The Princess and the Blade

[Soran Nightblade]

He meant to take it right away, but his arm didn't quite listen to him. Every word she'd just said made sense. Suddenly accusing her of protecting him sounded absurdly arrogant. He reached back and clutched the sword around the center like it was some stick and not a real tool. The man under him whined louder. Havitharon rewarded him with the unpleasant return of his attention. "We're going, and you're staying quiet," he ordered, removing his hand from his throat to see what the man would do.

"I-I haven't been paid!"

"You have." Havitharon rose to his feet and turned to Tenara, drawing his knife. "Hold still," he ordered her, swiping at the air just beside her cheek with the blade. He grabbed something out of the air, and held it down to him. "You touched this, earlier. I believe you even smelled it," he said unpleasantly, holding a small lock of silver hair down for him. The man couldn't stop himself from reaching out and taking the strand of moonlight. "Now you've been paid. Even?"

The man nodded, running his thumb along Tenara's soft hair despite everything that had just happened to him.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara shivered at the man’s reaction to her hair and turned away. She wiped her hands across her face, smearing tears and anger away until she had a mask of contempt to walk into the next room with.

The noise swelled into a grating thunder, and she wanted out of the building. Out of the city. She didn’t care if Thvoros followed her. As far as she understood it, he could hold the sword now, and no longer needed her. She wouldn't be surprised if he abandoned her. She just didn't understand why he would be so angry about how she'd chosen to get them money—especially considering, as he put it, they weren't friends and barely allies.

She pushed blindly through the sea of people crowding in to enjoy their night, hyper focused on reaching the door and the cold night air waiting outside.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon watched her leaving, and for a moment wasn't sure what he should do. Was she running away from this place, or from him? That chilled, sinking feeling he'd had the last time he held the sword began to take root in his stomach again. He wasn't sure what it meant. For a minute there, he'd arrogantly believed he was getting the hang of it, but now it was clearer than ever that he wasn't sure how anything here worked. Even if their crazy plan helped this girl find her father, the man was likelier to try to kill him than anything else. His hands wrapped a bit tighter around the wrapped sword. He would be at the mercy of people he knew nothing about.

His legs followed after her anyway. He slid through the crowd behind her, keeping a close eye on her weakening stride. Despite the money she'd just "earned", it seemed she no longer wanted to rest here. He couldn't really blame her. How could she just offer herself like that... Should he have caught on sooner?

They were a little further down the now-emptying street when he finally called to her carefully. "Tenara, we're in the open."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara's shoulders slumped, her bare feet trudging along down the street. "Why do you care, Thvoros?" she asked. "You have your sword and your book and you can speak to the people in this world." She ignored the call to go back to the sword, ignored the tug of her heart or the place inside her that had been pierced and opened to bring him into the world. She rubbed at the iridescent scar between her breasts.

The world was a dark tunnel, and not because the sun had blinked out of the sky. Weariness hung like lead weights on her and she knew she needed to find a safe place to rest and food. Will alone could not keep her going forever, though it had driven her so far already.

She stopped, glancing back but not exactly at Thvoros. She was looking to see how far she'd gone from the bar where she'd almost... The memory of the man, of being pressed down over the barrels and what would have happened if Thvoros hadn't stepped in sent a ripple of nausea through her empty belly. She hurried to the corner of a building and wretched into the alley next door—or she might have if there was anything in her belly. Instead, it was a dry heave until the queasiness abated. She pressed her forehead to the cold stone.

"Why did you care what that man did to me?" she asked, twisting so that her back rested against the building. "If we are barely allies, and most definitely not friends, why were you so angry?"

[Soran Nightblade]

He stood a few feet from her and wasn't sure how to answer. He hated touching people, but seeing her sick gave him an urge to step up closer in case she lost her balance. How was he supposed to answer her? "I lied. We are certainly allies, for now. And you are not in good health," he sighed, knowing it was only a fraction of the answer she needed. "Let's just take the coins you earned and stay at the next place we come by." The word 'earned' felt sour in his mouth.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara didn't like his half-answer—or trusted it—but suspected she wouldn't get anything further from him. She nodded, pushing off the wall and trudging further down the street. This side of town was darker, but quiet, and eventually they came to a place called The Do Drop Inn. Tenara was a little too tired to appreciate the pun.

