"I still wish we could've gone back to my room." A guard tried to take his last breath, choked on his own blood, and collapsed to the ground with a muted thud. Rose pulled away as he fell, knife dripping. "I have a lot of money hidden in there."
"Cry me an ocean." James let out a breath of relief as the lock succumbed to the charms of the key, breaking off in his hand. Tension that had been contained within himself while traveling through the halls of the castle filtered out of his body. All that mattered to him now was that they had managed to navigate past guards with minimal need of killing for successful passage; figuring out funds would come later. "Now, let's go. We're clear."
Rose cleaned her knife off on the dead guard's clothing before joining James in the stall. She took care to step around the expanding pool of blood, unflustered by the murder she had just performed.
James, on the other hand, found it repugnant that the royal stables which he loved so dearly would forever be stained with blood. He knew that he was traveling with an assassin, but it would never fail to strike him how little thought Rose gave to each life and location she corrupted with death.
"This trapdoor was covered by bales of hay?" she asked, scooting a bit of it around with her foot. James couldn't help but notice that she used her bad leg for the action, keeping all of her weight positioned on the other. "No wonder few people know about this passageway."
"Yeah, well, we've been enlightened," James responded tightly. "Now do me a favor and pick up the pace. I'll follow you down once you reach the bottom of the ladder."
He received a scowl, but, other than that, Rose complied. She wouldn't admit it, but both of them knew that she had become the weak link in this adventure. Their pace coming through the castle had been much slower than it ought to have been. The assassin was still better at combat than James, but speed had become more important than blade play in this endeavor.
A figure appeared in the doorway as Rose was climbing down the rusted, tenuous ladder in the trapdoor. On edge as he was, James' hand clasped about the hilt of his knife, prepared to fight back if need be.
"It's all right, my lord," a thin voice said, raising his hands and stepping into a beam of moonlight which spilled in through one of the stable's windows. "I am here to help."
James released his hold on his weapon when he saw that it was just an older servant, dressed plainly and standing empty handed. His thin face was inscrutable, though his eyes displayed some amount of restlessness as they jumped around. "Did Maddox send you?" he asked, seeking confirmation before fully putting down his guard.
There was a beat before the servant responded, not long enough to encourage concern but just enough to incite suspicion. "I am. And I also bring you a message." James raised an eyebrow, silence his only response. The servant translated it into an invitation to continue. "Remember that the line between good and evil is as thin as gossamer. Beware those who drift away from you, but keep your eyes open for those who earnestly wish to join you."
The hairs on James's arm raised in response to that the message. It was profound and wise, but it didn't sound like it was coming from Maddox. His mentor wouldn't've gone out of his way to give that advice to James, not after they had spoken in the dungeons. No, these words were from another, though from whom left him baffled.
"What's your name?" James inquired abruptly.
"Mills."
"Hmm." The name wasn't familiar, but there were so many servants in the castle that James couldn't be expected to know or remember them all. On that same note, he had no other option but to trust Mills to conceal the trapdoor behind him. "Well, Mills. Perhaps we will meet again someday."
Mills grinned widely, as though recalling a joke that only he found funny. "And perhaps we will, at that, my lord," he replied slyly.
A call carried up through the trapdoor as Rose announced that she was at the bottom. James didn't look over at first, just kept his eyes set upon the servant. He was getting close to putting his finger onto what, exactly, was different about this man, what set him apart from other servants in the castle. For all of the chidding of Rose he had done, he was now the one wasting time.
A slight tilt of Mills' head as he nodded over to the trapdoor sent his bangs falling over his eyes. "I think it best that you leave now. I'll clean up the body for you, make sure the guards keep off your track for at least a little while longer."
"Right." James nodded slowly before turning around. He couldn't bring himself to leave at a servant's behest, regardless of how unusual said servant might be, so he would make certain to take his time with his last order of business.
Despair snorted as he came close, his tall, proud neck bending down to reach for James. For the first time in far too long, a genuine smile tugged at the prince's lips, an expression full of bittersweet affection. "Hello there, my friend," he murmured gently, stroking the beast's nose, gazing into his soft eyes. "I promise that I'll come back for you. We'll ride again soon."
The pain James felt at parting with the only loyal friend he had ever had was excruciating, and it created a dampness on his cheeks. Many things had changed since he was a child, but one thing had always been constant: he always cried when saying goodbye. Each time a pet died or ran away during his childhood, the prince was guaranteed to shed tears, a fact which was proven on a multitude of occasions.
