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“Another glorious day for his majesty the shut in.” Star yanks the curtains so that a sliver of the late afternoon sun shines directly onto Kid’s closed eyes.
The bedroom is cavernous. Stone walls and floors hold a damp chill in the air that no number of thick carpets or tapestries can really dispel, and wrought iron bookshelves line all of the room’s circular walls. They’re filled to the brim with well-cared for leather tomes of all shapes and sizes, but mostly their slightly acidic scent makes Star want to sneeze.
“Ah yes, my faithful knight, ever at my beck and call,” comes the prince’s muffled voice.
The curtains snap close and return the room to its former pitch darkness. Star feels the slippery tendrils of the prince’s shadow magic slide over his wrists, his back, his throat, a not-so-subtle reminder that his life could just as easily be snuffed out.
It was kind of hot, not gonna lie. Too bad business and pleasure don’t mix.
“I will remind you not to disturb my slumber again,” the prince says. Star assumes he rolls over because that’s the sort of arch thing he’d say as a way to end the conversation, but he hears the muted sounds of feet hitting carpet instead. There are still no candles lit nor magelight summoned, but that’s because the crown prince is a master of shadow magic and likes to flaunt his perfect dark vision whenever he gets the chance.
“You shouldn’t be slumbering so late in the day anyway, your elevatedness.” Star inches back towards the curtains because if the prince thinks he gives up that easily, he’s got another thing coming. The sliver of daylight at the edge of the thick fabric cuts off abruptly, like the shadows were thick and solid. Whatever; his princeliness is probably just standing there to be stubborn. A little light will clear things up—
Sunlight stabs him in the eyes as the blinds fly back open. “How unusually perceptive of you,” says the prince, now across the room on an overstuffed low couch, a book cocked at an obnoxiously relaxed angle in one hand. He’s fully dressed and there’s not a trace of his night clothes; maybe that’s what all the dark was for. “What brings you here at this unusual hour? Isn’t it time for you to pester the palace guard about sparring matches again?”
Star waves his hand. “I got bored when nobody could disarm me. Hey, let’s go to the market today — there are supposed to be fireworks in the plaza after sunset.”
The prince looks up from his book with an eyebrow already bent at precisely ‘are you an idiot’ degrees. “The main plaza? In the center of the city?”
“Yup.”
“The one with traders from all over the world?”
“That’s the one.”
“With huge crowds and unlimited rooftops for an assassin to spy from?”
“For the crown prince, you sure are pretty stupid about your own kingdom, huh?”
The book closes with a crisp smack. “For a bodyguard, you sure are an idiot. Do you really think you could keep me safe from the literal hundreds of possible angles a potential assailant could reach us from? I know father hired you on your merits as a swordsman, but he clearly didn’t give your head close enough scrutiny.”
“Come onnnn, it’ll be fine. You haven’t left this room since I was assigned to you three months ago. You need a little sun, get some fresh air.”
The prince exhales and recrosses his legs, a tell Star has learned means his patience is running thin, but in all honesty he doesn’t seem to have much to start with. “Ah yes, the shadow mage needs sunlight. Truly your minutes of education trump the years I’ve spent honing my craft.” To punctuate his words, the room fluctuates between grey scale and daylight, but each flash of the former has contorted figures that get closer in Star’s peripheral vision.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a prodigy or whatever,” Star says, blinking away the grotesque afterimages. “But seriously, you really stay in here all day?”
“It’s for my safety,” the prince replies, his voice heavy with something Star can’t quite place. “I’ve told you this before. It’s why you’re here.”
Star walks over to the window and looks down at the city below. Neat stone buildings unfold like nesting dolls from the castle’s fortified walls, on lower ground than the castle proper. Another wall encircles the central part of the city on even lower ground, and in the distance straw covered roofs make up the final, outer ring. It’s on that level that the festival is taking place this evening, far from the imposing iron and tomb-like stone of the castle.
It’s also where, if everything goes to plan, the prince will die.
