Chapter Three: A Strange Turn Of Events

Things do not go exactly as planned when Phoebus attempts to steal Raine away for a night of adventuring.

            Raine Acadia was not a woman who easily lost her head.  She had managed to keep her wits about her through perilous typhoons and endless droughts.  From those tragedies had arisen great opportunities to demonstrate her quick thinking and keen senses.  Higher and higher she rose in the esteem of others, until she was deemed worthy of managing Duke Ellin’s farm estate.  She had donned a beautiful gown, far grander than any she would have picked for herself.  She had rouged her sun-kissed cheeks and rinsed the residue of the farm from her golden wheaten hair.  It had been a strange but awing transformation, one that set her heart racing and her stomach fluttering in great anticipation.  She had taken the arm of her father, and together they ventured into the teeming maw of gilded nobility.

That was the final solid memory in the wine-induced fog of Raine’s mind.  From the moment she had seated herself next to the Crown Prince onward it was a flurry of laughter, quips, and free-flowing liquor.  Now she was astride a great white beast of a horse, making her grand escape from the suffocating confines of the ballroom.  The evening wind nipped at her flushed cheeks.  Her perfectly plaited hair was tousled and loose tendrils danced on her shoulders.  Phoebus’s arms were fast about her, holding her steady as the world raced by around her.  Her heart thundered in her ears; her blood sang through her veins.  She travelled the familiar road as though she were rushing headlong into a strange, sensational realm cloaked in velvety blackness.  It was intoxicating to feel so uninhibited.

Somewhere, deep down inside, reason as screaming to be let out.  Raine considered, but she ultimately ignored the flicker of doubt.

            Phoebus led them into the torchlit streets of Fanfier.  It was a town about twenty miles from the Duke’s farmlands.  Raine occasionally stopped there en route to the Duke’s manor to fetch a jar or two of honey to bring to her mother.  She had never seen it except for in the light of day.  The night left a far more sinister impression on her.

            Like many crossroads towns, Fanfier didn’t have a solid source of revenue.  Meat and crops came from the farm kept by the Acadias as well as several other small, specialized crop farmers in the area.  Cloth and thread came to the shops from weavers several miles away, and artisans far and wide set up carts in the main street to peddle their wares.  The only footprint they had in the economy was a small corner on the floral and honey market.  Unfortunately, they were not renowned for their scrumptious honey, so much of the town’s revenue was dependent on the presence of the artisans and the travelers that were attracted to them.  It was a fruitful arrangement.

            When night fell, however, the same artisans that pulled Fanfier from financial ruin aided the city in a darker manner.  Phoebus led the horse down a long alley.  They passed a woman swathed loosely in transparent fabrics.  Dark makeup obscured her eyes and plumped her lips into a come-hither pout.  She took a long drag from a cigarette.  She noticed Raine’s stare and smirked.  She jutted out her hip and patted it.  “Two for one; one time offer.”

            Raine gasped and averted her gaze.  Phoebus laughed.  He snapped the reigns, spurring the stallion ahead.  “Don’t stare,” he scolded.

            Raine kept her eyes on Phoebus’s hands holding the reins.  He navigated through the maze of dimly lit alleyways.  When men leered, Phoebus arms tightened and he rode faster.  Raine felt a strange security each time he squeezed her.

            They stopped at last before a tavern.  The windows were blackened to keep prying eyes out.  Raine’s pulse leapt.  Nothing good could be lurking beyond those dark windows.  Oblivious to the rigidity or Raine’s countenance, Phoebus dismounted.  He tied the horse to a nearby post and offered his hand.  Raine reluctantly accepted it and hopped down beside him.  He grinned.  Looping an arm through her, he held her close to his side.  “Now that we’re here, I should let you know the ground rules.”

            “Rules?” Raine asked warily.

            Phoebus led her to the door.  It was carved with several runes.  “Number one: Ask no questions.”  He jiggled the door knocker in a swift series of raps.  A section of door slid open.  Laughter and a din of voices swelled into the silent alley.  A pair of eyes scrutinized the pair.  Phoebus opened his coat to reveal a black feather in his interior pocket.  “Freedom,” he intoned.

