Twelve: Trust Me 

They spent two days at Floryn’s home, chatting away about everything and nothing until their throats grew dry from it all. Everett enjoyed their conversations, and he felt that he was growing to truly like Floryn. His witty jokes, obvious flirts, and quick quips. They all reddened Everett’s face with embarrassment. This was the first time he could consider someone a friend who was not forced to be around him. It was a pleasant change of pace for him.  

 During the day, Floryn would leave briefly to get vegetables and broth and other ingredients for dinner, then he would surprise Everett with his decent cooking skills.  

The first night he made a vegetable stew, one Everett sipped until it was gone.  

The second day he fried up some fish on a pan over the furnace, seasoned it generously and squeezed a lemon on it. Everett ate this until it was gone as well, not missing the gentle smile Floryn gave him as he did so.  

“They must not feed you well at the castle.” Floryn says as he’s cleaning up the dishes.  

“No, quite the opposite. The chefs at Seles are very talented. I am just rather starved.”  

“So, it isn’t my amazing cooking? You are just hungry...” Floryn exaggerates a frown.  

“Can’t I be hungry and also enjoy your meals?” Everett bites down on a laugh, turning his head away reluctantly so he did not have to stare into Floryn’s pretty eyes. This was also something Everett had noticed. When he first met Floryn, he cared not for what he looked like because he was just an assailant who had broken into his room, but now that he had known him more, he could appreciate his favorable appearance.  

Beautiful eyes, a slim, muscular back and waist, long brown hair mid-way down his back, dressed up in leather, the boots and the gloves. He looked like a lustrous pirate, ready to steal his gold. Everett might just let him, whatever that meant.  

There was almost something unreal about Floryn, like his name and secretive ways; he just looked different. He had perfect glass skin, long legs and shiny hair. He looked like the men Everett would dream about when he was younger, the striking hero come to save the neglected prince; a thing from his wildest imagination.  

Was he starting to like Floryn? Was he actually enjoying his company? Everett shakes his head as Floryn comes back from the kitchen. A blush is evident on his fair-skinned face, and Floryn notices it. He says nothing of it, taking a seat and keeping a watchful eye on the open window. Everett scolds himself in his head: Floryn is an assassin. Don’t get yourself caught up with him! He’s only to help you escape, nothing more. He could never truly be your friend. 

“So, what’s your last name?” Everett asks him. “Is it as unique as your first?”  

Floryn stands to draw the blinds closed, but Everett gets a good look at the streets; they are filling up with silver-armored guards. The search for the missing prince had begun, and it seemed to already be kingdom wide.  

“Albright.” Floryn answers, checking over his shoulder towards the front door. He walks over to it, ensuring that it is locked. It is.  

“Floryn Albright.” Everett hums, scratching beneath his chin. Short blond stubble had begun to grow there, a thing he truly hated. He would ask Floryn if he had any razors he could use, but the man was pacing the house in anxious, long strides. “Come sit. I’m trying to have a conversation with you, you know?”  

Floryn rolls his eyes, taking a reluctant seat at the edge of the mattress. It does not stop his occasional glances to the windows and doors, flinching each time he hears a guard call out to someone on the street. The clop of the horses can be heard, the rigid metal of their armor.  

“If we just stay here, we should be fine, right?” Everett asks him, trying his best to be reassuring, but it does not seem to work. Floryn rubs his hands together absent-mindedly in his lap. It seems he did not agree, which was proven by what he said next. 

“Maybe.” He lets out a pained sigh. “We will have to leave tonight if this continues, and the only place I can take you is dangerous.”  

There is a gleam of affection sparkling in Floryn’s eyes when he looks to Everett. The prince looks away, abashed by it all. Floryn had always had that longing look in his eyes; what was that anyways? Ever since they had met, he looked to him like he had known him, perhaps in another life. If that were the case, Everett selfishly wished he could remember it.  

“Then, let’s talk until tonight. I’m sure I have enough questions you can mull over until nightfall.” 

Floryn chuckles at this, and Everett watches as the tension leaves his shoulders, and his posture relaxes. He leans against the wall of the room, crossing his arms lazily over his chest. He says, in a challenging way, “Go on then, ask me.”  

“My most pressing question is about what happened in my room.” Everett tells him, “And to be honest, it took me a while to remember that it even happened, but I know that it did now and that I did not imagine things. You turned to bugs right before my eyes! Is that how you got into the castle? Are you a wizard?”  

Floryn’s face flushes bright red, his eyes wide and a little shocked.  

“You weren’t supposed to remember that.” He admits. “But it makes sense that you would; you saw the lights, after all.”  

“What does it mean, that I saw them?” Everett leans in without meaning to, not paying attention to just how close he was drawing towards the assassin. “And you’ve managed to avoid both of my questions, by the way. Do not think that goes unnoticed.”  

“To answer your questions: yes that is how I got in, and, no, I am not a wizard.” Floryn draws his hands up hesitantly to take off his dark hood. It falls to his broad shoulders and pools up there. Everett looks expectantly to his ears, feeling unsurprised when the man moves his hair to reveal their long, pointed shape. “I am an…” 

“An elf!” Everett finishes for him. “I knew it! That is why you are so beautiful, too!”  

Floryn looks away, sheepish. He brings a hand up to his mouth and clears his throat, the shyness and embarrassment evident on his face. Everett felt no shame in it, however, as it truly did explain why Floryn looked as handsome and as pretty as he was at the same time. It was not humanly possible, but it made sense to be “Elvenly” possible.  

“As for the lights and why you saw them,” Floryn begins, rubbing the back of his head. “I am not exactly sure, although I have an idea...” 

A loud sound interrupts their short-lived conversation. Someone is knocking furiously at the door; Floryn gets to his feet in a second, walking slowly to the edge of the room. He motions for Everett to stay still and quiet, which he does. He does not need to be told twice.  

“Answer the door!” The voice warns, and the loud banging on the wood continues. “If you do not do so, we have no choice but to break in and search your home by force! The prince is missing, and from what we know, you may have had something to do with it, Floryn Albright!”  

The use of his name cuts Everett like a blade.  

Floryn makes a swift move back into his room, where he heads straight for the old dresser. He takes a step back, then forward, shoving the dresser as hard as he can. Everett, clueless but wishing to help, assists him until the dresser is pushed all the way away, revealing a deep, dark tunnel in the ground of his home. On one of the walls, a wooden ladder, eroded with age, is nailed deeply into the dirt.  

Floryn has leapt down the hole, reaching his hand back up for the prince, who cannot help to hesitate.  

If he went with Floryn, he had a feeling that things would never be the same. There was a chance whatever dangerous world Floryn spoke of might kill him, ruin him, change him as a person. But if he went back to the castle, would that be any better? 

Another loud bang sounds through the home. The crack of the wooden door is evident, as a piece of wood flies into the wall beside Everett’s feet. A voice calls out, deep and gravelly.  

“Floryn Albright, you are hereby under arrest by the royal court for the kidnapping of the prince!”  

Everett glances down at Floryn again, who looks frightful and worried. His eyebrows are drawn close together, mouth slightly agape and hand reached out in hopes that the prince would take it.  

“Everett, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?” His voice gently meets Everett’s ears, and the sincerity alone makes Everett know which choice to make.  

With a brave leap and a strong grasp of the leathery, gloved hand of Floryn, he disappears into the tunnels.