A Dangerous Game
Maggie crouched within the dark shadows of one of many back alleys along Peddler’s Path. Scuffed, pursuing footsteps drew near.
“I’m going to kill you,” she whispered to her brother, who sat crouched beside her in the dark. Reece, who didn’t even deign to glance at her, only smiled.
“Not if they kill us first,” he whispered back.
Maggie stifled a groan and pressed herself further into the chipped wall of the pottery shop behind them. She pulled her brother’s old cloak around herself and clenched her fists until they hurt.
Their pursuers - other boys around Reece’s age - were still searching the streets for them; she could hear their angry voices as they looped circles around their hiding spot, cursing to themselves and to each other.
Maggie took a deep, ragged breath, trying to calm the adrenaline surging through her. She would kill him after this.
The footsteps entered the alley and stopped.
Reece shoved her shoulder, pushing her deeper into the shadows. She felt him tense as voices began to argue just a few feet away. Carefully, Reece pulled the hood of her cloak over her face, plunging her into darkness as the voices approached.
“I’m going to drown that bastard in The Swallow,” spat one of the boys.
Another cursed under his breath. “How did he slip away?”
“Rats like him always find ways to hide in the muck. He knows these streets better than we do.”
“What now?” one of them asked.
“Shut up,” another snapped.
Maggie’s heart pounded as she listened. She didn’t recognize any of their voices, but the threats they made were enough to send a chill down her spine. Just who exactly had Reece angered this time?
There was a scuffle of footsteps, drawing closer. “Did you see the brat with him?”
“Probably another stolen bitch. We’ll teach her a lesson, too.” Maggie stiffened at the sadistic sneer. “Girls in this city need to learn not to play with filth like him.”
Her brother laughed softly beside her, and Maggie had the urge to stand up and beat him to death. He actually laughed!
Somewhere nearby, an evening merchant called the last chance on his wares. A busy chatter followed, along with the thick, rolling scent of grease. It quickly saturated the air under her hood, and Maggie had to resist the urge to cough as the cloying scent permeated her lungs.
“Come on,” one of the boys finally growled. “We’ll figure out where he lives. He won’t be able to hide, then.”
The scuffling footsteps began to retreat, and Maggie swallowed hard against her tickling throat, willing herself to remain still.
But finally, after what felt like too long, the boys finally retreated down the main road, and Maggie allowed herself to sag in relief. But it wasn’t until long after the last footsteps faded away and the rolling food merchant ambled off towards a different street that her brother finally stood and peeled her off the wall.
Her body ached, and she found herself trembling slightly as she was thrown into a delayed coughing frenzy.
“Sorry about that, Maggie.” Her brother apologized sheepishly, running a hand through his bronze hair. “They were just-”
Maggie didn’t let him finish before she threw herself at him. “You idiot!” she cried, lunging at him. He sidestepped her with ease, and she fell onto the rough cobblestone road.
Hissing in pain, her head snapped towards him. “What were you thinking? Pissing off the nobility?”
“They’re not nobles.” Reece corrected quickly, holding up a finger. “They live in The Hills.”
The Hills. The rolling north-western stretch of King’s Gate that housed much of the upper class of Aaramor’s citizens. The families of that neighborhood weren’t of noble blood like the houses that lined The Lonely Palace, but that never stopped them from treating the city like it was theirs.
“This was different from your normal fights, Reece. You’ve never pissed off anyone like that before,” she stressed, unable to keep the whine from her voice. She remembered the threats the boys made, and her stomach churned in nausea. “What did you do to make them so angry? Who were those boys?”
Reece crossed his arms and looked away. “Just some entitled fools who enjoy overreacting.”
“To what?” she begged. But her brother didn’t answer.
She glared up at Reece as he extended a hand to help her up. Grumbling under breath, she accepted the help. But the moment she was firmly on her feet again, her hand flew out to slap him.
He caught her wrist with a soldier’s reflex. “Jeez,” He shook his head in mock misery. “And after everything I did to protect you tonight.”
Maggie pulled her hand from his and shook the dirt from her thick, dark cloak—once Reece’s, until a former lover gifted him a much finer, newer one.
“Pissing off the rich is dangerous, Reece,” she tried to argue, but fatigue had begun to set in. Instead, she turned away from him and stared down the alley for a long time so he could not see her face. “One day, you’ll piss off someone you can’t win against,” she finished softly.
“Ah, don’t worry.” Reece threw a heavy arm around her shoulder, steering her out of the dark alley. “I’m your big brother. I’ll always win.”
She looked up at him and sighed. Reece was five years older than her, twenty-two and headstrong. Quick with a sword, he had already spent two seasons among The Steel Reavers - the exclusive platoon led by Ambrose Castille himself, the first son and heir of King Galadon Castille of King’s Gate. It had only been a year since her brother had come back home to them, but it seemed he had no intention of letting his fighting skills rust away while he enjoyed civilian life.
She hadn’t meant to find him tonight. Walking home along The Swallow Bridge, she’d noticed someone being chased. Curious as always, she paid too much attention. Her brother, noticing her, had made the impromptu decision that it would be safer to grab her rather than let her foolishly expose herself to his pursuers—especially once she realized it was Reece they were chasing.
Maggie sighed again, huddling against the late winter breeze. “Your terrible decisions are going to worry me into an early grave.”
He only smiled, pulling her closer. “You have that coin, right?”
She nodded dully, hand instinctively going to the rough piece of iron tied around her neck.
“Then you’re fine.” He said. Then, after a moment added, “Don’t tell mama, okay?”
Maggie wanted to scold him more, to threaten to tell not only mama but father, too. But exhaustion had already caught up to her and she sagged against him. So she only nodded and let her brother lead her home, to the shop named Magnolia Clothing.