“Exactly, it’s why I’m here. You’ve been safe so far, no one’s tried to kill you at all since I’ve been around!”
“I never leave this wing of the castle.”
“Which is why you need this. Come on, they’re going to have all kinds of great food and entertainment and—“ Star lowers his voice, “I heard that the work of that brainiac scholar you’re always crying about will be sold there.”
The prince stands up abruptly. “Eibon’s work will be there?”
“Yeah, that guy. Heard it from some of the organizers themselves at the pub last night.”
He hadn’t, really. Star just knows that the prince will do anything to get his hands on work by the contemporary scholar Eibon, something to do with shadow and light magic protection. It’s all above his attention span and pay grade.
Pain seizes his chest and a snarled HURRY UP BRAT rings in his ears for a split second. Though he knows it’s invisible, Star can feel the rune etched into his soul. The only reason he’s free at all, alive even, is because his loving father saw fit to give him one last chance to redeem himself in his family’s eyes. But like any dog, Star has to be kept on a leash, and over the last few weeks these intermittent pain reminders have gotten more common. Papa dear must be getting impatient despite the regular correspondence.
Star tunes back into the prince giving him a critical look. “Sorry, indigestion. You know me and those firecracker skewers.”
The prince curls his lip. “Naturally. All right, if there’s a chance to procure more of Eibon’s writings, then there’s nothing else to be said. Meet me here in one hour with everything you need to be stealthy but effective in a fight. I’ll weave a shadow disguise of course, but the ones I’m worried about will be able to see through it. Am I clear?”
“As a mountain spring,” Star says. He leaves before the prince can add any other fussy demands to the list and walks along the stark stone hallway towards his chambers on the other side of the prince’s.
Well, he finally did it. It’s taken months to get to this point, but tonight’s his first real shot at completing the mission and being freed from his father’s grip. It took him weeks of painstaking deception to lie his way into the right circles to get a pulse of the city’s underground, but it was worth it to become part of the whisper network of assassins. There will be a group of shadow mage trained assassins at and around the market tonight, and he already has an ironclad alibi lined up.
It should be a happy occasion, but instead he feels antsy, like he didn’t do enough pushups before his morning run. Whatever, it’s probably excitement, even though excitement doesn’t usually leave him with a sense of dread.
Star splashes some water on his face from the shallow bowl next to the bath for just that use, and spends the next hour sharpening and cleaning his sword. And daggers. And throwing stars. Sharp edges are a man’s best friend, after all.
The sun is just dipping below the horizon when the two of them set out. Because the prince is technically not allowed to leave the castle, Star has to play lookout while the prince weaves a very complicated piece of shadow magic that allows them to pass the various entry guards without detection.
The magic feels cool and slippery on him, like he’s veiled in silk. It’s strangely intimate, too, with echoes of the prince’s soul woven through. Magic is like a sixth sense, an extra way of knowing, and Star quite frankly doesn’t want to know anything else about the man whose assassination he’s recently planned. That his magic tastes like packed snow, for example, or makes Star’s own shadow magic crackle at his fingertips eager to be unleashed.
“Stop thinking so much, it’s unbecoming,” the prince whispers from a pace behind Star. Star makes a rude gesture over his shoulder and walks a little faster; whatever else this magic does, it’s a little too close for comfort.
They have passed the most heavily staffed guard towers and just slipped past the mid-tier gate into the lower circle. The crowds are heavier here and the buildings more tightly packed, leaving plenty of narrow alleys for them to slip into should they decide they’re ready to become visible again.
“Hey, do you know where you’re going?” whispers the prince.
Something in his tone makes Star turn around. The prince’s eyes are wide and glittering with the reflected light from the many torches lining the street. He’s looking with such rapt attention that it’s almost like--
“Wait, you’ve been here before, right? Like before there was a bounty on your head?”
The prince blinks and it’s like a door closes. “No, of course not. I wasn’t allowed out of the castle proper. I was just making sure you knew because you have the attention span of a small rodent and I didn’t want us straying far from the event. Remember, we’re going in, getting some scrolls, and coming out.”