Inside was as quiet as the street outside, save for the crackling fire and constant hiss of broom straw across the floor.

There were three patrons, and an old woman sweeping inside. The patrons sat at a small table near the fire and the woman lifted her head to them as they entered. She gave them a sympathetic frown, pausing her sweeping to lift a hand. "I'm sorry, but we don't cater to your kind..." she said.

Tenara blinked at her, then looked down at her clothes. "No, I'm... We're not... That is to say, I'm not a..." Whore. But she was, wasn't she? After what she'd almost done. What she'd been willing to do to survive. She held out the coins she'd been clutching so tightly that they imprinted the face of Queen Shea onto her palm. "I have money. We just need a place to stay for the night. We'll be gone in the morning. If it's not enough for a room, perhaps some food?"

The old woman frowned, eyeing Thvoros and then Tenara, her gaze drifting to her bare, blackened and scuffed feet. She took another few steps forward and looked at the coins in Tenara's hand. "Aye," she sighed. "It's enough for a room and some food..." The woman bit the inside of her cheek a moment. "Some bath water too."

Tenara's eyes burned. Her hand shook and her lip trembled. She knew well it wasn't enough for all of that. The princess was so overwhelmed at the slight kindness she nearly broke into tears. "Don't cry," the woman said, patting Tenara's arm. "Come here. Get a key."

She stepped behind a narrow desk tucked into the corner and reached underneath, pulling a brass key from a hook. "Room 3. Upstairs. Third door on the left."

"Thank you," Tenara choked out. Her shaking hand took the key and she bowed her head at the woman. If the woman only knew who she was, she would have known it was a great honor to have the princess of Hajara bow to her. She turned for the stairs, knowing Thvoros would follow her. Ascending them took effort, and she drifted back and forth like the waves of the ocean.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon let go of a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding as the woman relented and offered them a room. He began moving to follow Tenara up the stairs. He'd gone about a foot when a broom handle stopped his path. "Not so fast. I meant her," the woman said. The disdain in her voice was palpable. "You can stay here and help me sweep up. And there'll be no weapons in my bar," she said, holding out her hand for the sword.

He blinked at the woman, both frustrated and relieved by her protective behavior. "Have I done something to upset you?" he asked.

"She's the one they're talking about all over town, right? The 'Silver Siren', you call her. There's no succor for slavers in my tavern. And look at the state of her. You should be ashamed of yourself."

He chewed back a wave of nausea. "Yes," he said flatly.

"The sword," she demanded again.

There wasn't much choice, now that they'd finally found someplace safe for Tenara. He didn't meet either woman's eyes as he surrendered the sword. His body felt lighter and vaguely dizzy the moment she relieved him of it.

"What. Don't tell me you're hungry too, because I'd rather spit than feed you," she threatened, pushing the broom at him.

He accepted it quietly, steadying himself. "I'm not," he said, and it was the truth. He hadn't wanted or needed food since coming to this world. He looked at the area she'd been sweeping, and drew the broom along the floor to demonstrate his understanding.

"Don't tell me you're dumb, too? Pick that up," she sighed.

Havitharon stared at the broom he'd just dropped. It hadn't been clumsiness. It slipped right through his hand. He bent warily and grasped the handle again, lifting the broom. "I've got it," he said, concealing his alarm. He glanced to Tenara on the stairs, but didn't know what to say.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara peeked back down the stairs at him. She hadn't been paying attention and didn't really know what had happened before the thwack of the broom hitting the floor. For a moment, she thought the woman had smacked him with it, but she was too tired to go back down and see. Thvoros would follow her up or he would leave with the sword. Time would tell.

Tenara found the room, opened the door, and collapsed onto the bed.

[Soran Nightblade]

The innkeeper began preparing a hot stew for her guest, half-monitoring the girl's keeper as she cooked. "You don't look like anyone I've seen around here," she noted to him flatly.