            The peephole slammed shut.  Several screeches and clicks sounded as several locks were undone.  The door opened a crack, enough for Phoebus and Raine to slip in.  The bouncer, a hybrid that appeared half-troll, half-human with several tribal tattoos crowding his bulging arms, shut the door behind them.  He locked them in with brutal finality.  Phoebus led her through a throng of smoke and conversation.  He leaned close to whisper in her ear.  “Two: Answer no questions.  Whatever you do, tell no one who you really are.”

            Raine opened her mouth to speak before she realized she was going to ask a question.  She shut it with some reservations.  He herded her past a long, brilliantly lit bar to a dark corner.  There was a single empty booth.  It was strange, considering the cramped quarters and limited seating available.  She slid in.  Phoebus slid close, so close that she could feel his chest rise and fall with his breath.  She tried to ignore the stares and whispers from the other patrons, but it was difficult when they all appeared ready and willing to slash her throat any second.

            Phoebus put an arm around her shoulder.  “Third, and this one is crucially important.  You must swear not to speak of what you may see tonight.”

            Raine’s curiosity overflowed.  Words bubbled from her mouth.  “What might I see tonight?”

            Phoebus smiled.  He tapped a finger to his lips.  Raine fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable with their proximity, but Phoebus took no heed.  Instead he was studying the crowd, searching the faces for something he was not finding.  He drummed his fingers on the table.  The tapping resounded in her ears above the thrall of voices and the deafening sound of her heart beat.  She pressed her hand over his, stilling his restlessness.  He glanced at her face, surprised.

            For the first time, he noticed just how flushed her face was.  Sweat dampened her brow.  Though she maintained a mostly sober demeanor, it was clear to see that she was becoming overwhelmed.  He pulled a napkin from a dispenser on the table and dabbed her face gently.  “I should get you some water while we wait.  Don’t move.”  He slid out of the booth.

            Raine placed her hands on her lap to stabilize herself.  The world had ceased to spin, but continued to sway in a rather unappealing fashion.  There was no chance of her moving.  But, to her chagrin, she was also limited in her methods of escape.  A dozen gazes fell on her.  She silently read the flashing bar signs and menus and did her best to avoid eye contact.

            Phoebus elbowed his way to the bar.  “Two waters,” he ordered.

            The bartender snorted, but turned to fulfill the order.  Phoebus leaned against the worn wood bar.

            “Water?  I prefer gin, you know.”

            Phoebus turned.  There, standing beneath a flickering yellow neon light, stood Alia.  She had discarded her maid’s outfit in favor of wheat-colored traveller’s garb.  Her hair flowed unbound over her shoulders.  His mouth went dry.  He reached out to touch a silken strand.  “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

            Alia smiled and slunk close, pressing her body to his and caressing his arms.  “You know I would never miss a night with you.  It was a silly little argument, anyhow.”

            Had Phoebus considered it, he might have questioned the meaning of her words.  Did she still feel him in the wrong over the incident?  Had she categorized his sense of propriety as prudishness and an overreaction?  But, as always happened when he was in her arms, his rational thoughts were paralyzed.  Alia leaned in close, her supple lips drawing nearer.  She pulled away suddenly, two sweating glasses of water in hand.  “Your beverage, sir,” she said breathily.  She tilted the glass in her hand toward her lips.

            Before Phoebus could stop her, she paused.  She sniffed the contents of the glass.  Eyes narrowed, she fixed the bartender with an icy stare.  “What is the meaning of this?”

            The bartender slapped a wet towel on the bar and leaned forward with a sneer.  “You got a problem, little girl?”

            Alia stomped to the bar and threw the water in his face.  His skin sizzled.  He shrieked, swiping at his corroding flesh.  Alia slammed the second glass on the bar.  It shattered on contact, burning rapidly through the countertop.  “You think you can poison people without repercussions?  Don’t you have some regulations to follow?”

            The bartender sopped at his raw face with the rag.  “Civilians don’t order water,” he growled.

            Alia drew near.  She stared up at the muscle bound goblin hybrid with an unflinching gaze.  “Do I look like a civilian to you?”

            Something in her eyes made him grimace.  “Doesn’t matter what you look like, Alia.  He brought in an outsider.  Them’s against the rules.”

            “He knows the password; he has the seal.  If you want to be a snob about whom one of our own can or can’t bring in to have a pint, that’s your business, but don’t go causing a scene.  Give them a reason to lead you to the guillotine and they will.”  She slapped three coins on the counter.  “We’ll have three waters.  Bottled, if you please.”