“Yes, your supreme nitpickyness.”
Star leads them down an alley a few blocks further in so the prince can undo his magic. They’re both dressed modestly in simple cotton cloaks so they don’t attract attention, and the prince has modified his features enough to look like a bad caricature of himself. Anyone without the ability to detect shadow magic will be none the wiser.
Most of the crowd is gathered near a huge bonfire a few streets down at one of the openings to the market square, where scores of merchants and stalls are lined up. Star can hear faint music of at least three different varieties playing, and the smell of frying fat and savory spices hangs heavy in the air. A quick scan of the buildings around the square doesn’t reveal much, but his night vision is already ruined by the bonfire and a trained assassin wouldn’t be so easy to spot, anyway.
Not that it matters, he reminds himself. The whole point is for the prince to bite it.
“So where is the scholar with Eibon’s writings?” The prince has his cowl up despite the illusions he wove and looks distinctly out of place.
“Beats me, these sorts of things are never very organized. We’ll just have to find it!”
The prince wrinkles his nose. “Fine. But let’s be efficient. We should start from the west and comb east, with the bonfire being the center point.”
“Ugh, do you ever relax? This is a festival, lighten up, go with the flow, have some fried food.”
“I have never once in my life ‘gone with the flow.’”
“And it shows.”
The prince throws his hands up. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Lead on, I cannot wait to see what unnecessary trials we must endure and how much ground we recross with your barbaric method.”
Star grins. “Now we’re talkin’!”
He leads the prince past the bonfire and into the market proper. The music is louder here, and the merchants manning the closest stalls begin to call out to them about the superiority of their wares.
“Now we begin looking for your fancy ink on paper.”
Star knows the exact writings aren’t here, of course, but it’s strangely fun to lead the prince around like this. He’s like a baby goat, all leg and headbutts, but also kinda cute.
“Come with me this way,” the prince says imperiously. A booth with a giant mallet and a man asking to see who is strong enough to ring the bell has caught Star’s eye though, so he says, “One sec, let me just do this real quick.” He tosses a coin to the man, rolls his shoulders, and grabs the mallet.
The bell makes a satisfying ding when the slider hits it. “That’s right, I’m amazing. Hey pri--er, hey Kid, did you see that?” Star looks around for the person he’s ostensibly body-guarding to no avail. “Hey, where are you?”
He heads back down the closest stall walkway and scans the crowd -- nothing again. He does the same for the other two closest walkways and feels something like panic burning in his chest. Did the assassins get him already? Is his job over? Why does he hate the thought of that?
“There you are, you oaf,” calls a familiar voice from behind him. Relief floods his system; the prince is safe.
“Where did you go?” Star says, rounding on him. “You’re supposed to stay by me for protection, remember?”
“You’re not doing a very good job if you can’t even keep track of your charge,” the prince replies archly. “Here.” He extends a skewer of steaming, dripping meat that smells faintly of chilis.
“Uh.” Star accepts it and looks from it to the prince and back again. “You went and got…?”
“Firecracker skewers. Didn’t you say you like them? Unlike you, I remember what people tell me.”
Oh. Oh no. The baby goat brought him meat on a stick. This wasn’t in the assassination manual. “Yeah, I uh, I do. Very tasty.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” the prince replies and holds up a skewer of his own.
“Wait, that might be a bit--”
The prince removes the top chunk of meat with a neat bite. He chews for a moment, swallows, and then starts coughing. “Pain--water--why do you like this?”
Star dashes over to the nearest food stall and gets a huge pocket of fried dough. “Here, take a bite of this, it might help.”
The prince pulls Star’s hand closer and takes a bite without grabbing the dough for himself. “Why would you subject yourself to this?” he gasps after a few more bites of fried dough. “I mean, I suppose the after burn is somewhat pleasant, and the flavor is acceptable once you can taste again, but really, there are more elegant ways to season meat.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s not up to your impeccable palette. Come on, we got scrolls to find.”
