Drake

Drake tossed his pillow over his head. It wasn't working. His body was not going to let him go back to sleep until he checked on Rosaliy. His reflexes cared not for the nosy woman in the nearby house who could hear the creak of his door through walls and would come to spy on him. Nor did his overactive mind care there was nothing that could have silently crept its way into a walled outpost, past his door, and into Rosaliy's locked room without causing a real alert. No, despite logic, his body still sent out those high alert middle-of-the night warnings that could only be quelled by verifying the situation was under control. For the ninety-nine times nothing was wrong, there was always the one time something was wrong.

He flipped off his covers and slipped out of the bed, grabbing the shirt tossed over the back of a nearby chair. He ignored the boots. There was a stone walkway running along the front of the rooms, and bare feet would be quieter.

"You're really going to make me peer in a girl's window in the dead middle of the night, aren't you?" he grumbled to himself.

The question was quickly answered by his fingers. They slid his lock aside while he cringed at the sound of the soft click.

Silent steps brought him to Rosaliy's door. He hesitated. He hated this. It felt too much like doing the wrong thing under orders. But checking up on her had been his choice, and his intentions were good, so that made no sense. Maybe his conscience was broken. Brittle from disuse, it had finally snapped after years of strain.

He could just see inside Rosaliy's room through a tiny sliver where the curtains did not quite meet. Unfortunately, the bright moonlight was against him, and he had to cup his hands around his eyes and press his face to the window because just looking in had not been sufficiently awkward. The room was small, and the bed right next to the window looked rumpled and empty.

He cast a glance over his shoulder and tapped faintly at the window with his fingertips. This was ridiculous. She was in there. Nothing moved in the room, and Drake's need to take action kicked in. He pulled a long piece of metal from his pocket that he should not be carrying. Why would law-abiding citizens need to pick locks? He had finally found a situation.

Unfortunately, lock-picking was a skill that stayed sharp with practice. He was not sharp, but he was sufficiently motivated. He jiggled the metal prongs until the lock clicked open. He pushed the door open, wincing at its long, low creak. He was a little proud of himself for not noticing before that Rosaliy's door creaked. Perhaps that was a sign he was not constantly thinking like a criminal. Chronically, maybe, but not constantly, and that was a baby step in the right direction.

"Says the man breaking into a woman's room in the middle of the night," he muttered under his breath.

He looked in. The bed was really empty. Rosaliy's bag, cloak, and boots were still in the room. He was at a loss to explain how when a light flared from the opening door of the house. Drake flew out Rosaliy's door, pulled it closed, and slipped the metal pins back into his pocket, all before he realized what he was doing. Criminal behavior was hard to shake.

"What's going on?" rang out Arin's sleepy voice.

"Everything's fine," countered Drake instinctively.

Everything was not fine. Drake had a few seconds to think while Arin slipped on boots and came to investigate.

If Rosaliy was the next victim of this rash of disappearances, Drake needed to get to Kianne and find out what was going on. The less this couple knew, the better. He would make up an excuse and sneak out as soon as they were asleep.

There was a clatter at Rosaliy's door, and it opened. She poked out her head.

Relief poured over Drake's tense, tired body. "I thought I heard a noise," he called to Arin, "but everything's fine." He directed the next question much more quietly in Rosaliy's direction. "Is everything fine?"

"Everything's as fine as it was yesterday," she promised with fake brightness. Her words were not encouraging, considering how many things were not fine yesterday. "Tomorrow," she whispered. Her head tipped to see Emilia peering out from the window of her house. "Somehow."

If she was fine, he just had to deflect the fact he was outside Rosaliy's room in bare feet in the middle of the night, seeing as how a yawning Arin had continued ambling over.

"I thought I heard something scrambling around out here," Drake insisted. "It was probably something small, like a..." There probably were not many scavenger otters this far from the ocean or curious meerkats this far from the desert. He fumbled, trying to think of a forest animal other than a deer. He was reasonably confident deer did not scale walls.

