Kiss Me If You Can

CHAPTER 4

Two guards stood defensively as we near the front gate, awoken from their sleep, and have their swords drawn. "Halt!" One yells, and I give a smile, knowing very well that they will move out of the way of a water horse. They do not wish to die tonight.

Surely enough, they jump out of the way of Lasreal's thundering strides, but not before he lashes out and snatches some skin and cloth from the shoulder of one of the unlucky fellows. He lets out a scream, a womanly sound for a man I think, as we easily passed.

We don't stop at the closed gate, but keep heading straight for it, and with a screaming whinnying from Lasreal and with my consent, the heavy doors burst open. There is a sort of magic on the gates of Nordic that only certain people can work to their will, as I've seen done by my father before. These walls have known me as their Princess for many years, and have come to know my commands.

The call of a Vann Hest, can haunt the memory of any who are not a Rider. I feel sorry for the virgin ears tonight as Lasreal calls again in his excitement. The sound of a water beast is the sound of the devil himself, of the greatest predator to ever roam these lands. The noise is the sound of millions of screeching boars and the crashing of waves, all together like nothing you've ever heard before, and would pray to never hear again.

As we streak away from the lighting Kingdom, I hear the answering screams of several beasts from the stables, the howling screech of souls in hell calling for their leader to return to them. Lasreal flicks a curved, black ear behind to listen, and I feel his muscles quiver, tempted to turn back. I make quick work of his mind, soothing and urging him forward.

The real problem will be if we near the sea. Luckily, it is at least two kingdoms distance from here, on the beaches of Whales. Should the need arise, I have the practice of hand blocking the sirens call for the both of us, if I can sing it to him correctly. If not, then I will surely drown and Lasreal will be lost forever, savage and wild like his ancestors. With that needed encouragement, Lasreal switches his strides to full length and we disappear into the tree line, breaking away from the beaten down path that leads to the kingdoms walls.

There is a pursuit behind us, but we keep moving. I do not worry, because I know that Lasreal is by far the fastest steed in our stable, and we have a several minute head start on them. Even the finest tracker won't be able find two shadows in the dark. We keep our heads down, sticking to the darkness of the trees while the other idiots stick to the paths.

We keep at a solid gallop until sun up, far ahead of the search party, until we come to the next town.

Lasreal's pitch black coat is slick as ink from running, his saltwater sweat half stinging my eyes as much as his. He does as I ask nonetheless and walks through the town gate. He has the stamina to keep moving further, and he dances with the unused energy.

I swing off of him to walk beside his head, keeping him steady by the bit. When push my hood back, some people give a double take as if they thought they saw someone they knew, then realized that it truly wasn't that particular person, after all.

I've been here before as a Princess, but sparsely, so they wouldn't recognize me now, though they may recognize Lasreal. It is hard not to stare at a Vann Hest .

On my last visit here, I had heard of a street urchin who sold dirty weapons and goods, things that he had stolen or made himself. He sells them far overpriced, but I can afford it.

I walk around with Lasreal's reins tight in my grip, keeping his head close to me so he will not lash out at someone and get us both even more noticed. We walk until I spot a hunched figure that leans against the wall of an ally, people giving him dirty looks as they pass by him.

That's my guy.

I stride over to him, and the filthy man looks up, giving a brown toothed smile. "How can I help you, young man?" He asks, though he looks at Lasreal, not at me as he speaks. The glamor that I surrounded myself with is still in force, making my body and face more convincing as a boy. Though my height cannot be helped, unless I tell who I am, all anyone will see is a young man with a black

Vann Hest .

"A bow." I say, dragging his eyes back to me. "I assume you have a decent one. Unless you are truly that cheap and the rumors I've heard of you are truth." I speak with the dignity of an important man, keeping my voice low and as deep as I can. The magic helps immensely with the pitch.

He gives me a look before he laughs shortly and harshly, and peels away from the wall, wagging a finger at me. "Ah, you're a funny one aren't you?" He cackles dryly. "Follow me. I have one you may fancy."

I follow him cautiously, knowing very well that this man cannot be trusted. Though the hairs on my arms are rising, I know that this bow is vital to my survival, and would certainly make my life easier for hunting.

When we pass down several tight alleyways, he finally comes to a stop in front of a small, shabby shack. "You can tie your horse here. The weapons are inside."

I fold my arms. "I will wait for you here, old man. Return with the weapon and we will negotiate a price." I say firmly.

He gives me the stink eye and strokes his dirty beard, but nods. "Aye." He says, before slipping into the doorway.

I will not set myself up for something that could get me into a bad situation, which is exactly why I refused to leave Lasreal here for someone to try to steal, which is something that I could expect from the old man. Neither will I go with him into the shack, lest there be others waiting to jump and rob me. I may have been raised a lady, but I am quite familiar with the dirty tricks and compromised morals of others.

The man returns a few moments later with two bundles of cloth, and squats to set them down in the doorway of the shack. He has greasy grey hair and a wrinkled, dirty face with a pair of misty looking blue eyes, and wears peasant clothing. I know that he must make decent money in his cheating business, but he knows as well as I, that appearances are meant to deceive.

"These," he says, glancing both ways down the deserted alley before unwrapping the bundles. "Were handmade by a young man, like yourself, who sold them to me on his way through here. This one is clean, a relatively newer weapon in mint condition."

I closely inspect the weapon, only to find that he is speaking truthfully. I know he is going to throw this at me terribly overpriced: I can read it in his greedy expression. "I will pay no more than seven pieces of silver for it." I say, holding his gaze.

He narrows his eyes, wrapping the bow, quiver and arrows back up into the cloth. "Ten."

I raise my brow and give a bored look. "Eight. No higher."

He turns his head to spit, then looks back at me, giving a once over. "Fine. Eight it is."

I take the coins out of the pouch in my trousers and hand them to him, taking the dirty cloth bundles in exchange. As I turn to leave, he looks me over and calls back out to me. "Big horse for a little boy."

Now it is my turn to laugh at him, trying to keep my voice low. "Our deal is done." I say curtly, and turn my back, walking away. A bead of sweat drips down my shoulder blades as I stride away, feeling his eyes on me. I pray he did not realize how nervous that encounter made me.

I follow the twists that lead back out to the street, and think that the old man asked too many questions for my liking. But other than that, my disguise seems to be bought by the others. Good.

After I hastily purchase rations, I take the cloth that the bow had been wrapped in and use it to conceal chunks of bread, and secure it all into a satchel that I also bought to help hold things together nicely.

I strap the quiver of arrows to my back, and the slip the bow over my body before re-mounting and leaving the town from the back gate. No sooner do we step foot of the town than horn sounds, signifying that someone important has arrived. I don't look back as I kick Lasreal into a gallop, once again staying close to the trees and brush.