            The bartender grumbled, but retrieved the bottles.  Alia graced him with a smile.  “Now, was that so hard?”

            Phoebus had been meeting Alia at this very pub for months, on every occasion that he had made an excuse to visit his dear uncle.  There were unsavory characters amongst them, to be sure.  But there seemed an unwritten rule that all patrons and employees adhered to: Don’t touch me and I won’t touch you.  He and Alia often had a few drinks in peace before their incredible adventures, even laughed with a few of the outwardly brusque owners.  He had certainly never had his life threatened before.  Suddenly, the atmosphere of the bar seemed a trifle darker, the conversations deathly whispers.  He wondered why he had never been able to see this place for what it was.

            Before he could quell his desire to pull Alia aside and question her, a strangled cry pierced the din.  Phoebus turned toward the commotion.

            Raine, clutching her head, was writhing on the floor next to their booth.  A man who was armed to the teeth had her in his arms, holding her as she strained against him.

            Phoebus’s blood boiled.  He fought through the milling crowd.  His sword sang from his sheath.  It came to a stop a hairsbreadth from the offending man’s throat.  “Release her.”

The man swallowed delicately, scratching the surface of the blade with his Adam’s apple.  He raised his hands.  Raine sank to the floor, agony unabated.  She pushed herself up on her arms, breathing unevenly.  Phoebus sheathed his weapon and guided Raine to the booth.  “What’s wrong?” he asked amidst her whimpers and gasps.  He stroked her sweat soaked brow dry and touched her cheek.  He was stunned to find it chilled.

“I only meant to help,” the armed man muttered, holding his scraped throat.  “See if I ever aid a damsel again.”

Phoebus held Raine as still as he could.  She clutched his arms.  Gradually, her grip diminished.  Phoebus drew away.  She looked pale and exhausted.  She pushed at him, eyes unfocused.  “Bucket.  I need a bucket.”

Phoebus stood quickly.  A patron at the next table pulled the trash can in front of her.  She retched into it.  Phoebus grimaced.

Alia appeared at Raine’s side.  She opened a bottle and nudged her with it.  “Rinse.  Don’t swallow, it’ll just exasperate it.”

Raine nodded.  She swished and spat the water into the trashcan.  She took a deep breath before repeating.  Alia raked the stray tresses from Raine’s face with her fingertips and rubbed her back.

Watching her caring for a total stranger the way she had cared for him so long ago, Phoebus’s misgivings melted away.  She had no reason to deceive him.  Whatever she wanted from him, he was hers to command; he was kidding himself if he boasted otherwise.  She had never led him down an amoral path.  This was a meeting place, nothing more.

Raine, on the other hand, felt an icy jolt at her touch.  It sobered her just enough to hone in to her baser instincts.  There was something about the stunningly beautiful woman that felt out of place.  Perhaps it was the warring of her expression with her tone.  Though she sounded concerned, her jaw was set and eyes steely.  There was a danger there.  It was unjustifiable, but present nonetheless.  Raine felt an overwhelming urge to leave immediately.  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.  “Thank you,” she croaked, easing to her feet.  Just as she found her balance, her knees buckled and gave way beneath her.  Phoebus snapped to attention just in time to catch her.  “Whoa, whoa,” he murmured, easing her toward the booth.  “Take it easy.  What’s wrong?”

“I have to go,” she insisted, pushing at his chest.  She made another false start, crippled by her fresh pain coupled with the vertigo brought on by her reckless intoxication.  Her hand went to her still throbbing head.  The whispers around them became deafening.  She covered her ears.

Alia crouched down next to her.  “It wouldn’t be wise to get on a horse in your condition,” she reasoned.  “Shall we go out for a bit of fresh air?”

Raine, helpless and loathing every second of it, nodded.  Phoebus relinquished his hold on Raine to Alia, who led them out in the cool, misty evening.

 

            Giorge Acadia had lost track of his daughter at the ball.  He had not been concerned at the time.  Well, perhaps a little.  When remarks of your daughter’s beauty it overheard in a social setting, it is difficult not to be proud and uneasy all at once.  He was confident in her enough to assume that she would conduct herself properly, even with a little wine coursing through her.