While he had loved those animals, none bore a connection with him quite like Despair. Their bond, formed through hours of riding and training and grooming, was firm and authentic. Perhaps he wasn't saying goodbye forever, but James suspected that the time spent apart would feel insufferably long.
After planting a kiss upon Despair's soft black nose--a greater show of affection than he'd ever give to any other--James pulled away. He could hear Rose calling up to him from their escape tunnel and was vaguely aware of Mills respectfully standing by, but all of that didn't matter to him in this moment.
Parting was the greatest torture of all.
Ignoring Despair's appealing whinny, the prince hurried to the trapdoor, furtively swiping at his eyes as he went to banish his unwelcome tears, and began the descent down. The ladder's metal rungs were cold and unpleasant to touch, but he had no choice but to wrap his fingers about them. It was hard to say how far down this tunnel went, and he wasn't about to fall down all of it thanks to a lax grip.
Graciously, Mills didn't close off the exit until after James had made it to the bottom, leaving a thin stream of light to dimly illuminate each rung until they ran out. His feet then landed upon damp and slimy stone, tugging a foot off to the side. If not for one hand still hanging onto the ladder, he would have actually slipped and fell.
"Bloody bones. I started to think you weren't coming." Rose's greeting was harsh and far from welcoming, but it still sufficed as a greeting nonetheless.
"Yeah, well, I'm here." Both James and Rose looked up as the trapdoor boomed shut, casting them in complete darkness. In the dungeons they had been able to see faint shadows of their hands; here there was only inky blackness, intuition alone existing as their second eyes. "And I don't suppose you remembered to bring a light, did you?"
"Let's see," Rose started sarcastically. "Who knew about this plan first? You. Who has connections in this castle that might have aided us? You. Who was the last to come down? Oh! You!" She coughed, as though the moist air down here disagreed with her. Even so, there was clearly an eye roll hidden in the darkness. "By all means, you ought to have been the one to provide the matches, Your Highness." She paused, waiting for a comment which didn't come. "What took you so long, anyhow? Get lost in the stables?"
Strange as the encounter was, James felt compelled to answer earnestly. "There was a servant who came in," he said. "He seemed odd. He claimed that Maddox sent him, but . . . ." James shrugged, but it was lost in the darkness. "Most people, servant or otherwise, don't readily offer to clean up dead bodies."
Rose also found it to be very suspicious. "Did this servant have a name? It wouldn't surprise me if he was just another plant."
James didn't blame her for not trusting anyone, but he found it hard to believe that someone who didn't belong in the castle would be so bold as to show up like that. Besides, he preferred to believe in the loyalty of the castle's servants. "Mills. And if he wanted to kill me, he would've done it back there." He had trust issues as well, but Rose's misgivings seemed a bit extreme.
"Mills, huh?" Her tension held a moment, but she quickly released it. "Whatever. Let's just get out of here."
Her preoccupation with the servant didn't dissipate, but rather dropped into her pocket to store for later. James' irritation with her, conversely, was on the rise. "Sure. I just hope that we don't get lost down here because someone forgot a light."
Scornful though she was about their bickering, Rose seemed distracted when she spoke, as though there were something else on her mind. "Well, thankfully for you and your shortcomings, it's hard to get lost in a straight tunnel." James scowled in response, irritated at her insistence that he was to blame. Meanwhile, he tried not to consider the fact that maybe, just maybe, she was lying about how straight-forward this tunnel actually was.
Though he wasn't implicitly frightened of the dark, James had growing reservations against getting lost in a deep, damp tunnel. There would never be a sunrise nor a friendly rescue in a place like this.
"Give me your hand."
"What, now?"
Rose sighed despairingly. "We need to stay together. We won't get lost or outpace each other if we're connected."
James laughed hollowly. Most of the sound was caught and consumed by the ravenous stone tunnel, but a skeleton of an echo persevered down the path before them. Just like dropping a stone down a well to measure its depth, his laugh proved the distance before them to be painfully long. "I agree with the sentiment, but there's no way I'm going to hold your hand."
"You act like you've never touched a girl before," Rose muttered.
"I'm more preoccupied by the killer than the female."
The assassin grumbled to herself for a moment, discontented with his lack of cooperation, before surprising James by wrapping a hand around his forearm. "Fine," she stated shortly. "Then you're going first."
"Wha-?" James was surprised by the force of her grip as he was pulled before her. The anger for being maneuvered didn't come until after she had grabbed his hand and slapped it against the wall on his behalf. Not only was he pushed around, but he also felt like a meatshield protecting Rose against potential dangers lurking in the darkness before them. "Bones, Rose!"
