Smoke and Iron

Chapter 5-Deals and Tales Continued

I head toward the bar, doing my best to avoid the ensuing brawl. Thankfully I spy Lark ducking behind the stairs, the prince and his friends right behind her. I rush towards the stairs, narrowly avoiding being hit by a knife, the metal sinking into the wall behind me. Leaping over a broken chair I fling myself under a nearby table. 

The wood shakes when someone is thrown onto it. The blade of a knife pierces through the wood nearly cutting off my nose. With my ears ringing and breath heaving, I spy an opening in the fighting crowd.

 I quickly crawl out from under the table and run. Someone's fist flies towards my face, my reflexes kick in as I duck into a roll aming myself for the stairs. I make it into the small space, crashing into someone's chest as I do. 

We go sprawling onto the floor with me landing on top. My face is pressed against the person's chest, the sudden inhale of their breath makes me look up. Into the angry ice blue eyes of the prince who would love nothing better than to see me thrown into the screaming crowd. 

Startled, I push myself off him to put some distance between us. His hands wrap around my wrists before I even move an inch. My legs are still pressed against his own. The warmth of him seeping through my leggings and into my skin. Eyes still locked on me, his mouth contorts into a snarl.

"You," he growls as his grip around my wrists gets tighter.

Ignoring the pain all I can do is smile at him. Doing my best to pretend that I don't feel my wrists being squeezed by his strong hands. That I'm not afraid that he might snap them in half.

"Who's your friend Andreas," a voice says, breaking the tension and stopping the increasing pressure on my wrists.

Our heads turn at the sound.The owner of the voice being the brown haired boy that Lark had wrapped around her finger just moments ago. Squished next to the blond giant, he rests his chin resting on his fist. Eyes roaming over us with maniacal glee.

"She's not my friend," the prince says, "just a common thief."

He lets go of my wrists and glares at me. Raising my hands in mock surrender I slowly peel myself off him. With me off his legs he quickly moves away, so fast that it makes his blond friend chuckle.

"So Lark what's the plan," I say.

Smirking she says, "Well when Jarvis decides to show up we should be able to get these three out through the kitchen. That is if you three are fast enough."

"We are," the blond says, "but are you I wonder."

Lark chuckles, "Touché."

A man's scream cuts through the din, my head turns to see a man being thrown against a wall. He gets up and charges into the crowd, punching a fellow brawler in the face. Before he can do more both men have their heads bashed together. They fall onto the floor revealing Jarvis now sweaty and covered in specks of blood. He rushes towards the stairs moving and dodging brawlers. 

Poking his head into our hiding place he breathlessly says,"We got most of the way clear but we need to go now."

Nodding I reply, "Right, let's go and keep up or else you'll be wall decorations".

Jarvis leads the way through the chaotic crowd. Followed by me, the prince and his friends,and Lark bringing up the rear. We rush behind the bar and then through the kitchen door. Our pace never wavering as we move around barrels and baskets of food and drink. Thankfully the room is clear of people who are most likely in the main room bringing order to the ensuing chaos. 

We reach the door leading to the alley, a small thrum of relief makes its way into my shoulders. Stepping into the cool night we crowd into the narrow passage.

I lean against the dark wood of the inn, my heart no longer beating frantically in my chest. Closing my eyes I breath in a deep gulp of air and sigh with relief. My eyes threaten to stay shut as the adrenaline begins to ebb and my legs and arms begin to ache with exhaustion. The smack of flesh and a grunt of pain pulls me from the threat of sleep.

Opening my eyes I see that the prince's brown haired friend has fallen into the side of the building. The faint outline of a bruise beginning to blossom on his jaw. The blond giant has his arms laced through the prince's, pinning them behind his back. I don't need to guess who had done the punching. Lark is already at the boy's side, smoothing down his hair and brushing the dirt from his clothes. 