            His confidence ebbed a bit when she had not approached him for a dance an hour into the festivities.  It diminished further when he could not find her in the milling crowd.  But when the guests began to dwindle and Duke Ellin approached him, wringing his hands and offering a nervous smile, he knew he had foolishly misjudged her situation in its entirety.

            They set out in search of the pair with only the aid of the butlers and maids at first.  Giorge did not want to alarm his wife if she just happened to be in her bedroom sleeping.  But she was not there, nor in the lavish bathhouse, nor in the gardens or stables.  Then the stable boy approached with his hat in his hands.  His voice trembled as he gave an account of the pair stealing away into the night.  Duke Ellin appeared embarrassed, as though he had encountered such a problem before.  He and Giorge led their search party down the long road to town.  Giorge fully intended to strangle the young man, prince or no, but wisely kept such thoughts to himself.  From what he could see of Duke Ellin’s face, he shared the sentiment.

 

            Alia brought them to a darkened apothecary shop just down the road.  She banged on the door.  “Brendi!” she called up to a window.  “Brendi, open this door!”

            The door swung open.  A wrinkled, dark-skinned woman dressed in a simple cotton robe glared at Alia.  “Will you keep your voice down, ya banshee,” she hissed.  “You’ll wake the whole bloody neighborhood.”

            “I knew you wouldn’t answer unless I kicked up a fuss.  We need your help right away, Brendi.”

            Brendi gave Raine a quick once-over.  “I won’t be tending to your drunken friends any longer, Alia.  My services are too valuable to waste on that.”

            Phoebus grabbed the door as she began to swing it shut.  “It’s not just the drink that’s gotten to her.”

            “Doesn’t matter.  We’re closed for the night.  Take her to a hospice.”  Brendi jerked on the door.

            Phoebus held it firm.  Brendi grunted.  “Don’t make me call the guard, you fraud.”

            “What?”

            “Dressing up fine as can be like you’re the prince of Saladooran.  Get on with ya!”

            “Wait.  Wait!”  Phoebus struggled to keep the door open while reaching into his undershirt.  Her pulled out a chain with a ring dangling on the end.  “Look here, look!”

            Brendi ceased her struggle.  She stared, wide-eyed at the gilded crest of Saladooran.  She released the door and sank to one knee.

            “Please, our friend is not well.”

            “I told you, I’m fine,” Raine said a bit testily.  Within five minutes of leaving the bar, her headache had dulled.  Though, as it always was when she was derelict in her duties, a faint trace remained, a constant reminder of her responsibility.  Her sobriety was still long in coming, but she has enough of her wits about her to recognize that she was in a place she did not want to be.  “I just need to go home and get some rest.”

            “Brendi is one of the best apothecaries for miles.  Whatever ails you, she can set you right.”

            Raine protested, but Alia would not hear of it.  She fairly dragged her into the shop.  The air was heavy with incense and herbs.  Raine nearly choked, it was so strong.  She seated her and took Brendi by the arm.  “Let me help.”

            They vanished behind a heavy tapestry.  Phoebus hesitated.  He took a seat next to her, careful not to meet her gaze.

            Raine folded her hands in her lap.  Sensing his discomfort, she couldn’t help but smile ruefully.  “Quite an evening this has turned out to be.”

            Phoebus shook his head.  “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

            Raine pondered in silence.  She glanced at him.  “Can I ask questions now?”

Phoebus shrugged.

“What was supposed to happen tonight?”

            Phoebus snorted.  “Initially, it was just supposed to be a little bit of fun.  You go to enough of those stodgy balls, and you find that ways to amuse yourself generally involve absenting yourself.”

            Raine’s brow furrowed.  “But…Why did you bring me?”

            “You just….You have this way of saying whatever comes to mind, no matter who you’re talking to.  I know very few people who would.  You’re interesting.”

            Raine laughed.  “I was also five glasses of Rodongo wine deep.”

            “I’ve never known an inebriated person to be dishonest,” he said.  He looked down at his dirty boots.  “I just thought we were hitting it off so well, why not take you with me.”

            “You would have run off even if I hadn’t been with you, then?”

            Phoebus shrugged.  “What can I say?  I’m a young prince; inexplicable rebellion is in my wiring.”

            Raine nodded.  She paused, taking the time to gather her thoughts.  “Thank you,” she said at last.