"No," he acknowledged as he worked. He cursed under his breath as he dropped the broom again.

"How many times is that now? Too clumsy to be a demon," she snorted. "Or maybe you've never worked a day in your life."

He didn't offer a reply, so she huffed and went up the stairs to deliver the meal to Tenara. She gave the door a firm knock and waited.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara groaned, unwilling to part with the soft duvet for even a moment. Eventually, she dragged herself from the bed and to the door, having half a mind to just leave Thvoros out in the hall. She was surprised to find the kindly woman on the otherside of the door. The smell of food struck Tenara like a physical force and it took everything she had not to rip the bowl from the woman's tray and bury her face in it like some sort of half-domesticate dog—like Stalker might after a long trip. A pang tugged at her heart. She missed him. Missed his fury, heavy weight on her legs while she slept and his disapproving demon-hound, red-eyed scowl.

"Thank you," Tenara said, reaching out for the tray. "I really, really appreciate it. You have no idea..." She clamped her mouth shut, fearing her enthusiasm for thankfulness might come off as disingenuous.

[Soran Nightblade]

The woman smiled at her warmly. "Just eat up, sweetheart. I can't do much for you, but I can your meat in your belly at least. And don't worry about your keeper. He won't be bothering you tonight."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara carried the tray to a small table near the empty hearth, it rattled in her hands the whole way. She hadn't even bothered to start a fire in it yet. She'd come right in and face planted on the bed.

"He's..." she wasn't sure how to explain Thvoros. For a little while she'd felt some sense of responsibility for him. He was in this world, after all, because someone had used her as a sacrifice. He was also half in the world because she'd failed to die. She wondered if she did die, finally, if whatever they'd attempted to do would be complete. Would he be entirely trapped in the sword? Tenara realized she was frozen in thought, so she shook her head. "He's not from here. He might... misunderstand things. I think it might better if he's... in here… with me." She sounded like a young, brainwashed girl with an affinity for her captor, though Thvoros was hardly her keeper.

[Soran Nightblade]

The woman's face grew concerned. "Trust me, girl. I don't know what he might have promised you, but a man like that's not worth your concern. I'll kick him out, if you like. He's not so tough without that sword of his. Men like him never are. And he seems pretty clueless... the fool can barely even hold a broom properly. You need to start expecting more from people, dear."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara’s brow furrowed. “He can’t hold a broom?” A heaviness settled in her stomach. Whatever she’d done to him was wearing off. How could she help Thvoros and not lose this woman’s generosity? She glanced at the stew. Sooo close to fooood. She sighed.

Thvoros had said she was too trusting, and maybe she was. Maybe she should distrust the world, but Tenara wanted to believe that people were good—that some people were good. This woman seemed like someone she could trust—she seemed genuine and kind.

She sat in the chair near the dead fire. “He isn’t my… keeper. He’s protecting me by pretending to be one. We’re trying to get home…to Hajara.”

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon swept the room almost vengefully, as if daring the broom to slip from his fingers again. It didn't, but that didn't stop his mood from growing darker and darker. He kept remembering the look on Tenara's face when that man had tried to lift her skirts. What face had she been making when he had advertised her to a tavern of gawking men earlier? He couldn't remember. He'd been too disgusted by himself to even look at her. Had it been the same? What face had he been making while he pulled off such a perfect imitation of his sister?

He gave up on the broom and looked down at his hands. Even if he could hold onto his form until tomorrow to execute their plan, he'd rather eat glass than go through with it after what he'd seen today. He couldn't. Not even if it was just a gambit to draw her father's attention. He didn't know what kind of life was even an option in this world, but he knew he didn't want it to be that.

She wasn't well, and this place was getting more dangerous by the minute. He was also losing her trust quickly, and couldn't really blame her. He needed to find this vampire some other way, while his body still had some use. He went back into the kitchen and easily retrieved the sword the woman had confiscated from him, then headed back into main hall for the door.

______________________

"He's.... what?" The woman studied Tenara very closely, still mostly convinced this was some sort of ruse to indulge her keeper. "How would someone from Hajara be here?"