Jarvis however has his gaze pinned only on the blond. Even from where I stand I can see his eyes roaming across the muscular arms of the blond. Their depths filled with appreciation and a small growing spark of desire.

"Dammit Merick let go," the prince growls. His eyes blaze with fury as he struggles against his friend's grasp.

The giant named Merick chuckles, "Not until you settle down," he says.

"Settle down! How can I settle down when the i***t nearly got us sucked into a brawl."

"Hey," the i***t in question says, "It wasn't me who started the brawl."

Huffing a sigh the prince stares up into the night sky. As if praying for some kind of salvation.

"I know you didn't start it Ren, but you were the one who insisted on coming here."

"Yes I did and I was having a great time until you two had to drag me away from the show."

The prince rolls his eyes, "A show of course it was, one were the audience can wind up dead."

"No one ends up dead all the time," Jarvis cuts in, "Most of them go home with bruises and broken bones. Nothing too serious I assure you," he says sarcastically.

Turning his gaze from the prince to Merick, Jarvis steps away from the wall that he had been leaning on. Watching the drama unfold in front of him. He walks toward them, hands in his pockets with a conniving smile on his face.

"But what is serious is how you three will pay us for saving your skin."

"Pay you," the prince says, eyes narrowing, "Ridiculous."

"He does have a point though," Merrick says, "they did help us back there."

The prince chuckles coldly, "Helped us sure they did. While you two think they did us a favor one of them tried to rob me earlier." Again he struggles to get out of Merrick's grip grunting with effort.

 "Helpful my ass," he says glaring at me.

Shaking his head Merick lets go of the prince depositing him on the wet stone. With a thunk the prince falls landing face first onto the hard ground. A growl escapes from him as he pushes himself up off the ground. Standing he brushes off his coat and pants while glaring daggers at his tall friend. 

Merick rolls his eyes and reaches into his coat pocket and takes out three gleaming gold coins. He hands them to Jarvis, face blank and eyes scrutinizing. The clink of the coins dropping into Jarvis's hand does not stop me from noticing how Mercik's fingers slowly brush the ends of Jarvis's. Almost as if by mistake, but my eyes catch the faint color of a blush on Merrick's cheeks. Stepping away, Merick crosses his arms and quirks a brow at Jarvis in question.

"Will that suffice for saving our skins," he says.

Weighing the coins in his hand Jarvis scrunches his face in thought.

"This will do," he says, tucking the coins into his pants pocket, "but next time it will cost you extra," he finishes, and winks at Merick.

Merick doesn't reply, his expression giving away nothing, but the spots of red on his cheeks say otherwise.

"Unfortunately," the prince says, "there won't be a next time."

With a final glare at me the prince stalks out of the alley and down the street. His friends follow him without a word. Merick has to grab the i***t Ren twice from being run over by a wagon. The boy refusing to take his eyes off Lark as they go. 

Chuckling Lark motions us back inside, Jarvis and Lark head in while I remain in the alley. Watching the prince make his way through the crowd. 

"Come on Tara, we got to kick the stragglers out or we won't be able to eat in peace," I hear Lark yell.

"Hold your horses," I say laughing. 

With one last glance at the retreating forms of the prince and his friends, I push open the door to the inn. A smile erupts on my face as I remember the events of the night and knowing that I will soon have in my possession an item more valuable than gold. The thought of owning such a treasure makes the threat of a Reaper's blade worth the price. As I head into the kitchen the smell of stew and baking bread takes my mind off of princes, daggers, and Reapers. 

Joining my friends around the large oak table we settle down for a long awaited meal. That is after kicking out the stragglers and cleaning up the broken remnants of chairs, benches, and window panes. Filling our plates with the hearty fare we descend into fits of laughter from jokes and stories. By the glow of the kitchen hearth we fill our cups with ale and begin a game of poker. 

Ending with everyone laid out on the floor drunk and giggling. I yawn as I end up on the floor with them, my head resting on someone's legs. With another yawn I close my eyes and enter the warm embrace of sleep.