into the dark room, only a few candles lit the space conceding a small table overflowing with books. Wax dripped onto the opened pages, wrinkling them in its heat.

“Quri,” Cassian said. He turned towards the halfling, “Where is he?” She looked at me skeptically and then nodded down a long corridor towards the back of the room. Cassian turned to me and pointed in the same direction as the Halfling had.

“Let’s go,” He said, walking away. I scurried to keep up avoiding eye contact with Quri. The hallway was even darker than the room was, damp boards stuffing out the light that leaked across the floor, but Cassian seemed to know where he was going. I tailed him until he stopped in front of another old door, this one bare of paint and creaking with age. 

Not noticing that he had stopped, I kept my pace forward. At least one step in front of me, obscuring my path was Cassian’s back, broad muscle expanding across the entirety of the narrow hall. My eyes widened as I stumbled to stop, my feet tripped over his and caught on a rouge plyboard that was torn up.

“Woah, sorry I-” I rushed into an apology as Cassian’s hand wrapped around my waist and held me there, safe from falling. Our eyes met for a moment and I forced myself to look away as my cheeks flushed bright red. I was pressed against his chest, and the heat from his skin radiated through the chill around us. He quickly removed his hand from the small of my back, letting me tumble to the floor.

I looked up at him, brushing the hair out of my face and rolled my eyes. “Thanks for nothing,” I scoffed. As I got up, the door slowly creaked open, casting new light over me. I held up my hand to block the light, squinting my eyes.

An old Halfling sat hunched over at a small desk that was covered in papers. More clutter was strewn around the room, old candles lined the windowsills and any other cleared surface area. The stumps of wax had sunk to a puddle, devouring the wick as the hungry flames fought for fuel. Despite the number of candles, there were always more and more on the next sill and desk.

Illuminated with a bright but soft light, the room was much more comforting than the suspicious hall that lay before it. As I marveled at the coordinated mess, I came upon a bookshelf adorned with aged spines that had been bent open countless times, and worn pages full of gained knowledge. The literature seemed to draw me further into the room, my curiosity getting the better of me. The smell of burning wax and old books filled the air reminding me of the library back in the castle.

A chuckle came from behind me, a warm laugh that seemed it would be able to soften even the hardest of hearts. The old Halfling looked up from his paper, dipping his quill back into the inkwell. The black goo dripped from the side staining the wood in a ring. 

The Halfling’s bright eyes and kind smile made me wonder how such a man came to live in such a deserted and empty town. He hobbled towards me, limping on his left leg. The pant leg was rolled up, revealing a carved peg in place of skin, intricate designs of long forgotten sigils and stories, surrounded by illustrations telling stories of its creation. Its dark stain showed its weathered state, proof of his well traversed life. 

He wore a small patch over his forearm, slightly soiled with dried blood. He must have noticed me staring because he chuckled again and cleared his throat.

“I see you have brought another wanderer, Cassian. I’m surprised, we don’t see many Elves around here, the orcs drive them away,” He turned to look back at Cassian, shocked at his find. 

“It’s a shame really, you have such beautiful hair.” He reached up to run his wrinkled hand through my white hair. The main thing that distinguished Elves from others was not just their ears, but their shimmering white hair, not just a symbol of class, but a marker for royalty, usually not a distinguishing feature that worked in my favor. 

Though mine was caked with mud and dried blood from my escape not too long ago, the shine was still visible. The old Halfling observed me a bit longer before finally speaking again with a soft chuckle. “You didn’t bring just any Elf either.” I gaped at the old man, but he laughed once more in response. Cassian answered my unspoken question before I could ask.

“I see you noticed his eyes as well as Musika,” He mused. The Halfling- Musika - waved his hand in Cassian’s general direction brushing off his sarcasm. Many were not observant to notice it, but each of the imminent royal family was adorned with a small line of markings that ran from behind my ear to the base of my neck at the junction of my shoulder. It was a sort of brand, a ritual to equate my loyalty and the crown, ingraining the historic oath to my very skin. Musika turned back to me and snorted in amusement.

“Seems you have forgotten, have you, hm? This one’s got a bounty on ‘im, yeah?” He looked at Cassian for the answer but I responded instead.

“I am Prince Sorin S’ervin of the Elven Kingdom, first heir to the throne and diplomatic ambassador towards the United Frontier allegiance. I was kidnapped on my way home from a very impactful negotiation and if you travelers would be so kind as to lend me some resources to help me home I would be eternally grateful. Of course, you would be rewarded handsomely as well,”