For her part, Rose pretended not to notice how cross her companion was, dispelling some of the conflict. She released her grip on his arm and transferred it to his shoulder. "There we go. Now we can move out."
"This is ridiculous."
"No, it's smart." She nudged him forward, being gentle yet emphatic all at once.
He knew she was right, and yet an odd tremor ran through James. Leading the way into the unknown wasn't a pleasant prospect, though it was a necessary one. If he was equal parts pensive and honest, then he would admit that the current situation was symbolic of what it would be like to lead the entire kingdom: never fully knowing where he was going, needing to stick his neck out and go first, and hopefully, with all luck, having someone to stand behind him.
This helped to establish a deep, if coarse and unrefined, picture of leadership. And, at the end of the day, James didn't know if he was cut out for it.
Yet there were no other options but to move forward and reach towards sunlight once again. Rose might deserve to die in a place such as this, but a prince such as himself--even an underappreciated one--ought not perish in a sewer like a filthy vermin.
Setting aside his trepidation and misgivings, James started forward. With each footstep he tested the ground before him, ensuring it safe before giving it his full weight. Falling up a set of unexpected stairs or catching his foot in a pesky hole would be detrimental to their current campaign. He'd rather move at a slow and steady pace than rush and regret it. Besides, taking it easy would cater to Rose in her wounded state.
The shuffling pace pleased him well enough, but the assassin quickly voiced her complaint. "I've seen the elderly move faster than you are right now. Even I'm not so crippled that we can't pick up the pace."
"I'll walk as fast as I please, thank you very much," James responded evenly as he kicked away a stray rock, one of the very hazards he sought to avoid succumbing to. Even so, he tried to drag his feet along with a bit more haste than before. Intimidated by the darkness and wearied of being trapped underground, he admitted that he had plenty of incentive for reaching liberation as soon as possible.
Though, considering everything that he was charged with, who knew if freedom would ever be his again?
-----
When James and Rose finally emerged from the tunnel, they were greeted by shockingly cool, fresh air and suffocating greenery. One of the reasons that the passageway had gone forgotten for so long was because it was remarkably well hidden; it ended in the forest beyond the castle's walls, an obscure location in the first place, and had long since been consumed by decades of the uninhibited growth of foliage. That discreteness made it convenient for their escape, even if that meant taking five extra minutes to hack through decades' worth of green obstruction.
Then, from there, they rested. Not being able to see above ground was superior to not being able to see below ground, so Rose, on her part, didn't mind being blind for a few more hours.
Laying gratefully on the forest ground, Rose allowed herself to drift off, appreciative of the opportunity to breathe evenly. Halfway between alert and asleep, the picture behind her eyelids was pleasant. A warm hearth, sparks dancing about as the kindling shifted and was consumed, pale flames licking playfully at a pot of cooking soup. Beyond the fire was a cozy room of an inn's commonspace, inhabited by people speaking amiably with one another. It was relaxed, warm, inviting . . . .
Soon enough, the aches in Rose's bones reminded her that her fantasy was nothing but. When her eyes opened, there was no fire, just disappointment and a very vivid reality of chill.
Wrapping her robe tighter about herself, Rose reached out to a nearby tree and clung to it, using it as assistance in standing. After everything that had happened, such a simple act proved itself most strenuous. She longed to roll over and sleep for a very extended amount of time. But, with dawn coming on quickly, her brief respite was coming to an end.
"Dawn's coming soon," James said, breaking the silence to point out the obvious. Already sitting up, he followed suit and stood, looking just as exhausted as Rose felt.
"Yup."
"And we can't stay here."
Rose nodded. As much as she'd like to stay concealed in such a lush location--a place unlike any she had ever been, considering the fact that she'd grown up closer to the dryness of the desert than to a paradise such as this--the likelihood of being apprehended was quite high. With the oasis receding, the forest wasn't as large as it once had been. The further they walked from the castle, the more likely there was to be dead trees and dessicated grass.
Besides, as much as Rose loved this place, she had the itching notion that she was being watched. This was the type of playground which an assassin would relish, and she knew plenty of those who held no love for her or the prince. It would be far safer to keep moving.
Rose opened her mouth to speak, but James beat her to it. "I know a guy. He owes me one. We just need to reach him, and he'll give us a place to stay." He sounded tired and resigned. It was obvious that he didn't want to run away, but he was wise enough to accept the fact that he had no other option. Returning back to the castle would mean certain death, regardless of whether he was innocent or not. "If we disguise ourselves, nobody will recognize us in a crowd."
