VINCENT

Cold stone pressed against my cheek. It would seem the Lady Below had not given me a nice place to rest.

A shove to my shoulder pushed me further into wakefulness. I tried to blink away a small bout of dizziness, but it did no good. The ceiling swam as I relaxed against the cool stone of the floor.

My memories were full of disjointed fragments of shadowed alleys and a dark tunnel, led by a pretty little Guardian with flaming hair. It was hard not to see it as the journey of my death. Running away from light and life and into the dark slumber against the Lady Below's breast. But She was intangible, and the stone beneath me was rather uncomfortable.

I slowly turned my head and focused on the man staring down at me. A scar ran down the left side of his face, and he wore the clothing of a laborer. He looked familiar, but not enough to be counted as one of Father's guards or servants.

Father had a reputation to uphold, and the man above me wouldn't have made the cut. He was too rough.

A quick glance around solidified my fears: I had been captured by ruffians! I was being held captive in a cold, dark cellar with three men and a woman looming threateningly above me. What would they do with me? I had no experience with people outside of Father's court. Only my books gave me a precious view of the outside world. 

And the books that featured unsavory criminals were keen to tell me exactly what men such as these wanted. Perhaps not the older man who had the look of a bookkeeper with his small glasses resting upon his nose, but certainly the others.

Doubt crept over me as I took in the rest. The woman had neatly plaited brown hair thrown over her shoulder, and she wore dark trousers and a light blue blouse. The cuffs were stained with splotches of ink. She looked unimpressed with me. The third man was similarly dressed and had slicked back blond hair.

This was not what I had imagined brigands to look like. Perhaps they dressed as clerks as some form of disguise.

I brought my attention back to the man with the scar. It failed to detract from his handsomeness. It was then that I recognized him. He was that pirate I had seen in the market the other day.

Perhaps my little fantasies weren't too far off.

Unless this was all some form of test set up by my father, and I would fail in a most spectacular fashion. Death would be too good for me.

A door banged open somewhere nearby, followed by curses.

'There are guards on every corner. How are we supposed to get out of here?' There was something familiar in the soft voice that spoke.

My head lolled to the side, and I was greeted by the sight of the young man from the market. The one who had punched me and killed me. The student assassin. My lovely Guardian from the Mallou.

His pretty red hair was in such a state of disarray, he looked as if he'd just crawled out of bed or returned from a tryst with a lover. Instead of his suit, he wore a hideous green sweater that was much too large for his frail frame.

"Well, we could just walk out the main gate," the pirate replied. He stroked his chin in thought. "Don't know what we're gonna do about you. Shave your head?"

My Guardian looked down at me with a frown that only deepened the longer he looked. He crouched down and regarded me for a long moment before looking up at his companions. He looked so young, and it only cemented my thoughts of him being a student. Had he been stolen away, forced into such a wretchedly adventurous life?

"He's drugged," he said flatly. "Dragging him around is gonna make everything harder."

"Won't last much longer. Couldn't get ahold of the good stuff," the pirate said as he joined the student, kneeling beside me. "It's just to keep him quiet and controlled until we get some dampeners. Somehow. My source fell through."

One of the others in the room groaned in annoyance.

The student took my arm and pushed back my sleeve, showing off one of the dampeners Father had graciously gifted me. "Not exactly a problem, is it?"

The older man knelt beside me and lightly touched the leather. He frowned as he stood and motioned to the blond clerk.

The student sighed as he dropped my arm, and I lamented losing the touch. He hadn't been gentle, but he'd been far from rough. It was a nice change in pace for me.

This close, I could make out a light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He had a sweet face—much too sweet to be associated with such villains. And he wore such a frown. Perhaps that's what allowed him to walk without fear among them.

He looked at me again with his brown eyes that seemed to glitter in the low lamplight. His frown deepened. "What?"

"Shouldn't you be in a library and not running around murdering people with these miscreants?" I asked. I would hate for him to be locked up for killing me—although, Father may just reward him.

His glare darkened as the others broke out in laughter. I struggled to sit up, but he pushed me back to the floor.

I had offended him. I would not be invited to any intimate meetings between the pirate and student. My books had lied to me. I was a simple prisoner with no love nor adventure to be found.