"Raccoon," Rosaliy filled in. "Might want to check on the horses to be safe."

His alibi might have been more convincing had he been wearing shoes or carrying a lantern, but hopefully poor Arin was too tired to notice. The horses were snug and not being pestered by raccoons, so Drake apologized for being so paranoid.

"Give me a holler if you hear any more critters," Arin was nice enough to say before he trudged back to his house.

Rosaliy gave him a wave and retreated back to her room. Her door creaked when she closed it, he noticed, annoyed at himself for noticing.

He locked his door and fell back on the bed, ordering himself to be asleep. Thankfully, his gut feelings of danger kept to themselves, and the next thing he knew, he heard Rosaliy and Emilia chatting outside over the chickens. He was still splayed out on his bed, flat on his back. He hoped last night had been a dream, but his dirty feet told him otherwise. So did Emilia.

"Arin said you heard a coon last night," she teased at breakfast, shoveling a mountain of fluffy scrambled eggs onto his plate.

Funny how she made the words "heard a coon" sound like "snuck out for a secret rendezvous." It was not the worst he had been accused of, and the heckling was easy to weather. The role of a hopeful suitor was a fun one to play. It brought merriment and teasing instead of fear and repulsion. The avoidance of those last two were a primary goal for him. He was tired of the looks and the judgment. Being somewhere no one knew him was refreshing, a break from real life.

"Sorry for waking everyone on account of my overactive imagination," he apologized.

"Oh no," Rosaliy defended him. "You have good instincts."

Something had been wrong, then. "Plan still the same?" he asked.

"Mmmhmm," she mumbled agreement, but the second Emilia's back was turned, she drew out a folded paper from a deep pocket in her skirts and unfolded it, pushing it onto his lap. "I talked to Kat and Alexander," she whispered.

He was just able to glance at what was a blueprint of sorts and fold it away before Emilia arrived with mugs and much-needed coffee for all. How could she have talked to the Queen and her husband? Where were they?

He tried to intercept Rosaliy before she boarded Emilia's cart, but neither of them could get out two words before Emilia swooped on them. "Plenty of time to get to know everything about you," Emilia crowed, clambering onto the cart.

Rosaliy grinned at him and hopped up next to Emilia, and Drake settled himself in the back of the cart between some broken equipment to mend and a small pile of furs to trade.

A kiss from Arin and some last minute instructions from Emilia on what needed to be fixed in room four were exchanged before Emilia jostled the reins. Her horse tugged the cart out of the outpost and down a dirt road eventually leading to Kianne. Rosaliy and Drake's horses were attached to the back, content to trot along behind free of passengers.

Drake knew everything there was to know about Emilia by lunchtime: her parents had made horseshoes for half of Kianne at one time, she had four children and five grandchildren so far, she was hoping to trade for one of Ella's legendary quilts on this trip, she wanted a pair of Kelnis's boots for an anniversary present for Arin, and Corin had suggested building a tavern on outpost grounds, but that seemed a tall task unless they took on an employee and got more visitors. Drake even knew the names of Emilia's chickens and goats. He was out of deflection subjects, and he was going to need to answer some questions unless he redoubled his creativity.

He bought time by offering to refill the water skins in the creek next to their lunch spot while Rosaliy collected the horses. He caught up a handful of yellow wildflowers on his way back.

"For you," he announced, handing the bundle off to Rosaliy.

He got a real smile. Rosaliy pulled out one of the flowers and put it behind her ear. "My favorite color—thank you."

He felt like kissing hands or something was the gentlemanly thing to do in this scenario, but he was not a gentleman and such a gesture would probably have ended in failure. Besides, the flowers were enough to please Emilia, who was content to see whatever she wanted to see.

He headed Emilia off before she retook the bench seat of her cart. "You've been driving for hours," he insisted. "You must need a break." Driving the cart gave him a distraction excuse, at least, and someone would need to give him directions pretty soon.

