The servant corridor stretches off the side of the twins’ room, winding like a spiderweb throughout the inner walls of the palace. They are made for expedience, allowing servants to carry meals or other needed items throughout the palace more directly, but the Emperor has become insistent as of late that servants remain inconspicuous. The small globes of witch light increase in frequency the closer they get to a hub of activity, like the kitchen or the laundry rooms, and eventually they’re going to get caught.
“Run this by me again?” Kira asks again, trying to keep her voice low. Tristan doesn’t mind explaining herself again. It keeps them both focused, and ensures that Kira knows the plan, in case the two of them get separated.
“An old friend is waiting for us in the harbor. Her ship will provide us safe passage to another port so we can meet up with another old friend who will take your somewhere safe.” Tristan keeps her eyes straight ahead, pausing and listening at each of the invisible entrances. “What you do after that is up to you.” She lets that sink in, and when Kira’s expression spirals, Tristan draws the young girl back into the matter at hand. “Where’s our best exit?”
Tristan asks as though it’s one of their training sessions, and this isn’t a life-or-death escape. Kira calms, her expression relaxing as she searches for the answer.
“Probably the ballrooms.”
“Why?”
“This late into the evening, any parties or events have likely ended, giving the staff plenty of time to clean before they resume business in the morning. So, the rooms are likely dark and have plenty of doors to leave from.”
Tristan nods, considering, but as they head towards one of the narrow stairwells, looking to make their way down to the ballroom, they hear the gruff voice of one guard: “One twin has escaped. She may be still in the castle. Find her, now!”
“And there goes our hopes for a quiet exit.” Tristan draws her blade, before picking up speed and moving faster down the stairs. Her steps slow as they reach the entrance to the ballroom, taking in the obstacles ahead.
Darkness shrouds the ballroom, as Kira predicted, but a camphoric scent bursts through the air, as baubles of witch light appear hovering around the heads of the guards as they move to search the room. Tristan places a finger to her lips before pointing toward the balconies. All they have to do is get themselves over the edge and into the gardens without being noticed. Kira nods, falling in behind her on quiet steps and inching along the back wall.
Globules of light continue to float through the air, and the searching guards are keeping quiet, alert to any sounds of escape. Kira moves on cat’s feet, but even with the lighter leather travel armor Tristan wears, stealth isn’t her strong suit. Fighters like Tristan intend to plow through obstacles, not sneak around them, so it’s only a matter of time before her boot scuffs against the ballroom’s polished marble, and all the movement in the ballroom falls silent.
The witch light flies forward and illuminates both of their faces. Footsteps shuffle closer, and when the guards come into view, Tristan can’t help but tense. The guards know that Kira “escaped.” They haven’t realized yet that Tristan is the one who helped her.
“Captain,” one guard, Devon, says with a smile. “You found her. What a relief.”
Tristan looks back at them, before glancing over at Kira. Tristan knows that this is her men, but part of her that’s still loyal wars with itself as she tries to decide how to play this. These are her men. She trained them, worked with them. She thinks of nights shooting the shit in taverns and battlefields standing side by side. Tristan knows these men like she knows the back of her own hand, knows each of their names, and now knows that she’ll have to betray them in order to do what she thinks is right.
Tristan tries to ignore the betrayal in their eyes as she shifts her stance and lifts her sword. “No,” she says, “Not exactly.”
Tristan backhands Stephen, the guard closest to her, using the hilt of her sword for extra weight. He drops to the ground as Devon and Marianne, the third, get their swords up and charge. Tristan parries both their swords, losing track of Kira. All she can focus on are the blades in front of her. Two more slices push them back from her, when suddenly Stephen drops to a kneeling position. Kira’s face appears over his shoulder and Tristan lunges to stop her before the dagger comes down.
“No!”
A warring moment hangs between the two of them. They’re escaping, but Tristan won’t kill the people she’s betraying. Eventually, the teenager huffs in agreement, before flipping the dagger to the hilt and slamming that into his temple instead.
He stumbles forward, dazed, and the witch lights flicker. Kira arches an eyebrow before turning to bring her knee up against the man’s face. The ballroom plunges into darkness. Tristan slams a fist into Marianne’s face and the final guard drops.
There’s an exit. But she can also hear the rapidly approaching boots from more guards, looking to cut off their escape.
“Time to go.” Kira grabs the straps of Tristan’s armor, dragging her backwards towards the edge of the balcony.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Tristan finally asks. She knows she agreed to this exit, but she’s never been good with high jumps.
“I make jumps like this all the time.” Kira glances back at her with a smirk. “Don’t you trust me?”