Star leads them around the western half of the market, laughing at the prince’s obvious fascination with it all. They try a few more food items and look at a few more booths before the hairs on the back of Star’s neck begin to stand up. He might not have done the kinds of hardcore training he was subjected to growing up recently, but his instincts are still on par. They’re definitely being tracked; looks like the fun is over.
“Hey, let’s look at the east side of the market,” Star says, his chest getting tighter. The east side has a few more quiet alleys the prince could be grabbed in. Better to get this over with quickly.
“Okay,” the prince says, and that simple word almost stops Star dead in his tracks. They’re having a civil conversation! The prince listened to him! The doubt in his gut twists his insides up.
They lightly browse a few stalls on the other side while Star becomes more and more conflicted. The more he thinks about it, the more he doesn’t want to kill the prince after all, consequences be damned. But what about his father? What about this thrice-damned soul window his father inflicted on him? If he can’t deal with that, he won’t be able to hide his treachery for very long anyway.
Any further deliberation is cut off by a cry of, “Scrolls! Scrolls! Get your scrolls here!”
The prince perks up and heads over immediately, making Star have to almost jog to keep up. The merchant is at the edge of the square, half wreathed in shadow, and -- oh shit, they’re walking right into an ambush aren’t they.
“You said you had some scrolls?” the prince says.
The merchant gives him an oily smile and says, “Yes, right this way, sir.” He gestures to a chest at the opening of an alley.
“I don’t think we should--” A hand comes around Star’s mouth and cuts him off. He reflexively bites down and slams his elbow back, freeing himself while his would-be captor grunts in pain. “Kid, look out!”
The prince jerks around just in time to see another man emerging from the alley behind him. With a flick of his wrist, he binds the man in coils of shadow and tries to jump away from the merchant, who has now revealed a wicked dagger.
“Don’t worry, this will all be over soon,” he croons before lunging at the prince.
Another coil of shadow stops the attack and it looks like the prince is in the process of doing something more complicated when his entire body goes rigid and the merchant snaps free.
“Another shadow mage,” gasps the prince. Star knows he could leave right now, escape himself and leave the prince to be murdered, but his heart isn’t in it anymore. It was the damn meat, he tells himself.
“I’m on it,” Star says, reaching in and down into his own shadow magic. Dark flames wreathe his blade from hilt to tip, blowing in a wind not from this plane. He focuses and sees the thin threads holding the prince in place. But before he can act on it, a third mage appears and begins preparing something nasty.
“Do something,” wheezes the prince, and if that isn’t a challenge, Star doesn’t know what is. He dives into a roll to dodge a thrown dagger and cut the first thread imprisoning the prince. This puts him in range to kick the merchant in the chest and send him flying.
“Chill out princess, I got this,” Star says with the cockiest grin he can muster. He dials up the intensity of his shadow flames and sends them in an arc to push back the two mages in the alley, and on the end of that stroke cuts the remaining threads binding the prince. “You good now, or do you still need me to do literally everything for you?”
There’s that glare that can boil ice. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.” The prince’s eyes seem to get blacker and the alleyway flickers in and out of grey scale.
“No way, you’re not getting all the glory for this one.” Star leaps back in to punch one of the mages across the chin before the prince’s terror magic makes the others run screaming away from them.
“Well, that could have gone better,” the prince says. He sounds shaken, even though he doesn’t look like he has any big injuries.
“Yeah, I think it’s time we got back to the castle. Had enough fun for a week or so.”
“Remind me never to listen to your idea of fun ever again.”
“You say that now, your royal meat-on-a-stick-ness.”
The prince rolls his eyes and begins to reweave the invisibility illusion. “Shut up and lead us home.”
“See now you’re talking sense, because I won’t lead us into an obvious trap.”
As they bicker on the way back to the castle, mostly in whispers and unconscious shadow magic pulses, Star’s worries about what will happen to him fade. He’s never been one for thinking too far into the future; for now, he’s got a grumpy prince and a belly full of meat, and there will be plenty of time for the rest. Later. Much, much later.