Unfortunately, Rosaliy settled in to the back of the cart, and that left Emilia unfortunately unfettered to ask more questions. "So, Drake, you and Rosaliy haven't known each other long?"

In order to avoid being trapped in a lie, he and Rosaliy had stayed close to the truth, which was far too disappointing for Emilia. She was hoping to witness a betrothal, but she could not very well expect one out of acquaintances of a few days. She was able to find solace in the "love at first sight" scenario.

"What was your first thought when you saw my Rose?" Emilia prodded.

"I wondered why she was covered in pumpkin," he said, relieved to answer at least one question with complete honesty.

Rosaliy responded with a soft laugh. "Butter gourd," she objected.

Emilia was all smiles at their shared humor.

Truth was, Rosaliy was funny and hard-working, and she had eyes that said exactly what she was thinking, and she was a million other sparkling adjectives, but his past was too filled with muck. She deserved better than him.

"And you," Emilia interrogated Rose. "When you first saw him, did you know?"

"I was sticky and a little preoccupied," laughed Rosaliy. "It's not like I'm waiting around all day for handsome, foreign boys to stroll into the palace and fall all over me."

"Their loss," Drake said. "Is that a fork in the road coming up?"

"Straight ahead takes you to the main gates of Kianne City," Emilia pointed. "This path to the west takes you around the city. Keep your eyes open in the tree cover. You never know what kind of unsavory characters are lurking about in the woods."

"Rose will protect us," Drake said, turning the horse into the friendly tree canopy, not exactly a potential denizen of ruffians.

"Yes, you just keep those unsavory characters distracted for an hour or so, and I'll mix something right up," she agreed.

The Kianne region was stable, and bandits would be incredibly bored pestering scattered farms and roads where a wagon or two might pass by in a day. Emilia's ruffians were more likely pickpockets in the city or royal advisers making their living from scheming and inflating taxes.

"We are so proud of Rose," Emilia gushed. "Our very own Sorceress."

The gushing was directed at Drake, so he had to agree, "She's very talented. I don't think Crystal Palace could function without her."

"Oh, please," scoffed Rosaliy.

Some people deflected compliments to get more of them, and some people were uncomfortable being confronted with their own worth. Rosaliy was the second.

"And what do you do, Drake?"

Drat, he had let the conversation lie dormant for too long.

"I've been working with the Lansilia Coalition to encourage fair trade practices in the Baysellian region." And he could quote hours worth of speeches to prove it.

Emilia narrowed her eyes, wanting more. "Revolutioning is more of a hobby," she said. "You can't expect to make a living from—"

"You need to angle north here," Rosaliy interrupted.

"Oh, sky's above, you're right, Rose. If we had missed this trail, we would have had to circle all the way around for the other side or pull the cart over that mud pit."

Drake pulled the cart to a gentle stop before the narrow, rutted path veered off.

"Rose and I should get out of the cart and ride, Emilia, so we don't weigh your cart down in the soft ground," suggested Drake.

"I suppose so," Emilia grumbled, taking the reins from him.

Horseback was welcome after the bumpy cart, and Emilia could not dig around in his past from a distance. It was a double success.

Rosaliy pulled her horse next to his. "You are an expert at not answering questions," she pointed out quietly as they trailed the cart.

It was an occupational hazard, which he could not say without falling into a pile of other questions. Rosaliy deserved to know, but he'd rather stall the inevitable.

"See?" she joked in response to his silence.

"You didn't ask a question," he pointed out innocently. "Where were you last night?"

Her voiced lowered, and she leaned in. "I wish I could explain, but Emilia has the ears of bat. They were taken by the star women. Not even they can find Dee, and it's basically up to us."

Emilia looked back at that moment and saw Rosiliy murmuring in Drake's ear. She beamed and turned her eyes back to the path.

Rosaliy sat back on her saddle with a head shake and a half shrug of her shoulders. At least she understood how little sense she was making. They lapsed into silence until they rolled up to a little cottage buried in the woods.