Tristan swallows, then nods. She takes a breath, then closing her eyes and preparing to haul herself over the side. “Yeah, okay. Three, two—”
She barely manages not to scream as Kira yanks her over the edge of the railing and into the darkness.
it's a long way down to the bottom of the river | fantasy girl gang | 1,000
The servant corridor stretches off the side of the twins’ room, winding like a spiderweb throughout the inner walls of the palace. They are made for expedience, allowing servants to carry meals or other needed items throughout the palace more directly, but the Emperor has become insistent as of late that servants remain inconspicuous. The small globes of witch light increase in frequency the closer they get to a hub of activity, like the kitchen or the laundry rooms, and eventually they’re going to get caught.
“Run this by me again?” Kira asks again, trying to keep her voice low. Tristan doesn’t mind explaining herself again. It keeps them both focused, and ensures that Kira knows the plan, in case the two of them get separated.
“An old friend is waiting for us in the harbor. Her ship will provide us safe passage to another port so we can meet up with another old friend who will take your somewhere safe.” Tristan keeps her eyes straight ahead, pausing and listening at each of the invisible entrances. “What you do after that is up to you.” She lets that sink in, and when Kira’s expression spirals, Tristan draws the young girl back into the matter at hand. “Where’s our best exit?”
Tristan asks as though it’s one of their training sessions, and this isn’t a life-or-death escape. Kira calms, her expression relaxing as she searches for the answer.
“Probably the ballrooms.”
“Why?”
“This late into the evening, any parties or events have likely ended, giving the staff plenty of time to clean before they resume business in the morning. So, the rooms are likely dark and have plenty of doors to leave from.”
Tristan nods, considering, but as they head towards one of the narrow stairwells, looking to make their way down to the ballroom, they hear the gruff voice of one guard: “One twin has escaped. She may be still in the castle. Find her, now!”
“And there goes our hopes for a quiet exit.” Tristan draws her blade, before picking up speed and moving faster down the stairs. Her steps slow as they reach the entrance to the ballroom, taking in the obstacles ahead.
Darkness shrouds the ballroom, as Kira predicted, but a camphoric scent bursts through the air, as baubles of witch light appear hovering around the heads of the guards as they move to search the room. Tristan places a finger to her lips before pointing toward the balconies. All they have to do is get themselves over the edge and into the gardens without being noticed. Kira nods, falling in behind her on quiet steps and inching along the back wall.
Globules of light continue to float through the air, and the searching guards are keeping quiet, alert to any sounds of escape. Kira moves on cat’s feet, but even with the lighter leather travel armor Tristan wears, stealth isn’t her strong suit. Fighters like Tristan intend to plow through obstacles, not sneak around them, so it’s only a matter of time before her boot scuffs against the ballroom’s polished marble, and all the movement in the ballroom falls silent.
The witch light flies forward and illuminates both of their faces. Footsteps shuffle closer, and when the guards come into view, Tristan can’t help but tense. The guards know that Kira “escaped.” They haven’t realized yet that Tristan is the one who helped her.
“Captain,” one guard, Devon, says with a smile. “You found her. What a relief.”
Tristan looks back at them, before glancing over at Kira. Tristan knows that this is her men, but part of her that’s still loyal wars with itself as she tries to decide how to play this. These are her men. She trained them, worked with them. She thinks of nights shooting the shit in taverns and battlefields standing side by side. Tristan knows these men like she knows the back of her own hand, knows each of their names, and now knows that she’ll have to betray them in order to do what she thinks is right.
Tristan tries to ignore the betrayal in their eyes as she shifts her stance and lifts her sword. “No,” she says, “Not exactly.”
Tristan backhands Stephen, the guard closest to her, using the hilt of her sword for extra weight. He drops to the ground as Devon and Marianne, the third, get their swords up and charge. Tristan parries both their swords, losing track of Kira. All she can focus on are the blades in front of her. Two more slices push them back from her, when suddenly Stephen drops to a kneeling position. Kira’s face appears over his shoulder and Tristan lunges to stop her before the dagger comes down.
“No!”
A warring moment hangs between the two of them. They’re escaping, but Tristan won’t kill the people she’s betraying. Eventually, the teenager huffs in agreement, before flipping the dagger to the hilt and slamming that into his temple instead.
He stumbles forward, dazed, and the witch lights flicker. Kira arches an eyebrow before turning to bring her knee up against the man’s face. The ballroom plunges into darkness. Tristan slams a fist into Marianne’s face and the final guard drops.
There’s an exit. But she can also hear the rapidly approaching boots from more guards, looking to cut off their escape.
“Time to go.” Kira grabs the straps of Tristan’s armor, dragging her backwards towards the edge of the balcony.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Tristan finally asks. She knows she agreed to this exit, but she’s never been good with high jumps.
“I make jumps like this all the time.” Kira glances back at her with a smirk. “Don’t you trust me?”
Tristan swallows, then nods. She takes a breath, then closing her eyes and preparing to haul herself over the side. “Yeah, okay. Three, two—”
She barely manages not to scream as Kira yanks her over the edge of the railing and into the darkness.