they call it drakon- the land of the dragons. bring in a street thief, a scholar, a few dragons and a crown prince who doesn't know what's good for him, you've got a recipe for disaster. oh, don't forget the web of lies simply waiting to be unrave...
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I PLOPPED MYSELF DOWN ON A PLUSH ARMCHAIR.
I sighed happily, lounging back and propping my feet over the side. It was so soft, so comfortable. Alistair had such a nice room. He had life easy, getting whatever he wanted whenever he asked. If you asked me, I was perfectly content just sitting on these chairs. I could sleep on these all day. I twisted slightly, and my spine popped with a series of loud cracks. I was used to sleeping on cold hard floors which were occasionally wet. Rain was the worst.
Sleeping on a soft mattress was a big change, and I guess my body hadn't adapted yet. At least sleeping on the floor was still better than sleeping on the move. The night I spent riding a horse was a nightmare. My butt was still sore from all that jolting. Horses really sucked. I really wondered how royal messengers survived, having to ride horses all day. Or did they ride dragons?
The door opened abruptly, and Alistair walked out. He wore a pale tunic and pants, with a pair of clunky old boots that weren't quite as stylish as mine. I loved my knee high boots. I'd stolen them from a drunk lady a few years ago. There was something so attractive about the silver buckles, but I could never tell what exactly was so interesting. I just loved things that sparkled and shone. I had no idea why. I had to admit, I was slightly jealous of his outfit, though. I'd woken up in the morning, ready to start then day, when I'd found out that Poppy had burned my old clothes and replaced it with a simple dress. It was pale cream, with laces at the back. I'd struggled a bit with that, only to have Poppy appear sighing. She was a great help. Thankfully, she'd agreed to help me find some tunics and pants somewhere after I'd mentioned that I missed my black pants. I was thankful that she'd forgotten to burn my black hoodie. I'd worn it over my dress, which made quite the stark contrast. Screw fashion.
But who cares about me and my fashion choice? Alistair's was far more questionable. The short sleeved tunic he wore was a little too tight around the chest, and the pants were more like tights than pants. They clung to his legs like Ash to me when anyone mentioned the word 'fire'. Those biceps were enviable, though. If he didn't speak so poshly, he'd make a good thief. With vocabulary like his, the other thieves would tell him apart instantly. Wearing the tunic and pants, he didn't look like a prince anymore, which was nice, for a change. He looked like a peasant.
I grinned, wiggling a lock pick in my fingers. Another thing I loved about my boots- they had plenty of space to hide weapons and other useful tools. I had a knife or two in there, as well as the prince's ring I'd 'temporarily borrowed' attached to a buckle. I made a mental note to return it to him some time. "Well, look who's finally got a shirt on!"
Alistair grunted, cheeks reddening until he looked somewhat like a tomato again. What was up with that? "Don't even think about breaking in again," he warned, "I'll be prepared." He cleared his throat, unwilling to meet my eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was an octave deeper. "Anyway, I'm teaching you how to fight today." He said gruffly. He extended a hand to help me off my perch, but I ignored him, twisting and rolling off the couch, nimbly landing on my feet. His fingers twitched stiffly, pride and ego and probably toes bruised after I'd accidentally stomped on them.