"Hold up there," Rose demanded. "We're not going there."
His eyes narrowed in a challenge. "And why not?"
"Because I can't trust a random guy who owes you a favor." Weary and wounded though she was, the assassin was still extremely strong of will. "We're going somewhere no one would ever expect: my mother's house. Her name is Tamar. I've never been there, so it's the perfect safehouse." More accurately, it was the perfect excuse. At long last she would be able to see her mother, while simultaneously finding refuge from their problems. It was a perfect example of killing two birds with one stone.
Stunned, James let out a derisive snort. "You must be joking."
"Hardly. And this isn't something we're going to discuss." Rose detached herself from the tree and started walking. She was starting to feel faint, but this was one battle for power that she refused to lose. As far as she was concerned, this plan she had begun to nurture was set in stone.
Unfortunately, she didn't even take three steps before she found herself losing her balance. Shock settle in her stomach and bile rose in her throat. Her sense of control was lost, leaving her to plummet forward. A few seconds later, she found herself on one knee, arms shaking as they propped her up off the ground.
More bewildering than her moment of weakness was the fact that James was crouching next to her, a dim spark of what looked to be alarm flickering on his face. "Are you all right?" he questioned, less concerned about her than her ability to continue traveling.
Rose shook her head, batting away any further inquiries and speculations. "I'm fine," she muttered, "just felt a bit off, that's all."
Even if James had offered her a hand, she would have refused it, her pride too great to accept help up. Without it, however, she was shaky and uneven. It felt as though her entire world had been tilted slightly on its axis. Standing was usually a simple task, but it required a special gathering of strength just to keep her legs under her.
"Are you quite sure that that's all?"
"Yes." Firm though she was, Rose knew that her lie was quite obvious. "We'll just need to find a place to rest. Eventually. As soon as possible." She trailed off, preserving the strength of her voice before it betrayed her by cracking and wavering.
With a sigh, James turned and walked off to the side, kicking at plants as he went. Puzzled, Rose watched in silence, refraining from speaking up until after he disappeared around a tree. "What, exactly, are you doing?"
James rejoined her a moment later, his lips twisted wryly. "Getting you this." He thrust a stick into her hand, a tall, twisted piece of wood. It reached to her elbow, rubbed roughly against her palm, and still retained a few quivering leaves yet colored a light green. "I'm not going to carry you."
It was a blow to realize just how obvious her weakness was. Some mixture of fatigue and pain had amalgamated to create a very much unwanted lapse. At least James had provided a way for her to manage without dragging him down with her. She accepted the makeshift walking stick with a small word of thanks, one which he probably cared little for, just as she cared little to speak it.
If Rose had been given this cane two hours ago, their pace would have increased drastically. Now, as they headed to the edge of the forest furthest from the castle, it did nothing more than save her from collapsing. James was biting at the bit like a vivacious, energetic gelding, constantly attempting to reach a greater speed; she, on the other hand, felt like the cart attached to said horse, laden heavily with a merchant's wears. Yet whenever she tried to move faster, her leg buckled, her head spun, or her body ached excruciatingly. It wasn't hard to find her limit when it was so aggravatingly low.
"We're going to have to get a horse," James said, glancing over his shoulder as he spoke. Rose didn't answer him, didn't even look at him. It took all of her focus just to keep moving. Prompted by her silence, he took it as an invitation to continue and began elaborating. "Which means stealing one. So I'll just leave that up to you."
The words soaked into the assassin's head. "Me? Seriously? I'm a highly trained assassin, not a petty thief." She scowled, miffed at being belittled.
Naturally, James didn't see it as an insult. "What! It certainly seems more your area of expertise."
"Try again. There's going to be light in the sky soon. I couldn't even swipe a spine off a cactus in the dark of night. You were raised in the court; use your politics to get us something."
James was speaking, shooting a disdainful response back to her, but for some reason the words felt very distant to Rose. Even her own hardly fit in her head, as though each syllable she uttered invited another piece of cotton into her ears. Despite the coming of the sun, a foreign darkness also encroached upon her, gnawing away at the edges of her vision like a swarm of tiny hungry insects.
Just like before, she felt herself falling, and the tight knot of her stomach confirmed that something wasn't right. Only, this time, she didn't succeed in hanging onto her consciousness. Even as she was plummeting towards the ground, her sight escaped her, leaving her with a black veil draped before her eyes.
The last thing Rose was vaguely aware of was James's muffled shout of frustration.