The Prince's Curse

Chapter 8 - Alive

Alexander's muscles gave out on their own accord. He felt his body slump, uncaring that it caused his clothes to press along the blades, ripping them further.

Thankfully, nothing except his pride and manhood were wounded from their confrontation. And a magnificently tailored Armani jacket, but Aleksander chose to ignore that loss.

He was too astonished by the encounter - no, by the woman- to even think.

Why had she spared him?

It was quite possibly because he was a prince of the Kingdom, and his death would create irreversible ripples. It would also direct the entire Kingdom's attention to this thief, who so desperately wanted to remain in the shadows. For once, he felt grateful for his status. It had apparently kept him alive. He could only imagine the damage she would wreak on him if he had any less importance. The nuisance his death would've caused her was probably the only reason he was still breathing in the smelly alleyway.

Or perhaps, she was just a good person.

He disregarded the thought as soon as it entered his frazzled mind. There wasn't a chance this woman was akin to anything good, although her looks said otherwise.

With a grunt, Aleksander yanked the swords from their positions on the wall, and examined them. He irrationally hoped that they would have some quality that he could narrow down from. Many well-made swords carried the insignia of their original crafter. His own had the royal emblem carved into the hilt. With any luck, this would be the same.

He twisted the blade loosely in his grasp, squinting in the dim light. He searched thoroughly but found nothing. The prince admonished himself for underestimating this rogue once again. She was an intelligent force that showed to be a compelling opponent.

He listed his analysis in his head as he rotated it in his hand. Good quality, expensive, light-weight, made from steel, leather hilt. The grips had faint ridges, clear indentations from a small hand that had wielded the swords many times. All in all, a wonderful sword, but completely generic.

It was also remarkably clean. As if she wiped it down often to remove evidence of where it had been. Her intuition was impressive. She functioned like a perfect murder, well thought out and impeccably executed.

If only he could catch a break, he thought. But then again, why should he? This was the first challenge life had organically created for him. His whole world had been a strictly monitored event with his father as the master puppeteer. He rarely faced anything unplanned and when those times came, he had ample cushioning. This was an experience he needed to have.

Disappointed, he surveyed the area, but already knew there would be nothing. She really valued her secrecy. Then again, any criminal would. Her behavior wasn't unlikely given her status. He was sure many avid thieves had similar skills and routines. And yet, it was so masterfully carried out when it came to her. She acted tough and graceful, a rare combination.

Is that the only reason?

It occurred to him that he knew nothing about her. That was probably her intention, though. It frustrated him that she always seemed to be one step ahead of him, even when he had the upper hand. It became clear that this battle was more than a physical engagement. He had to gain a mental advantage over her if he wanted to succeed. He needed to know more about her.

But where to start?

Any good approach would definitely not be found in the alleyway. He could feel the damp floor seeping into his jeans and his muscles begin to ache from the wall. Aleksander pushed himself up from the floor, trying to touch his surroundings as little as possible. It already looked grimy with the thinnest light available. He shuddered at what it would look like if he could actually see.

Brushing his clothes off, he saw something gleam in his peripheral. He then felt a wicked smile spread across his face.

It seemed his little thief had left a little ruby behind, probably from when he tripped her.

The memory made him laugh. She had been so composed at first. After the humiliation of being tripped, she was set off. She was so mad.

He stepped over to it, and placed it in his palm.

Simple and small, just like she was.

Aleksander abruptly realized he was smiling about her, which quickly blackened his feelings. He was getting too caught up with the thrill she presented. Yes, the brief encounter had been exhilarating. His blood still pumped with adrenaline and his mind was flying. His isolated life had never exposed him to a rush like that. Like what she offered him.

Bad. Criminal, He echoed to himself. Bad. Very bad. Disgusting and Despicable. Also, irrelevantly, very hot.

Aleksander refocused on the gem in his dirty palm. It was poorly cut and felt rough against his skin. It didn't look refined at all, with all its sharp, jagged edges. There was nothing he could do with it until he had more resources. This was the only piece of evidence she left behind, the only tether between them. It had to amount to something useful, he believed. He just needed to figure out what that would be.

So, he thought, she has an affinity for rubies. Duly noted.

With that, he tucked it securely in his pocket and stepped into the bustling street.