“For what?”

“No one really chooses me for anything.  All my life I’ve been the eldest daughter.  My parents have great expectations, and I love being able to do all that I do, but…”  She sighed and plucked at her skirt.  “Sometimes I just want someone to ask me to play feather ball.  I like to have fun as much as anybody.”

Phoebus was silent.  She snuck a glance his way.  He looked away with a small laugh.  “Tell you what, Miss Acadia.  Next time I see you, we’ll have ourselves a rousing game of feather ball.  It’s a promise.”

Raine’s heart fluttered in her chest.  She cleared her throat and looked away, cursing the warmth that spread across her cheeks.

A low rumble started.  It grew louder and louder, until the walls trembled.  Paintings rattled on their hooks.  Raine shrank close to Phoebus instinctively.  “An earthquake?”

The light in the windows flickered erratically.  “Stay here,” Phoebus instructed.  He approached the windows and lifted the curtain slightly.

The shadows of several guards danced along the torchlit streets.  A horn sounded.  The hoofbeats slowed.  A figure on horseback called out: “There is a King’s horse not far from here.  They must be near.  Search every house.”

A loud knock sounded at the door.  Phoebus shrank from the window.  “Damn!”

“What is it?” Raine asked as he rushed to her side.

“We have to leave immediately.”  He took her by her arm and pulled her into the room the ladies had vanished into.

Brendi jumped as they entered.  Alia quickly capped a vial.  “They have come for you?”

“More likely they are here for her.  Either way, we have to get out of here unseen.”

Alia smiled.  “Leave it to me.”

 

Guards knocked on the doors of several ruffled citizens.  Over and over, they came up empty-handed.  One guard knocked at Brendi’s door.  He was met with silence.   He stared at the closed door.  He knocked again.  Once more, he was not greeted.  He balked.

Duke Ellin approached on horseback.  “Is there a problem, soldier?”

“I’m not sure anyone’s home, sir.”

Duke Ellin rolled his eyes.  He banged on the door.  “Open this door in the name of the King!”

Brendi opened the door.  “I heard you the first time, your royal hothead.”  She stepped aside, allowing them access.

The soldier looked in every corner, every closet.  He spied the tapestry covering another opening and headed for it.  Brendi fidgeted.

The soldier pulled the tapestry back.  The workroom was empty save a few salves, potions and herb bottles on a metal table.  He exited the residence.  “Nothing.”

Duke Ellin sighed.  Together they moved on.

 

Back at the manor, Raine’s room was dark.  A guard, stationed inside the room’s entrance, was nodding off.  He jerked himself to attention a handful of times before succumbing to the pull of sleep.

The windows opened, letting in the fresh forest breeze.  Phoebus crawled in first, then turned to assist Raine.  She tumbled into the window, nearly crushing him beneath her.  She winced and drew away.  She made her way to the bed.

“Phoebus!”

Phoebus went to the window.  Alia handed him the vial.  “Don’t forget to give her this.”

Raine collapsed on the cool down covers.  She sighed contentedly.  Phoebus sat next to her.  “Here,” he said.  “Brendi made it for you.  It should help with the pain.”

Raine looked up at him.  She stared at the vial.  Brendi’s guilty expression crossed her mind.  “I don’t know…”

“Come on.  It’s perfectly safe.”  He took a swig of the stuff.  Immediately, his expression soured.  “Holy----Ugh, that stuff is vile.”

Raine giggled.  Too tired to argue, she reached for the vial and took a small sip.  She wrinkled her nose.  “Phew….”

Immediately, the pain in her head was gone.  She laid on the pillow, a dreamy smile on her lips.  “I think, perhaps, we should never meet again,” she said teasingly.

“Perhaps,” Phoebus mused.  He watched her eyes slide shut.  Her breathing evened, and soon she slept.  He watched her for a while.  With a sigh, he stood.

…And immediately collapsed in a heap at her bedside.

Alia entered then.  She stepped over Phoebus’s prone body.  Taking care, she straddled Raine’s unconscious form.  She slipped the vial into her tunic front and reached into the waistband of her skirt.  A long, silver dagger slid from its hilt.  She traced the dagger along the length of Raine’s body.  A smile tugged at her ruby lips.  “Yes.  This will do very nicely.”